Padre's Blog

by

Louis Templeman

That difficult, anxiety filled week prior to my Sentencing hearing I had two special encounters arranged by the Holy Spirit to prepare me for my entry into prison. I did not want fantasy. I needed a faith that was courageous in the face of a harsh reality.

First, I had a short, simple dream. In my dream I was staring into the face of a woman. Very attractive. Very sad. Looking at me as if she were my mother, with an expression that exuded wisdom and compassion. I saw her from the shoulders up. Her sadness was about me. Her sorrow was sympathetic. It gave me a feeling of foreboding about my appointment in the Courthouse. However, it kept me from feeling alone.

The second experience occurred as I was praying earnestly on my knees. I was asking God for a miracle. I was distraught that my life had been ruined and my reputation destroyed. Still, I wanted God to lessen the financial, spiritual and emotional trauma to my wife and children. And, also, I was very frightened at the prospect of life in prison. I begged God to speak to me. I don't remember if I opened the scripture at random or if the reference Acts 20:23 just dropped into my thoughts I just can't recall but I do remember the shock of those sobering words on March 6, 2002, two days before I was sentenced:

“... that prison and trouble wait for me.”

It was a prophetic word from God. It was shocking. But I accepted it. I was void of courage. I simply relinquished my fantasies and hopes for a miracle and tried to trust in God who promised to go with me through this fire.

Once incarcerated I encountered what Joan Didion refers to as the “Shallowness of Sanity”. My mind fell prey, automatically to improbable, even hysterical scenarios of escape. Keeping my mind free from magical thinking became a difficult on-going struggle.

When I was a professional counselor in the child protection field I often met with dysfunctional parents, who in the face of shame and the loss of their children, engaged in magical thinking. Magical thinking is an emotional dysfunction that, unfortunately, can mask the practice of faith. An emotionally distraught child of a fresh divorce may say, “I'll go to bed when I should, I'll do my homework on time and I'll be nice to my little brother and then Daddy will come home.”

Most inmates practice magical thinking. To hear functionally illiterate men arrogantly spouting fine points of criminal law is to witness the futility of magical thinking. Or, to hear a man, you know is engaging in homosexual practices or dope smoking, speak of God's personal promise to reduce his sentence is to hear what I've begun to refer to as hysterical religion, which is simply a pious mask of magical thinking.

I will not insult the Holy Spirit by referring to his promises to me as hysteria or magical thinking. However, I did have to go through some sifting of my thoughts, some bathing of my prayers in reality, as well as bathing my reality in prayer. I am confident I will have, against all odds, a successful, fulfilling and happy second half of my life. It may or may not include a miracle of early release. I have God's promise but I do not have his schedule.

The ugly injustice of my misfortune weighs on me so. I have been treated so unfairly. My two youngest children are growing up fatherless, stigmatized by my imprisonment. My father is sick and I cannot visit him. I have missed four funerals. Another one of my adult daughters will have a wedding without her father to walk her down the aisle. I have not even met the man she plans to marry.

These are valid, stinging sorrows. They make life very difficult. Still, I have learned to discover joy. It is always there. I may as well look for it. The finding of joy in this unlikely spot has led me to the metaphor, ice water in hell. It fits nicely the serendipitous I receive from fellow inmates (Christian or otherwise), from visitors, from volunteers who minister through the chapel and from personal prayer experiences, all of which ameliorate the struggle of prison life.

This ice water strengthens and refreshes and equips me to not only find my own ice water but to have enough to share with others. I try to find opportunities to give the ice water of good works, acts of kindness, listening ear, prayer, etc, to those with whom I make personal contact. I hope you who read these short works find refreshment in what is meant as ice water from hell.

We all endure our personal hells and stew in solitary prisons. To quote an old rock song that validates this idea:

Freedom? That's just some people talking.

Your prison is walking

through this world alone.

I am learning that sorrows, struggles and sufferings are often the door bell that God rings to draw us to answer his call.

Recently, I received two helpings of this ice water through the mail. One, from my mother. And, one from Joe B. my correspondence school mentor.

I have a prayer I pray everyday to St. Therese of the Child Jesus. I want fellowship. I want to enjoy in the divine conversation as much as Jesus is pleased to allow me. I was thinking of her during master count. I spoke to her something like, “I want to hear from you. I believe in the Communion of the Saints but it's difficult to resist the temptation that I am playing mind games.” I wanted some kind of tangible something with her signature on it.

Shortly after I prayed the sergeant delivered my mail from Joe. In it was a letter, some inserts and 14 pages of graded course work. It was nearly lights-out and I decided to read it on Saturday. During morning devotions my calender of scripture readings alerted me it was the feast day of St Therese of the Child Jesus. Later on that morning, I read Joe's mail. On one of the inserts in bold print I found:

The value of our life does not depend on the place we occupy. It depends on the way we occupy that place. -St. Therese

Thank God for beautiful coincidences. Consider those words, that author, and the timing, from my particular perspective. Ice water, indeed!

Two days later, Monday evening just before mail I was talking to Jesus, “Lord, I am thankful that, even in this place, I have found contentment. I have such confidence that all my prayers and needs are covered. Nevertheless, I do wish, now and then, that you would speak specifically as to my time. Seems to me you have promised me a miraculous release, of my name being retrieved and of meaningful work/vocation after prison. But, its been 3 ½ years. At times I feel mocked by such promises. Am I having magical thinking? Please talk to me.” I was wanting God's schedule. Just moments later, my mother's mail came.

Like Joe, she also referenced a Saint. This one a Dutch Protestant, Andrew Murray:

In time of trouble say, first he brought me here, it is by his will I am in this place; in that I will rest. Next, he will keep me in his love and give me grace in this trial to behave as his child.

Then, he will make the trial a blessing teaching me the lessons he means for me to learn and working in me the grace he intends for me.

Last, in his good time he can bring me out again, how and when only he knows.

Say, “I am here by God's appointment In God's keeping, under his training for his time.”

Please, don't think me presumptuous for saying I am lucky to be in prison. Why? Because I have to look for Jesus. When I need comfort I cannot go get a dish of ice cream, find someone to hug me, watch a movie, play some music etc. I have learned to be thankful for this experience. It has caused me to realize and experience how accessible Jesus is.

If the only way I could taste this ice water is to go through this hell, then this hell is worth it. You know the point I am making. We all go through our personal hells from time to time. The ice water is there. Don't go 'round thirsty. -Louis Templeman, October, 2005

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The above meditation is by an inmate who attends the Wednesday night Episcopal service at B.C.I.