Last year I celebrated Easter Mass at a state prison. Usually about eight to ten men attended Mass when I’d go, but for Easter about thirty-five came.
I became skeptical at first: why so many? Did they come just to get a free rosary to hang around their necks? Did they come to get out of the heat of their cells into the cool air conditioning of the multipurpose room where Mass was held? Maybe they actually wanted to join in our Easter celebration? Why so many?
They came because a guard had been stabbed in the eye earlier in the afternoon and there was a lot of commotion in the prison. Half of the prison was on lock down as they investigated who had done it. The men came hoping to hear some news, to mingle and chat about the incident. Two guards remained in the room throughout Mass, usually only the chaplain’s aid was present to keep order.
During my homily (which I had quickly modified in my mind) I told the men, “if one person at a time in the whole world had a change of heart by turning to Christ and received his mercy, the world would be a very different place; if one person at a time here at this prison had a change of heart, recognized his sinfulness and asked for forgiveness, for mercy, this prison would be a very different place.”
Some men in the back looked at me as if I were crazy. One of them shook his head in disagreement before I even finished my statement, he already knew where I was going. I told them to allow themselves to dream a bit: a prison where every heart turned to Christ and found forgiveness. “There would be peace in this prison,” I told them, “if you repent and turn to Christ.”
I was surprised by the quick rejection of my proposal by the inmates, my proposal to allow themselves to imagine a prison where every heart turned to Christ and found peace. Truth be told, I should not have been surprised: most of the men at that institution were young and serving several life sentences. To the world they had absolutely nothing to look forward to, they had lost all hope. Their experience was hell. In their minds, there was no room for redemption. They had no peace.
In the 1930s, Jesus appeared to Faustina, a Polish religious sister in Krakow, Poland. He said to her, “mankind will not have real peace until it turns with trust to my mercy.”
The peace of Christ is tied to openness to receive his mercy.
In the Gospel passage we just heard proclaimed, Jesus three times says the same thing to his apostles, “Peace be with you” and in that giving of peace, he also says, “Receive the Holy Spirit, whose sins you forgive are forgiven them, and whose sins you retain are retained.” These words that assure us of forgiveness, of God’s mercy, are the source of our joy and peace. Peace and mercy go together.
God desperately wants to forgive our sins so we may live free from the chains of sin and live in the freedom of the children of God. Living reconciled with God and neighbor is finding true peace – though the world be falling apart, though we be imprisoned at the state prison, we can still find peace in God.
If the peace of Christ is established one heart at a time, then the world would know peace. A peace that is not simply the lack of conflict, but the joy that comes from living in harmony with God and those around us.
There is a part of us that acts like Thomas. We doubt the redeeming power of wounds of Jesus Christ. We live as if they did not exist. We doubt God’s mercy and love. We doubt his ability to forgive us. We allow doubt to keep us away from the mercy God freely offers us through the cross and resurrection of his Son.
But if we could only grasp a little the mercy God shows us. Saint John Vianney wrote, “Our sins are nothing but a grain of salt alongside the great mountain of the mercy of God.”
Peace is Jesus’ Easter gift to us. His mercy is His greatest attribute.
None of us are too far from being that inmate shaking his head at the back of the room, rejecting the possibility for God’s mercy to transform our hearts.
A man in prison can become a free man with God’s mercy, while a free man living a life of sin can certainly become a prisoner.
On this Divine Mercy Feast when Jesus Himself promises to pour fourth innumerable graces, soften hardened hearts and manifest His mercy, open up your hearts. Dream a little bit. Allow God to surprise you with His mercy and love, and you will find peace, the true peace only Christ can give, and you will find joy.
[Picture: Chapel at Saint Joseph, Augusta, courtesy of Anabel Cadena, all rights reserved]
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