FROM THE HERMITAGE
By sister alies therese
A little research goes a long way. As we approached Palm Sunday, I started looking up vines, branches, palms, trees and their unique flavors and how they have been used in parables and fables to teach us. Using a guide like The Jerome Biblical Commentary (or other commentaries) and a book like Herbert Lockyer’s All the Parables of the Bible will land you just where you want to go … or find something new you hadn’t thought of! The footnotes of your study Bible are also very important.

Trees take us back as far as the Garden of Eden and the opening of the Hebrew Bible, where we discover the Tree of Good and Evil. “God commanded the man, ‘You can eat from any tree in the garden, except from the Tree-of-Knowledge-of-Good-and-Evil. Don’t eat from it. The moment you eat from that tree, you’re dead.’” (Peterson, The Message, Genesis 2:16). Seemed quite clear – one has to wonder what went wrong!

Somewhere between the death of Joshua and the rise of Saul (6th century B.C.) some interesting characters appear in the story of Israel becoming a people. The age dominated by Moses was declining, and David was still far off.

The great question of the Book of Judges is: How can Israel live without a great leader? And the answer was that it lived, but not so well (JBC, Judges, p. 132). There was no king in Israel, as in the pagan communities around them. The Book of Judges is not about court but rather refers to ruling. Who will rule and serve the people?
As the story goes, Gideon refuses to rule even when they say, “Rule over us as you rescued us from the power of Midian.” “I shall not, nor my sons. The Lord must rule over you.” (Judges 8:22, NAB) Yahweh makes Gideon (who has 70 sons and a concubine who bears him Abimelech) a success, and the Israelites mistake that for a sign that he should rule them. Gideon declined and made an ephod of gold to be worshipped (rather than Yahweh) in the city of Ophrah, and this brought about the downfall of his family. (Judges 9:27, NAB)

Gideon dies, and the Israelites go back to worshipping the Baals, forgetting the Lord. They were not grateful for all the good Gideon had done for Israel. His illegitimate son, Abimelech, seizes kingly rank after talking to his mother’s people in Shechem, where his kinsmen sympathize with him. He then “hired shiftless men and ruffians as his followers … he slew his brothers and became king …” (Judges 9:5-6, NAB), though Jether and Jotham, the youngest, live … hiding away as this brother stands by the oak and is crowned king.

All this was reported to Jotham, who “went to the top of Mount Gerizim and cried out in a loud voice … ‘Hear me, citizens of Shechem, that God may hear you!’” (Judges 9:8, NAB). And he proceeded to tell the wonderful Parable of the Trees.

Already mentioned is the Tree in the Garden, and throughout the Scriptures, we have many stories, parables and fables featuring trees and vines. The very first parable, however, recorded in the form of a fable, is that of the trees choosing for themselves a king (Judges 9, NAB). Lockyer points out, “Jotham used this fable in order to convince the inhabitants of Shechem of the folly of having elected so vile a man as Abimelech for their king” (Parables, p. 10). You will find other parables – a favored teaching technique in the East and one of Jesus’ favorites – in Isaiah, the Parable of the Vineyard; Ezekiel, the Parable of the Vine Branch; Daniel, the Parable of the Great Tree; Zechariah, the Parable of the Horses and Myrtle Trees; Matthew, the Parable of the Tree and Fruit, the Mustard Tree and the Fig Tree; Luke, the Barren Fig Tree; and John’s True Vine. And that’s not all … what will you explore?

The wonderful Parable of the Trees makes the middle of Judges (9:7-15) so delightful and informative. Here we have the opportunity to consider those things that surround us and what they might symbolize. Jotham was the youngest son who came out from hiding and pronounced the story. Low-growing trees were invited, writes Lockyer, “olive, fig, vine and bramble, to wave to and fro over the loftier trees such as the cedar.” The olive tree is fat with the most valuable oil and food; the fig tree is sweet and provides shelter. The cedar is the tallest, with a brilliant quality of wood; the vine cheers with grapes and wine; the bramble, however, has no fruit, no shelter, only good for the fire. The people still did not repent, and Abimelech ruled for another three years. Ugh.

Did you know the Lord was crucified upon a dogwood tree? They did not want Him to rule either. “We will not have this man reign over us! Crucify Him!” The bramble brings fire and great tribulation. The fire will devour them. Lockyer writes, “And then (when the Lord comes back) the fatness, the sweetness and the cheer of the trees will bless Israel and make her a blessing; through the One who died on the cursed Tree” (p. 36).

Blessings.

(sister alies therese is a canonical hermit who prays and writes.)

IN EXILE
By Father Ron Rolheiser, OMI

I am sure many of you are familiar with the TV series about the life of Jesus called The Chosen. It was launched in 2019, has been in theaters and on streaming platforms since, and now has more than 200 million viewers. It has been translated into 50 languages and has 13 million social media followers, with about 30 percent of its audience being non-Christian.

It was created and produced by Dallas Jenkins, an Evangelical Christian with wide ecumenical and interfaith sympathies. Jonathan Roumie, a devout Roman Catholic, plays the role of Jesus, and the Jesus he portrays in The Chosen comes through as somewhat different from, and more relatable to, than the Jesus we have generally seen in other movies and portrayals of him. And this has had an interesting impact.

What’s the impact? Joe Hoover, a Jesuit priest writing in a recent issue of America magazine, makes this comment: “I have been a baptized Christian for 53 years, attended a Catholic Christian grade school and for more than two decades have been a member of a religious order that bears the name of Jesus … and ‘The Chosen’ television series had done things for my understanding and engagement with the life of Christ and his disciples that nothing else has. No sermon, no theological exhortation, no master’s degree, no class on John or Mark or Luke, no spirituality workshop, no 30-day biblically based retreat has brought the Gospels home and made Christ and his people real and relatable to me in quite the way ‘The Chosen’ has.”

That speaks for me as well. The Chosen has had a similar effect on me. Like Joe Hoover, I was baptized as an infant, raised a Roman Catholic, am a member of a religious order, have degrees in theology, have been to every kind of spirituality workshop, and have studied the Gospels under the guidance of some world class scholars, and yet this TV series has given a face to Jesus that I didn’t quite receive in all that past learning and has helped me in my prayer and my relationship to Christ.

In essence, this is what The Chosen has done for me. It has presented a Jesus whom I actually want to be with. Shouldn’t we always want to be with Jesus? Yes, but the Jesus who is often presented to us is not someone, if we are honest with ourselves, we would want to spend a lot of one-on-one time with, with whom we could be at ease and comfortable without affectations.

For instance, the Jesus who has often been presented to us in movies is generally lacking in human warmth, is distant, stern, other-worldly, over pious, and whose very gaze makes you feel guilty because your sin caused his crucifixion. That Jesus is also humorless, doesn’t ever seem to bring God’s smile to the world, and never brings any lightness into a room. He is not a Jesus with whom you are at ease.

Unfortunately, that is often the Jesus who has been presented to us in our preaching, catechesis, Sunday schools, theological classes and in popular spirituality. The Jesus we meet there, for all the truth and revelation he brings into the world, is generally still too divine and overly pious for us to be at ease with humanly. He is a Jesus we admire, perhaps even adore, and whom we trust enough to commit our lives to (no small thing). But he is also a Jesus with whom we are not much at ease, whom we wouldn’t pick to sit next to at table, with whom we wouldn’t pick to go on vacation, and who is so distant and distinct from us that it is easier for us to have him as an admired teacher than as an intimate friend, let alone as a lover to whom we want to bear our soul.

This is not a plea to humanize Jesus (as is sometimes in fashion today) by making him just a nice man who preaches love but doesn’t at the same time radiate God’s non-negotiable truth. This is not what The Chosen does. Far from it.

The Chosen presents us with a Jesus whose divinity you never doubt, even as he appears as warm and attractive, with a humanity that puts you at ease in his presence; indeed, it lures you into his presence. Watching The Chosen, one never doubts for an instant that Jesus is specially and inextricably linked to his Father and that he brings us God’s truth and revelation without compromise. But this Jesus also brings God’s smile, God’s warmth and God’s blessing upon our lives which too often suffer from a lack of these.
The great mystic Julian of Norwich once described God is this way: God sits in heaven, completely relaxed, his face looking like a marvelous symphony.

Among other things, The Chosen shows us this relaxed face of God, which to our own detriment we too seldom see.

(Oblate Father Ron Rolheiser is a theologian, teacher and award-winning author. He can be contacted through his website www.ronrolheiser.com.)

IN EXILE
By Father Ron Rolheiser, OMI

Where might we experience Jesus today in a world that is seemingly too crowded with its own concerns to allow a space for him?

The renowned spirituality writer Tomas Halik, in a recent book entitled The Afternoon of Christianity, makes this suggestion. As the world makes less and less explicit space for Jesus, we need to search for him more and more in those places where he is “anonymously present.” Halik’s counsel: “Let us search for him ‘by his voice’ like Mary Magdalene; let us search for him in strangers on the road like the disciples on the road to Emmaus; let us search for him in the wounds of the world like the apostle Thomas; let us search for him whenever he passes through the closed doors of fear; let us search for him where he brings the gift of forgiveness and new beginnings.”

The invitation here is to better respond to the signs of the times, given that we are living now in what he calls “the afternoon of Christianity.”

What is the afternoon of Christianity?

He distinguishes three periods in the history of Christianity. He sees the morning of Christianity as the time before 1500 AD, the pre-modern period, the time before secularization. The noonday of Christianity, for him, is the time of secularization and modernity, basically from the 19th century until our own generation. The afternoon of Christianity, for him, is our time today, the post-modern world, where we are witnessing a breakdown of much of the world as we once knew it with the effects of this on faith and religion. And for Halik, the effect of all of this is that the Christian faith has now outgrown previous forms of religion.

Wow! That’s quite a statement! However, what Halik is proposing is not that the faith is dying, that Christianity is dying, or that the churches are dying. Rather, for him, Christianity today finds itself in a certain cultural homelessness, in a time where so many social structures that once supported it are collapsing, so that the Christian faith is now needing to seek a new shape, a new home, new means of expression, new social and cultural roles, and new allies.

And how will that turn out? We don’t know. But here’s Halik’s hunch: Christianity will not, as many fear, lose its identity and become a non-religious faith. It will not disintegrate into some vague, doctrineless, boundaryless, privatized spirituality. Rather, the hope is that (paradoxically) the very dynamism and diversity that frightens many Christians is the incubation phase of the Christianity of the future.

For him, the challenges that Christianity faces today invite us to bring faith into a new space, like Paul did when he brought Christianity out of the confines of the Judaism of his day. Here is how Halik puts it: “I believe that the Christianity of tomorrow will be above all a community of a new hermeneutic, a new reading, a new and deeper interpretation of the two sources of divine revelation, scripture and tradition, and especially of God’s utterance in the signs of the times.

How is this all to happen? That’s the thesis of the book. Chapter after chapter lays out possibilities of how we might more courageously read the signs of the times and rather than water down any of the substance of the Christian faith, let the signs of the times lead us to a deeper understanding of both scripture and tradition, especially so that we might bring together in better harmony the Christ of cosmic evolution with the Resurrected Jesus; and then recognize that they are both not just present in what is explicit in our Christian faith and worship, they are also anonymously present in the evolution of our culture and society.

Consequently, we need to search for Jesus Christ not just in our scriptures, our churches, our worship services, our catechetical classes, our Sunday schools, and our explicit Christian fellowship, though of course we need to search there. But, like Mary Magdalene, we need to recognize his voice in the caretaker at the cemetery; like the discouraged disciples on the road to Emmaus, when we no longer have the answers, we need to recognize his presence in strangers whose words make our hearts burn inside us; like the doubting Thomas, we need to overcome our doubts about his resurrection by touching his wounds as they are now manifest in the poor and the suffering; like Jesus’ first community who barricaded themselves behind a locked door out of fear, we need to recognize him whenever, inside our huddled fear, something expectedly breathes peace into us; and we need to recognize his presence inside us every time we receive forgiveness and are empowered to begin again.

This isn’t a time of dying, it’s a time of kairos, a time when we are being invited to open our eyes in a new way so as to recognize the Christ who is walking with us in some unfamiliar forms.

(Oblate Father Ron Rolheiser is a theologian, teacher and award-winning author. He can be contacted through his website www.ronrolheiser.com.)

GUEST COLUMN
By Deacon Wesley Lindsay

There is a saying I have heard all my life, and it still rings true: “The Lord moves in mysterious ways.” My faith journey is a living testament to this truth. When I look back on each misstep, each wrong turn, and every encounter, both good and bad, I can now see that they all prepared me for the calling I answered more than seven years ago. At each of the three levels of my progression – discernment, formation and ordination – God has revealed more and more of Himself and His plan.

When I was much younger, I believed I was ready to understand the “real” message of the Almighty. However, Hebrews 5:12-14 compares followers of God to children who must be fed with milk because they are not yet mature enough for solid food. I thought differently about myself and craved the solid food of spiritual maturity. Be careful what you ask for – you just may get it.

Discernment
God’s hand was moving in my life, even when I had no clue. A friend and Brother Knight encouraged me to apply for the permanent diaconate. There was just one problem: the application process was already closed. However, I decided to test a core Christian tenet: faith. I submitted my application anyway, just to see what would happen. To my surprise, it was accepted despite being late! I was admitted to aspirancy.

The aspirancy period is when prospective candidates begin to learn about the ministry and duties of the permanent deacon. For married men, their wives are encouraged to attend the monthly meetings, usually held on Saturdays. This step is crucial because a wife’s active support and consent are required at each stage of her husband’s progression toward ordination. She must write a letter indicating her support for his journey. If the wife is not fully on board, the permanent diaconate is not in that man’s future.

Formation
After about nine months of aspirancy, my six brother candidates and I had to write a letter to our bishop requesting admission to candidacy. This is when our real formation began. We embarked on a Master’s degree-level religious education program directed by Spring Hill College in Mobile, Alabama. This was our seminary of Christian education. Along the way, we completed practicums specific to our Catholic faith, such as homiletics and the sacraments of baptism and marriage.

A funny thing happened at each of these steps: I began to notice a change not only in myself but in my fellow candidates as well. This is no slight to them – from the start, they were already good, God-fearing men of service! Yet somehow, their goodness was magnified, and they became, in my opinion, even stronger in the faith.

The hardest part of formation, in my experience, was keeping an open mind. I thought I knew the Bible and the ways of the Almighty. Boy, was I mistaken! Isaiah 55:8-9 made this point abundantly clear to me. This is where Spring Hill College truly shined. All our instructors provided the help and support we needed, making the educational experience second to none. Reading a variety of Christian authors and texts was fundamental, and now I have an extensive theological library. Formation also taught me valuable time management skills – we all learned to appreciate the blessing of a 45-minute time gap!

Ordination
July 16, 2022, will forever be one of the happiest days of my life. Almost five years of preparation had led me to that moment. Another chapter had begun, filled with the promise and expectation of serving God and His people.

In the nearly three years since my ordination, my eyes have witnessed so much – some good, some bad. At this stage of my journey, I hold onto the words of the Apostle Paul in Philippians 4:12-13: “I have the strength for everything through Him who empowers me.” Thanks be to God!

For more information on the permanent diaconate visit https://jacksondiocese.org/office-of-the-permanent-diaconate.

(Deacon Wesley Lindsay was ordained in 2022 and serves at the Cathedral of St. Peter in Jackson.)

FROM THE HERMITAGE
By sister alies therese

I learned from Elizabeth Lesser (The Seeker’s Guide, pg. 397), that “When Bishop Desmond Tutu introduced Nelson Mandela at his inauguration … he described him as a man who had obuntubotho … the essence of a human being. It speaks of humanness, gentleness, putting yourself out for others and being vulnerable, embracing compassion and toughness.” I would add that he was a man of shalom, one for whom things were as they ought to be. This would be our goal, our calling – our obuntubotho.

Lent has stirred us, challenged us, or gone quickly and unremarkably. Dionysius the Areopagite (5-6C CE), though his real identity remains unknown, as do his exact writing dates. He was known for ‘the rapt impotence of the mind before God,’ a spirituality of self-emptying. To discover the essence of the human person is to find this spirit of the Christ, the anointed One, and not to pay so much attention to ourselves. Did you come to know Jesus better this Lent? Did you discover what Jesus has done for you and what you are called to do for others? Are you willing to surrender all and enter the darkness?

Dionysius writes, “Entering the darkness that surpasses understanding, we shall find ourselves brought, not just to brevity of speech, but to perfect silence and unknowing.” And what good is that you ask? Well, in that silence, the fullness of God resides! He goes on, “Emptied of all knowledge, man is joined in the highest part of himself, not with any created thing, nor with himself, nor with another, but with the One who is altogether unknowable, and in knowing nothing, he knows in a manner that surpasses understanding.” Once we have let go of ourselves, entered into prayer and silence, we can move to be of some small service to others.

In the Pirke Avot 5:27 (a collection of rabbinic sayings compiled between 250 and 275 CE), though many sages lived long before and very little is known about them. They seem to “speak in one great sane voice of the necessity of enacting holiness and making prayer real in the service of others, bringing things into harmony.” (Wisdom of the Jewish Sages, Rabbi Rami Shapiro, 1993). Here is an example:
“Ben Hei Hei said: Effort is its own reward.

“We are here to do. And through doing to learn; and through leaning to know; and through knowing to experience wonder; and through wonder to attain wisdom; and through wisdom to find simplicity; and through simplicity to give attention; and through attention to see what needs to be done.”

What have you discovered that needs to be done? Wash, rinse, repeat … deal with your family issues, care for a sick neighbor, tutor a child, give money to a disaster fund or children’s hospital. You have found the one that works for you. Lent helps us find the one best suited to us.

Consider all the ways Jesus was a man of prayer and service! A man of shalom … everything about Him spoke of the deep relationship He had with the Father, so that he might do the work the Father had given Him. That gives us clues as to how we might grow. Even if we can list the seven deadly sins, the beatitudes, and the commandments, they are worthless if we do not want to allow shalom to fill our lives. We grow by prayer and action.

Mother Teresa, the saint of the slums, did not have an easy life. After she had gone back to God, folks opened her diaries and found great darkness and difficulty, and some even complained that she should ‘not be considered a saint.’ Really? No, it was her suffering and surrender that brought her ever deeper into God’s heart so that she might minister to those in distress. She gave us this to help remind us: “Loving as He loves, helping as He helps, giving as He gives, serving as He serves, rescuing as He rescues, being with Him twenty-four hours, touching Him in His distressing disguise.” It is that disguise that we have to pay attention to. Just as we could be ‘entertaining angels.’ we might also be serving Jesus in distress. There is still time to allow Lent to be moments of deep conversion and a new beginning, well on the way to shalom, on the way to obuntubotho.

Joseph Campbell, the philosopher, reminded Elizabeth Lesser that “from sacrifice comes bliss.” She says, “that is a liberating concept if learned from the real-life experience of following one’s heart.”
Blessings.

(sister alies therese is a canonical hermit who prays and writes.)

Reflections on Life
By Melvin Arrington

When the subject of prayer comes up, many people immediately think of petition, that is, asking God for a favor. But petition constitutes only one type of what the church calls “raising of one’s mind and heart to God” (CCC 2559); other categories include penitence, praise, thanksgiving, intercession, and silence in the form of meditation and contemplation. The Mass, which is often referred to as “the great prayer of the church,” contains all of these. It is, in essence, one long sustained prayer.

Bishop Robert Barron calls prayer “intimate communion and conversation with God.” I like that definition because it highlights the element of intimacy, which suggests both closeness and privacy. Here’s a story that may or may not be true. In a certain Baptist Church there used to be an old gentleman, a deacon, who was often called upon to pray during the service. But he always prayed so softly that it was difficult for other members of the congregation to hear him. Once, after the service, a young man went up to the deacon and told him, “You need to speak louder when you pray. I couldn’t hear you.” The old gentleman looked at him and said in a gentle voice, “I wasn’t talking to you.” That deacon must have had an intimate personal relationship with the Lord.

Another indispensable aspect of prayer is an attitude of humility. When we address our Creator and Lord, it’s always from a position of dependence. He is God and we are his creation, his creatures. He knows us better than we know ourselves. He knows what’s best for us. So, we should pray, “Thy will be done.” And yet, there are things that we want, and God, the source of all goodness, wants to give us good things, but He wants us to ask for them.

The fourth-century monk Evagrius Ponticus said, “Do not be troubled if you do not immediately receive from God what you ask Him, for He desires to do something even greater for you while you cling to Him in prayer.” Those words are particularly meaningful to me because of something that happened many years ago during my job- hunting days. A certain job that I wanted and needed badly came open. Upon learning that the position was given to someone else, my spirit sank very low, and I felt like abandoning my job search. However, two or three days later an offer came in for a much better position, one that I could not have accepted had the first one worked out. As a friend of mine once said, “His will is much better than my plan.” Archbishop Fulton J. Sheen really knew what he was talking about when he remarked, “Some day we will thank God not only for what He gave us, but also for that which He refused.” Amen!

And then there’s perseverance. Several years ago, in preparation for retirement, I began asking the Lord to reveal to me a place where I could serve after retiring. This was an ongoing part of my daily prayer for two or three years. In the meantime, I had convinced my mother, who had been living in a nursing home in Madison, to move to a similar facility in my hometown, so I could check on her more frequently. My first few visits were painful because I’ve always felt nervous and uneasy around hospitals, clinics and nursing homes.

And then something marvelous happened. The more I visited the facility the more comfortable I felt being around the sick. Gradually, I began to make friends with many of the nursing home residents. Before long, I was helping them get around the building in their wheelchairs and participate in various group activities. I had become a volunteer! God had answered my prayer, but in a totally unexpected way because a nursing home was way outside of my comfort zone, and it would have been the last location I would have chosen. Nevertheless, He chose that place for me, and now I see the wisdom of His plan. The Lord works in mysterious ways.

The old saying, “prayer changes things,” remains true. But it doesn’t change God; it changes us. We learn to call on Him for help rather than relying solely on ourselves. We learn to shift the worries and cares of this world from ourselves to our Heavenly Father. Instead of agonizing over things we can’t control, we take them to the Lord, confident that He will answer them in His own time and according to His perfect will. As Jesus tells us, “Come to me, all you that are weary and are carrying heavy burdens, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me; for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light.” (Matt. 11:28-30)

What a wonderful gift prayer is! What an amazing privilege we have! Almighty God, our Maker, is calling us to intimate communion with Him. Just the very thought of what this means is awe-inspiring! Why would anyone who hears Him reject the call? Right now, during Lent, we are all being invited to enter into that relationship. We need to make time for prayer. This is not the kind of gift to be put up on the shelf and forgotten. The church has a wealth of prayers to draw upon. The saints are ready to pray for us and with us. And God is waiting for us to have a conversation with Him.

(Melvin Arrington is a Professor Emeritus of Modern Languages for the University of Mississippi and a member of St. John Oxford.)

IN EXILE
By Father Ron Rolheiser, OMI
There is an incident in the Gospels where the disciples of Jesus were unable to cast out a particular demon. When they asked Jesus why, he replied that some demons can only be cast out by prayer. The particular demon he was referring in this instance had rendered a man deaf and mute.

I want to name another demon which seemingly cannot be cast out except by prayer, namely, the demon that forever fractures our personal relationships, families, communities and churches through misunderstanding and division, making it forever difficult to be in life-giving community with each other.
What particular prayer is needed to cast out this demon? The prayer of a shared silence, akin to a Quaker Silence.

What is a Quaker Silence?

A tiny bit of history first: Quakers are a historically Protestant Christian set of denominations whose members refer to each other as Friends but are generally called Quakers because of a famous statement once made by their founder, George Fox (1624-1691). Legend has it that in the face of some authority figures who were trying to intimidate him, Fox held up his Bible and said: This is the word of God, quake before it!

For the Quakers, particularly early on, their common prayer consisted mainly in sitting together in community in silence, waiting for God to speak to them. They would sit together in silence, waiting on God’s power to come and give them something that they could not give themselves, namely, real community with each other beyond the divisions that separated them. Though they sat individually, their prayer was radically communal. They were sitting as one body, waiting together for God to give them a unity they could not give themselves.

Might this be a practice that we, Christians of every denomination, could practice today in the light of the helplessness we feel in the face of division everywhere (in our families, in our churches, and in our countries)? Given that, as Christians, we are at root one community inside the Body of Christ, a single organic body where physical distance does not really separate us, might we begin as a regular prayer practice to sit with each other in a Quaker Silence, one community, sitting in silence, waiting together, waiting for God to come and give us community that we are powerless to give ourselves?

Practically, how might this be done? Here’s a suggestion: each day set aside a time to sit in silence, alone or ideally with others, for a set period of time (fifteen to twenty minutes) where the intent, unlike in private meditation, is not first of all to nurture your personal intimacy with God, but rather to sit together in community with everyone inside the Body of Christ (and with all sincere persons everywhere) asking God to come and give us communion beyond division.

This could also be a powerful ritual in marriage and in family life. Perhaps one of the most healing therapies inside of a marriage might be for a couple to sit together regularly in a silence, asking God to give them something that they cannot give themselves, namely, an understanding of each other beyond the tensions of everyday life. I remember as a child, praying the rosary together as a family each evening and that ritual having the effect of a Quaker Silence. It calmed the tensions that had built up during the day and left us feeling more peaceful as a family.

I use the term Quaker Silence, but there are various forms of meditation and contemplation which have the same intentionality. For example, the founder of the Missionary Oblates of Mary Immaculate (the religious order I belong to), St. Eugene de Mazenod, left us a prayer practice he called Oraison. This is its intention: as Oblates we are meant to live together in community, but we are a worldwide congregation scattered over sixty countries around the world. How can we be in community with each other across distance?

Through the practice of Oraison. St. Eugene asked us to set aside a half hour each day to sit in a silence that is intended to be a time when we are not just in communion with God but are also intentionally in communion with all Oblates around the world. Akin to a Quaker Silence, it is a prayer wherein each person sits alone, in silence, but in community, asking God to form one community across all distances and differences.

When Jesus says some demons are only cast out by prayer, he means it. And perhaps the demon to which this most particularly refers is the demon of misunderstanding and division. We all know how powerless we are to cast it out. Sitting in a communal silence, asking God to do something for us beyond our powerlessness, can exorcise the demon of misunderstanding and division.

(Oblate Father Ron Rolheiser is a theologian, teacher and award-winning author. He can be contacted through his website www.ronrolheiser.com.)