Missioning Presence 101...

A Story about a Prophet in the Desert…

In November 2004, I had an opportunity of visiting 3 aboriginal communities near Alice Springs. This particular morning we were in the community on the edge of the Tanami desert. I was with a wise older disciple – Hannibal – who had been working among this group of people for 30 yrs.

Driving through the outskirts of town we were confronted by 25 or so aboriginal women walking along in a group. I use the word confronted because most of the women were naked from the waist up – their bodies painted with white stripes. Most were crying out in great distress. They were sweeping the ground as they walked with the long leaves of green eucalyptus branches. The women were morning the death of a respected female elder of the community - gradually making their way to the ‘sorry camp’ on the edge of town.

We drove to The church in the centre of town, entering the cool interior. Hannibal said the women would have recognised him & would soon be coming into the church. Sure enough, in a few minutes we began hearing the wailing again. It got louder & louder until the first women appeared in the bright light of the open doorway.

Imagine the church filling up with 25 dark skinned bare chested women. They were covered in white stripes, wailing loudly, carrying their large eucalyptus branches. Imagine a conservatively dressed, white haired Hannibal standing next to the communion table – focused & ready.

Then the culturally startling thing happens. The lead woman – the close sister of the dead woman walks up to Hannibal & they embraced each other – Hannibal enfolding the woman deeply into his arms. I was standing nearby not sure where to look but I was also too entranced to turn away.

Hannibal stood there for what seemed like the longest time. The woman’s loud wailing quietening to a gentle whimper. While no more than a couple of minutes had passed, I found myself profoundly moved – almost tearful. All around us were the other wailing women. However, I was focused and overwhelmed by the silence of Hannibal. Such amazing enfolding presence he was giving to this grieving woman. When they released each other the imprint of their embrace literally covered Hannibal in whiteness. I was conscious of being in a sacred place in those moments - a holy space.

Now he is embracing and shaking hands with other women – all the while speaking nothing. Then in a few minutes the women were gone. We were left standing in the silence of an empty church.

The point is Hannibal didn’t need to say anything. He said it all by the intensity of his silent presence.