The Prison Cell That Is Never Locked
A quirky cartoon showed a bedraggled and disheveled prisoner probing his open cell door, calling to his gaunt cell mate, “I have some good news and bad news for you. The good news is that I just found that this cell door isn’t locked. The bad news is that all these years it never was—there’s no keyhole!” The “bad” news is the fact that countless people imprison themselves, often for years, in their self-induced guilt, and the really “bad” news is that they do not realize the “good” news that the Lord has provided an easy escape plan.
Heaven is full of sinners-turned-saints who have experienced the absurdity of that cartoon. For instance, Saint Peter Julian Eymard confessed, “After pursuing me for a long time the Lord ‘imprisoned’ me, as it were. He deprived me of everything to force me to focus on Him, but invariably I returned to the nothingness of worldly interests, shunning the abyss of His love.”
Why would anyone choose to live in a prison cell when not forced to do so? Or wallow in the sludge of oppressive, negative feelings of guilt, when a simple cleansing of the filth is almost absurdly within reach? Our heavenly Father, in His ineffably impulsive divine love, can hardly wait to “forgive us our trespasses.” The spirit-breathed inspiration of the prophet Micah articulates this amazing truth as a question for devotees of pagan gods: “Who is a God like you, pardoning iniquity and passing over the transgression?” (Micah 7:18).
Imagine a person so dysfunctional that he shuts himself up in a dark, stuffy cave, and closes the entrance so tightly that not the slightest ray of sunlight can penetrate the darkness. Would anyone blame the sun for the darkness of the cave? In response we would want to scream, “Open the entrance of the cave and let in some sunlight! Better still, come outside and bask in the brilliant warmth of this beautiful day!” The “good news” is God’s gift offered to every despondent heart: “In your presence there is fullness of joy” (Psalm 16:11).
The “Catechism of the Catholic Church” (CCC) explains how God’s loving mercy overrides His righteous indignation at the horrendous evil of sin, which is an act of insulting the Creator of the universe. “When the sinner takes the tiniest step toward His waiting open arms, he is embraced in a flood of the warmest affection from a God whose tenderness and love totals far more than all the human love added up from the beginning of human existence on earth.” Few will deny that God’s wisdom or power is infinite—although no one can really grasp it. God’s infinite mercy is a concept that many prisoners of their own guilt find hard to appreciate. As Paul says (2
Corinthians 4:4), “In their case the god of this world has blinded the minds of the unbelievers, to keep them from seeing the light of the gospel.” They cannot perform God’s simple requirement for soul freedom: “Repent and turn to God so that your sins may be wiped out” (Acts 3:19).
THE SIX PORTALS OF GOD’S MERCY
From their self-imprisonment, they may be aware of the “no-keyhole door,” but they may be unaware that their cell has a number of unlocked doors to afford them their escape from the self-confinement of sin. The Bible speaks of six such portals of God’s mercy—three of which are sacraments—but implied for each one is the prerequisite of a repentant heart.
First, of course, is the “start-off-clean” sacrament of baptism that removes original sin, which is “contracted, not committed—a state and not an act” (CCC 404), described in Romans 5:12. In the baptism of non infants, repented personal sin is also remitted: “Repent, and be baptized, every one of you, in the name of Jesus Christ so that your sins may be forgiven” (Acts 2:38). Second is the sacrament of reconciliation (often improperly called “confession,” which is only the penitent’s act of relating his sins to the priest). This sacrament is the most perfect “door of escape from the prison cell of sin” because it was instituted by Jesus precisely for that purpose alone. It was to be channeled only through the Apostles and their clergy successors: “As the Father has sent me, so I send you … If you forgive the sins of any, they are forgiven them; if you retain the sins of any, they are retained” (John 20:21-23).
Besides conferring God’s “negative mercy”—sin removal—this sacrament also confers more of God’s “positive mercy,” namely, a restoration or increase of sanctifying grace (2 Peter 1:4); a surge of actual grace to discern better what is sinful and motivation to avoid it (Philippians. 2:13); an inflow of sacramental grace that intensifies contrition (2 Corinthians 7:10); an increase of merit, i.e., heavenly reward (1 Corinthians 3:8); an added indulgence—a lessening, shortening or dissolving of accumulated purgatorial suffering (1 Corinthians 3:13-15); and, finally, a deep spiritual encounter with Christ, the Good Shepherd, in His gentle mercy (Matthew 11:28).
The third portal-sacrament of mercy is the sacrament of the anointing of the sick, formerly called “Extreme Unction.” “Are any among you sick? They should call for the elders of the church and have them pray over them, anointing them with oil in the name of the Lord … and the Lord will raise them up; and anyone who has committed sins will be forgiven” (James 5:14-15).
The fourth portal of mercy is contrition—either “perfect” (based on love of God) or “imperfect,” also called “attrition” (based on fear of punishment) (John 5:16-17)—can educe forgiveness of sin. Without sacramental confession and its many special advantages, perfect contrition by itself, even prior to confession, would suffice to remove mortal sin. However, ecclesiastical law, not divine law, requires that before receiving communion any such already-forgiven mortal sins be “submitted to the keys” of the Church’s power in the sacrament of reconciliation, if available). Meanwhile, if no confession is available, or if the sins are doubtfully mortal, communion may be received after a preparation by perfect contrition. Imperfect contrition without confession is not a sufficient preparation for communion after mortal or doubtfully mortal sin. But with a valid confession, even imperfect contrition suffices to remove any sin. All of this was affirmed by the Council of Trent.
Fifth, an act of sincere love of God would imply a deep regret at having offended Him as the beloved of the soul. This would implicitly contain an act of perfect contrition and, hence, would be conditioned on the above statements regarding perfect contrition. “I tell you, her sins, which were many, have been forgiven; hence she has shown great love. But the one to whom little is forgiven, loves little” (Luke 7:47).
Sixth, an act of sincere fraternal charity—that is, an act of love of God as His presence is recognized in another human: “We know that we have passed from death to life because we love one another. Whoever does not love abides in death” (1 John 3:14). This Christ focused fraternal charity would also implicitly contain perfect contrition and would be subject to the same conditions.
From these six routes of “escape from the prison of sin,” we can only marvel at how the Lord strives to give us every opportunity to be free of sin’s bondage and confinement. It seems that He strives to exhaust His divine ingenuity in finding ways to shower us with His loving mercy. All that is required of us is to reach out to Him to be caught up into His embrace of mercy.
A classic bumper sticker says, “If you feel far from God, guess who moved!” That is a reversible separation, as David showed in his simple prayer: “Draw near to me, redeem me, set me free” (Psalm 69:18). Yet, countless souls have become calloused by not recognizing the Lord’s yearning to embrace us and “nuzzle us to His divine cheek.” “I took them up in my arms; but they did not know that I healed them. I led them with cords of human kindness, with bands of love … like those who lift infants to their cheeks” (Hosea 11:3-4).
A passenger next to me on a flight noticed my Roman collar and soon engaged me in a conversation about religion, remarking that he had given up his childhood faith, “because,” he said, “the Bible speaks so much about the wrath of God.” He was incredulous when I told him that every such passage was qualified by the option offered to every sinner to evade such wrath by turning to God’s mercy, and that the mercy of God was mentioned in the Bible directly in more than 400 places and indirectly in hundreds of other places, from mercy parables (as in Luke 15) to psalm-prayers.
When he brought up the time-worn objection about Jesus’ referral to the “unforgivable sin,” I explained that any sin that is “unforgivable” is not unforgivable by reason of God’s refusal to forgive, but by the sinner’s refusal to be forgiven. The sinner refuses forgiveness by simply refusing to apologize to God (repentance) for spitting in His face by sin. The Lord patiently and lovingly urges the sinner to accept His divine forgiveness, but the recalcitrant sinner simply refuses to accept it. I showed my fellow passenger a statement from the “Catechism,” a copy of which, providentially, I happened to have in my valise. I urged him to read, not just the opening words of the passage but the entire paragraph. It started with the words of Jesus: “I tell you, every sin and blasphemy will be forgiven men, but the blasphemy against the Spirit will not be forgiven.” Then followed the CCC commentary: “There are no limits to the mercy of
God, but anyone who deliberately refuses to accept His mercy by repentance rejects the offer of salvation with the forgiveness of his sins. Such hardness of heart can lead to final impenitence and eternal loss” (CCC 1864). The third personality in God’s triple-personality, the Holy Spirit, acts as grace bestower. Thus, “blasphemy against the Spirit” is simply refusal to accept God’s grace of forgiveness and salvation.
I tried explaining this by a simple kindergarten-level illustration: “If you were poor and I offered you a no strings- attached gift of a million dollars and you refused it, could you blame me for selfishness or injustice? Your being deprived of the gift would have been your choice, not mine. Counterpoint that example with the passages about the “unforgivable sin,’ coupled with the inspired words of Peter: ‘The Lord is … is patient with you, not wanting any to perish, but all to come to repentance” (2 Peter 3:9).
I told this gentleman that the world’s worst sinner can be forgiven in a fraction of a second by simply saying to the Lord, with true sincerity, “I’m sorry.” Refusing to do so is the only way one can end up in hell. The unrepentant sinner says, in effect, that he is prepared to accept the endless anguish of hell rather than humble himself by opening himself to God’s mercy by a simple apology (repentance). I showed my fellow passenger that instead of distortedly emphasizing the wrath of God, he should emphasize the pride and absurdity of any sinner remaining unrepentant. The wrath of God is mentioned in the Bible only in the context of the obdurate and sustained refusal of persons or nations who snub His loving mercy. The devil knows that pride is the main roadblock to repentance and ultimately salvation. “God opposes the proud,” says James, “but gives grace to the humble … Submit yourselves therefore to God … Draw near to God, and he will draw near to you. Cleanse your hands, you sinners, and purify your hearts … Humble yourselves before the Lord, and He will exalt you” (James 4:6-10). The most profound act of the virtue of humility is a sinner’s heartfelt utterance of two simple words, “I’m sorry!” Recall Jesus’ simple but convicting parable of the publican versus the prideful Pharisee; both prayed, but only the publican’s humble prayer for mercy was answered.
I explained to my seat companion that the God from whom we have distanced ourselves will make a thousand steps toward us if we will only make the first step toward Him. That is what James means in stating, “Draw near to God and He will draw near to you.” It is the best scriptural answer to the poignant bumper sticker question: “If you feel far from God, guess who moved!”
When I opened my Bible and showed him just a few descriptions of God’s tender mercy, such as the parable about the Prodigal Son, his acrimony seemed to melt. I invited him to say, “I’m truly sorry, Lord”—while accepting his salvation earned for him by Jesus’ death. He hastened to blurt out that commitment—almost tearfully. His parting words were words of gratitude and a promise to return to the practice of his Christian faith. By his response to God’s grace he had changed in a moment from reprobate to righteous. Truly, “the hope of the righteous ends in gladness” (Proverbs 10:28).
This encounter left me with a grateful heart as well, as I recalled the words of James 5:20: “Whoever brings back a sinner from wandering will save the sinner’s soul from death and will cover a multitude of [his own] sins.” I had simply shown him that his prison cell of guilt had never been locked. By the nudge of the awesome mercy of God he had only to open the unlocked door and find himself free—and “if the Son sets you free, you will be free indeed” (John 8:36).
Father John H. Hampsch, C.M.F. was ordained as a Catholic priest in 1952, is a member of the Claretian Missionaries, and is founder and director of the Claretian Teaching Ministry (www.CatholicBooks.net). Listed in Who’s Who in Religion in America, he has served as parish priest, seminary professor and rector, college professor, lecturer, magazine writer, newspaper columnist, editor, retreat master, hospital chaplain, prison chaplain, campus chaplain, Cursillo director and director of suicide prevention programs in Texas and California. Father Hampsch earned degrees in philosophy from Loyola-Marymount University in Los Angeles and from Notre Dame University, with postgraduate work in ascetical and mystical theology at the University of Southern California and the Dominican House of Studies in River Forest, Illinois.
Latest Articles
It’s easy to be caught up in the ordinary and lose sight of purpose. Donna reminds us why we should hold on. I used to think that if ever I made a serious spiritual commitment and embarked on a discerned path toward holiness, every day would be filled with holy moments, and everything I encountered, ‘even adversities, would be considered all joy.’ (James 1:2) But the spiritual life, indeed, life in general, isn't quite like that. About ten years ago, I became an oblate of Saint Benedict. At the outset of my oblation, as my prayer life deepened, and my ministries became more fruitful, the possibilities of Christian perfection seemed endless. But the temptation to judge others unfavorably by comparison began to nip at my heels. When family members outrightly rejected some of the fundamental teachings of the Catholic Church, I felt rejected by extension. When a fellow oblate questioned my public witness in support of the sanctity of life—didn't I know that hearts and minds have only ever been changed through unconditional love, not veiled criticism?—I felt like a Pharisee holding my sign. Holy Meteors… Alas, while I never doubted my decision to become an oblate, the realization of my basic unworthiness deflated my spirits. How I longed to rediscover that heady sense of interior freedom and joyful buoyancy, arising from the belief that my Catholic faith, lived out under the guidance of the Rule of Saint Benedict, could move mountains. Ironically, the wisdom of a 20th-century rabbi helped me find the way by pointing to the time-tested directive: "Remember why you started!" In Moral Grandeur and Spiritual Audacity, Jewish pastor Abraham J. Heschel suggests that faith is not some constant state of fervent belief, but rather a loyalty to the moments when we had such ardent faith. In effect, ‘I believe’ means ‘I remember.’ Likening holy moments to ‘meteors’ that flare up quickly and then disappear from sight, yet “ignite a light which will never be extinguished,” Heschel exhorts believers “to guard forever the echo which once burst upon the deep recesses of your soul.” Most of us can recall experiencing these ‘shooting stars’ at significant moments in our faith life, when we felt high and lifted up, touched by God's glory. My Shooting Star Moments My first such memory occurred at age seven when I saw Michelangelo's Pieta at the New York World's Fair. Though I had made my first Holy Communion earlier that year, the beauty of the white marble sculpture of the Blessed Virgin with the lifeless body of Jesus in her lap, set against a celestial backdrop of midnight blue, struck me with a deeper awareness of His—and Mary's—profound sacrifice and love for me than reciting the catechism ever had. The next time I received Jesus in the Eucharist, I did so with greater understanding and reverence. Another transformative moment happened at a ballroom dance class! Christ, after all, is Lord of the Dance in the hymn of the same name. In the writings of Catholic monastic Thomas Merton, God is the ‘Dancer’ who invites each of us to join Him in a ‘cosmic dance’ to achieve true union. (The Modern Spirituality Series). When the instructor partnered with me to demonstrate the foxtrot, I nervously joked that I had two left feet, yet he simply said: "Follow me." After my initial stumble, he immediately pulled me in so that I didn't have the space to falter. For the next few minutes, as I was effortlessly gliding throughout the room in his wake, swinging and swaying to Frank Sinatra singing Fly Me To The Moon, I implicitly knew what it would be like to be in step with God's will– exhilarating! Christ had His Moments too! In Scripture, God clearly creates moments of transcendence to strengthen our faith in times of trial—the Transfiguration of the Lord is a prime example. The memory of Christ manifested in all His dazzling glory certainly provided the disciples with a necessary contrast to the horror and shame of His ignominious death on the Cross. It also imparts a hopeful vision of our future glory ‘come what may.’ Surely the memory of His Father's words: “This is my Beloved Son; with Him I am well pleased; listen to Him!” (Matthew 17:5) sustained and comforted the human Jesus from Gethsemane to Calvary. Indeed, ‘Remembrance’ is a preeminent theme in the Passion narrative. When Jesus instituted the Eucharist at the Last Supper, He established the most consequential Memorial of all time and eternity—the Holy Sacrifice of the Mass. When Jesus on the Cross promised to remember in Paradise, the good thief who validated Him on earth, the world sighed with relief. That is why Saint Benedict's reminder to ‘Never despair of God's mercy’ is his Rule's final and most fundamental spiritual tool. For though we, like the good thief, know ourselves to be deeply flawed, still we can be confident that Christ will remember us because we remember Him—in other words, we believe! For a perfect life on earth does not exist. Yet there are perfect, glowing moments, set among ordinary—often trying—moments, that illuminate our path, 'gliding’ our steps to Heaven, where we will ‘play among the stars.’ Until then, let us love in remembrance of Him!
The Rosary has changed me in more ways than I can understand. Our Lady is indeed a gateway to the Lord. I remember a woman with whom I shared an adoration hour. She once told me about this young man who was struggling with depression; he was staying in and refusing to go out of his home, for maybe four years or more. On the way home, I prayed a Rosary for him and thought of it as nothing more than an ordinary Rosary. Truthfully, I didn't expect anything to come of it. The next week however, when I met up with the same lady, she said to me: “Sean, I've got an amazing story; it's a miracle! Remember the young man I told you about last week? His car had been sitting idle for years, with dust all over it. He came out of his room, cleaned it, got in, and drove to meet up with his old university mates.” I was amazed! By showing me the fruit of one Rosary, God showed me how amazing it is when you pray, and how much transformation can happen when you pray more. So, I slowly went from one Rosary to four Rosaries a day, and there is no end to the wonders that have happened since.
Books were a luxury in 13th-century Italy. Hence, when someone went to the trouble of writing a book by hand, they treasured it beyond measure. Father Anthony had a book of Psalms he had copied by hand, with personal notes he referred to while teaching. Once, a young novice left the community and took the treasured book with him. The priest was crestfallen, realizing his years of work were lost. No one knew where the novice had gone, so there wasn't even a remote possibility of recovering the book. But Father Anthony did not lose heart; trusting in God's providence, he prayed for the novice to have a change of heart and return the book. Anthony's prayer was soon answered, for the novice returned with a contrite heart. Asking for forgiveness, he gave the book back to the saintly priest who forgave him and accepted him back to the seminary. After Father Anthony's death, together with the many stories of his holiness, this story became quite popular. Thus, Saint Anthony of Padua came to be constantly invoked for finding lost things. Over the years, his reputation became so widespread that the Church officially declared him the patron Saint of lost items. Saint Anthony had deep faith in God, enough to surrender his worries and trust His will. The next time we invoke the Saint to find our lost things, let us pray that he asks the Lord to grant us the kind of faith that led and strengthened him in Christ.
Disconnected from God, wallowing in despair…yet in the dark void of my life, ‘someone’ unexpectedly reached out to me. Three miscarriages in a row...Each one of those losses, emotionally more and more difficult, medically more complicated, and the recovery process more and more drawn out. After the third, I found myself in this incredibly dark season of deep depression. I was so angry at the Lord for allowing these trials to happen in my life. Why would He let this happen to a good Catholic who has been trying to do all the right things? I gave the Lord the silent treatment for about 18 months. We continued to be dutiful Catholics—going through the motions, continuing to go to Mass, saying our prayers before meals…just checking the boxes. But in my heart, I wasn't praying at all, except for this one honest prayer I repeated at heart: “I belong to You. I don't like what You're doing, and I don't understand any of this, but the only thing worse than what I am feeling right now would be to be completely without the hope of Heaven, without the hope of ever seeing the little ones that I lost…” So, I made this bargain with God: “If I keep doing the right things, You should hold up Your end of the bargain; at the end of my life, You'll let me into Heaven, to see the little ones that I lost.” But I was spiraling down. Disconnected from God, I was no longer a good mother or a good friend. My small business had to be shut down because I couldn’t keep up with life’s demands anymore. Through this void, someone reached out to me, an unexpected ‘someone!’ Yelling at God The Rosary used to be a daily prayer through high school and early college, but once I got married and the kids started coming, I put the rosary up on a shelf and thought: “That's a prayer for people who have a lot of time and I certainly have none; so maybe later, when I get a little older, I'll take it back down off the shelf.” But in the deep darkness, I began feeling a call back to praying the Rosary. It felt totally ridiculous because I was still very very angry at the Lord, and I had no desire to pray. With four little kids, I didn't have the time. So, I kept pushing it off and out of my mind, but the Lord began to get more and more persistent. I’d unexpectedly find cues in the most unlikely places—a rosary I'd never seen before turned up in my locked car, my toddler handed me my confirmation rosary that I hadn't seen in years, random people who weren't even Catholic would just give me rosaries (like this time when someone gave me as rosary and said: “I was cleaning out my grandma's desk and I thought you would want this”). I got to the point where I could no longer deny what the Lord was asking of me. For the first time in 18 months, I said a prayer. A more honest expression would be, I yelled at God; it was this very snarky prayer. I marched into the church, straight up to the altar, and flopped down all my excuses—I couldn't find the time to pray the Rosary, most times I couldn’t even find any of my rosaries, and if I do manage to find time AND find the rosaries, my kids would keep interrupting me, I had trouble picking up where I left off…not to mention, my kids would have probably already broken all the rosaries that I have! I didn't even wait for a response from the Lord, I just spun on my heel and marched out of the church, feeling: “See, I told you, it's ridiculous to pray the Rosary.” Nothing Better Than This Within a week of that, I was inspired to design a rosary bracelet which literally solved every single one of those excuses that I had given. It's always right on hand so I never forget to pray, it's super-sturdy so my kids can't break it, but the really life-changing, revolutionary part was the movable crucifix charm that works like a little bookmark which enabled me to pick up from where I left off. I’d pray in the quiet moments that were hidden through my day. In between taking care of the kids, doing chores, and running errands, I could always find a minute here or 10 minutes there to get a couple Hail Marys or sometimes even a whole decade in. Little by little, throughout the day, I began to get an entire Rosary in. I was still very angry and broken and did not have a lot of hope that the Rosary would fix it all, but I was just so tired that I knew this couldn't hurt. I was desperate—there was nothing better to do, so I felt I might as well try this. Healing didn’t just happen. It wasn't a tele-evangelist healing moment where the skies just parted and glory came down. It was this very slow journey, the same way we pray the Rosary, bead by bead, step by step, prayer by prayer. Little by little, Our Lady began to really be a mother to me. What I began to see in that darkness was not the Mary that I grew up seeing—the Nazareth Mary or Christmas-card, 20-something-Mary with flawless skin. Instead, I found Mary at Calvary, a tear-streaked, blood-stained, road-weary mother who knew what it was like to suffer and lose someone that she dearly loved. This woman, I could relate to! This mother, I so badly needed in this season of my life. Afterall, she wasn’t the one I was angry at. But she, as my mother, ever so gentle, came into this raw and broken place I was in and walked me slowly out into the arms of my Heavenly Father. But that was just one part; there was another part of my life that was still in chaos. A Conversation Ensues The third miscarriage had been physically and emotionally too difficult; since it was the second trimester, we had to go to the hospital, go through labor, and deliver our son. From there, my husband and I took different paths of grief. I shut down and withdrew, and he poured himself into work, drinking, and overindulging in a lot of ways. Our relationship became fractured. When I began praying the Rosary and started on my road of healing, I tried to encourage him as well, but he pushed it off. I slowly opened the shop back up, put the rosary bracelet that the Lord inspired into the shop and that began to really take off. I kept asking him to join me; I gave him a rosary bracelet that he began to wear, but he wasn’t praying with it. That was when I began very intentionally to pray my Rosary every day, for him. I would intentionally use those quiet moments to pray and let my family see that I was praying amid and between my chores. My husband began to see not only this but also the change in me. Slowly, he gave in and our whole family began to experience this reconversion through Our Lady. But you see, that was not the happy ending. An Embrace Follows In came another miscarriage! The same hospital room, the same nurse…I’d ask Him: “Lord what are you doing? Why are you adding salt to the wound by replaying the most horrible day of my life?” This was deeper and worse than before because I was also living through the trauma of some of those other losses. But in spite of this, I began to slowly see through that incredibly awful day in so many ways. As I was laboring and delivering, I was totally overwhelmed with grief and helplessly sobbing. But this time, instead of feeling completely alone, I felt the physical presence of Our Lady holding me like a mother would as I was crying. In the most painful part of labor, I felt Our Lady physically hand me over to God the Father and put me in His arms like His child. I felt, in that moment, God the Father sobbing along with me. I felt His chest heaving along with mine. I am not exactly ‘there’ yet. In some ways, I'm still on this healing journey, with this wound and all the anger that I carried…Our Lady came in as my mother to help heal my relationship with Our Father. For her to show His heart to me was just this incredibly healing and restorative process. A day which would have been one of the worst days of my life, because of her goodness and gentleness, became a healing day for us in a way that I never could have imagined.
Want to be in the loop?
Get the latest updates from Tidings!