Corrections Corner / John Klawiter

Mom’s persistence, archbishop’s homily bring inmate home

Faith is a funny thing. When you think it is lost, you find it saving you from the deepest, darkest hole.

When I was arrested and sent to prison, my parish—and the Church as a whole—pretty much turned its back on me. I, therefore, turned my back on the Church.

For more than 30 years, I had been a cantor and leader in several parishes. But I was done with them.

Being a cradle Catholic, my mother, (God rest her soul) nagged me about going to church. Just to make her happy, I agreed to sign up for the Catholic services here at New Castle Correctional Facility.

I remember walking to the chapel and asking myself why I was bothering to waste my time—other than the promise I made to my mother.

As it happened, then-Archbishop and now Cardinal Joseph W. Tobin was visitng that day and was celebrating Mass. I sat and listened to the Gospel from Luke 19:1-10, telling the story of Zacchaeus, the tax collector.

As I listened to the reading and to then-Archbishop Tobin’s homily, tears started streaming down my face. I know that he didn’t know me or my story, but it really seemed that he was talking directly to me. His main point was that Jesus had come to save the lost—and that was me!

After that night, I have never again doubted my faith. Certainly I have had moments of stress, but I know that God has never forgotten nor abandoned me. He is my guide and my destination.

I found a tremendous faith community here at New Castle. Our Catholic group numbers between 75-100 souls, and we are a faithful group in our seats every week!

Our volunteer group is truly amazing. They come and bring the joy and love of Christ with them each and every week. They truly exemplify the corporal works of mercy and show us the Gospel in action.

We were recently dealt a pair of terrible blows. We lost one of our longtime volunteers, Rosie Thomas. She had been a fixture in our services for many years.

Then, our leader, Deacon Wayne Davis, was also called home to be with the Lord. I will not say that we have recovered, but we are together remembering that they have gone on to glory, and we rejoice for them.

I have returned to my ministry as a cantor and certainly hope that I will some day have a chance to sing for the Lord outside these walls.

As I said, faith is a funny thing. Something that always seemed so fragile can stand firm through the strongest storms, because it has roots deeper than we even realize. In my case, I have to thank my dear mother for that.
 

(John Klawiter is an inmate at the New Castle Correctional Facility in New Castle.) †