A U.S. Marine Who Showed Me What to Give Up for Lent

On Ash Wednesday 2025 Fr Gordon MacRae marks 11,120 days in wrongful imprisonment, imposed for crimes that never took place. What on Earth could he give up for Lent?

March 5, 2025 by Fr Gordon MacRae

I wrote a post much like this one for Ash Wednesday, 2017. I stumbled upon it 2,922 days later as I pondered what I should write for Ash Wednesday this year. It tells the story of my friend Martin, an 82-year-old amputee and United States Marine. I encountered him in prison when he was the unfortunate victim of a cruel and senseless act by a clueless young man. When I re-read that post, I decided that I cannot leave Martin’s story as I left it back then. Martin is mercifully gone now, from this prison and from this life, but he left behind for me a resolute plan for Lent.

I give up! I have long since stopped counting how often I say that out loud, and if I had a dollar for every time I think it, I would find myself in a whole other tax bracket. I thought it even as I was starting this post. I spent all of yesterday typing a post into the short-term memory of this old but irreplaceable typewriter, and when I turned it on to continue it this morning, all was lost. I had to start over, so I abandoned my entire not-so-inspiring Ash Wednesday post and wondered what I might write about. Then it came to me. I’m giving up giving up for Lent, and I invite you to join me.

Those two words — “giving up” — appear together only once in the entire canon of Sacred Scripture. I found them in Chapter Six of the Second Book of Maccabees. They are part of a story with elements that you might find familiar. The year is 167 BC, and the Greek conqueror-king, Antiochus Epiphanes has overrun Jerusalem and desecrated the Temple. He removed the Sacred Torah, the Divine Presence, and turned the Sanctuary over to the Greek cult of Zeus who sits in Greece on Mount Olympus. What had been voluntary adoption of Hellenistic religion for the occupation of Jerusalem was now obligatory. For Israel, all was lost, and the People of God were demoralized and without hope.

You may know some of this story because it is the origin of the Jewish Festival of Hanukkah, the Festival of Lights. After a two-year struggle by a resistance movement launched by Judas Maccabeus and his brothers, the Temple was retaken and purified and the Divine Presence was restored in the Sanctuary. It happened on the 25th day of Chislev in the year 165 BC, exactly two years to the day after the Sanctuary was desecrated.

Restoring the Torah to the sanctuary required burning a lamp to honor the Divine Presence, but the resistance had oil for the lamp for just one day. Nonetheless, the lamp burned for eight days until the revolt of the Maccabees succeeded in re-taking all of Jerusalem. The city “decreed by public ordinance … that the whole nation of the Jews should observe these days every year” (2 Maccabees 10:8). Hence the eight branches of the menorah which are lit at Hanukkah.

But back to “giving up.” Before all that happened — before the Maccabean revolt re-took the Temple — the two-year occupation by the Greeks was brutal. It started off seductively. Some among the Jews became collaborators in the gradual surrender. First to go were their religious liberties, and when that happened all the rest of their freedom was easy prey. We would do well to remember that.

Some surrendered their religious rights because they were sold a story that doing so was in their best interest under the rule of Antiochus who had no respect for their faith. Over time, invitations for reform and change turned into requirements — an agenda that started off looking like “social progress,” not unlike the one that hauled the Little Sisters of the Poor to the steps of the Supreme Court during the Obama and Biden administrations.

But I digress. Back to the story. Eleazar, “a scribe in a high position, a man now advanced in age and of noble presence” (2 Maccabees 6:18) was used by the Greek occupiers to demean the peoples’ faith and rob them of their will. In public view, the Greeks tried to force the revered Jew to eat the flesh of swine. Some of his fellow Jews took the respected Scribe aside and privately urged him to bring some other meat and just pretend that he was eating the swine, thus saving his own life while only appearing to cave to the demands of the oppressors. Eleazar said in reply:

“‘Such pretense is not worthy of our time, lest many of the young should presuppose that Eleazar, in his ninetieth year, has gone over to an alien religion, and through my pretense, for the sake of living a brief moment longer, they should be led astray because of me while I defile and disgrace my old age. For even if for the present I should avoid the punishment of men, yet whether I live or die I shall not escape the hands of the Almighty. Therefore, by manfully giving up my life now, I will show myself worthy of my old age and leave to the young a noble example…’ When he said this, he went at once to the rack.”

— 2 Maccabees 6:24-28

By giving up his life, Eleazar helped keep his people from giving up their will, and their hope, and their faith, the very fabric of their existence. This is the sole use of the term “giving up” in all of sacred Scripture. So who am I to defile the example of Eleazar, and cave into the oppression of imprisonment? I am giving up giving up for Lent, and again, I invite you to join me.

Tom Clancy Gets Wet

The first time I ever heard the term, “giving up giving up” was from a fellow prisoner, an 82-year-old named Martin. I saw Martin here and there before we actually met. He stood out. Well, “stood” does not quite fit. Martin came to prison at age 80 as an amputee confined to a wheelchair, sort of a prison within a prison.

Most confined to wheelchairs here try to find younger prisoners to push them when they need to get from one point to another. Martin always got where he needed to go under his own power. At some point in his life, his left leg was amputated several inches above the knee. He used his remaining leg to propel his own chair, declining all help. People come and go constantly where we live, so when 82-year-old Martin and his wheelchair were assigned to one of the overflow bunks out in a recreation area, few people took notice. At least, the right ones didn’t notice. The wrong ones always notice, and sometimes they lurk in the shadows waiting for an opportunity.

I first noticed Martin when I saw him sitting at the edge of his bunk with his one remaining leg, but without his chair. I stopped and asked if he needed help. “I’m not sure,” he said warily. “I took a short nap, and when I woke up my chair was gone.” I went on a search for Martin’s wheelchair, and was furious when I found it. Some clueless punk — there is no shortage of them here — decided to steal the few possessions Martin had in a pocket in the back of his chair, and then hid the chair in a shower with the water running. It ruined the possessions he had left, including a book he was reading.

And it was a Tom Clancy book! That REALLY ticked me off! You might understand why from my recent post, In the Rearview Mirror: Tom Clancy and The Hunt for Red October. Such things happen here to vulnerable prisoners who appear isolated. When I brought the dripping chair back to Martin, the leering smirks nearby turned into scowls and downcast eyes as the local thugs avoided eye contact with me. Then I brought a towel and a fan which I plugged in to help dry the wheelchair. And I recruited a couple of the main suspects to help me dry the chair. I knew that Martin must be overdue for a bathroom trip so I said, “Just this one time, let someone help you.” I helped Martin into the chair and got him to where I knew he needed to go. I waited there to bring him back to his bunk, and then I pulled up a plastic chair and sat with Martin for awhile.

His greatest concern was for the Tom Clancy book, The Hunt for Red October, which was ruined. He told me that a friend got it from the library and now he will have to pay for it. “That’s not going to happen,” I said. I told Martin that I work in the Library where we have several copies of that book. I said I would be back that afternoon with another so he could finish it.

Then, to calm Martin’s wariness, I also brought him a copy of my Tom Clancy post linked above, which I first wrote on the occasion of Tom Clancy’s sudden death in October of 2013. Martin was shocked to learn that a prisoner had written such an article, and more so when I told him that Tom Clancy’s long time publisher, G.P. Putnam and Sons, posted it on Clancy’s official website.

Later that day, when I returned with the book, Martin was beaming. He said he loved the article and he was shocked yet again to learn from it that I am a Catholic priest. Martin told me that he is a convert to our faith, that his conversion came shortly after active duty in the U.S. Marine Corps some fifty years earlier during the Korean War. That was why he started reading Tom Clancy.

Semper Fidelis

From that day on, I made it a point to visit with Martin every day. So did our friend, Pornchai-Max Moontri. No one ever touched his chair again. From my post about Tom Clancy, Martin discovered that his book that ended up in the shower was but the first in a series of fourteen novels about Jack Ryan, a literary character and disabled Marine who has been part of my life and priesthood since 1985.

In these books, Tom Clancy’s Jack Ryan took us from the Marine Corps to the CIA in The Hunt for Red October, to the streets of Ulster in Patriot Games, to Soviet-occupied Afghanistan in Cardinal of the Kremlin, to the assassination attempt of Saint John Paul II in Red Rabbit, and, in the end, to the White House and terrorism in Debt of Honor and Executive Orders.

I loved these books. By the time I met Martin I had read some 14,000 pages in the life of Tom Clancy’s fictional character, Jack Ryan. It was a joy for me to bring the installments in the series one by one to Martin. Each book was a heavy tome, most in excess of 700 pages, but Martin devoured them. He loved my afternoon visits after work in the Library as we discussed the latest adventure of Jack Ryan.

In one of these discussions, it was difficult for me to contain my fury. I never knew what sent Martin to prison at age 80. A lapse in judgment? A moment of human failure? It didn’t matter. This was a very good man who served his country as a U.S. Marine at the close of the Korean War in the same year that I was born. He had earned our nation’s respect.

One day I asked Martin what keeps him from giving up, and he said that there came a point when he had given up giving up. I asked what he meant, and he said that shortly after he came to prison two or three years earlier, his wife of 56 years died. He said that when he learned this, it seemed the end of the world for him. He sat alone in his wheelchair and was overcome with grief. Then, he said, a “counselor” on the prison payroll in the program he was in walked past him and stabbed at his pain. She said sarcastically — and it was heard by others — “Oh just suck it up, old man!” I had heard similar accounts from other prisoners there. None of us should ever overestimate the capacity for empathy from those burned out on a prison payroll.

Martin said that this made him so enraged that rage replaced grief. He decided that he would never again hand his emotional and spiritual well being over to an oppressor. He had to give up giving up. This made total sense to me, and I think that because of it — like the story of Eleazar — Martin inspired those who took the time to get to know him. He inspired me to endure the long Lent that my life had entered.

My heart sank one day a year later when I returned from the Library to see Martin and his chair gone, and an empty bunk. He was moved to another place, a very crowded dormitory. Martin had been paroled at least two years earlier, but could not be released because he no longer had a home. His condition was such that he needed handicapped housing for veterans, but the wait lists were long. This kept Martin in prison well past his parole, and also changed his custody level which was why he was moved.

It took me awhile to learn where he went. Once I did, I was able to continue to send him books each week. He finished the entire Tom Clancy “Jack Ryan” series, and I started sending him books about the Marine Corps by W.E.B. Griffin which he loved.

I could not see Martin, but I was able to find prisoners who lived in that dormitory and I got them to bring him books each week. I even convinced some of them to sit with him on occasion. I also sent him some of my posts which he loved and would send back his comments on them.

Then one day Martin was gone from there as well. I learned that he developed an infection that required the removal of his other leg. I was heartbroken for him. In all this time, he waited patiently in prison for a place to live, but I both feared and hoped that it may end up being in Heaven. Martin’s Purgatory was served right here.

I later learned Martin was housed in the prison medical unit, and there he had a visit from a Veterans Administration official who arranged housing for him. From that point on I lost contact with Martin. I understood some years later that he passed away.

Semper Fi, Martin. Thank you for facing your long Lent with faith and strength and dignity. Never give up! Never surrender!

— except to God Himself!

Semper Fidelis! — Always Faithful!

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Notes to Readers from Father Gordon MacRae: Please remember in your prayers our Holy Father Pope Francis as he is being treated for critical illness.

Beginning this week and throughout Lent and the Easter Season our newest menu item on the Home Page, From Ashes to Easter, will feature a series of Biblical posts comprising a walk through Salvation History. These posts were written, in the spirit of Saint Paul, from prison. We hope these Biblical reflections may enhance your Lenten journey as we walk with Our Lord toward Calvary. Please ponder and share our posts From Ashes to Easter.

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The Martyrdom of Eleazar the Scribe by Gustave Doré

The Eucharistic Adoration Chapel established by Saint Maximilian Kolbe was inaugurated at the outbreak of World War II. It was restored as a Chapel of Adoration in September, 2018, the commemoration of the date that the war began. It is now part of the World Center of Prayer for Peace. The live internet feed of the Adoration Chapel at Niepokalanow — sponsored by EWTN — was established just a few weeks before we discovered it and began to include in at Beyond These Stone Walls. Click “Watch on YouTube” in the lower left corner to see how many people around the world are present there with you. The number appears below the symbol for EWTN.

Click or tap here to proceed to the Adoration Chapel.

The following is a translation from the Polish in the image above: “Eighth Star in the Crown of Mary Queen of Peace” “Chapel of Perpetual Adoration of the Blessed Sacrament at Niepokalanow. World Center of Prayer for Peace.” “On September 1, 2018, the World Center of Prayer for Peace in Niepokalanow was opened. It would be difficult to find a more expressive reference to the need for constant prayer for peace than the anniversary of the outbreak of World War II.”

For the Catholic theology behind this image, visit my post, “The Ark of the Covenant and the Mother of God.”