IN EXILE
By Father Ron Rolheiser, OMI
I grew up in a rural area where most everyone was either a first or second-generation immigrant. Most of us were just above the poverty line, struggling economically and struggling to speak English properly. We were also struggling to access higher education, both because a lot of my peers had to end their schooling after the eighth grade to help support the family and because the idea of university education was not yet part of most families’ ethos.

In our community there was one family for which this wasn’t true. They were comfortable economically and a number of them had gone on to higher education and were now professionals in different fields. They were a privileged family.

But they wore it well. There was no snobbishness, flaunting or superiority complex. The opposite. They used their gifts to try to help the community. One of their sons became a teacher and taught in one of the local schools, and for a number of years the family set up a curling rink every winter for the community. They were both admired and respected.

One day one of their sons was sitting with a group of young men who were sharing a beer, sharing stories and enjoying some healthy banter, when the son of this much respected family made a blatantly racist remark. There was an awkward silence. Then one of men, in a gentle voice, said this to him: “You know, it surprises me that you would say something like that. Your family is so classy. We all look up to you. This doesn’t sound like you.”

The man’s reaction was immediate and contrite: “You’re right. I’m sorry. I don’t know why I say things like that. That was stupid.”

I can imagine a very different reaction had he been challenged with hard words like: “You’re a racist! How can you say something like that!”

When we challenge each other in harsh words, the effect often serves to make us more defensive and freeze us in our view. We are being scolded, rebuked, shamed, and that can work just as easily to re-entrench as to persuade. It also serves to harden the space between us rather than invite us to what’s best and highest in ourselves.

We need to invite and challenge each other to what’s best and higher inside us.
And what is best and higher inside us?

Some of our early Christian writers (the Church Fathers) suggested that each of us has a double personality and heart. In each of us, they submit, there is a big, generous, noble, altruistic heart. But, inside each of us too, there is a wounded, petty and selfish heart; and at any given time, we can be operating out of one heart or the other. We can be big-hearted and we can be petty, and this can change from one hour to the next depending on what’s meeting us in life.

Here’s an example: Imagine you wake up some morning feeling altruistic and noble of heart. At that moment, you have the mind and heart of Jesus. In that holy frame of mind, you go to work and there someone is cold and sarcastic with you. In one minute, everything can switch; you no longer have the mind and heart of Jesus, nor the mind and heart of what’s best in you. The wounded petty heart in you trumps the big heart, warmth and understanding leave you, and you now feel cold and bitter.

Now imagine this in reverse: You wake up some morning feeling paranoid, misunderstood, and nursing old wounds. At that moment you don’t have the mind and heart of Jesus, nor are you attuned to what’s better and higher in your own mind and heart. You go to work in that unholy state and there, unexpectedly, some co-worker greets you warmly and shares how much she appreciates your work and your friendship. In one minute, the noble mind in you trumps the petty mind and all that’s best and generous in you rises to the surface and you want to be a better person. You flip from bitterness to graciousness in one minute.

We live in a polarized world today where so many issues bitterly divide us and invite us not to what’s noble and best in us, but rather to what’s wounded, paranoid, and defensive. We need a new tone in our discourse, one of invitation and respect, one that recognizes what’s noble and big-hearted in the other and then challenges the other to own what’s best in him or her.

Instead of name-calling and assaulting each other with slogans, we need to say to each other: “You know, it surprises me that you would say something like that. You’re so classy! We all look up to you. This doesn’t sound like you.”

That kind of invitation can help thaw some of the coldness that for all kinds of reasons perennially besets the human heart.

(Oblate Father Ron Rolheiser is a professor of spirituality at Oblate School of Theology and award-winning author.)