Priest Experiences the Connection of Prayer

Jean Bosco Gakirage was not there when everyone he knew was murdered. It was 1994, and the Rwandan priest was returning to his home church for ordination when he received the terrible news: "Do not come home. Your parents and the whole congregation have been murdered in the sanctuary."
Jean refused to stay away. Reaching Musha, his small village, he found that only seven children remained alive. With the bodies of his parents and friends still inside the church, Jean told the children, "We are the Resurrection." But he felt that he died that day.
The story did not go untold or unnoticed. A continent away, Marie Michelle saw a picture of the tall Rwandan in a mission magazine. Marie is a nun, living in seclusion and near-silence in a Missouri convent. Her heart went out to the newly ordained priest who lost his parents and six siblings to genocide. She asked for permission to write Jean a letter.
When the letter arrived, Jean could hardly believe it was for him. There was no one left to write to him since the death of his family and friends. He placed the envelope on the table while he stared at it—"to let it rest," he said, "because it had come far."
Finally, Jean opened the envelope and read these words:
I will pray for you every day. From now on you can think of me as your sister, and I will call you not "Father Jean" but "my brother."
Jean responded to the letter with thanks and a promise to pray for Marie as well. He also included words from Psalm 141, "The evildoers appall me … but my eyes are fixed on thee, O Lord God; thou art my refuge."
The daily prayers continued for ten years. Jean corresponded regularly. Marie was limited to two letters per year, but other nuns in the order wrote seasonally. Then, on July 8, 2004, Jean was given the opportunity to visit the convent. The nuns usually communicate with outsiders only through notes, but on this day Jean would be able to speak to Marie through a metal grate. After the midday prayers and services were over, the curtain over the grate parted. Standing with her nine Passionist sisters, Marie peered through the bars at Jean.
"My brother," she said. "I thought I'd have to wait for heaven to see him."
After what will likely be their only meeting in this life, both agreed on their greatest connection.
Marie said, "The union in prayer is the deepest thing, better than letters and pictures."

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