Pornchai Moontri and the Things We Carry

Freedom from stone walls and iron bars brings no freedom from a prison of the mind. Pornchai Moontri now faces a tempest within and I still walk with him from afar.

September 9, 2026 by Father Gordon MacRae

In the photo above, the military governor of the District of Phu Wiang, Thailand came to welcome Pornchai Moontri home as he prepares to recover and move into the home his mother, Wannee, had been building at the time of her death in April, 2000.

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The Wall Street Journal has been marketing a new bestseller called “The Birthday Book.” It features the Journal’s front pages from the day a gift recipient was born and every birthday hence up to the present time. On September 10, the day after this post is published, our friend, Pornchai “Max” Moontri, will turn 53 years of age. I was 53 when he and I first met in prison and landed in the same cell twenty years ago.

In 2009, three years after his arrival here after many years in solitary confinement in another prison, this blog began. Through an abundance of grace our lives became intertwined. It was Pornchai — who now prefers to be called “Max” for our Patron Saint — who proposed the name for this blog. Neither of us even knew then what a blog was. They did not exist when we last lived in the land of the free.

In 2007, Max learned with great trepidation that he would be deported to Thailand at the end of his long sentence. He had no one there, and he feared the darkness. I promised him that with this blog from our prison we could build a bridge to Thailand. Max wanted very much to believe that, but he scoffed. He does not scoff any longer.

In September 2020, this looming deportation into freedom happened, but life remains for Max a daily crucible of trials all connected to the trials that came before. Reading about The Wall Street Journal “Birthday Book,” I decided to take a deep dive into the time and place in which Pornchai first entered this world in the village of Phu Wiang (pronounced Poo Vee-ang) in the far northeast of Thailand in 1973. He is now in the process of relocating there, to the village of his birth. This move is out of desperation, actually, but I will get back to that hoping that perhaps someone may feel moved to help me help him.

Our readers may recall that Pornchai was born in Phu Wiang, Thailand in 1973, but in 1975, at the age of two, he and his four-year-old brother Priwan were abandoned there by their mother, Wannee Laporn, who was then barely 19 years old. I at first found it difficult not to form a harsh and spontaneous judgment of Wannee for such an abandonment. That changed when I understood the setting and context into which Wannee gave them life and then left them in such a vulnerable state.

In 1973, after thirteen months of military rule, Thailand’s government collapsed. After having been one of the world’s leading rice-exporting nations — the staple food of the world’s poor — food production in Thailand, especially in the rural north, became severely challenged. As a matter of self-preservation, Thailand’s interim government adopted a law banning non-Thais from being employed in Thailand. This had serious repercussions for the economy and the distribution of food access as throngs of refugees fled into Thailand from the war raging in Vietnam.

When Priwan was two years old, and while Wannee was still carrying Pornchai, she and they were abandoned by her husband. He was a Muay Thai martial arts fighter who earned a scant living traveling village to village for bouts. When he did not return, Wannee was left even more impoverished and unable to care for her sons. There was no social safety net. Then, in 1975 when Pornchai was two years old, the Fall of Saigon ended the war in Vietnam and brought thousands upon thousands of refugees fleeing into Thailand from Vietnam. Many refugees died.

Among the refugees fleeing from the victorious Viet Cong then was a 15-year-old boy who became one of the well-known Vietnamese “Boat People.” He would later also become an important figure in our lives as Father John Hung Le, SVD, a missionary priest of the Society of the Divine Word in Thailand. While following my writing at Beyond These Stone Walls, Father John became a good friend to me and to Max. He gave Max shelter upon his deportation from the United States in September 2020.

Back to the dilemma of Wannee, she was impoverished and alone with two starving children in 1975. She decided in despair to leave them to seek work elsewhere to support her sons from afar. She hoped her extended family would care for them. Wannee, in a fragile state herself, labored on a Bangkok road crew carrying huge buckets of cement on a pole for the equivalent of 50 cents per day. Back in Phu Wiang, Pornchai was hospitalized for malnutrition. Throughout his young life, food scarcity and access were a critical and common theme. It was not an auspicious beginning in life.

I much later realized in hindsight that in that same period, I was living comfortably as a college student, well fed, and with few worries beyond my grades. I have since done penance for my past misguided judgment of Wannee.

After the Fall of Saigon

In Vietnam in 1975, city after city and province after province fell into Communist hands. It was not so much a conquering on their part as it was another abandonment. Two years after a 1973 cease fire agreement, Thailand stood entirely alone as the sole democracy among a gathering of communist Southeast Asian nations. Thailand’s long-standing alliance with the United States deteriorated rapidly as a result of communist advances in Vietnam and Cambodia. It was a very scary time for a young woman alone with two small children. Wannee left with a desperate hope that her extended family would shelter them.

In late spring of 1975, the U.S. began to abandon its Thai bases as it withdrew all U.S. troops from Vietnam. Both the U.S. military presence and economic assistance were drastically reduced. Student demonstrators rampaged in Bangkok as South Vietnam unconditionally surrendered to the Viet Cong. In Saigon, a policeman put his pistol to his head and fired. Waves of despair were evident everywhere as waves of U.S. marines and Navy personnel crowded onto the Embassy rooftops awaiting helicopters for a final evacuation of 6,400 troops to a 40-vessel armada anchored just off the coast. I wrote of one of these Navy personnel who refused to leave in “For Fr. John Tabor, the Path to Priesthood Was War.”

But also among those entering Thailand from Vietnam was someone Wannee and then later her sons would have the misfortune of ever coming to know. Richard Alan Bailey was a civilian helicopter pilot in Vietnam profiting from the last days of the war. He became a frequent visitor to Thailand exploiting various opportunities one of which was his quest for the servitude of a needy Thai wife. Somewhere, somehow, he encountered Wannee in 1978 and married her in Bangkok in 1980.

Wannee’s inability to return to her two sons in the far north of Thailand was not a personal choice, but it was to be the death of her. I wrote of Richard Alan Bailey and his dark, ominous and ongoing presence in this story in “Getting Away with Murder on the Island of Guam.” When Wannee threatened to go to authorities to report Bailey’s abuse of Pornchai and Priwan she was murdered.

The Heavy Baggage of a Stolen Life

We will link again to the above post and its sequel at the end of this one. The content they present would not be the usual for a WSJ “Birthday Book.” Not everyone has the lyrics of happy thoughts with which they can compose a Birthday Book.

Pornchai arrived in my cell in 2006, a broken, angry, and hostile young man. But as most readers know by now, that was all masking something else. The next four years were a daily battle of wills. On Divine Mercy Sunday in 2010, four years after his forced transfer from Maine’s “Supermax” prison, Pornchai converted to Catholicism and embraced Divine Mercy. In 2007, as mentioned earlier, we learned of his pending future deportation to Thailand, but he coped knowing that he no longer faced it alone.

As trust grew between us — and between Pornchai and Jesus Christ — Max told me of all the dark corners of his life that he carried with him. I convinced him that none of this evil was of his making nor was it his to keep. It took time to build Max up for this, but in 2018, with the help of Clare Farr, an attorney in Australia, we brought Richard Alan Bailey to justice. He was found guilty of 40 felony charges of gross sexual abuse in the State of Maine.

Then the lights came on in Maine. I filed petitions revealing the connections between Pornchai’s original offense and the terror that had been inflicted upon him between the ages of 12 and 15 under Richard Bailey’s “care.” Maine officials then reduced some of Pornchai’s sentence, which in short order handed him over to ICE custody on September 10, 2020, to await deportation. After nearly 16 years as my roommate, that was the last time I saw Pornchai Moontri. We stood in the predawn dark at the gates of our prison, with us on the inside and ICE agents on the outside. Max turned to me and said, “Thank you for my freedom. Thank you for my future.” After the gates closed, I went to my cell and wept.

The contacts we had built on the outside suddenly seemed vastly important to us. I had no way to call Max in ICE detention in a Louisiana ICE facility where he was held, and he had no way to call me. But our mutual friend, the late Claire Dion expressed to me her concern that if Pornchai cannot speak to me, “he will not make it.” So she devised a plan using two cell phones, her own and her husband’s. Max would call into one at a specified time and I would call into the other at the same time. It was not perfect, but it was a necessity and it got Max through all the discouragement and despair that comes with ICE detention.

Six months later, after a long grueling stay in an overcrowded ICE facility in Louisiana during a pandemic, we got word that on the next day Max would board a flight to Thailand with two ICE agents. On board the long flight, heading for a long layover in South Korea and before going on to Bangkok, the two ICE agents where nudging each other while looking at their phones. I learned later that they were reading posts I wrote about Pornchai’s life. Then they put away their phones and removed his shackles. They treated him with exemplary kindness. Pornchai suddenly felt free.

Now, six years later from the opposite side of the world, I still walk with Max. I still chip away at the heavy burdens he carries. Thanks to the kindness of our readers and their concern for us, Max and I can still speak daily by telephone, which has proven to be a necessity.

Finding work in Thailand was a great but discouraging task. I have been supporting Max with basic necessities since his arrival there. For a few years he lived on a property in Pak Chong in the middle of the country where he landscaped and helped manage the owner’s properties, but for no pay. He earned room and board only. Then about a year ago, he became homeless for a time living in a small rented room in Pattaya, which I paid for. Pattaya was known as the seamier side of Thailand. He attended Mass there at Saint Nicholas Church. Though Thailand is about 98 percent Theravada Buddhist, Max managed to find at least a small Catholic chapel everywhere he went.

The war in Iran has had a global impact on fuel prices. Our BTSW Editor, Dilia E. Rodriguez, found and purchased a pre-owned hybrid vehicle in Thailand for Max. He learned to drive there, which is fortunate because the steering wheel is on the wrong side of the car. This changed his day-to-day existence considerably. This past summer, Max obtained work as a translator for the Asian Oasis resort near Chiang Mai, Thailand serving a mostly European clientele. He did well there, and was an asset, but the long hours and loneliness worked against him. Meanwhile, Max’s main support in Thailand, Father John Hung Le, SVD, has been stranded in Myanmar and Vietnam because his visa was not renewed in Thailand. Missionary priests throughout the world are facing this same problem. His very important refugee assistance project also lost most of its funding due to cuts in USAID. Our politics have wide ranging repercussions around the world. I continue to be in contact with Father John.

Prospects for employment for Max were still dismal. He competes with thousands of family wage earners for a very limited number of jobs. So I felt his only real opportunity going forward was to start a small business. He wanted to remain in Phu Wiang, which is far removed from the noise and haste of Bangkok. One of our readers who asked not to be identified sent me a gift of $3,500. I remember the old adage: “If you give a man a fish he will eat for a day. If you teach a man to fish, he will eat for a lifetime.” I used the money to purchase three acres of good farmland near Phu Wiang for Max to begin farming. He is most interested in a poultry farm. I have been researching this and he is going to be enrolled in a semester of learning about how to begin. He is going to need help to get started. I just read that the world’s first poultry farm existed 8,000 years ago very near to what is now Phu Wiang, Thailand.

At the same time, Max is moving into the house his mother was having built for him. It is the house featured at the very top of this post. Max is painfully aware that his mother’s desire to finish this house cost her her life on the Island of Guam as she was liberating herself from Richard Alan Bailey in 2000. The outside of the house, which has been dormant for 26 years, is quite nice. The inside is nowhere near finished.

Max has now come full circle returning to the place of his birth, where he will start life over again. He is volunteering to help take care of a small Catholic chapel there, Saint Joseph Church, named for the Guardian of the Redeemer and Fatherhood Redeemed.

Max and I thank you for being here with us at this turning of the tide.

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HOW TO HELP US: For nearly 20 years I have been committed to assisting Pornchai Moontri in navigating the trials and losses of his life, none of which were of his own making. I have done all in my power to promote an honest and thorough investigation into the unresolved, “cold-case” homicide of Pornchai’s mother, Wannee.

For six years since his arrival in Thailand Max has been struggling in a nation in economic and political chaos. Promising developments are currently underway. Max will now be living in the house his mother set out to build 26 years ago. He has the skills and will soon have the tools to finish it. He also has a solid plan to start a new agricultural business in Northern Thailand so he will not be dependent on the state of the local economy. This will be dependent upon my support, and I hope that can transition into “our” support.

Our BTSW Editor, Dilia E. Rodriguez, has established an account for my expenses in the support of this blog at Navy Federal Credit Union. Dilia also has the ability for direct funds transfers to assist both Pornchai Moontri in his new endeavor and Father John Hung Le, SVD, and his Refugee Assistance Project, which aids 2,000 Vietnamese families in Thailand with basic food support.

If you wish to assist me, and you do so by check, make it out to Dilia E. Rodriguez and send it with your instructions to

Beyond These Stone Walls
PO Box 81
Fayetteville, NY 13066-0081

As I write this, I just received a hopeful message from Father John, who is awaiting a missionary visa to return to Thailand. It will take three to four months. The cost of the visa will be 15,000 Thai Baht, which translates to $500 USD. I have already provided it with the help from some readers.

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Thank you for reading and sharing this post. For a fuller understanding of this story, please see the following:

An AI Analysis of Getting Away with Murder on the Island of Guam

A Catholic League White House Plea Set Pornchai Moontri Free

Pornchai Moontri: Bangkok to Bangor, Survivor of the Night

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.”

For Fr. John Tabor, the Path to Priesthood Was War

Jaffrey, New Hampshire native Father John Tabor was called by God from the U.S. Navy at the Fall of Saigon to a half century of priesthood in Vietnam and Thailand.

November 30, 2022 by Fr. Gordon MacRae

Some time ago, I introduced a post by citing a famous 1990s play and movie by John Guare entitled, Six Degrees of Separation. In the film version, actor Will Smith played the central character, a young man who insinuated himself into the lives of a wealthy Manhattan couple by pretending to be the son of American actor, Sidney Poitier. The hoodwinked couple were so enthralled by what they thought was a fortuitous connection to a Hollywood star that they invited their wealthy friends to witness the new relationship. It was a con man’s dream.

The play and film introduced a theory that many came to believe was a valid sociological principle. It was the notion that the paths of all human beings are somehow connected by no more than six degrees of separation from each other. As the world grew smaller in the Internet age, the idea took on an aura of universal truth. It might even be true, for all I know, but it started off not as science, but as faith.

I have written of two examples. The path of my friend, Pornchai Moontri, my roommate of 16 years here, is separated from that of Saint Padre Pio by just two degrees. Pornchai’s Godfather, the late Pierre Matthews from Belgium, met and was blessed by Padre Pio at age 16. I wrote of their strange encounter in “With Padre Pio When the Worst that Could Happen Happens.”

Perhaps more profound and surprising, just after I wrote a popular science post about the origins of the Cosmos some years ago I learned that Pornchai is also separated by only two degrees from the famous mathematician-physicist, Fr. Georges Lemaitre, who discovered the Big Bang origin of the Universe. Father Lemaitre was a close friend of Pornchai’s Godfather’s parents who sent us several photos of them together. I wrote of the astronomical odds against such a development in “Fr. Georges Lemaitre: The Priest who Discovered the Big Bang.”

According to the theory, these two accounts left me also with only two degrees of separation from both Padre Pio and Father Lemaitre, two famous figures about whom I had been writing. It was mind-boggling, but it was never a legitimate scientific theory at all. For most people, threads of connection between people are mere coincidence. For others, they are the subtle threads of what I have called the Great Tapestry of God.

I subscribe to the latter view, but we should not try to reduce these threads to the limits of science. They are instead, for many, evidence of actual grace — perhaps more connected to a Scriptural mystery: “Faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things unseen” (Hebrews 11:1). People of true faith find meaning in these connections that science overlooks.

Priesthood in a Time of War

One of these unusual threads of connection just manifested itself in my life. The November/December 2022 issue of Parable magazine, a news publication from my diocese, had as its cover story a tribute to Father John Tabor entitled, “Soldier to Servant.” My path has crossed with that of Father Tabor several times in life, but we have never actually met.

Several years older than me, John Tabor graduated from Conant High School in Jaffrey, New Hampshire in 1964. I graduated at age 16 from a Boston area high school in 1970. His path took him to the U.S. Navy and to war in Vietnam. Mine did not. I was too young at graduation to go to war, and by the time I could, the war was over.

Father Tabor’s priestly vocation was shaped by a war in which he survived several near death encounters. One of them involved a military jeep he was driving in a war zone in Da Nang. It broke down right in front of a small Catholic church where he sought the help of a local priest to repair it. A short distance down the same road on the same day, a land mine exploded that would have killed him, but John missed it because he and the priest were slow making the needed repair. It was then that John gave serious thought to something that passed only fleetingly through his mind back in high school.

In the late 18th Century, France colonized Vietnam and remained in power as an occupying force until 1954. The long French occupation of Vietnam had the unintended effect of introducing Catholicism to the Vietnamese. As a result, many Vietnamese today practice Catholic faith with great reverence. A quarter century after the French departed from Vietnam, Father John Tabor was deeply moved by the depth of Catholic faith among the people of this war-torn country.

When the war was over, and his tour of duty in the Navy ended, John Tabor wrote to his family in New Hampshire to tell them of his decision to remain in Vietnam to study for the priesthood. He immersed himself in the Vietnamese language and became fluent. Father Tabor was ordained for the Diocese of Da Nang in 1974.

In that same year half a world away, my own path to priesthood had just begun. Five years later in 1979, during theological studies at St. Mary’s Seminary and University in Baltimore, my closest friend was Tran, a Vietnamese seminarian who had been a student during the war in the seminary in Da Nang. I tutored Tran in English so he could complete his studies. Like Father Tabor, Tran, had been forced to flee Vietnam after the Fall of Saigon under the post-war oppression of the communist North Vietnamese in 1975. He brought years of war trauma with him.

Tran had been one of hundreds of thousands forced to flee Vietnam among the famous “Boat People” whose struggle for freedom and survival captured the world’s attention. During seminary studies in Baltimore, Tran often spoke to me about Father John Tabor the American priest who taught English to Vietnamese seminarians at the seminary in Da Nang where Father Tabor first ministered.

Also among the Boat People fleeing communist Vietnam was a young high school student named John Hung Le. He is known to our readers today as a heroic priest in the Missionary Society of the Divine Word and the founder of the Vietnamese Refugee Project of Thailand. He is also the priest who helped to sponsor Pornchai Moontri upon his arrival in Thailand in 2021 and continues to support his repatriation today.

The Fall of Saigon, the surrender of the South Vietnamese to Northern Communist Vietnam took place on April 30, 1975. The Viet Cong tanks and troops soon began pouring into downtown Saigon — now called Ho Chi Minh City — and spread toward Da Nang. I vividly recall news footage of waves of U.S. Marine and Air Force helicopters. They flew 6,400 military and civilian evacuees from Saigon to a 40-vessel armada waiting 15 miles off the coast of South Vietnam.

American helicopters swept into Saigon just after dawn to retrieve 30 marines from the U.S. Embassy rooftop completing the final evacuation of about 900 Americans and more than 5,000 Vietnamese. Four American marines died during the final hours of the U.S. presence in Vietnam. Two were killed in a heavy morning bombardment of Tan Son Nhut Air Base when a rocket hit the compound of the U.S. defense attache’s office where they were on guard. The other two died during the evacuation when their helicopter plunged into the South China Sea.

Several Americans, including some brave newsmen, decided to stay. Hundreds of desperate Vietnamese civilians swarmed into the U.S. embassy compound in Saigon and onto the roof after the marines had left. The roof of a nearby building also served as an emergency helipad where several hundred South Vietnamese civilians waited in hopes that there would be more helicopters to rescue them away from the coming communist oppression. They waited in vain.

Udon Thani, Thailand

Also left behind, by his own choice, was Father John Tabor who had been ordained for the Diocese of Da Nang just ten months earlier in 1974. Though now fluent in spoken and written Vietnamese, he nonetheless knew that as an American he must leave Vietnam quickly. It would not be by sea. He made his way across a border into Laos, then north to the Capital, Vientiane. From there he crossed the border into Thailand where he was canonically received into the northern Thai Diocese of Udon Thani in 1975.

For historical context for our readers, at the time Father Tabor arrived in Udon Thani, just a short distance to the south in Non Bhua Lamphu, Thailand, two-year-old Pornchai Moontri had become an orphan. That complex story was told to wide acclaim in “Bangkok to Bangor, Survivor of the Night.”

Diplomatic relations between the U.S. and the Communist government of Vietnam were not restored until 1995. Father Tabor ministered in Udon Thani, Thailand for the next 47 years. After seeing him last month on the cover of Parable in my diocese, I had a friend help me send an email message to Father John Hung Le in Thailand. I told him what I had read of the story of Father Tabor and of how he had come to New Hampshire to visit his twin brother after an absence of fifty years. I asked Father John if his path had ever crossed with that of Father Tabor who was originally from New Hampshire.

The message that came back the next day contained attachments which our editor then sent to the GTL tablet in my cell. The first was a photo of Pornchai who had been helping Father John to distribute food to Vietnamese refugee families that day. The second was the photo above of Fathers John Le and John Tabor. “We had lunch together today,” said Father John. By coincidence they met in Bangkok that very morning when Father Tabor had a required checkup upon his return to Thailand from New Hampshire.

It turned out that they are old friends whose respective paths had taken them from the terrors of war into the priesthood of Jesus Christ on the frontier of Catholic missionary service in Southeast Asia. Father John Le’s community, the Society of the Divine Word, has long had a base in Udon Thani, the most northern region of Thailand along the border with Laos very near Pornchai’s childhood home. These are heroic priests whose selfless lives have been on the front lines of service to the Lord among the poorest of the poor for decades. I am humbled to know them.

In his recent message, Father John Le told me that he and my friend, Pornchai had met that evening with Father John’s Provincial Superior on his annual visitation from the Society of the Divine Word. The connectedness of our interwoven paths is staggering. I can only make sense of it through a single line in a prayer. It is the prayer of St. John Henry Newman that I wrote about some months ago in “Divine Mercy in a Time of Spiritual Warfare.” The prayer is entitled, “Some Definite Service”:

“God has created me to do Him some definite service. He has committed some work to me which he has not committed to another. I have my mission. I may never know it in this life, but I shall be told it in the next. I am a link in a chain, a bond of connection between persons.”

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Father John Tabor’s route from Da Nang, Vietnam through Laos to Udon Thani, Thailand

Note from Father Gordon MacRae:

Please keep Father John Tabor, Father John Hung Le, SVD, and Pornchai Moontri in your prayers. Over several months, readers have generously sent me gifts to be applied to Father John’s Refugee Project and the support of Pornchai’s repatriation to Thailand after 36 years. I have saved your recent gifts in support of Father John’s ministry until they amounted to $1,000 U.S.D. We just sent this amount to Father John who expressed his deeply felt gratitude (as do I!). That amount is equal to 30,000 Thai Baht which greatly assists him in bulk food and medical supply purchases for the Vietnamese refugee children and families of Thailand. During this time of global inflation, your sacrifices have made a difference. Thank you.

To assist in this project, please scroll through our SPECIAL EVENTS page for information.

Thank you for reading and sharing this post. You may also like the related links cited in this post:

Washington and the Vatican Strengthen Ties with Vietnam — National Catholic Register, October 8, 2023

A Struggling Parish Builds an Advent Bridge to Thailand

Divine Mercy in a Time of Spiritual Warfare

Dragged Into Thanksgiving Kicking and Screaming

Even when inflation deepens our need, even when politics rage around us, even when unjustly in prison at Thanksgiving for 30 years, there is cause for gratitude.

Thanksgiving by Fr. Gordon MacRae

One year ago, I wrote a post entitled, “A Struggling Parish Builds an Advent Bridge to Thailand.” It was about a selfless decision of Father Tim Moyle and the people of St. Anne Parish in rural Mattawa, Ontario. They set aside their own parish needs during Advent 2021 to raise funds to assist Father John Hung Le, a friend and Society of the Divine Word Missionary and the sole provider for the Vietnamese Refugees of Thailand. He serves some of the poorest of the world’s poor.

Father Tim and his parish got the idea for the project from reading Beyond These Stone Walls. The Advent project was a wonderful success, not only for the refugees, but also for the parish and for us, and in more ways than we yet even know.

Several months later, I wrote about the end result of this great endeavor in a post entitled, “February Tales and a Corporal Work of Mercy in Thailand.” Each event in this story carved out a path to other events which, on their surface, seemed not to be connected at all, but underneath we found profound meaning. In that post, I recalled a book that I read over a half century ago. It set in motion many paths which still make connections today. The book was The Once and Future King. Here is an excerpt from what I wrote of it in 2021:

I was sixteen years old for most of my senior year in high school growing up on the North Shore of Boston in 1969. I was a full year younger than most of my class. There are many events that stand out about that year, but one that I remember most was an adventure in British literature that I found in The Once and Future King, the classic novel of the Arthurian legend by T.H. White first published in 1939.

In my inner city public high school, The Once and Future King was required senior year reading. Most of my older peers groaned at its 640 pages, but I devoured it. The famed novel is the story of King Arthur, the Sword in the Stone, the Knights of the Round Table, and the quest for the Holy Grail — all based on the medieval Morte d’Arthur by Sir Thomas Mallory in the 16th Century. By the time I was half way through it at 16, I had completely forgotten that I was forced to read it and obliged to resent it.

I found a worn and tattered copy some 50 years later in a prison law library where I am the legal clerk. I took it back to my cell for a weekend to see if it held up against the test of time. It did so admirably, and I devoured it for the second time in my life. I was astonished by how well I remembered the plot and every character. I was reunited with my favorites, the Scottish knights and brothers Sirs Gawain, Agravaine, Gareth and Gaheris. A few days after I began to read it anew, I came upon one of the popular Marvel X-Men movies and noted with surprise that the character, Magneto, was reading The Once and Future King in his prison cell.

The backdrop of my first reading of the book at age 16 in 1969 was the chaos of my teenage life in a troubled inner city high school. Protests and riots against the Vietnam war were daily fare. I was just then beginning to take seriously the Catholic heritage to which I previously gave only Christmas and Easter acknowledgment, and I was tasked with restoring my newly recovered faith in the heat of division following the Second Vatican Council.

The Once and Future King was set in a time when the Church and the agrarian society of our roots lived in rhythmic harmony. The Church’s liturgical year is itself a character always in the background of the story. Too many of its signs and wonders have since been sadly set aside. I don’t think we are better off for that experiment and I remember wondering at age 16 whether we might one day regret it. That day is today.

It was on the Feast of Candlemas that Arthur drew the sword from the stone to become King Arthur. We don’t call it Candlemas any longer, but the day has a fascinating history. The Mass of Blessing of Candles takes place on the 2nd of February. Today we call it the Presentation of the Lord recalling the Purification of Mary forty days after Christmas as she brought the newborn Christ to Simeon in the Gospel (Luke 2: 22-35). It was the fulfillment of a ritual law set down in the Book of Leviticus (12:1-8). The purification was strictly a faithful fulfillment of the law and had no connection to moral failures or guilt.

“And his father and mother marveled at what was said about him; and Simeon blessed them and said to Mary his mother, ‘Behold, this child is set for the falling and rising of many in Israel, and for a sign that is spoken against (and a sword will pierce through your own soul also), that thoughts out of many hearts may be revealed.’”

— Luke 2:33-35

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A Tale of Thanksgiving

“Sometimes, life seems to be unfair.” That was what Merlyn said to Young Arthur in The Once and Future King. This quote was the introduction to a story within the story that I read long ago. For over half a century, the details of the story were always with me, engraved verbatim in my memory, but for the life of me, I could not recall exactly where and when I first read it. I stumbled upon it a half century later when I was writing the post described above. It was in The Once and Future King. It’s a story about Divine Providence, and it’s a perfect allegory for Thanksgiving.

The brief story within the story impacted me deeply at age 16, perhaps mostly because I thought then that sometimes life really is unfair. That fact has been reaffirmed for me countless times since. Here is the story just as Merlyn told it to young Arthur who, prior to extracting the Sword in the Stone, was known simply and humbly as “the Wart”:

“Sometimes,” Merlyn said, “life does seem to be unfair. Do you know the story of Elijah and the Rabbi Jachanan?” “No,” said the Wart.” He sat down resignedly upon the most comfortable part of the floor, perceiving that he was in for something like the parable of the looking glass.

“This Rabbi,” said Merlyn, “went on a journey with the Prophet Elijah. They walked all day and at nightfall they came to the humble cottage of a poor man whose only treasure was a cow. The poor man ran out of his cottage, and his wife ran too, to welcome the strangers for the night and to offer them the simple hospitality which they were able to give in straightened circumstances.

“Elijah and the Rabbi were entertained with plenty of cow’s milk, sustained by homemade bread and butter, and they were put to sleep in the best bed while their kindly hosts lay down before the kitchen fire. But in the morning, the poor man’s cow was dead.

“As they walked later, the Rabbi was unable to keep silent any longer. He begged the Prophet Elijah to explain the meaning of his dealings with human beings.

“In regard to the poor man who received us so hospitably,” said the Prophet, “it was decreed that his wife was to die that night but in reward for his goodness, God took his cow instead. I repaired the wall of the rich miser because a chest of gold was concealed at the place where it was crumbling. If the miser had repaired the wall himself, he would have discovered the treasure. So say not therefore to the Lord, ‘What doest Thou?’ but instead say in your heart, ‘Must not the Lord of all the Earth do right?’”

— T.H. White, The Once and Future King, pp 88-89

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Sometimes things are just not as they seem. Profound meaning and purpose can be found even in the greatest disappointments and suffering. God gives us the grace to bear these for a Divine End known only to Him, but sometimes also revealed in time to us. Divine Providence is exemplified with power and grace in a post that has become our Thanksgiving classic, and I hope it gives you perspective in whatever you suffer in life. I will post it here tomorrow.

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