Apr 2012 The Road to Daybreak A Spiritual Journey by Henri J M Nouwen

Continue from ...... In Search of Meaning I spent most of the afternoon with one of my best Ducth friends and his family. We first met in the early sixties, when we were working as clinical psychologists in the Dutch army. He now teaches medical psychology at the University of Utrecht and has become a well-known authority on mental health issues. We have stayed in touch, and over the years our friendship has deepened, though we see each other only once a year. Our discussion soon became quite intimate. We spoke about the existential loneliness we are both experiencing at this time in our lives. This loneliness stems not from a lack of friends, problems with spouse or children, or absence of professional recognition. Neither of us has any major complaints in these areas. Still ... the question "What am I doing, and for what reason?" lurks underneath all of our good feelings about friends, family, and work. Wim spoke about experiences of "de-realization" which are "beyond psychological explanation." As we have both passed fifty, we have discovered that at times we look at our world with a strange inner question: "What am I doing here? Is this really our world, our people, our existence? What is everybody so busy with?" This question comes from a place deeper than emotions, feelings or passions. It is the question about the meaning of existence, raised not just by the mind, but also by a searching heart, a question which makes us feel like strangers in our own milieu. People take on a robotlike quality. They do many things but don't seem to have an interior life. Some outside power seems to "wind them up" and make them do whatever they are doing. This "de-realization" experience is extremely painful, but it can also be the way to a deeper connection. Wim and I spoke about this deeper connection. Without a deep-rooted sense of belonging, all of life can easily become cold, distant, and painfully repetitive. This deeper connection is the connection with the one whose name is love, leading to a new discovery that we are born out of love and are always called back to that love. It leads to a new realization that God is the God of life who continues to offer us life wherever and whenever death threatens. It ultimately leads to prayer. And from our being human, being child, brother or sister, father or mother, grandfather of grandmother comes a new experience of being held within the hand of a loving God. Words Heard but Not Received Today my father celebrated his eighty-third birthday. He had invited all his children and his brothers and sisters, with their spouses, to be with him. We came from all over the country, twenty-one people altogether. At 12.30 pm we all went to the village church for the Eucharist. I had put chairs in the sanctuary so that we could all gather around the altar. Although most of the family were still "practicing Catholics," I felt some distance. I spoke about Jesus, who accompanies us on our lifelong road and explains to us that our struggles and pain can become ways to break through depression and bitterness and discover a deep healing presence. My words were heard, but not received. After the service the only remarks were about cold feet and a slippery road home. One of my uncles said, "Well, you are obviously convinced to what you said. But I do not think that way." I had hoped to offer a hopeful, life-giving message, but somehow I had not found the words. My brother gave a very funny and sympathetic toast before dinner, using an astrology book to describe my father's character. His words were eagerly received and much applauded. He knew his audience much better than I did. The feeling of having become something of a stranger in my own family was strong throughout the whole day. I had not seen many of the people at the party for more than a decade. Our reunion made me realize how much had happened to them and to me, and made me sadly aware that I no longer know the soil on which we both stand. My father, meanwhile, was strong, happy and exuberant. For him the main question is how to stay young, while for me it is how to grow old. My concern about being prepared for the great encounter with the Lord was not shared. In the midst of it all, I called Cardinal Simonis to ask his final word about going to Daybreak. He said, "Do it." He had talked about it with his staff and come to the conclusion that it was a good idea. But he also said, "Do it for three years, and maybe then you might be interested in returning to your motherland. It seems good to keep that option open."

- To Be Continued - © Copyright Shalom 2012. All rights reserved.