by Fr. Gordon J. MacRae on February 3, 2010 · 9 comments
. . . When I was growing up North of Boston, I spent as little time as possible indoors. I climbed every tree I could find. My friends and I spent a lot of time in trees – something Freud, or maybe Darwin, might read into. There was a huge elm on our block. When I was ten, I loved to climb high into it above the traffic of the street, find my favorite perch, and read for hours. Every now and then my mother would wail out a window, “IF YOU FALL OUT OF THAT TREE AND BREAK YOUR LEG, DON’T COME RUNNING TO ME!!” As a ten-year-old, I envisioned myself a consumer of only the finest literature, much of which I read in trees. My favorite was a series of paperbacks about a quasi-superhero, “Doc Savage, the Man of Bronze,” and his team of dedicated crime fighters. I traveled all over the world with Doc and his crew. I was part of the team, and could always foresee the danger lurking ahead. . . .
by Fr. Gordon J. MacRae on January 27, 2010 · 7 comments
. . . 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. . . .
by Fr. Gordon J. MacRae on January 13, 2010 · 12 comments
. . . 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. . . .
by Fr. Gordon J. MacRae on January 6, 2010 · 7 comments
. . . 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. . . . .
by Fr. Gordon J. MacRae on December 29, 2009 · 16 comments
. . . My final post of 2009 is a day earlier than my usual Wednesday posting day. I think you will see why as you read it. It was written for Priests in Crisis. I think it is the most important post of the year. . . . As we prepare to begin a new year, I will offer Mass on the solemnity of Mary, Mother of God for the readers of These Stone Walls. Thank you for your presence here, your support and encouragement, and most especially for the gift of your prayers and prayerful witness. . . .
by Fr. Gordon J. MacRae on December 23, 2009 · 11 comments
. . . 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. . . .
by Fr. Gordon J. MacRae on December 16, 2009 · 12 comments
. . . 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. . . .
by Fr. Gordon J. MacRae on December 9, 2009 · 8 comments
. . . 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. . . .
by Fr. Gordon J. MacRae on December 2, 2009 · 15 comments
. . . Then the other prisoner was back! “This was in the book,” he said as he propped a photograph against my small TV screen. It was the photo of my mother and Frances that I had lost four years earlier – the photo I searched for in vain when my mother died. Just as Mass began on my mother’s birthday – at the very moment I was offering the Mass for her and her sister – their last photograph together found me. An accident? Mere coincidence? It’s a greater leap of faith to dismiss such events as coincidence than to accept them for what they are: personally miraculous gifts of actual grace. When I looked at the photograph, it was as though someone had lifted a tiny corner of the veil between life and death. I saw something in the photo I hadn’t noticed before. The two sisters stood side by side – my mother on the right – on the shore of a new life, being prepared for the Presence of God. I never saw my mother look happier. I never saw more contentment and hope in her eyes. I never felt so happy for her, so filled with promise that her journey is near its end: Home, her New Found Land. . . .
