The Rest of the Story:  Hope Springs Eternal in the Priestly Breast
Gordon MacRae Fr. Gordon J. MacRae Gordon MacRae Fr. Gordon J. MacRae

The Rest of the Story: Hope Springs Eternal in the Priestly Breast

. . . These writers of just and merciful Catholic conscience have made me proud to be a priest, and have given meaning to the suffering inherent in 18 years of wrongful imprisonment. Our reluctant Catholic press would do well to put aside its "Father Maciel Syndrome," and follow their lead to cover this story. And then, there is you. Yes, I do mean you, for if you are reading this you have lent to your Church and faith a courageous ear, and the tools for spreading the rest of the story. If you have been reading These Stone Walls then you have demonstrated for me and the whole Body of Christ something that has been sorely lacking in this decade of scandal: hearts of courage and justice open to the whole truth, and not just the one-sided scarlet letter with which our scandal driven news media and special interest groups have labeled your Church. Fr. James Valladares and David F. Pierre have told the rest of the story. . . .

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Spring Cleaning Behind These Stone Walls, And News from the Front
Gordon MacRae Fr. Gordon J. MacRae Gordon MacRae Fr. Gordon J. MacRae

Spring Cleaning Behind These Stone Walls, And News from the Front

. . . Right now, however, I have a far greater challenge to face than the temper tantrums of SNAP members long accustomed to having their distortions rule the day. It's a greater challenge even than waiting for the legal system to catch up with justice. The most immediate and daunting challenge I face at this moment is one many of you have to take on as well. It's called spring cleaning. As you know well, my world of the last nearly 18 years consists of an 8 by 12-foot cell which must be shared by two prisoners, one of whom wrote "The Duty of a Knight" two weeks ago. Well, it turns out that it isn't the duty of a knight to do all the spring cleaning while I just sit here on my bucket (umm . . . I mean this big plastic one) and type. We need to do something prisoners are required to do periodically. We have to empty out this cell completely, and clean everything . . .

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New Year's Resolutions, and a Remembrance From East of Eden
Gordon MacRae Fr. Gordon J. MacRae Gordon MacRae Fr. Gordon J. MacRae

New Year's Resolutions, and a Remembrance From East of Eden

. . . So my resolution for the New Year in 2012 is to let the mourning of loss become the triumph of the Spirit. It's a tough sell to a world that measures success in the most material of terms. It's an even tougher sell within me, however, having to witness the world of grace from within prison walls, at least for now. Hence, the resolution. . . .

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We'll Be Right Back After This Long Commercial Break!
Gordon MacRae Fr. Gordon J. MacRae Gordon MacRae Fr. Gordon J. MacRae

We'll Be Right Back After This Long Commercial Break!

. . . The break we are taking is due to several circumstances. Charlene is planning a journey to Rome in May, and I have no one else available to scan and forward my posts. Also, Suzanne is planning a blog design upgrade. This might mean that the site will look off kilter while she adjusts the graphics and HTML/CSS/PHP/MySQL customizations to fit in with the new WordPress theme. Suzanne is on Australia time so midnight on the U.S. East Coast where I am a prisoner is 2:00 PM the next day in Australia. TSW's hiatus reminds me of something I wrote about last year. Once during a Sunday Mass in my last parish, I had some sort of allergic reaction that constricted my larynx. As I finished reading the Gospel, I lost my voice completely. Only a squeak would come out. So I skipped my homily while the lector led parishioners in the Nicene Creed and Prayers of the Faithful. . . .

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Pornchai Moontri: From Prison Blues to Poetic Muse!
Gordon MacRae Fr. Gordon J. MacRae Gordon MacRae Fr. Gordon J. MacRae

Pornchai Moontri: From Prison Blues to Poetic Muse!

. . . In the post, I made a brief mention of a letter from Father Neuhaus to Pornchai Moontri, and of how that letter was among the forces that caused Pornchai to become a Catholic. What surprised me was the number of comments mentioning my brief paragraph about Pornchai. He was certainly not central to that post, but lots of people mention him in their comments on several of my posts. In fact, I've noticed a pattern. It might be just my imagination, but when I mention Pornchai, readers seem to comment more. I showed the comments on that post to Pornchai and told him about my theory. He readily concurred. "If you don't mention me," he said, "no one reads it!" Well, I doubt that's true. At least, I HOPE it isn't true! . . .

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As The Year of the Priest Ends, Are Civil Liberties for Priests Intact?
Gordon MacRae Fr. Gordon J. MacRae Gordon MacRae Fr. Gordon J. MacRae

As The Year of the Priest Ends, Are Civil Liberties for Priests Intact?

. . . Some people actually get angry with me when they hear of my 2002 statement to my Bishop. Some feel that I was foolish to make such an overture. "What if he took you up on it?" My response is simple. I was accused falsely, and in the context of being a Roman Catholic priest. If I was not a priest, I would not have been accused. To pretend that somehow the claims against me are not related to the context of my priesthood is false. This is something that most Church officials long recognized. but many have put aside the rights of priests in open disregard of Church law. . . .

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Pentecost in the Year of the Priest:  Spirit of Truth, Wisdom, and Understanding
Gordon MacRae Fr. Gordon J. MacRae Gordon MacRae Fr. Gordon J. MacRae

Pentecost in the Year of the Priest: Spirit of Truth, Wisdom, and Understanding

. . . Up to that point, I had no idea of a blog's potential. They didn't exist when I came to prison nearly sixteen years ago. I read about them, and heard them mentioned on the news, but I had no idea how blogs worked. I remember sitting in my cell last May, knowing that I made a commitment with a deadline, but I had no idea what to write. I thought of my first night in prison, of that maddening, foot stomping chant that went on for hours. So I wrote . . .

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