In the psyche ward of the county jail I met Michael about two years ago, when he arrived and I joined the Catholic jail ministry. Cognitively he was ok, but very depressed, quiet. He only asked: "How do you get rid of guilt?" I have seen him a few times since as we rotate to different sections of the jail. He would attend our Catholic communion service every week, but with rotating leaders. He seemed different this past Friday. He was walking briskly, exercising. He was serene and peaceful as he told us his sentencing will be June 5 and he expects to get 30 years. I wondered what he could have done. In prayer he was different. Quiet but peaceful. Good eye contact. In the petitions he prayed "that all incarcerated people could leave jail better than they entered." That touched me and I mentioned it. He spoke sincerely of hope and how important it is. I marveled: You are looking at 30 so calmly; you must have hope. We discussed the Passion of Christ and he noted that Judas redeemed himself somewhat at least by his remorse. My partner leading the prayer correctly contrasted Judas and Peter: Peter received pardon, Judas did not. I agreed with that, of course, but did affirm Michael's point: the contrition of Judas was not without value, I shared the theological opinion, neither renounced nor affirmed by the Church officially, that Christ appears to each of us, sinners, at death, showing his wounds sustained for our pardon, and offers his mercy. And so, while we Catholics believe in a hell populated, at least by demons, we do not know with certitude that any human is there, even Judas.
Later I learned his crime. In a schizophrenic state, fighting about household chores, he stabbed his mother and father to death. Now I understood the guilt. I was amazed by his newfound peace. I have been thinking about him since then. I see this as a real miracle. A GREAT miracle, if quiet and hidden.
I am happy with our Catholic mission. Jails do always welcome religious visitors as we can give them headaches with our enthusiasms and good intentions. But we are welcomed by the officers. We are simple, compliant, disciplined, obedient and objective. We do a simple service: read Scripture, receive communion, discuss the readings. We do NOT involve ourselves personally with inmates. Priest comes monthly for confessions. Jail rules are strict. We are there too share our Catholic faith, with the efficacious Word and Sacrament. We do not reveal last our last names. Do not bring in pens, rosaries, phones. Any piece of paper must be approved by the officer. We rotate so the inmates meet different people every week. It is not about ME, but the simple, clear objectivity of the communion rite.
It was this simple, steady objectivity, I assume, that assisted the miracle of conversion of Michael.
The jail chaplain is a muscular, tattooed, no-nonsense drill sergeant type, with a tender heart. Our leader, an ex-marine, worked for years in UPS management like myself. The jail, the military, UPS and Catholicism are alike: a clear, simple, masculine objectivity of form, rules, protocols. This is not about feelings, relationships, therapy. There is discipline, purpose, accountability, seriousness of intent. Jail is serious stuff, life and death, hard and objective; Catholicism is serious stuff, life and death, hard and objective.
Michael will be moving on to the state prison, a dark place, worse than the local jail. Let's pray for him going forward: that his own peace be preserved; and also that he be a light to others there in his quiet, meek manner.
God, bless, protect and strengthen Michael. Grant that the incarcerated be drawn to you.
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