John McCarthy has met men guilty of heinous crimes such as murder, rape and paedophilia, but says he has yet to discover one who doesn’t have some good in him. John, who is retiring from his role as a Catholic prison chaplain next month, recently shared his experiences of the past 11 years reaching out to those forgotten by society.
At 65, when most people would have been planning a life of rest and retirement, John found himself wandering within the razor-wired walls of Hakea Prison in Canning Vale.
With no formal training in this particular ministry and unsure how to approach the incarcerated population surrounding him, John recalls the pivotal moment that would set the foundation for the next decade of ministry.
He remembers the first time he walked into a section alone and found himself in the presence of three tattooed and very tough looking bikies.
His first instinct was one of fear, and he began to make a hasty exit, but then something within him halted the retreat.
“I soon realised the Holy Spirit was at work, letting me know these were exactly the people I was here for. I stepped forward instead of back and introduced myself.
They were friendly guys, we had a great chat, and I knew from that moment what approach I had to take,” John says.
It was an attitude that guided him in his interaction with thousands of prisoners, of all faiths and none, including teenage boys whom he also visits each week at Banksia Hill Juvenile Detention Centre.
John is one of a team of chaplains and volunteers entering into our prisons to offer a listening ear, practical help and advice, and to hold weekly church services, bringing Holy Communion to those inside, as well as offering memorial services for prisoners, officers and their families.
John’s main role, he says, is to be a listener and, with his genial and easy-going nature, it’s easy to see why men hardened by life’s circumstances would open up to him.
“Prisoners initially come seeking advice”, he reflects.
“But as they are talking they often arrive at the solution themselves – a sort of a light bulb moment – where they realise ‘Oh, it’s me that has to change’.”
John understands that he and other chaplains play an important role for those serving time because they often provide the only avenue where men and youth can discuss personal issues with someone outside the official jail system.
“In a prison environment it can be detrimental to share certain information with other inmates because that information can easily be used in the wrong way and make life pretty miserable,” John says.
“There’s a need to have an outsider to provide a listening ear and often we can provide them with the opportunity to vocalise a concern for the first time.”
John acknowledges that due to the nature of the environments in Hakea and Banksia Hill, there is always an element of risk involved, but he says he has never felt threatened or intimidated in any way and has always been treated with respect by prisoners and officers alike. He also emphasises that the preparation and training for new chaplains is more organised and professional than when he began.
John’s personal journey to this ministry is an interesting story in itself and his desire to reach out to those on the periphery of society has been a common thread throughout it.
Born in Perth in 1939, John is a self-described “square peg in a round hole”.
He studied at St Charles’ Seminary in Guildford and then Adelaide and was ordained a priest at the age of 23.
Soon after, he found himself visiting isolated ‘fettlers’ (railway repair men) along the Trans Australia Railway between Kalgoorlie and the South Australian border, travelling in the once famous ‘Tea and Sugar’ train.
He discovered his rapport with other “square pegs”, men and their families, isolated in the middle of a desert.
Experiencing personal difficulties, John spent six months on Thursday Island and then several years as a parish priest on an island on the north coast of Papua New Guinea.
In 1972, after nine years as a priest, John applied and received laicisation.
He found himself in Sydney teaching in schools and it was here he would meet his wife Angela with whom, he announces proudly, he will soon celebrate their 40th anniversary. John and Angela returned to Perth and had a son before unexpectedly finding themselves adopting the three young daughters of a neighbour who had passed away.
It was a blessing and a challenge both he and Angela embraced, reflecting, once again, the desire to reach out in love to those experiencing trauma.
“We felt we had been blessed and wanted to pass on that blessing to others,” he says.
After receiving a degree from Edith Cowan University in Computer Education, John taught at various schools around Perth, but by 2000 his “inner square peg” had become restless and he found himself travelling to East Timor for several weeks at a time, initially with a group from Notre Dame University.
It was a time of great political and humanitarian crisis and John tried to plant seeds for future stability through education – setting up computers and programs to assist locals who were experiencing traumatic personal and social upheaval.
By 2002 John was approaching retirement age and looking for a future direction. Angela, he said, was also praying for the right doors to open in his life, but when he had an accident on his pushbike that led to six months’ rehabilitation, he laughed that he would be hesitant to ask for her prayers again.
It was an enforced sabbatical, however, that eventually led to his “post-retirement” chaplaincy career.
The past 11 years have provided John with precious and unique opportunities to spend time with people who never felt they belonged and he will always be grateful.
He would love to continue in the role but says his body is less willing than his spirit and he knows it is time to pass the mantle onto others.
Despite John’s Catholic identity, the role of all prison chaplains is not to proselytise, but to support the prisoners in their own quest for God, while at the same time accepting opportunities to introduce faith to those who are actively seeking it.
He is often handing out crosses or prayer, feast day and saint cards, as well as discussing issues such as sexual morality and personal responsibility, especially with adolescents who are trying to discover their identity within a hostile environment.
But John is under no illusions about his place in the spiritual scheme of things.
“In my time as a chaplain I have always lived by one philosophy,” he says with a smile.
“It was not so much about bringing Christ into the prisons, as it was about going into the prisons to meet Christ.”
It was confirmation that the square peg had finally found the right hole.