IN EXILE
By Father Ron Rolheiser, OMI
In his autobiography, Nikos Kazantzakis shares how in his youth he was driven by a restlessness that had him searching for something he could never quite define. However, he made peace with his lack of peace because he accepted that, given the nature of the soul, he was supposed to feel that restlessness and that a healthy soul is a driven soul. Commenting on this, he writes: “No force anywhere on earth is as imperialistic as the human soul. It occupies and is occupied in turn, but it always considers its empire too narrow. Suffocating, it desires to conquer the world in order to breathe freely.”
We need to be given permission, I believe, to accept as God-given that imperialism inside our soul, even as we need always to be careful never to trivialize its power and meaning. However, that is a formula for tension. How does one make peace with the imperialism of one’s soul without denigrating the divine energy that is stoking that imperialism? For me, this has been a struggle.
I grew up in the heart of the Canadian prairies, with five hundred miles of open space in every direction. Geographically, that space let one’s soul stretch out, but otherwise my world seemed too small for my soul to breathe. I grew up inside a tight-knit community in an isolated rural area where the world was small enough so that everyone knew everyone else. That was wonderful because it made for a warm cocoon; but that cocoon (seemingly) separated me from the big world where, it seemed to my young mind, souls could breathe in spaces bigger than where I was breathing. Moreover, growing up with an acute religious and moral sensitivity, I felt guilty about my restlessness, as if it were something abnormal that I needed to hide.
In that state, as an eighteen-year-old, I entered religious life. Novitiates in those days were quite strict and secluded. We were eighteen of us, novices, sequestered in an old seminary building across a lake from a town and a highway. We could hear the sounds of traffic and see life on the other side of the lake, but we were not part of it. As well, most everything inside our sequestered life focused on the spiritual so that even our most earthy desires had to be associated with our hunger for God and for the bread of life. Not an easy task for anyone, especially a teenager.
Well, one day we were visited by a priest who gave my soul permission to breathe. He gathered us, the eighteen novices, into a classroom and began his conference with this question: Are you feeling a little restless? We nodded, rather surprised by the question. He went on: Well, you should be feeling restless! You must be jumping out of your skin! All that life in you and all those fiery hormones stirring in your blood, and you’re stuck here watching life happen across the lake! You must be going crazy sometimes! But … that’s good, that’s what you should be feeling, it shows you’re healthy. Stay with it. You can do this. It’s good to feel that restlessness.
That day the wide-open prairie spaces I had lived my whole life in and the wide-open spaces in my soul befriended each other a little. And that friendship continued to grow as I did my studies and read authors who had befriended their souls. Among others, these spoke to me: St. Augustine (You have made us for yourself, Lord, and our hearts are restless until they rest in you.); Thomas Aquinas (The adequate object of the human intellect and will is all Being); Iris Murdoch (The deepest of all human pains is the pain of the inadequacy of self-expression); Karl Rahner (In the torment of the insufficiency of everything attainable, we ultimately learn that here, in this life, there is no finished symphony); Sidney Callahan (We are made to ultimately sleep with the whole world, is it any wonder that we long for this along the way?); and James Hillman (Neither religion nor psychology really honors the human soul. Religion is forever trying to save the soul and psychology is always trying to fix the soul. The soul needs neither to be saved nor fixed; it is already eternal – it just needs to be listened to.)
Perhaps today the real struggle is not so much to accept sacred permission to befriend the wild insatiability of the soul. The greater struggle today, I suspect, is not to trivialize the soul, not to make its infinite longings something less than what they are.
During the World War II, Jesuit theologians resisting the Nazi occupation in France published an underground newspaper. The first issue opened with this now-famous line: France, take care not to lose your soul. Fair warning. The soul is imperialistic because it carries divine fire and so it struggles to breathe freely in the world. To feel and to honor that struggle is to be healthy.

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

Reflections on Life
By Melvin Arrington
As Christians, we are called to evangelize. Clearly, that’s our primary responsibility. But how do we go about doing it in a world in which things of the spirit are regularly given short shrift? Specifically, when people question our faith, how are we to answer them?
Fortunately, the Scriptures offer sufficient guidance on this question. I Peter 3:15-16 says we should always be ready to respond when our beliefs are challenged, but we must do it “with gentleness and reverence.” No one ever leads souls to Christ by beating them over the head with the truth because, as Proverbs 15:1 tells us, “A gentle answer turns away wrath, but a harsh word stirs up anger.”
Not surprisingly, we ought also to exhibit gentleness in our dealings with fellow believers (Ephesians 4:1-2). In II Timothy 2:24 we find essentially the same teaching: Christians “should not quarrel, but should be gentle with everyone.”

As I look back, I can recall, with sadness, more than one occasion when my conduct did not exemplify the qualities embodied in the eighth Fruit of the Spirit. I’m sure if we reflect long enough, we can all remember times in our lives when our behavior merited punishment, but instead of giving us what we deserved, God was lenient with us. He has certainly gone easy on me. So, if He treats me tenderly and with compassion, I should, therefore, do likewise in my relations with others.
My grandmother was someone who, to paraphrase Philippians 4:5, made her gentleness known to everyone. Some of my happiest childhood memories revolve around my grandparents, who often took care of me when my parents were working. My grandfather was strong, outspoken, and quite a jokester. But my sweet grandmother was, in many ways, the total opposite with regard to her personality. Low key and reserved, she nevertheless always enjoyed a good laugh. She was calm, patient, and kind, and her faith was strong. In short, she was the epitome of gentleness. I never heard her raise her voice or speak a harsh word. The way my grandmother lived her life had a deep and lasting impact on me. If you were to ask me what authentic gentleness looks like, I would say it looks like my grandmother.
But the best model for all of us to imitate is always Jesus. He not only preached kindness, meekness, and humility; He also practiced these qualities. I’m reminded of some of the old hymns that speak of Jesus in these terms, hymns such as “Pass me not o gentle Savior,” “Softly and tenderly Jesus is calling,” and especially the second verse of “In the Garden:” “He speaks and the sound of His voice is so sweet the birds hush their singing.”
Consider how our Lord dealt with the woman caught in adultery. Unlike her accusers, who were ready to stone her, Jesus employed milder tactics. He could have condemned her, but instead He was merciful, telling her to go on her way and not to sin again. Also notice how He treated His oppressors. Rather than striking them down, He forgave them, even from the cross. If we want to be more like Jesus, we need to follow his advice in Matthew 11:29: “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.”
Now, where and when do we see these Christ-like characteristics on display nowadays in our modern, materialistic society? Well, frankly, we don’t, at least not very often. Examples abound for sure, but they’re typically found in those places where works of charity and kindness are performed quietly, without fanfare, and without recognition or reward. People who do good works for the right reasons don’t seek headlines.
As a consequence, the soft approach is just not that visible these days, at least not on our TV screens. Instead, we see images that are shocking and disturbing to us. For some reason, the actions of the meanest, loudest, and harshest, those behaviors that expose our baser instincts, seem to garner the majority of the airtime. Think of all the violent street confrontations that have plagued our land over the past year – physical assaults, rioting, looting, shouting matches, taunting, not to mention the armed mob storming the Capitol building. Are the ones who engage in these kinds of activities happy? Do they have love in their hearts for others? If they do, I don’t see any signs of it.
As Christians, we have been trained to clothe ourselves with gentleness in our relations with others (Colossians 3:12) and “to speak evil of no one, to avoid quarreling, to be gentle, and to show every courtesy to everyone.” (Titus 3:2) Many today would find this laughable, but in reality it’s the only worthwhile formula for anyone who wants to lead a happy life and find inner peace.
In the Beatitudes Jesus taught, “blessed are the meek, for they will inherit the land.” (Matthew 5:5) Whenever I read this verse, I hark back to a former colleague who used to attach various cartoons and humorous sayings to his office door. One of his postings was a little card that simply read: “the meek don’t want it.” That’s a truthful statement because the meek and humble, those who try to pattern their lives after Christ, have no real interest in earthly possessions. They “don’t want it” because their eyes are focused on their heavenly reward.
Since we all want to gain the Heavenly Kingdom, here are some questions worth pondering: How do I conduct my life? Am I doing my part to heal wounds and promote unity? Do others view me as meek, humble, and gentle? If not, how can I possibly be effective in the work of evangelization? It all boils down to this: Do others see Christ in me as I go about my daily life? If they don’t, please have mercy, o Lord, and grant me the grace that I might at least be a little more like you every day.

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

Making a Difference
By Tony Magliano
“Repent and believe in the Gospel” – the call we received from Christ on Ash Wednesday – is a radical call, the most important call we will ever receive. It directs our attention to uprooting all that is sinful in our lives and to ever more fully live lives of love – for friend and foe alike – with a special emphasis on the vulnerable and poor. It’s a radical call that is meant to be heard, reflected on, and acted upon beyond the season Lent – throughout all the seasons of our lives!

In the Gospel the biblical word used for repent is the Greek word “metanoia” – a radical change of mind, heart, soul and action. It happens when one changes course and turns around to walk in the right direction – walking out of the darkness of our lives and into the light of Christ. Metanoia means a life-changing conversion. That’s what Jesus is calling us to when he says “repent!”
Think of some of the great saints who deeply repented, who truly experienced a metanoia.
St. Paul did a complete about face. He went from persecuting the followers of Christ, to championing their cause and suffering with them.
St. Augustine of Hippo turned from fleeting unmarried sexual pleasure and unsatisfying philosophical pursuits to a totally fulfilling surrender to the will of God. In his famous autobiographical “Confessions” he sums it all up so well: “You [God] have made us for yourself, and our hearts are restless until they rest in you.”
When you and I allow our heart to rest in God, we become a new creation, fully dedicated to advancing his kingdom. But this takes humility, honesty, selflessness, much prayer and hard work. True repentance (conversion) is not for the faint-hearted!
The renowned Catholic English writer G.K. Chesterton wrote, “Christianity has not been tried and found wanting; it has been found difficult and not tried.”
And making it even more difficult, a life dedicated to listening to the Holy Spirit concerns itself not only with personal repentance/metanoia, but also with the conversion of the nation, that is, praying and working to change in our country what St. Pope John Paul called the “structures of sin” – everything from abortion to war – into structures of life, love, social justice, peace.
In this year’s Lenten message, Pope Francis encouragingly writes, “To experience Lent with love means caring for those who suffer or feel abandoned and fearful because of the Covid-19 pandemic. In these days of deep uncertainty about the future, let us keep in mind the Lord’s word to his Servant, ‘Fear not, for I have redeemed you’ (Is 43:1). In our charity, may we speak words of reassurance and help others to realize that God loves them as sons and daughters.”
“Only a gaze transformed by charity can enable the dignity of others to be recognized and, as a consequence, the poor to be acknowledged and valued in their dignity, respected in their identity and culture, and thus truly integrated into society” (Fratelli Tutti, 187).
As one important concrete way of charity, please consider a selfless Lenten donation to the poorest of the poor.
Let us pray that the God of love, the God who is love, will transform all our gazes into gazes of charity, thus inspiring us to recognize the dignity of each poor person near and far, and to therefore do all in our power – as individuals and governments – to help lift our brothers and sisters out of poverty into the decent dignified conditions of life they deserve.

(Tony Magliano is an internationally syndicated Catholic social justice and peace columnist. He is available to speak at diocesan or parish gatherings. Tony can be reached at tmag6@comcast.net.)