These Stone Walls' Second Annual Stuck Inside Literary Award
. . . We are caught up on this same road. Whether we know it or not, whether we accept it or not, our entire life as individuals and as a Catholic community comes down to one crucial element: we are either instruments for the proliferation of evil or instruments for its defeat. None of the petty squabbles, devastating scandals, and addictive diversions that muddle us in the muck on this long, long road will come to mean very much in the end. We are instruments, and instruments of what depends entirely on our response to grace. This is the tale of The Lord of the Rings. J.R.R.Tolkien brings his characters again and again to the very brink of hopelessness, only to teach them - and us - that there is always hope. We cannot accept that there was, and is, a Christ without accepting that one true fact. To be without hope means to admit there is no grace at work in the world, and that is simply pointless, and demonstrably untrue. . . .
Descent into Lent
. . . Remember when I wrote last week that I don't swear unless I'm quoting someone? I'm not exactly sure who I was quoting, but out it came! Ninety-nine percent of every day in here is so filled with noise that I can't hear myself think. It was just my luck that my single moment of foul outburst occurred during the sole moment of silence of the entire day in this cavernous place. Over the next hour, I heard a litany of "Fifty cents!" "Fifty cents!" as prisoners came by to gloat. My confessor is planning a visit next week. Good timing! Father Fred is retired in New York City, and drives ten hours round trip every couple of months to touch base with me and hear of my flaws. Fred has been driving up here for over fifteen years. He spends most of his time in retirement writing to priests in prison. I hate losing patience, but it's what I seem to do best. I'm trying hard not to add to the list between now and Fred's visit. The Sacrament of Reconciliation has always been painful and humbling for me, but very necessary. For that reason I have always been sympathetic to how painful and humbling it is for others, and always tried to make it less so. . . .