Questions from Readers of These Stone Walls
. . . On August 26th, I posted "Postcards from the Edges." It wasn't exactly a masterpiece of western literature. Nonetheless, I thought it was a good post that addressed a timely topic: news media bias. It was barely noticed, and received few comments. Six weeks later on October 7th, I posted "To the Readers of These Stone Walls." I didn't think it was very interesting, but it generated more comments than any post before it, and was linked on a number of other blogs. Readers seemed interested in how These Stone Walls came into being, and in the obstacles we face. . . . A number of readers have posted comments and sent messages with pointed questions about prison, possible appeals, my weekly Mass, etc. I'd like to respond to some of them here. Some are direct questions from readers, and some are composites of questions asked by several readers. . . .
Prophets on the Path to Peace
. . . There is a natural abhorrence to such language today, and to such a decision from our Supreme Court. But in 1857 the Court went far beyond the simple ruling that Dred Scott did not possess the rights of a citizen to sue. The decision rendered the Missouri Compromise unconstitutional thereby throwing out the U.S. Congress’s right to make territory free of slavery. The decision held that the Missouri Compromise violated the Fifth Amendment by depriving Southerners of their right to private property, i.e., slaves. That decision sounds appalling to us, but it was cheered in its day by many. It caused some, however, to assert that there is a higher moral law than the Constitution, and a higher moral authority than the Supreme Court. These voices of conscience changed minds and hearts, and, in time, the Supreme Court’s decision. . . .
The Eighth Commandment
. . . Last month, a Massachusetts high school teacher was exonerated after facing a nearly identical plight. A 14-year-old student accused him of sexual assault. Months later, his life in near ruins, the teacher was exonerated at trial when it was learned that the girl made up the story because the teacher had reprimanded her in class. Here in prison, men often joke about how easy it is to set someone up in this way. Some have openly asked me for the names of priests who might have been present in their childhood communities so they can bring an accusation for money. (See "Sex Abuse and Signs of Fraud.").A few months ago, a self-described member of Voice of the Faithful wrote a scathing message to me. The writer, a retired teacher, declared that any effort to revisit the case against me is "nothing but a misguided right-wing conspiracy."The man's criticism was responded to by a friend who asked him what makes him feel so immune in an arena in which anyone can be accused by anyone, from decades ago, and with no evidence whatsoever. His blustering response was, "I have absolutely no fear of EVER being accused of such a thing." Well, neither did Michael Gallagher. Neither did I until it happened. . . .
First Things
. . . In "Scandal Time," Fr. Neuhaus stared straight into the hearts of panicked American bishops who responded to the crisis with neither fidelity to the law of the Church nor with mercy. To the very end of his life, Father Neuhaus, like Cardinal Dulles before him, pleaded for the due process rights of priests accused, and for fidelity to the Magisterium and laws of the Church. In one of his last letters to me, Father Neuhaus wrote of his concern that priests have a fair and just hearing, and that bishops not be allowed to implement mob justice that resulted in the forced laicization of many in cases that were decades old and defied fair investigation. In a letter dated October 27, 2008, Father Neuhaus wrote: "It is indeed disturbing that [a bishop] may move on this without giving you a chance to offer a defense, and without your even knowing the case being presented against you … ln the modern history of the Church, it is more often than not the case that Rome is inclined toward checking possible abuses of power by bishops. So let's pray that happens in this case. . . . .
A Ghost of Christmas Past
. . . Many of the Christmas cards that now adorn my cell wall tell of a Light shining in the darkness. You have cast a light into the darkness and spiritual isolation of prison this year. It's a light magnified ever so brightly, in my life and in yours, by Christ. The darkness can never, ever, ever overcome it. . . . When a young prisoner came to Dr. Frankl in the throes of despair, he was cautioned not to "waste grace." Dr. Frankl advised him that his days of suffering must be offered for the family he may never see again. It's a difficult concept for someone on the wrong end of injustice, but the young man was transformed by that advice. . . .
Angels We Have Heard on High
. . . When These Stone Walls was first considered, I was a bit nervous about an expected onslaught of negative, hateful comments. It's astonishing that in the five months of this blog's existence, only three such comments were aimed in our direction. One was from a self-described member of Voice of the Faithful that was little more than a name-calling rant. One was from a contingency lawyer who made enormous profit from keeping the accusations against priests going. The third was from a from a man who was charged with trying to blackmail a Boston priest in 2003. Voices like these have been given the loudest and last word in virtually every media article about accused priests since 2002. On These Stone Walls, you have overwhelmed and supplanted such comments with voices of reason, mercy, and truth - voices of faithful witness to the Gospel. This Christmas, the angels we have heard on high are you, the readers of These Stone Walls. . . .
Disperse the Gloomy Clouds of Night
. . . Some prisoners have very little outside of here. Last year on Christmas day, I just had to get outside. It was cold, and it had snowed, but I went to the small, caged-in yard in front of this building anyway. A guard closed the gate behind me, locking me in the snow-covered yard for an hour. The only other person there was a young man I did not know. He sat on a frozen wooden bench staring at his shoes. It was a sad sight on Christmas Day. I walked over and sat next to him. "JJ" was hostile and angry, but under that - it's almost always so - was a world of hurt. In an hour on Christmas afternoon I learned that JJ was twenty-two years old, had grown up in Boston in seventeen foster homes, had ADHD, and is now in prison for the first time because it's where his incredibly poor judgment took him. Before prison, JJ was homeless, drifting from shelter to shelter. On this Christmas Day, he came face to face with the empty wreckage of his life. He was outside in the cold alone because he had to get away from the seven other prisoners in whose cell he had landed just the day before. JJ had not had a single contact beyond these prison walls. . . .
New Spiritual Communion Page
. . .Many of you have expressed interest in offering a spiritual communion for Fr. MacRae. Beginning today, the First Sunday of Advent, These Stone Walls will sponsor a Spiritual Communion Page.We encourage you to join us in a weekly Holy Hour. If you're able, your Holy Hour may coincide with a weekly opportunity that Fr. MacRae has to celebrate Mass in private in his cell. The weekly Mass is celebrated each Sunday between 11 pm and midnight Eastern Standard Time. . . .
The Day the Earth Stood Still
. . . In the end, what was meant to be a sign of unity in the Church was transformed into an open battle in our seminary. The rector, a Sulpician, was a priest from my diocese. He was particularly incensed when I – the only seminarian from our diocese there – signed a petition challenging his authority to bar Catholic seminarians from attending a Mass with the Pope. On October 7, 1979, more than 200,000 people gathered on the National Mall in Washington, DC to welcome the Holy Father and celebrate the Eucharist with him. . . . I was horrified at the way they were singled out and ostracized, and I wasn't having it. On that day, I parted ways with the "trendy dissent" crowd. . . .
The Sacrifice of the Mass Part 2
. . . Then, suddenly, EWTN was gone. Early in 2008, EWTN converted to a digital signal ahead of the national transition that was to take place. To the dismay of many Catholic prisoners, EWTN was lost to us. The local cable company promised to restore it after the national transition to digital television, but that has not happened. EWTN is no longer available in the prison, and is deeply missed. I am approached daily by Catholic prisoners asking how we can restore EWTN. Without EWTN for daily Mass, I was stranded again. A friend challenged me to do all I can to regain the ability to celebrate the Eucharist. I wrote for an appointment with the current prison chaplain who told me he would approach prison officials for approval to have Mass supplies if our bishop also approved it. . . .
The Sacrifice of the Mass Part 1
. . . 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. . . . 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. . . .
Hey, Jude!
. . . We of "a certain age" remember all too well the Beatles' famous song, "Hey, Jude." Be careful! Some of the lyrics may escape you, but the melody is addictive. It can easily become "stuck in your head." I can hear it this very moment playing on neurons that first fired forty years ago. Was the song about the same Jude - the Patron of Hopeless Causes - whom we honor today? I was a teenager when I first heard the Beatles' "Hey, Jude" in the late 1960's (UGH! THE SIXTIES!!!). I remember thinking, at age fifteen, that the song was about St. Jude, Hope for the Hopeless. I liked the song, and even took some comfort from it for that very reason. It sounded like a prayer, and it seemed fitting that the Beatles, whose popularity edged toward idolatry - like a lot of the 1960's - might pray. Prayer or not, it has been sung like one since . . .
Guess What's Coming To Dinner!
. . . An avid Clint Eastwood fan, my sister rented the video of the 1979 film, “Escape from Alcatraz,” and we watched it together sometime in 1984. In a memorable scene, Eastwood’s character had his first meal in the Alcatraz prison’s dining facility. It was spaghetti. Clint Eastwood watched as another prisoner fed a bit of spaghetti to a mouse hiding in his pocket. Edified by this snippet of humanity in such a place, Clint dug into his own spaghetti. The camera zoomed in, and both Clint Eastwood and the viewers caught sight of maggots squirming on the tray. Clint wasn’t the only one eating his spaghetti. My niece – then five, and now married with daughters of her own – came into the room just at that scene. She squealed, “EEEEUWWW!” and ran off. It was a month before my sister could serve spaghetti again. . . .
The Whoopi Cushion
. . . Whoopi Goldberg now ridicules the case against Roman Polanski, inferring that it is unjust to impose a penalty in a case from so long go. Moreover, and most shockingly, she minimized the child’s victimization with the astonishing statement, “It wasn’t really rape, rape!” The inference here is that the victim “consented,” despite being drugged, and despite being thirteen years old. If Roman Polanski was a Catholic priest, Whoopi Goldberg would want his head presented to Herod on a platter. . . . As the national priesthood scandal unfolded seven years ago – at which point I had already been wrongly imprisoned for eight years – my bishop wrote the following to a Vatican official: “Whatever the truth is about [Father MacRae’s] guilt or innocence, the Diocese of Manchester was in a difficult situation during his public trial. I do not feel that the Diocese can publicly advocate on his behalf without risking grave public misunderstanding.” . . .
To the Readers of These Stone Walls
. . . Recently, I obtained the great honor of celebrating weekly Mass in my prison cell. Sometime soon, I will write about, the struggle to bring this about. At Mass, I like to use the First Eucharistic Prayer - the Roman Canon - the most beautiful and ancient of the Canons of the Mess. It affords an opportunity to pray for people by name. I pray there for the readers of These Stone Walls, and I keep a list of those who left comments so I can pray for each of you by name. . . . I want to call your attention this week to , “Pornchai’s Path to the Narrow Gate,” a new article by author Ryan Anthony MacDonald. It can be found under “Commentary” here at These Stone Walls. If you have been reading These Stone Walls, then you know of Pornchai - my friend and a fellow prisoner - who will soon be received into our Faith. . . .
Clerical Claustrophobia Part 2
. . . At the time I was accused and faced trial in 1994, my attorney sought the help of my Diocese to defend the case. I was sitting in the attorney’s office on the day he called the Chancellor of my diocese asking for details of the protocol for reporting accusations of abuse to state officials.The Chancellor, a monsignor, said that the diocese had never had to make such a report until accusations emerged against me. I was the only one, he said. Months later as I prepared for trial, the Chancellor and a diocesan lawyer issued a press release about me. Knowing that I refused “plea deals,” maintained my innocence, and struggled to mount a defense, the press release declared: “The Church has been a victim of the actions of Gordon MacRae just as these individuals.” My trial, from that point on, was but a farce. . . .
Clerical Claustrophobia Part 1
. . . Many bishops and brother priests have been in denial about how easy it is to be accused. As one astute prisoner said to me at the height of The Scandal in 2002: “Let me get this straight. If I say some priest touched me funny twenty years ago, I’ll be a victim, I’ll be paid for it, and my life will be HIS fault instead of mine. Do you have any idea of how tempting this is?” (“Sex Abuse and Signs of Fraud,” Catalyst, November 2005). I cannot pretend that I am not angry about the distance and risk aversion practiced by many of my brother priests in my regard. Over time, however, that anger has dissolved into sadness, not only about them, but about the climate of fear and dismay created by The Scandal and kept in motion by people with axes to grind. As more than one reader commented here on These Stone Walls, “Satan has targeted the priesthood.” . . .
Naked in the Public Square
. . . As I was led into the lobby with all my prison hardware clinking and the two armed guards at my sides, I felt the cold stares of dozens of wary eyes upon me. There had been a lot of idle chatter in the bustling hospital lobby, but everyone suddenly fell silent as I was led through their midst feeling … well … like a prisoner. I tried to stare straight ahead, a tactic that was not as easy as the silence quickly evolved into a torrent of whispers. I thought I even heard a gasp or two. . . . In the patient waiting area, an elderly woman smiled at me from across the room. I tried to smile back. I was trying hard not to look like Hannibal Lecter. . . .
Postcards From The Edges
. . . When The Scandal reached its media apex in January, 2003, a reporter for a local newspaper met with me in the prison visiting room. At the end of our visit, she said – and this is a direct quote – “The news media, and my paper in particular, are so anti-Catholic, editors won’t let us write stories about falsely accused priests.” A week later, the reporter canceled a second scheduled visit. I never heard from her again. . . .
Anatomy of a Sex Abuse Fraud
. . . It turned out that a year before making the claims, Sean Murphy and Byron Worth were inmates together at the Massachusetts Correctional Institute in Shirley, MA where they concocted the scam and rehearsed the details of their stories. Sean and Byron were indicted for fraud and larceny, and faced a 2-year return to prison for the scam. Sean’s mother was also indicted for the fraud. The Boston news media buried the story in the emerging tsunami of settlement demands for claims against priests. Sean Murphy’s return to prison was, for his own interests, time well spent. After his release, he made news again last year for masterminding a scam involving the heist of Super Bowl rings. . . .