Prison is a time of re-thinking, writes Msgr. Lopez-Gallo. Archbishop Alexander Sample of Portland, Ore., is shown celebrating Mass at Oregon State Penitentiary in Salem. (CNS photo/Jon DeBellis, Catholic Sentinel)
During a recent trip to San Diego I was called to the jail urgently for an inmate who had had a heart attack. At first, I hesitated because generally the dioceses have adequate chaplains and priests to exercise this spiritual ministry, but the family who contacted me insisted so strongly that I acceded to their request and arrived there even before the ambulance did.
The building was modern and had many corridors, nothing like the dark dungeons I had visited in the south of Italy. I went straight to the sick person who lay in a clean and very well-equipped healing room. “Father, thanks for coming to see me. Can you hear my confession?” “Yes,” I replied, “when was your last confession?”
The seal of confession impedes me from revealing his sins, but I was moved by his repentance and sincere contrition. His tears were not for the pain of his cardiac condition but for the compunction and remorse from having offended God, his beloved Father. The parable of the prodigal son came to mind and I was not sure if I admired more the merciful father who forgave his son and was full of joy to see his repentant son back home, or the son who recognized how foolish he was for abandoning his benevolent and compassionate dad.
Then the ambulance took the prisoner back to the jail. The chief of the prison took me around to see the penal institution. There were good sports facilities and well-equipped classrooms offering courses in everything from lessons in first aid to a degree in economics. The kitchen produced varied and tasty meals that my guide wanted me to taste, and the young men who worked there were willing to give the inmates lessons in food preparation so that they could find work in restaurants and hotels after they had finished their prison term.
The chaplain, they told me, was a fine priest but absent because it was his day off. He uses some of the excellent materials now available, including the Evangelium courses from the Catholic Truth Society which has formal lessons to teach and prayers to be said together. I was invited to give a catechism lesson but I excused myself.
There were also a number of men who were seeking baptism. Many, but not all, males who end up in prison come from what are commonly called dysfunctional families. The biggest single common factor seems to be the lack of a good father. “Yeah, I’m Catholic” is an identification that means something, but is a bit muddled. Mum or Nan took them to Mass occasionally, they went to a Catholic school, and they have good memories of this but there was a complete lack of any regular pattern of practice – certainly not weekly – and no knowledge of much else except for vague and superstitious folklore.
Prison is a time of re-thinking. Being Catholic gives status – it marks you out as not Muslim, and is often proclaimed with a rosary around the neck, and a crucifix or picture of the Sacred Heart among the general adolescent-style clutter in the cell.
Mass is in a large multi-purpose designed space also used by other religious groups. The chaplain insisted that it be set out correctly with a proper altar with all the trimmings, a large image of the Divine Mercy by the baptismal font, and a fine crucifix.
The Church is seen as something large and great, and this is important. Frequently Mass is celebrated and is formal and dignified, with good vestments and beautiful altar vessels. The men like singing rousing hymns. Inter-religious goodwill can also be seen. The imam has sometimes got the Muslim men to help get things ready for Mass.
Elsewhere in the prison there was a lot of locking and unlocking of doors, checking and re-checking, finger-printing and biometric identification. There was also what I can only describe as cheery good manners, and I was greeted often with “Hello, Father.” They all wanted freedom, but liberty can also be found behind bars, and maybe these incarcerated men could find God even in the purification of a new spiritual life.
I reflect and ask myself: What can Catholics do about prisons? The Church operates within and beyond prison walls. Those inside are quarrelsome, regretful, worried, bitter, unrealistically optimistic, frightened, repentant, proud, confused, and longing to belong to something larger than themselves. A bit like the rest of us, actually.
Remember the words of Jesus: “I was in prison and you came to see me.” The virtuous asked: “Lord, when did we see you?” And Jesus replied: “I assure you, as often as you did it for one of my least brothers, you did it for me” (Mt 25:36-40).