last rites, heads bobbing and bodies swaying to ancient chants—all of which he

considered the paraphernalia of the most powerful and longest–running con game in

history, a game which empowered the leaders and satisfied the congregation`s lust for

submission.

But now, with death standing next to him, Julius noted that his vehemence had lost

its bite. Maybe it was simplyimposed ritual he disliked. Perhaps a good word could be

found for a little personal creative ceremony. He was touched by the newspaper

descriptions of the firemen at ground zero in New York, stopping, standing, and

removing hats to honor the dead as each pallet of newly discovered remains was brought

to the surface. Nothing wrong with honoring the dead...no, not the dead, but honoring the

life of the one who died. Or was it something more than honoring, more than sanctifying?

Wasn`t the gesture, the ritual of the firemen, also signifying connectivity? The

recognition of their relationship, their unity with each victim?

Julius had a personal taste of connectivity a few days after his fateful meeting with

his dermatologist when he attended his support group of fellow psychotherapists. His

fellow doctors were stunned when Julius revealed the news of his melanoma. After

encouraging him to talk himself out, each group member expressed his shock and sorrow.

Julius couldn`t find any more words, nor could anyone else. A couple of times someone

started to talk but did not, and then it was as if the group agreed nonverbally that words

were not necessary. For the final twenty minutes all sat in silence. Such prolonged

silences in groups are almost invariably awkward, but this one felt different, almost

comforting. Julius was embarrassed to admit, even to himself, that the silence felt

«sacred.» Later it occurred to him that the members not only were expressing grief but