After fifteen years in prison, two remarkable things happened to me in just the last three months. The first was the launch of These Stone Walls in late July. The second, and most remarkable, is the ability to celebrate Mass weekly in my cell. The latter is a story worth telling.
For my first five years in prison, I was confined in a cell with seven other men. There was room for nothing else in the cell but steel bunks and yellow plastic bins containing the sum total of each prisoner’s possessions: clothing, books, food, and personal items. We prepared meals and hot water for coffee on the concrete floor.
A priest came to the prison for Sunday Mass twice a month, but I never saw him. I was in a unit in the prison that did not have access to the prison Chapel and other programs. There is a sort of domino effect when prisoners claim to be wrongly convicted. My declaration of innocence rendered me ineligible for prison programs, and, by extension, for any hope for parole. It also rendered me ineligible for preferred prison housing in the general population.
The stereotype that all prisoners claim to be innocent is not at all accurate. Prisoners do not lightly make such a claim. In most prisons, there is an enormous price to pay for it. As one local lawyer put it, a convicted sex offender who says he’s sorry and won’t do it again will often serve a short sentence, but a middle-aged man who insists he is innocent may die in prison.
The cellblock had twenty-four cells each housing eight men. It was filled with the daily cacophony of overcrowded prisoners -80% of them barely in their 20′s – trying to occupy and entertain themselves. There was constant, senseless noise.
HUDDLED MASSES
Late at night, after others would finally sleep, I would huddle in a corner of my bunk. There was not quite enough room to sit up straight because there was another steel bunk just above me. With my book light and a Roman Missal loaned to me by the chaplain, I would “celebrate” Mass surrounded by snoring prisoners.
I know these were not valid Masses. I had no elements of bread or wine. All I had were the readings and prayers, and the yearning in my heart for Christ’s Presence in this cold, dark place. For five years, that spectral shell of the Mass was all that I had – that, and a single volume breviary from which I prayed the Divine Office each day.
During that five years I was moved seventeen times – each time thrown into another cell with seven strangers. By design or not was unclear, but I was kept in a near constant state of adjustment and upheaval.
The atmosphere in which I lived day after day is difficult to describe. All the other prisoners knew I was a priest, or quickly found out after I moved in. The mental health of other prisoners is often an issue for anyone in prison. One night in the eight-man cell, I awoke at 3:00 AM smelling smoke. A prisoner with a book of matches was trying to ignite my blankets while I slept, insisting that Satan awoke him in the night and asked him to do so.
Distinctions between madness and malice blur in prison. One day, I returned to the cell to find my Roman Missal and breviary torn apart, their pages ripped out and flushed down a toilet. None of the seven other prisoners in my cell saw or knew anything. It took six months to replace the books. On another day I returned to find Satanic symbols drawn on the wall next to my bunk.
Years later, Cardinal Avery Dulles wrote to me of Father Walter Ciszek, S.J.:
“You are in a position to practice and to propose to others spirituality for the imprisoned. During my retreat this year I read more carefully than before Fr.Walter Ciszek’s, He Leadeth Me, with his reflections on five years in solitary and fifteen years of hard labor in Siberia. As I believe I have remarked before, much of the finest Christian literature comes from believers who were unjustly imprisoned.”
In his acclaimed book, With God in Russia (Ignatius Press,1997), Fr. Ciszek described in vivid detail being unjustly imprisoned for twenty years in a Siberian gulag, accused of being a “Vatican spy.” He suffered deprivations that made my imprisonment pale by comparison. Father Ciszek also wrote of how he celebrated the Sacrifice of the Mass which he could offer only in his heart:
“After breakfast, I would say Mass by heart – that is, I would say all the prayers, for of course I couldn’t actually celebrate the Holy Sacrifice.” I said the Angelus morning, noon, and night as the Kremlin clock chimed the hours.”
A few readers of These Stone Walls have mentioned Father Ciszek in their messages to me. I feel a special bond with him, especially in my experience of “Midnight Mass” huddled on my steel bunk in a crowded cell with no bread or wine. In prison, faith and spiritual surrender are not to be taken for granted. They were a struggle for Father Ciszek and remain a daily struggle for me.
PRESENCE AND ABSENCE
Toward the end of that first five years in prison, a new chaplain arrived, a Catholic deacon. A few weeks after his arrival, I was summoned to his office. He wanted me to read a presentation on Eucharistic Adoration that he had written for the diocesan diaconate program. I sat in his office dutifully reading his essay. When I looked up at one point, I noticed a small wooden tabernacle on a shelf in the corner of the office. The tabernacle was hand carved by a Catholic prisoner, and was incredibly beautiful.
Sitting there with the deacon’s essay in my hand, I noticed a small Sanctuary Lamp that was lit. I realized with a great jolt that the Blessed Sacrament was in the tabernacle in the deacon’s office. I felt overwhelmed, and tears came to my eyes. For the first time in over five years, I was in the Presence of Christ in the Blessed Sacrament. The chaplain smiled, apparently thinking that I was reacting to his essay.
Years ago as a young priest, I used to play racquetball early in the morning at a fitness center at which some friends gave me a membership. One of my occasional opponents was a local Protestant minister. I had a particularly good corner shot that he could never return. I used to jokingly call it “the Ecumenical Movement.” I almost always won, but he was getting pretty good at racquetball so it was a challenge for us both.
One day after an early morning game, the minister told me that he finds Catholics to be intriguing.
“If you truly believe that Christ is actually present in that tabernacle in your church,” he said, “how can you just go about your day knowing that He is there?”
His words stayed with me for many years. So many times as a priest, I took the Blessed Sacrament for granted. How many times had I passed by in the sanctuary, too busy to pause and ponder this living, enduring Presence in our midst? How many times had a busy day gone by without an hour spent in His Presence?
I have come to know on a deeply personal level -through the force of sheer deprivation – the importance of a Holy Hour before the Blessed Sacrament. Many of you have commented here on These Stone Walls that you have devoted an hour of your Eucharistic Adoration for me. That means far more to me than you may know.
It’s an understatement that “absence makes the heart grow fonder.” It is far more than that. My five year absence from Christ in the Eucharist had a more profound impact on me than did prison itself. It left me a spiritual barren wasteland, craving freedom not from stone walls and iron bars, but from the chasm of separation from the Church and Sacraments that many take for granted. I could see why, in our Creed, Christ descended to the dead. We could not come to Him.
After those moments before the Blessed Sacrament in the chaplain’s office, things fell into place quickly. The new chaplain invited me to celebrate Mass with him in his office weekly, and then he would use the Hosts for his Communion Service with Catholic prisoners.
Back in the unit with the crowded cells I had lived in for five years, a guard asked me to volunteer to do some weekly typing. He asked me one day if I would like something in return – perhaps a move to a better place. I asked for an hour’s use of a storage room to celebrate Mass in private once per week. It was a strange request for him, but he spoke with his superior. A week later he told me that I may use the storage room alone for one hour each Saturday night from 9:00 to 10:00 PM. It was all that I wanted.
The deacon-chaplain provided me with the necessary elements. A seminarian in Vietnam had hand woven a beautiful small stole for me, and sent it to the chaplain who gave it to me. It was a very special possession. It was the very bridge linking me with the Sacramental life of the Church from which I had known five years of alienation. That stole was my greatest treasure.
Shortly thereafter, I was moved to another unit in the prison. The cells were much smaller, and housed two prisoners each. Once again, I was thrown among strangers though it was easier for me to find time alone – often late at night – to celebrate Mass in my cell.
Then, suddenly and without warning one day, the Chaplain was gone from the prison. After a month, a new Chaplain, another deacon, arrived, but he could not find the items that his predecessor had secured for me for Mass. Shortly after, my cell was searched, and my Mass supplies and stole were taken by a guard. Prisoners are powerless over such things.
I was heartbroken as the guard took my stole, and mocked it, and me. He told me that he was an “ex-Catholic” and said he heard that I am “kicked out of the Church” and didn’t deserve to have it. He threatened to cite me for theft accusing me of stealing it from the prison Chapel. There was nothing I could do but watch as the guard walked out of my cell with my stole disrespectfully hanging out of his back pocket. It was a crushing blow, and it would be four years before I could restore the privilege of celebrating Mass again.
“Who shall separate us from the love of Christ? Shall tribulation, or distress, or persecution, or famine, or nakedness, or peril, or the sword? (Romans 8:35-36)
Please read “The Sacrifice of the Mass: Part II” next week.
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Like I always write as often I attend St Joseph’s church here in England, I pray for you before the Eucharist as well as “The Holy sacrife of the Mass”.
Ms/Mrs Paricia, Don’t debase yourself. I do that. However keep hoping in, I.N.R.I.
Fr Gordon, The ex-lapsed -Catholic, as you know is nothing new- see if you will- joseph.goebels-nazi. I have always wondered how satan has managed to insinuated himself into his mind. I refer to to the Rev Gabriel Amorth,was -chief-exorcist of Rome, human beings are victims of their nature more than what they realise, at the earliest opportunity I will ask my parish priest to accomplish one hour before the “Most Blessed Sacrament. You upbraid yourself for being complacent for taking things for granted, not so I say. Are we not constrained by sin. I refer to comments by, fr Michael.Buckley.DD, sin affects every aspect of our lives.
Dear Father G,
What can separate us from the love of Christ indeed!
I remember a question was asked of our Lady about the poor people who have no means to do a pilgrimage to her holy sites. She responded that in such cases, it is She who goes and visits with them.
Christ IS present during those times when you feel His absence. And those times you said Mass without, He supplied everything. Youe entire life so far spent Within Those Walls is a celebration of the Holy Sacrifice of the Mass —- a sacrifice lived in your reality of material accidents and circumstances, but Christ, in His Omnipotence, is able to unite it with His Own Sacrifice on Calvary.
Every Thursday morning at 2 AM, I do my turn in our parish Perpetual Eucharistic Adoration. Now I have one more reason to fulfill my commitment with ardor — you and your intentions! May you remain open to God’s grace, and may your holiness be a witness to the Church Within.
Father,
Your suffering has already benefited those of us who take for granted the presence of Jesus in our churches. How ashamed I feel!
I will remember you at Mass and Adoration. May God bless and strengthen you always.
Dear Father. McRae,
This is the first time I have visited your blog. My heart breaks for you, reading this post.
Please know that I will keep you in my prayers.
I have had the privelege of saying Mass with the late Pope John Paul II in his private chapel at the Vatican, at St. Peter’s Cathedral in Rome, in beautiful churches all over the World and now every day in a humble tent with wooden benches in a war zone in Afghanistan as a Navy Chaplain serving the Marines. I try to never take saying Mass for granted. I will try even harder after reading this story from Fr. Gordon. Thank you Father. You make me want to be a better priest. Semper fidelis. Fr. Joe Coffey
Dear Fr. McRae,
We are praying for you every week at our Intercessors of the Lamb meeting. Sometimes I just cannot read your comments as they are so heartbreaking. Then I think how selfish of me!
Your comments actually are a wonderful source of grace for me.
I am sorry , I just do not know what to say except we are so happy you get to say Holy Mass. I missed Holy Mass this a.m. so I am anxious for tomorrow a.m.
Thank you for our priests , how we love you and pray for you. Sorry, if I am rambling , pray for me please.
In His Name, Patricia
Aloha Father Gordon:
All the time I was reading your new post on Mass in prison, I was thinking how at least Cardinal Nguyen Van Tranh was able to obtain a tiny piece of bread and a bit of wine to be able to celebrate the Holy Mass on the palm of his hand. It breaks my heart to know all the hardships you have had to endure all these years.
I wish there was something I could do to help you dear Father. If there is please let me know. As I mentioned before, you are in my daily prayers, especially at Mass.
I am grateful to you for sharing this story. I will not take the time in the presence of the Blessed Sacrament for granted anymore.
God bless you.
Esther
PS: I will be sharing this with my fellow spiritual moms over at http://spiritualmomshawaii.blogspot.com/
Dear Father Gordon,
This made me cry. It is so beautiful, despite the terrible deprivation you suffered. I have stopped going to adoration every day and your story is like a gentle reminder from Jesus, that I may not always have the opportunity.
Locked away from us, you are still a wonderful priest who shepherds us better than many pastors on the outside.
Thank you and God bless you again.
Kathy
Dear Fr. MacRae,
This is the most moving account yet in your journal. I am in tears as I read how you have been deprived of Our Lord’s presence and how very much He means to you. People don’t stop to think about how much Christ means to His priests, accused or not accused, imprisoned or not imprisoned. I am so deeply touched.
You are so right about how one can take for granted that Our Lord is present in each tabernacle and yet we can so casually pass Him by with not even a nod or a hello. I am so ashamed of how little attention I have given to Him. And Perpetual Adoration is available to me at my parish church. When I go I am so often given to distractions such as doors opening and closing, people coming and going, little children talking, people fumbling with their belongings. And yet, the most awesome gift in the world is before me.
Fr. MacRae, you have called me to attention here today. I owe you. You are in my prayers daily, but this seems not enough.
Thank you so much Fr. for this beautiful account of what it is to be denied your priestly privileges, and what it is like to have them restored, then taken away again. I know Christ is with you, or you could not have survived all this.
What more can be said? I don’t know Fr. but your writing is amazing. I wish each and every priest could read about your daily persecution. I will certainly pass this site along as I always do, and hope and pray that those who need to read these lines will do so. May Our Dear Precious Lord comfort you and reassure you each and every moment and may you know the joy of serving Him, even in your tiny cell and in the midst of great suffering.
I am grateful to you Fr. MacRae.
St. Maximillian Kolbe pray for us.
Like my fellow posters I was moved to tears by your post Father It is obvious that only God’s grace could keep you sane given such
Wisdom 3: 1 – 9
1 But the souls of the righteous are in the hand of God, and no torment will ever touch them.
2 In the eyes of the foolish they seemed to have died, and their departure was thought to be an affliction,
3 and their going from us to be their destruction; but they are at peace.
4 For though in the sight of men they were punished, their hope is full of immortality.
5 Having been disciplined a little, they will receive great good, because God tested them and found them worthy of himself;
6 like gold in the furnace he tried them, and like a sacrificial burnt offering he accepted them.
7 In the time of their visitation they will shine forth, and will run like sparks through the stubble.
8 They will govern nations and rule over peoples, and the Lord will reign over them for ever.
9 Those who trust in him will understand truth, and the faithful will abide with him in love, because grace and mercy are upon his elect, and he watches over his holy ones.
God Bless you Father
Oh, Fr., I hardly know what to say. What heartbreaking words you write today… but it gives me some comfort in knowing that prayer and continued hope and perseverance is able to get one through even the most tragic of times.
And it is a tragedy that we do not have you amongst us, in person. What an inspiration you are.
But I hear the vital message here- that the Lord is with us always, present among us in the Blessed Sacrament- what a treasure. But how often do we search for something else? Only when it is denied us will we perhaps see it for what it is truly worth- the salvation of our souls.
God bless you, Father- please take care of yourself- and I will pray for you during the Holy Hour this week on First Friday.
Reverend and Dear Father, thank you so much for your post today! I am an adult convert to the faith, and I was just this morning reflecting on how I lived my entire Christian life until conversion without the Presence of Christ.
I wonder how I did it, how I made it through life without the Eucharist. These days I feel pangs of withdrawal if I go more than about 48 hours without making it to Mass. It breaks my heart to think of you, as a longtime Catholic, accustomed to Jesus every day, having to live without Him in that way for so long. I will continue to hold you in my prayers, and offer up my puny share of suffering for you.
Father,
There are no words to adequately express how beautiful this post is, so I won’t even try. I am happy for you that our Lord has granted you the blessing and grace to celebrate Mass in your cell.
This post is a beautiful testament to your love and devotion to Him.
I will continue to remember you in my prayers and Holy Hours.
God Bless!
This is absolutely heartbreaking. It was so beautiful for you to finally be able to celebrate Mass…but then to have it taken away so brutally is just too much! How you can withstand such tortures is beyond me but then again, that must be the nature of grace. Somehow God keeps you upright even in the face of such evil.
Be assured of ongoing and MORE prayers for you, Father!