In a Texas prison, Eucharistic pilgrims find ‘a gift’
‘I am looking at the image of a pristine soul’
The heavy metal doors rattled shut, locking the National Eucharistic Pilgrimage’s eight pilgrims inside the James A. Lynaugh Prison Unit, in Fort Stockton, Texas.
A prison guard addressed the pilgrims: “Follow me.”
With the local bishop and two priest chaplains, the pilgrims made their way through prison corridors, a security checkpoint, and through a prison yard.
They were excited. They were carrying the Eucharist inside that prison. And if Matthew 25 is to be believed — and the pilgrims think it is — they were entering the prison to encounter the Lord.
“I am excited to come to these people where they are at,” pilgrim Johnathan Hernandez told The Pillar June 9, ahead of the prison visit.
“I think in a lot of prisons they feel like there's no hope, so to bring Jesus Christ — the Light of the World, the light which overcomes darkness — I think that's something so beautiful to be able to encounter.”
‘Ready to go in?’
The pilgrims — college aged students traveling for the summer on a Eucharistic pilgrimage from Indianapolis to Los Angeles — drove their van that day from San Angelo to the small town of Fort Stockton, Taxes, and then down miles of lonesome Texas countryside, broken up by a thriving pecan orchard, and the occasional oil drill.
Eventually, the orchard faded into the sparse landscape in the rearview mirror.
The van crossed over a small ridge, and stark white buildings surrounded by barbed wire appeared out of seemingly nowhere — the James A. Lynaugh Unit.
A medium-security men’s prison, there are 1,400 men incarcerated at the facility.
Red and white blockades stood at the end of the road, signaling the end of Alpine Highway. There was only one place to turn — into the prison’s parking lot.
Slowly, the van turned, drove past the sign and a guard tower, and parked. The National Eucharistic Pilgrimage had arrived at a Texas prison.
Watching closely, a guard stepped outside of his air-conditioned tower, observing as the pilgrims walked towards a small building which serves as the initial entry point to the prison unit.
Bishop Mike Sis of the San Angelo Diocese was ready for the visit. He’d been to the prison many times before.
“Welcome to the Lynaugh Unit!” Sis told the perpetual pilgrims.
“Are you all ready to go in?”
They were. So was Sis, along with prison ministry Deacon Dan Shannahan, and a few volunteers, including Antonio and Carmen Delgado, a Catholic couple who have been visiting the prison every week for the past 15 years.
The pilgrims' prison visit came at the beginning of the fourth week of the National Eucharistic Pilgrimage, a five week pilgrimage that will conclude with Mass and procession in Los Angeles on the feast of Corpus Christi.
When the Delgado learned that the pilgrimage would be stopping at a prison in the middle of nowhere — their middle of nowhere prison! — they were ecstatic.
“Since the day I heard about this visit, I knew that it was a huge blessing from the Lord and that he is taking care of us and our prisoners as he did with the apostles on Pentecost,” Antonio Delgado told The Pillar.
“The Lord is coming inside the prison to visit the prisoners because they can not go outside to see Him, and that is so beautiful.”
Over the years, Shannahan and the Delgados have helped to build a vibrant Catholic community within the barbed wire fences of the Lynaugh Unit.
They host communion services every single week, and Mass is held as often as they can get a priest. Every year, they lead the Kolbe Retreat for inmates, named for the famous Polish priest, St. Maxilimilan Kolbe, who died a prisoner at Auschwitz.
Inmates were excited for the pilgrims’ visit, too.
In fact, when the visit was announced inside the prison, there were too many sign-ups; a lottery was held to select the 65 men who could join the perpetual pilgrims for Mass and adoration.
One inmate told with Shannahan that the visit was an answer to a very specific prayer.
The inmate said the night before the prison visit was announced, he had knelt and asked the Lord for some opportunity to deepen his faith — to know, especially, the love of God.
Then came the announcement that pilgrims would bring the Blessed Sacrament to the place where he lived.
He signed up right away. And then, seemingly by grace, he was chosen to attend.
“This prisoner told me, ‘I couldn't believe it when Chaplain Edwards told me that I would be one of the men coming in’,” Shannahan said.
“He shared with me that: ‘God spoke to me right then and there, and I could not believe it. I had just prayed for the Lord to show me His love and the next day I got the answer.’”
As the pilgrims arrived at the unit. Bishop Sis kept watch on them. He knew a day of prayer would be powerful for the inmates, but he wanted to be sure the pilgrims were open to gifts that they might receive at the prison.
“It is a blessing that these pilgrims are going to see how faith-filled these prisoners are,” Sis told The Pillar.
“I would guess that the presumption of the pilgrims is that this is about what we are bringing to them. But I predict that what's going to happen is what the prisoners give to the pilgrims.”
Breaking down the walls
Guards, along with prison staff chaplain Velia Edwards, walked the pilgrims through the prison yard and into the gymnasium, a rectangular building with high pointed ceilings and no air conditioning.
Two fans rotated to combat the hot Texas summer, the large, old motors drowning out most conversations in the gymnasium.
A makeshift altar had been set up on a stage and a line of tables ran through the middle of the gym as a kind of dividers — inmates would be kept on one side, pilgrims on another.
Once inside, Edwards pulled the perpetual pilgrims to the side, instructing them on safety rules.
The pilgrims were not to provide their names to inmates, where they are from, or any personal information. Stay behind the tables, they were told. “Keep your head on a swivel at all times.”
The pilgrims nodded, some a little afraid even from the recitation of the rules.
“It was a new experience,” Ace Acuña, a perpetual pilgrim told The Pillar.
“I have never been to a prison before, and going in I tried to suspend my expectations because this was such a new experience.”
But fear diminished as the pilgrims joined Sis and Shannahan in a side office to prepare for the inmates’ arrival.
Slowly, the men filed in, dressed in white prison uniforms, and under the careful supervision of guards.
The event began with a Eucharistic procession through the gym — Shannahan led the way, followed by the pilgrims, then the priests and then Bishop Sis carrying the Blessed Sacrament, processing through the makeshift aisles of prisoners.
Sis made his way to the temporary altar, gently setting down the monstrance and exposing the Blessed Sacrament for a holy hour, during which Sis and two priest chaplains offered confession.
“In hearing their confessions, I heard the story of their suffering,” Sis told The Pillar. “The suffering that these prisoners are dealing with is manyfold, it's multi-layered.”
“On one level they are suffering from the regret for the mistakes they made that got them in prison, another level of their suffering is their separation from family. They are cut off from them and they feel very lonely that way.”
“Another level of their troubles has to do with their life inside the walls, because life inside the prison is full of all kinds of difficulties and all kinds of suffering.”
The line for confession got longer, and the holy hour became a holy two hours, as inmates waited to confess their sins and be absolved.
“We probably heard confessions for about two hours and they just kept coming and coming,” Sis said. “I thought: ‘There is no way we are going to have more confessions but more guys and more guys just kept coming and they kept all three priests busy.’”
After receiving absolution, inmates went straight to the front of the gymnasium and kneeled before the Eucharist.
Witnessing that act of devotion from the inmates moved Acuna and the other perpetual pilgrims to tears. And Acuña saw an unexpected and powerful reminder about the meaning of confession.
“It was so beautiful to see these [men] come before the Blessed Sacrament. They were wearing these white uniforms and my first thought was: ‘Wow. I am looking at the image of a pristine soul that has just been washed by the mercy of God. These souls are as clean as the day of their baptism, when they had their baptismal garments,’”Acuña said.
“Seeing their joy and freedom convinced me that I need to go to confession too, because I was looking at souls who — even though they are in this prison — spiritually they are more free than I am.”
As the line snaked around the hot gymnasium, a few inmates began passing out water bottles to the men kneeling at prayer.
One inmate walked up to the table barrier where Acuña sat, asking if he would like a water bottle.
Grateful, Acuña extended his hand and said accepted.
“Thank you,” he said.
“It was one of those humbling moments where you think you are going to be the one serving these people, but actually they end up serving you,” Acuña said.
After the last man had been to confession, Sis checked the time. It was 2:05 pm.
Confessions had started at noon and run longer than expected, way longer.
“Not a bad problem to have,” Sis thought to himself.
But there was one issue: The warden had set a firm deadline for the event to conclude, 3:00 p.m.
There was less than an hour for Mass. Sis reposed the Eucharist and began to prepare.
Ten minutes later, the bishop and the other priests processed into the gymnasium, greeted by the songs led by the inmates’ liturgical band.
Sis preached on what it means to be members of a mystical body, united in the Eucharist, even in places where Catholics might feel isolated from the Church. Like the James A. Lynaugh Prison Unit, for example.
“We are one. Whether you are inside of these prison walls or outside, we are united in the Eucharist, in the mystical body of Christ, the Church,” Sis said.
Acuña told The Pillar he experienced the unity Sis was talking about.
“Very few words were exchanged between us pilgrims and the prisoners; we were just praying alongside them,” Acuña said.
“At Mass we all were singing, and praying the familiar hymns and prayers, and it was like that boundary between us was gone.”
“We were all just people worshiping God. It is so beautiful how the Eucharist is where so many people can come together and be unified in a safe place. Seeing that mutual participation just really blew me away.”
With only a few minutes to spare before 3:00, Mass concluded with the final blessing.
After Mass, Sis assured the prisoners that he and the perpetual pilgrims would be praying for them.
One inmate spoke up, to say that he and the other men would be praying for the pilgrims as they finished their journey to Los Angeles.
“It was so humbling to know that we would be receiving prayers from these inmates,” Acuña said. “To know that we would still be united to them through our prayers for one another and through the Eucharist is just mind blowing.”
Checking her watch, Edwards motioned towards the pilgrims that their time in prison was over.
The pilgrims walked from behind the tables, forming a line at the door, and waving goodbye to the men.
As the pilgrims exited the gym, the inmates stood and began clapping, providing a standing ovation as a sign of their gratitude, and their newfound fraternity.
“To see their gratitude at the end was powerful,” Acuña said. “I can only guess how much it meant to them to have Jesus come to them. I did not expect to see that much joy and hope in the prison.”
A hidden visit
As Sis and Shannahan departed the gymnasium, they could see that the visit had had a profound impact on the inmates.
“They do not have much Catholic support from inside the prison units, and minimal support outside,” Shannahan said.
“When we go in it's just bringing life to their souls. It is changing lives.”
Sis said the Eucharistic pilgrimage would be remembered as a sign of hope.
“It's just a group of prisoners that are forgotten by the world,” Sis said. “They need to go there with their pilgrimage, because those guys need them, they need hope, they need to know that they are not forgotten and I think that is what today conveyed.”
The visit, Sis believes, embodied the very ethos of the National Eucharistic Pilgrimage — that it is a pilgrimage to bring Christ to everyone, even to prisoners incarcerated at the end of a lonesome Texas road.
“Wherever the pilgrimage goes, there are crowds and people who would love to meet the pilgrims,” Sis said.
“In a sense, they are rock stars. But it's important to them to go to those on the margins,to those who are the forgotten members of our society, with the Lord, and to bring the Lord there, and to find the Lord there, off the beaten path, and away from the limelight, where there are no cameras, no recording, no big crowds,” Sis said. “That is part of the meaning of this whole Eucharistic Revival.”
At the prison, the only cameras focused on the pilgrims were security cameras. No other photos were even allowed. But the pilgrims said they will not forget their visit to the prison, a moment they called a highlight of the pilgrimage.
“At the prison, we saw a microcosm of what we have been seeing at all of our other stops throughout the way,” Acuna said.
“Every person that the Blessed Sacrament encounters is being liberated from spiritual captivity. How appropriate is it that we had the gift of being able to witness this freedom in a very literal setting, where there is no freedom.”
Walking through the steel doors at the end of the day, Acuña was speechless.
So too were his fellow pilgrims. As the van pulled past the guard tower and the barbed wire fence, onto the lonely highway, few words were spoken.
“I did not know what to expect coming into the prison, [but] I did not expect to receive so much,” Acuña said.
“Seeing these inmates witness their faith was profound. Seeing inmates visibly moved to tears, some kissing their Bible or praying their rosary, and seeing six guys at the same time praying right in front of the monstrance on this little altar in this humble setting of this prison gymnasium was a beautiful, profound witness to the faith.”
“I do not know their stories, but I know that the Lord knows their hearts.”
“That was such a gift.”
Thank you so much for this! What a beautiful piece. Makes me wish articles like this would get more attention and feedback than articles on negative things. Please keep reporting on things like this!
This reporting is a reminder that reality is better than fiction. Praise God!