St Thérèse of Lisieux Goes to Jail
The relics in Wormwood Scrubs HMP

As prison visits go, this had to be one of the most unusual of all time. At around 2.30pm on an ordinary October weekday afternoon, the gates at Wormwood Scrubs opened and a people carrier containing the coffin of a dead saint drove slowly into the prison quad.

Waiting to meet the saint’s casket was Archbishop of Westminster Vincent Nichols and other priests, as well as members of the prison chaplaincy team. And inside their cells, eagerly anticipating the coffin’s visit, were prisoners for whom the arrival of the relics of St Thérèse of Lisieux had special significance.

Thérèse’s remains had travelled to Wormwood Scrubs from Lisieux in northern France, the town where she lived as a child, and where at the tender age of 15 she entered a Carmelite convent. But how did she come, more than a century after her death, to be pitching up at a category B London prison – and why was her visit here such an important one for so many people?

The answers to these questions lie in Lisieux, a town dominated by a huge and handsome white basilica built in the 1930s and 40s as a place of worship for the hundreds of thousands of pilgrims who had begun to descend on the town in search of St Thérèse.
She herself had died in 1897 of tuberculosis aged just 24 after only nine years as a nun. At the time of her death, Thérèse seemed a fairly unremarkable Carmelite – so much so that her sisters in the community wondered what on earth they could write in her obituary. Then someone remembered that she had once penned a brief autobiography for her mother superior, and it was decided to dig that out and print it as a tribute to her life.

That autobiography – The Story of A Soul – was to find Thérèse worldwide posthumous fame. Within a few years it had become a bestseller, one especially loved by soldiers on both sides in the World War I trenches. Over the years since, it has been translated into at least 50 languages, and millions of copies have been sold across the globe.

The Story of A Soul touched many lives because it was such a readable and inspiring account of how accessible a relationship with God could be. At a time when most people considered God to be a distant, patriarchal figure, Thérèse related the tale of a relationship that was almost sibling-like. Christ was her dear brother; he needed her love as much as she needed his. Also inspiring was her insistence that it wasn’t just big, grand gestures that brought holiness and closeness to God: just as important were coping with the small things of life – the daily disappointments, frustrations and challenges. Thérèse called this the ‘little way’ to God.

The simplicity of her message made Thérèse, who was canonised in 1925, into a saint who seemed to touch the lives of the most downtrodden in a special way. But it wasn’t until a century after her death, in 1997, that a ministry emerged that would take her into the hearts of prisoners around the world.

Until 1997, St Thérèse’s remains were kept in Lisieux – first interred in a cemetery in the town, then moved to the basilica as it became clear how enormously popular she had become, and how many people wanted to make a pilgrimage to pray beside her remains. Some decades ago a request came from another part of France to have the saint’s casket in the church there, and a decision was made to split the relics so that there were two reliquaries available, one in Lisieux and one in another part of France.

Then in 1997 the Carmelites in Lisieux got a request they hadn’t bargained for: the bishops of Brazil wrote to ask whether the saint’s remains could pay a visit to their country. Why not, the nuns thought: Thérèse was the patron saint of Brazil, after all, and many people there had a huge devotion to her. The travelling casket was dispatched: and when it returned to France, other bishops’ conferences around the world started to follow Brazil’s lead, and to make their own requests.

It was a remarkable development, all the more since Thérèse had longed to be a missionary, and had spoken of her desire to visit many countries. And somewhere in the early years of her posthumous travelling, it was decided to include, wherever possible, a prison on her itinerary, to enable prisoners to have a chance to pray beside her bones. Since 1997 Thérèse’s remains have visited 40 countries, and many prisons have received them: at a Filipino jail, even prisoners from death row were involved in venerating them.

So it was that Helen Baly, the Catholic chaplain at Wormwood Scrubs, found herself charged with the job of organising the most unlikely visit in the prison’s history. ‘It was an extraordinary thing to plan, but it all went incredibly smoothly and there was huge interest from both staff and prisoners,’ she says.

Around 150 prisoners, clad in their grey regulation tracksuits, attended mass in the prison’s Anglican church (chosen because it is bigger than the Catholic chapel), and were able to venerate the relics. Archbishop Nichols celebrated Mass, with two prisoners as servers and two further prisoners as readers.

It was left to Fr Anthony Doe, who preached the homily, to explain the relevance of Thérèse to those in prison. One of the reasons for her popularity, he said, was because she ‘went through a dark night of the soul’.

‘Jesus wanted to be with those who suffer, and it was through St Thérèse’s illness, pain and suffering that Christ revealed himself to her.’ He urged the prisoners to be open, as Thérèse was open, to the idea of finding Jesus through suffering and through adversity.

Archbishop Nichols said later there had been a remarkable sense of peace in the chapel and during the Mass. ‘It reminds us that everyone, no matter how vulnerable, is a spiritual being and has the capacity for peace and wholeness. This is as true for prisoners here in Wormwood Scrubs as it is for anyone else wherever they may be.’

At the end of Mass, Thérèse’s casket was taken from the Anglican to the Catholic chapel for evening prayers. ‘We felt we couldn’t have St Thérèse at Wormwood Scrubs and not receive her into the Catholic church,’ explains Helen.

In the weeks since, says Helen, there has been lots of talk about the visit and its impact on the prisoners who were involved. ‘They say that everywhere Thérèse goes, she leaves a lasting impression,’ says Helen. ‘And I think it’s true to say that she now lives in many hearts behind the bars of Wormwood Scrubs.

The Little Flower’s Prison Ministry

The visit of the relics of St Thérèse of Lisieux is a phenomenon that must be unique in the history of the Church. In every country she visits, huge numbers of people flock to her. Given the reserve of our English temperament some of us had doubts that she would receive that reception here, but the crowds exceeded our expectations.

The churches everywhere were filled around the clock to the astonishment of the clergy and religious. Her visit to Wormwood Scrubs near London was a very special occasion. How happy Thérèse must have been to find her relics among the prisoners there. All her life she had felt a special calling to pray for those who had taken a wrong turning in life. Towards the end of her life she felt an identification with them during her trial of faith calling them ‘my brothers’.

It was very early in her life that she experienced this special call. She tells us; ‘One Sunday I was looking at a picture of Our Lord on the Cross, I was struck by the blood flowing from one of the divine hands. I felt a great pang of sorrow when thinking this blood was falling to the ground without anyone’s hastening to gather it up. I was resolved to remain in spirit at the foot of the Cross to receive the divine dew. I understood that I was then to pour it out upon souls. The cry of Jesus sounded continually in my heart, “I thirst”. These words ignited in me an unknown and very living fire. I wanted to give my Beloved to drink... I burned with the desire to snatch souls from the eternal flames.’

Round about this time she came to hear of the notorious case of Henri Pranzini. In March 1887 in the course of a jewellery robbery, Pranzini had strangled two women and a twelve year old child. He was condemned to death by guillotine and was said to be unrepentant, refusing to see a priest. Thérèse stormed heaven with her prayers:
‘To attain my purpose I used every means imaginable. Feeling that of myself I could do nothing, I offered to God all the infinite merits of Our Lord, the treasures of the Church and finally I asked Celine, my Sister, to have a Mass offered for my intention. I felt certain in the depths of my heart that my prayer would be granted, but to obtain from God courage to pray for sinners I told God I was sure he would pardon the poor unfortunate Pranzini; that I would believe this even if he went to his death without any sign of repentance or without having gone to Confession. I was absolutely confident in the mercy of Jesus. But I was begging Him for a sign of repentance only for my own encouragement.’

On the day after the execution Thérèse was greatly moved to read the account of Pranzini’s death. He had not gone to Confession and was preparing to mount the scaffold when suddenly, moved by an inspiration, he turned, took hold of the crucifix the priest was holding out to him and kissed the sacred wounds three times.

‘What an unspeakably sweet response. I had obtained the sign I requested, and this sign was a perfect replica of the grace Jesus had given me when he attracted me to pray for sinners. Wasn’t it before the wounds of Jesus, when seeing his divine blood flowing, that thirst for souls had entered my heart? I wished to give them this blood which was to purify them from their stains, and the lips of my ‘first child’ were pressed to the sacred wounds.’

After her success for Pranzini whom she called her ‘first child’ Thérèse felt confirmed in her mission to pray for those who had taken a wrong turn in life and it was an important aspect of her vocation. And so it is very appropriate now that in every country that her relics visit, one prison is included on the route and there have been stories of the great consolation and hope which she brings.

As her understanding of her Little Way grew and took shape she became more confident in God’s all embracing merciful love and less reliant on her own merits.

In The Evening of this Life, she wrote, ‘I will appear before God with empty hands, for I do not ask you, Lord, to count my works.’ She came to see that all our justice is stained in God’s eyes and her confidence grew that God would clothe her in his own justice. ‘I do not want to lay up merits for Heaven, Lord, I want to work for your love alone, with the one purpose of pleasing you.’

She wanted everyone to understand that God’s mercy is there for all who turn to him, no matter what they have done and no matter how hopeless they feel. In many different ways she kept repeating that in order to be accepted by God we do not need to do great things, but to accept that we are weak and dependant upon him. Her Autobiography ends with these consoling words: ‘Yes, I feel it; even though I had on my conscience all the sins that can be committed, I would go, my heart broken with sorrow, and throw myself into Jesus’s arms, for I know how he loves the prodigal child who returns to him.’

Towards the end of her life she experienced a tormenting dark night of faith which foreshadowed the religious scepticism of the 20th Century. This was so real to her that she felt herself to be in the company of blasphemers and unbelievers. With a generous love so typical of her she accepted the suffering this brought her and declared herself willing to remain with them for the rest of her life if it would help them see the light. Identifying herself with them she writes: ‘Your child, O Lord has understood your divine light and she begs pardon for her brothers. She is resigned to eat the bread of sorrow as long as you desire it. She does not wish to arise from this table filled with bitterness at which poor sinners are eating until the day set by you. Can she not say in her name and in the name of her brothers, ‘“have pity on us, O Lord, for we are poor sinners.” O Lord, send us away justified. May all those who were not enlightened by the bright flame of faith, one day see it shine.’

Thérèse wondered why it was that God seemed to grace some people from the cradle to the grave, while others have no opportunity to learn about him and spend most of their lives stumbling in ignorance of him. The conclusion she came to seemed to be that in the end we are all dependant upon God’s mercy and we cannot claim a righteousness of our own. No wonder that she is so popular with prisoners and has shown herself an understanding friend and a powerful advocate with God.

Bible Alive: Bringing Hope

The theme for Prisons Week (November 15-21) this year is ‘Holding Fast to Hope’. As the author of the Letter to the Hebrews says: ‘Let us hold fast the confession of our hope without wavering, for he who promised is faithful; and let us consider how to stir up one another to love and good works, not neglecting to meet together, as is the habit of some, but encouraging one another’ (10:23-25).

Pope Benedict spoke of just this kind of hope in his second encyclical letter Spe salvi:
‘Hope’, in fact, is a key word in Biblical faith – so much so that in several passages the words ‘faith’ and ‘hope’ seem interchangeable. Thus the Letter to the Hebrews closely links the ‘fullness of faith’ (10:22) to ‘the confession of our hope without wavering’ (10:23). Likewise, when the First Letter of Peter exhorts Christians to be always ready to give an answer concerning the logos – the meaning and the reason – of their hope (cf. 3:15), ‘hope’ is equivalent to ‘faith’.

We see how decisively the self-understanding of the early Christians was shaped by their having received the gift of a trustworthy hope, when we compare the Christian life with life prior to faith, or with the situation of the followers of other religions. Paul reminds the Ephesians that before their encounter with Christ they were ‘without hope and without God in the world’ (Eph 2:12).

Prisoners who receive Bible Alive often write to express their thanks and give us feedback. Reading their letters, it is striking and always so encouraging to come in touch with what is often a renewed and refreshed faith. Equally striking is their hope, optimism and confidence in God. The men and women who strive to live out their faith in prison are examples to us all.
The truth we uphold at Bible Alive is that ‘there but for God’s grace go we’, recognizing that we are all sinners in need of God’s mercy and forgiveness and that we are brothers and sisters united by faith in Jesus Christ our Lord.

Here is some of the feedback we have received from prisoners about how Bible Alive is helping them live their faith in prison and how they are being taught by God to hold fast in hope.

Prison: HMP Acklington
I read Bible Alive each morning. It’s like starting the day with a friend. I’m alone in my cell and miss my family whom I love very much. I’m soon to be divorced by my wife and also to be cut off from my family forever.

Prison: HMP Lewes
I look forward to each new issue and read it over and over again. A small group of us meet and discuss what the issue means to us and helps us to keep our faith.

Prison: Anon
It makes me understand about my daily reflections and it makes me think about God.

Prison: HMP Acklington
This means joy, patience, love, faith, peace and grace in my journey of tribulations and suffering through the help of Jesus Christ.

Prison: HMP Littlehey
I like Bible Alive. I read it every mornin g about 7 am before I come out of my cell, and the words lead me all day. It helps me during this time of difficulty I am in.

Prison: HMP Littlehey
Somehow the daily readings seem to have relevance to me, my shortcomings and my strengths. I am constantly amazed how much of my condition is understood by God; it’s sometimes a direct conversation about me.

Prison: Maidstone HMP
Bible Alive arrives each month via the chaplaincy, and it is an item I look forward to as both spiritual ‘refreshment’ and an aid to my academic studies in Theology. I am grateful to Bible Alive’s publishers for their monthly ‘gift’.