As a prison chaplain, I’m a close pal of St. Dismas. Known as “the good thief” on Calvary, he was the last person addressed by Christ before he died:

             

            "Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom.” 

 Jesus replied, “Amen, I say to you, today you will be with me in paradise.”

 

            This passage brings deep relief to incarcerated individuals, and I refer to it often when counseling them. The consolation conveyed through St. Dismas’ witness of faith is one of the reasons that I find the prison ministry so fulfilling.

           The working relationship between Dismas and me, however, isn’t the only reason that he and I are on a first name basis. Our friendship reaches back to when I was seven years old and the day that my mother took me to a movie called The Hoodlum Priest.

It was a Saturday matinee. While my older brothers stayed home helping dad on the farm, the Holy Spirit was at work inside the theater planting within me the idea of being a priest.

            The movie focused on Fr. Charles Clark, a Jesuit priest in St. Louis who worked with gang members and ex-convicts during the 1950’s. In the film, Fr. Clark acquires a run-down tenement to serve as a halfway house for men released from prison on parole. During the building’s renovation, Fr. Clark gives a news reporter a tour of the facility. When they reach the chapel, the reporter points to the crucifix and asks why it depicts Christ tied to the wood as opposed to being nailed to it. Fr. Clark explains that the image is not of Christ, but of Dismas, the good thief.

            The facility, known as Dismas House, opened in 1959 and remains in operation to this day.

            The film made a strong impact on me. It did not, however, play a pivotal role in my decision to become a priest. That influence rests within the faith and love of my parents, the devotional life of my family, and the agrarian setting in which I was raised. Nevertheless, these days, when I drive to the penitentiary where I serve as a chaplain, I often smile at the connection between that Saturday matinee and the ministry that occupies the closing phase of my life as a priest.

            The British actor Rowan Atkinson once remarked that, the older we become, the more we realize that happenstance plays a significant role in determining our path in life. I would amend the quote to say that, the older we become, the more happenstance reveals itself as a blessing from God.

            This became obvious to me two weeks ago at the vigil for the Solemnity of Christ the King. The date was November 22^nd which, coincidentally, was also the anniversary of my mother’s death.   

            Throughout that day, and prior to Mass, my thoughts drifted back to fond memories of my mother. I did not, however, recall the memory of her taking to me see The Hoodlum Priest until Mass that evening where the Gospel reading contained the scene with St. Dismas.

            The unlikely convergence of my mother’s anniversary, the gospel story of St. Dismas and the memory of The Hoodlum Priest pierced my heart and had me fighting back tears the rest of the Mass.

            Later, as I sat alone inside my truck, I let the tears flow.  

I’m not a man who easily cries. But I am a priest. And I am my mother’s son. And I know she’d be proud.