I Was In Prison, and Your Visit Led Me to Hell

In the chilling movie Nefarious,  the devil ensures that a convicted serial killer on death row will not be saved—physically or spiritually— despite the seemingly salvific mission of a sympathetic visiting psychiatrist, ironically arranged by the evil one.  In fact, secular social justice diabolically spins on its fiery head while the dastardly plot thickens, and the prisoner is doomed to eternal damnation after hell on earth. 

 
As Good Friday approaches, my mind drifts to a few traditionally associated Scriptural themes, such as the corporeal works of mercy.  Much has been written recently about them, but one just received headlines with respect to New York City Mayor Mamdani visiting notorious, hardened Muslim criminals at Riker’s Island.

 
Prima facia—nothing at all wrong with visiting prisoners, and all believers in God recognize that even atrocious behavior does not deprive persons of their inherent dignity, being created in the image and likeness of God, and have a right to mercy.  However, from a Catholic perspective, the hope is that lawbreakers experience repentance and conversion of heart, mind, and soul.  Moreover, having much time to ponder their lives, fortunately numerous incarcerated offenders genuinely seek truth. 

 
I am not spending any words on Mayor Mamdani’s motives or even his polished responses to critics but will remain focused on why we, as Catholics (Christians) visit prisoners.  Foremost we are called to be the visible face of Jesus Christ, bringing hope but also the saving Word.  Many parishes have developed fruitful ministries in this regard, including transitional housing for paroled men and women.  However, three caveats.  No visitation should be solely premised on prisoners of any particular religion or set of beliefs, but must be open to all.  Secondly, if any prisoner remains in his or her sin obstinately and, worse,  viciously, perhaps prayerful intercession outside the jail walls would be the permitted or even preferred course unless and until there is some change of heart and receptivity.   For a visit, per se, can also embolden rather than transform the hard hearted which brings me to the third caution.  Visits designed for “show,” posturing, or self gratification rob convicts of true emancipating conviction about the truth of their anti Christian behavior.  

 
We can follow the example of Jesus Christ on the Cross between two criminals.  Jesus had earlier asserted, “For I was in prison and you visited me.” Yet, Jesus Christ Crucified did not even nod towards the one whose rage fully lashed at He Who could have saved him for Paradise.  However, though the other, the  Good Thief Dismas, was initially resentful, he confessed his guilt, was open to grace and accepted his temporal punishment.  Does this not convey the desirability of mercy but also the acknowledgment of consequences for embracing sin to the end?  

 
Two thousand years later, millions of people are in some type of detention facility in the United States alone, at any given time.  A too significant number become repeat offenders, sadly, but one should not lose heart over the potential outreach to those who will respond.  When discussing visiting prisoners, many wise voices have spoken over time. The Catholic Church and her leaders have addressed the ideal goal of incarceration—according  to the late John Paul II stating the primary purpose as redressing the disorder caused by the offense.  Justice must be served, and Jesus Christ asserted this in His teaching.  However, there is always the balance of penalty with humane treatment and compassion that includes sharing the Good News with anyone desiring to hear it and, will in turn, convert others.  Furthermore, many numerous reformed prisoners seemed initially unreachable but then led renewed, productive, and holy lives.  For some, this was a long journey.

 
Well known is the story of Alessandro Serenelli who attacked and murdered St. Maria Goretti who later from heaven visited him in jail.  Although most oppositional at first, perhaps due to his own significantly abusive childhood, years later, by St. Goretti’s persistent outreach,  he wept over his transgression and upon release, lead a monastic life.

 
Servant of God Jacques Fesch, (1938-1957) once a wealthy atheist literally “on the run” from many disastrous life decisions, eventually committed the horrible act of killing a police officer and was condemned to death.  However, a miraculous conversion while on death row led to his ultimate reconciliation with Jesus Christ.  Excerpts of his letters to his mother are occasionally featured in Magnificat Magazine.  They show a man who is genuinely at peace with God and himself and longing to encounter Jesus.

 
Twentieth Century Servant of God Dorothy Day experienced some arrests for civil disobedience.  However, she, too underwent a change of heart and soul.  While still personally caring for the poor and disadvantaged, she courageously proclaimed the truth of Catholicism to fellow workers and those she served even though the former—many communists—scoffed or outright rejected her. 

 
Numerous other stories abound of former prisoners, anti-Christians whose hearts were touched by someone who was able to look beyond their egregious acts and see them as persons Jesus Christ created them to be.  However, no change of heart occurred without confession  and amendment of life.  No visitor who excused or even glorified their mortal sins ever led a prisoner to God.  Quite the opposite.

Such encounters may be not only  meaningless but spiritually dangerous for the ones behind bars.  Smiling faces sometimes do not tell the truth and worse, provide false hope or presumption based on heresy.  These sympathizers seek personal advantage, not redemption of lost souls.

 
While we cannot judge the whole of anyone’s impetus for visiting prisoners,  we can pick up on some tell tell signs.  Is the visitor defensive about the prisoners actions, rationalizing unjust behavior, or, worse, seeming to celebrate their rebellion?  Does the visitor bring truth or empty accolades?  Does the visitor ignore or reject any other prisoner who does not fit his or her ideal profile of someone deserving “mercy”?  In other words does the visitor expose a more pragmatic rationale or sinister motivation?

 
“I was in prison and you visited Me” could be equally voiced as “I was bound in hate and you liberated me by Truth” even in difficult circumstances, keeping in mind that “prisons” take other forms besides cement rooms with iron bars.  How many embittered  persons are trapped in their homes because venturing outside, especially at night, puts them at danger from unrepentant assailants?  How many “imprisoned” in regressive regimes cannot speak or act with free conscience?  How many grieving families are incessantly haunted by memories of deceased friends and relatives who were murdered or assigned to labor camps?  How many victims of sexual abuse are forced into cells of silence and denial by the uber wealthy or powerful?  How many ordinary citizens are walled in by debt and poor opportunities because slick politicians behave more like cheery opportunists than respectable leaders?

 
Regardless of the work of mercy, we must be ever aware that the devil knows how to sinisterly abuse its meaning to ensnare the ignorant or unaware to promote greater evil in the disguise of doing “good deeds.”  The horns are visible for those who have the prudence to recognize them and fortitude to expose them to others.