When Noble Thomas introduces himself to the young people in the confirmation classes at Our Lady of Guadalupe Church in New Orleans, he no longer hesitates as he says his first name.
The shame he used to feel uttering the moniker he shares with his father is gone.
That shame was brought on by a senseless, drug-fueled act of violence that sent the younger Noble’s life into a tailspin. Yet without that tailspin, Thomas said, he wouldn’t be there to talk to those young people to give them a deeper sense of what it means to have good parents and how important it is to walk the narrow path he has struggled so hard to find.
“Hearing my story gives the kids a different perspective on life,” Thomas said. “It shows them a lot about love and forgiveness and mercy.”
‘I Remember Everything’
On a sweltering Louisiana summer afternoon in August 1990, Noble Robinson Jr. shot and killed Thomas’ mother while she held her 4-year-old son on her lap in the backseat of a car. It’s a sound and a sight Thomas cannot shake to this day. “I remember everything,” he said. “It’s hard to forget something like that. I’ve tried. I just can’t.”
For his crime, Robinson, was sentenced to life in prison without the possibility of parole and sent to the Louisiana State Penitentiary in Angola to serve his time.
Noble Thomas was given a different kind of sentence.
Beset with the trauma of what he witnessed at such a young age, he struggled, bouncing from family to family, seeking refuge in his own vices. By the time he reached adulthood, he was living on the streets of New Orleans.
‘So I did’
Father Tony Rigoli has been a priest with the Missionary Oblates of Mary Immaculate for more than half a century. For a majority of that time, he has served at Our Lady of Guadalupe Parish in New Orleans, which includes the International Shrine of St. Jude.
There were nearly 1,400 homeless people in New Orleans as of January 2024, according to Unity of Greater New Orleans. Many of them reside within a few miles of Fr. Rigoli’s church. In 2017, Noble Thomas was one of them.
Thomas was spending nights in an abandoned car near the main branch of the New Orleans Public Library, about a half-mile from the church. He settled into that vehicle early one evening, intending to read his Bible and fall asleep.
“But I felt God telling me, ‘Get up and walk and read the Bible,’” Thomas said. “So I did.”
That walk led him to a church. Thomas said he saw the man who would become his friend, Fr. Tony, shaking hands with parishioners as they left Mass. Again feeling God’s urging, Thomas walked over to Fr. Tony and asked if he could talk with him.
That night, seated in the church rectory with Fr. Tony, Noble Thomas shared his entire life story—the shooting, the foster homes, the crimes, the homelessness … and the desire for a new start.
Father Tony gave him food and the offer to return any time—to come to services, to talk. When Thomas returned that night to the car he called home, he felt something he hadn’t felt since before the shooting: Hope.
‘We Do What We Can’
Over the following months, Thomas became a frequent visitor to Our Lady of Guadalupe.
“I told Father Tony I wasn’t looking for no money, that all I wanted was a support system so I could get back on my feet and give back,” Thomas said. “That’s what I prayed for. I give God all the credit. He led me to Fr. Tony, and, being a man of God, Father Tony let God move on him to help me.”
Father Tony grew up in the Oblates’ Holy Angels Parish in Buffalo, NY. He was ordained as a priest in May 1972 and then worked in parishes throughout the East and Midwest before being assigned to the Shrine of St. Jude in New Orleans in 2002.
“We can’t fix it all,” he said. “We do what we can, and maybe it will provide a little hope for some people.” It did just that for Thomas.
‘I Just Move’
As the relationship between Father Tony and Thomas grew, the topic turned to forgiveness.
By that time, Robinson had been in the Louisiana State Penitentiary for more than 30 years. Just like his son, he had found a deeper spirituality and become as close to a model prisoner as there is in the Angola facility, Fr. Tony said.
The Angola Prison Rodeo serves as an incentive for inmates. Those with good behavior can compete in various rodeo events, earn money for their success and sell the things they make behind bars—furniture, art, jewelry and the like.
Thomas was sitting in his apartment the day before the 2018 rodeo was to begin when he felt God’s call again.
“I heard the voice of God tell me to go forgive your daddy,” he said. “I was like ‘No way.’ But then, after all that had happened with Fr. Tony and what led me to him, I don’t really question God. I just move.”
And so the next day, Thomas, his girlfriend and a half-sister got in the car and headed to the Louisiana State Penitentiary. Thomas cautiously made his way over to the man he recognized through pictures as his father.
“He just dropped his head and started saying, ‘I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry,’” Thomas said of the encounter. “I had sympathy for him. What I told him was that I was there just to forgive him and that’s it.”
Despite the awkwardness, Thomas did what he set out to do that day: He forgave his father.
In the wake of that afternoon, Thomas said he began to feel something more than hope. He began to feel peace. Father Tony said he quickly recognized the change.
“Mercy is what it’s all about,” Fr. Tony said. “If I need to remind him a thousand times, I’ll do so: God loves Noble Thomas. God loves Noble Thomas’ father. That’s truth.”
‘Worthy’
That truth is what led Fr. Tony to invite Thomas to speak to the confirmation classes at the church he leads. These talks are as much an answer to prayer for Thomas as his first encounter with Fr. Tony.
While in prison, while living on the streets, Thomas had prayed to end up in a position where he could give back. He sees the confirmation classes as an opportunity to do just that.
“I love to do it,” he said. “I feel like it heals me and helps them. I like to see these kids learn something at a young age so they can have a different perspective on life.”
And so today, when Thomas introduces himself to the students in Fr. Tony’s confirmation classes, he no longer feels the shame he used to when he utters his first name. Father Tony sees the difference in his demeanor when he says it.
“He’s discovered that the word ‘noble’ means ‘worthy,’ and now he’s proud of it,” Fr. Tony said. “He knows now that he’s worthy, that that’s how God sees him. That’s how he sees himself.”
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