Richard Rohr explores the nature of evil—and our collective complicity in it.
After all our religion, higher education, reformations, and revolutions, it seems we’re still quite capable of full complicity in deeds of death. Religions, governments, corporations, and organizations are all highly capable of evil while not recognizing it as such, because it profits us for them to be immoral. Evil finds its almost perfect camouflage in the silent agreements of the group when it appears personally advantageous.
Such deadness continues to show itself in every age. This is what the multifaceted word “sin” is trying to reveal. If we don’t see the shape of evil or recognize how we are fully complicit in it, it will fully control us, while not looking the least like sin. Would “agreed-upon delusion” be a better description? We cannot recognize it or overcome it as isolated individuals, mostly because it’s held together by group consensus. We need to be in solidarity with alternative communities and minority groups to see it. The dominant group normally cannot see its lies—in any country or context. It’s the air we’re breathing, reaffirmed at every gathering of like-minded people.
The beginning of a way out is to honestly see what we are doing. The price we’ll pay is that we will no longer comfortably fit in the dominant group! Mature religion must train us to recognize the many camouflages of evil, or everyone’s future will always be dominated by some form of denied deadness, and not just for the oppressed group; the oppressor dies too, just in much more subtle ways. [1]
Brian McLaren writes about contemplation as a way of sustaining our spirits and minds while suffering under systems of domination:
Solitary contemplation becomes the doorway into communion—communion with the Spirit in whom we find a new relationship with ourselves, with others, with history, and with the cosmos….
Contemplation may start in silence and solitude, but it never stops there. Especially in times of crisis, when truth is drowning …, we are drawn from contemplative solitude into contemplative community. We find ourselves hungry for communion with others who are also seeking to live examined, mindful lives, to pull aside with even two or three mindful people for deep, honest fellowship. We might come together to sit in silence for a period of time or take a walk together, letting the shushing of our feet passing through autumn leaves hush the noise of a million monkey-minds clacking to the beat of a million keyboards, hankering for our attention….
When even two or three of us gather in the name of truth, honesty, and love, in the name of courage, compassion, and kindness, we find ourselves feeling joined by another presence—the presence of Christ, the way, the truth, and the life. We listen to one another with compassion and curiosity. We speak to one another with wisdom and wonder. We turn together toward the light. And that helps us create islands of sanity in a world that is losing its mind. [2]
References:
[1] Adapted from Richard Rohr, What Do We Do with Evil? (CAC Publishing, 2019), 46–47, 48.
[2] Brian D. McLaren, “Islands of Sanity,” ONEING 13, no. 1, Loving in a Time of Exile (2025): 9, 10. Soon available in print and PDF download.
Image credit and inspiration: Paul Tyreman, Untitled (detail), 2018, photo, United Kingdom, Unsplash. Click here to enlarge image. We walk forward on our own pathway through the sand and stones, aligned and inspired by Spirit.
Story from Our Community:
Poetry has been my practice of self-compassion since I was a teenager, struggling to find myself in the world. I’ve written poetry in the milestone moments of life—from falling in love to having my child and most recently receiving the diagnosis of multiple sclerosis. I’m shattered by the unpredictable nature of this incurable disease. Yet, my continual practice of self-compassion showed me that I can still flourish despite the pain and uncertainty of my future.
—Ellen S.
