A few days ago, Fr. Marco Pozza—priest, theologian, writer, and chaplain of the Due Palazzi prison in Padua, known for his published conversations with Pope Francis—shared on his Facebook page an anonymous note that he found in the sacristy of the penitentiary immediately after the celebration of the Sunday Eucharist.
The author of the message is a long-time inmate, a murderer: “In here, many call me ‘the butcher,’” the note’s author comments.
For him, Mass is a real "weekly hour of fresh air," an authentic renewal. Although he’s never believed in God, he says he now feels that he’s about to give in to His loving persistence.
Before the Lord, even those who’ve used weapons to kill find themselves unarmed. And here the resurrection of Christ becomes flesh; death does not have the last word in anyone's life. Not even in that of a murderer!
With a straightforward way of speaking that at times becomes profane, but frank and sincere, the convict expresses the gratitude he feels towards the priest, Fr. Marco.
He expresses not only his gratitude, but also the deep love he feels towards the priest.
He does so with an extraordinary image: He compares the chaplain to a skilled surfer who has to navigate the increasingly high and treacherous waves of the difficult life among the inmates.
The chaplain seems to be alone, but is actually preceded by God. His faith is the "surfboard" that helps him face the open and stormy sea of the prison.
He is trying not to fall, not to be thrown down by the waves, which are all the disappointments, fatigue, defeats and difficulties, and also bad tempers and deception that he encounters every day. And above all, he has to navigate the selfishness of the prisoners, which, the author of the note writes, increases as the years of the sentence go by.
Goodness is quickly forgotten in prison, continues the author of the message. The prisoners always have new requests to make, like small children who ask you for dinner before they’ve even finished their snack.
According to the note, they always have new problems to present to those who make themselves more available, first of all the chaplain, hoping for (or demanding) help and solutions.
Starting over every day must be exhausting for Fr. Marco; the author of the text has noticed his tiredness, and that’s why he decided to put his thoughts down on paper, without too many embellishments.
He wants to remind the chaplain that he truly does a lot for them. He sees that taking on the burden of so many broken lives is anything but easy.
Yet Fr. Marco, by putting everything back into God’s hands, manages to go ahead with his mission. When something works out and he manages to stay on the surfboard, he’s quick to say that it's all thanks to Our Lord.
Here’s a full translation of the prisoner's message, as Fr. Marco shared it on Facebook (although we’ve edited out the expletives):
