Preface:
I cannot bear to write these Posts only about the hideous nature of the news we now awaken to each morning. Goodness and mercy endure in spite of evil and in response to evil.
I’m going to find stories that show decency at work and write about them in Posts with this heading. I hope they serve in any small way to help keep your heart from becoming numb.
In Waco Texas, a Catholic deacon, Ronnie Lastovica, and Catholic nuns from the order of Sisters of Mary Morning Star, have made a part of their lives a calling to visit and minister to women on death row at the Patrick L. O’Daniel Incarceration Unit.
Some of these women have been on Death Row for decades. They have all been convicted of murder, and often, the details of their crimes are appalling. However, some of their cases are not only suspect but weighted with the suggestion of law enforcement abuse.
My own thoughts on the death penalty are complicated, evolving and not germane to what happened and continues to happen in Waco. What matters here is the example of what began as an experiment and became an ongoing instrument for reclamation and mercy and a complicated reciprocity of love: “We didn’t know what to expect,” Sister Lydia Maria recalled of the initial prison visit. The nuns, in their gray habits, found the women dressed all in white. Deacon Ronnie said words of introduction. “Then something supernatural happened,” Brittany recalled. “It was just instant. There wasn’t a moment of discomfort. There wasn’t a moment of unease. We opened our arms, and they opened their arms, and we embraced one another.”
I do not know how often groups of people are able to “see” each other without judgment, without a sense of superiority, and without a desire to dominate. My experience is that something so pure is a rare occurrence, but it happens here, behind high walls and razor wire and between women with such different lives: “Both groups were surprised that they had so much in common. The condemned women were astonished that the nuns had chosen to live a life nearly as confined as their own, in rooms that they, too, called “cells.” Brittany said, “We talked about having a corner. I have a corner in my cell where I pray and spend time with God. And they explained that they have their own sanctuaries in their cells.” Sister Lydia Maria privately noted another connection: “We are not what the world would call beautiful women. We always wear the same clothes. The prisoners cannot be afraid of us. They cannot feel lower than us. There’s nothing in our appearance to make them feel not beautiful or not elegant.”
For years the Catholic Church has been steadily moving towards what former Chicago Cardinal Joseph Bernardin called the “Consistent Ethic of Life” which emphasizes the interconnectedness of various life issues, including abortion, nuclear war, poverty, and euthanasia, all founded on the belief in the sanctity of every human life.” As the execution date for one of the women on death row approached, the sisters took action: “The nuns had been praying for divine intervention—some event that would block Melissa Leo’s execution. They also prayed to be strong if it happened anyway. The sisters had become close to the condemned women, and they felt the weight of the imminent loss. “We’re connected because we’re sinners,” Sister Pia Maria observed. “I’m not saying we killed anybody. But we’re not perfect. Maybe because of our studies of metaphysics, we can understand the human person better and receive them with dignity and respect, regardless of what crime they committed.”
The Sisters made an extraordinary offer to all of the condemned women: “The nuns told the condemned women that becoming an oblate was a path toward a “sanctified life.” For an oblate, prayer was an occupation, both a way to fill the day and a mystical way of healing the world. Oblature also connected the prisoners to a worldwide network of believers who would be praying with them and for them. This would give the lonely inhabitants of death row an unaccustomed sense of power.”
Lawrence Wright understood what the sisters were doing: “I had to hand it to [them]—even if the offer of oblature wasn’t calculated, it was a brilliant tactical move. I had learned enough about the nuns to know that, however secluded they were, they weren’t unsophisticated. They all believed that capital punishment was evil, and they also knew that executing women was a sensitive matter in Texas. I supposed the sisters understood that it might cause an uproar for the state to kill women who could be perceived as sub-nuns—and that Texas’s governor, Greg Abbott, himself a Catholic, might prefer to avoid an unwelcome controversy.” Melissa’s execution was stayed indefinitely. She “remains on death row, almost three years after the Court of Criminal Appeals stayed her execution—and four months after the judge who presided over her trial declared her “actually innocent,” in response to evidence amassed by her legal team.”
I’m not sure how to end this Post. Sweeping conclusions or proclamations of any kind will take away from what occurs when these women meet. I know that their actions create light where there had been darkness. That’s a pretty clear lesson on another way to treat others. Right now, that’s enough.
“The Nun’s Trying To Save The Women On Texas’s Death Row.” Lawrence Wright, February 10, 2025. Find a way to read the whole article. It will do you good.
