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

Continue from ...... Going Home Appprehension After celebrating the Eucharist with Madame Vanier and Jo Cork, Barbara drove me to the railroad station in Compiegne, where I took the train to my home country. Travelling to my family and friends in Holland fills me with apprehension and a certain fear. Most of those with whom I shared my youth have moved away from the Church and have little connection with anything even vaguely spiritual. Speaking about spiritual things to spiritual people is quite easy. But speaking about God and God's presence in our hearts, our families, and our daily lives to people for whom "God words" are often connected with hurtful memories seems nearly impossible. So here I am travelling through my own country. I know its language better than any other, but do I have the words to say what I truly want to say? As I go from Rosendaal to Breda to Eindhoven to Helmond, I pray the rosary. The Hail Marys make me aware that I have to be very quiet, very simple, and perhaps very silent. A Surprising Visitor My first day home was good and surprising. Good, because my eighty-two-year old father welcomed me warmly. He is in good health and good spirits, vitually interested in national and international affairs, and eager to talk about them. Although he had just sold his large judicial library, his reading chair was surrounded with many new books about literature, history, and art. He kept saying, "Have you read this ... and that ... and this ... it is very interesting." It is good to be home, in a house so richly filled with memories of a long and well-lived life. It was also a surprising day because the mayor of Eindhoven, the city where the Phillips Corporation has its main factories, called to say he wanted to see me. He arrived a few hours later. I had no idea why the mayor of Eindhoven wanted to see me so urgently. I had never heard of him before and did not know that he had heard of me. But he had read one of my books and called my father to ask when I would be home. Gilles Borrie proved to be a wonderful, warm, and very gentle person who just wanted to speak about the "things of God." It was a heart-to-heart conversation. We spoke about the Church in Holland, about the Trappist life, about prayer, and about our continuing search for God. In the middle of the conversation Gille's wife called to tell him that his mother had just suffered a stroke and was dying. She was in her nineties but had been very healthy and alert until now. Suddenly our relationship deepened. We became friends in a moment of sock and grief. We prayed together and reflected on this crucial moment of Gilles's life. Then he left with the firm promise to stay in touch. I was deeply moved that without doing or planning anything, I had been put in touch with a man searching for God and called to accompany him in his grief. It felt as if God wanted to welcome me back to my own country and say, "Don't be too nervous about finding the right language or the right tone, but trust that my spirit will speak though you, even when you are least prepared." Smart but Distracted The most remarkable thing about Holland is its prosperity. Unlike in France, England, or the United States, there are almost no poor people. Wherever you go people look well fed, well dressed, and well housed. This Christmas especially, it seemed that everyone was able to buy what they wanted, eat what they liked, and go where they wished. Countless Dutch people went to Switzerland or Austria to ski; others stayed home eating, drinking, and watching TV, and a few attended well-prepared and carefully orchestrated worship services. The country feels very self-satisfied. There is not much space left, inside or outside, to be with God and God alone. It is hard to explain why Holland changed from a very pious to a very secular country in one generation. Many reasons can be given. But it seems to me, from just looking around and meeting and speaking to people, that their captivating prosperity is one of the more obvious reasons. People are just very busy - eating, drinking, and going places. Paul van Vliet, a well-known Dutch comedian, used, as one of the themes in his Christmas TV show, "We are smart but very distracted." Indeed, we know and understand what we most need, but we just don't get around to it, since we are so busy playing with our toys. There is too much to play with! No real time to grow up and do the necessary thing: "Love God and each other." The Dutch have become a distracted people - very good, kind, and good-natured but caught in too much if everything. Asking to Be Sent At 10 am I met with my bishop, Cardinal Simonis of Utrecht. I explained to him the call from the Daybreak community and asked if he would be willing to send me there. It has become increasingly important for me to go where I am not only called, but also sent. Being called to live and work in Canada seems to be a good thing, but if it is not supported by a mission from the Church, I don't think it will bear much fruit. Knowing that the place where you live and the work you do is not simply your own choice but part of a mission makes all the difference. When difficulties arise, the knowledge of being sent will give me the strength not to run away, but to be faithful. When the work proves tiring, the facilities poor, and the relationships frustrating, I can say, "These hardships are not a reason to leave, but an occasion to purify my heart." Cardinal Simonis asked me if I felt that being called there was a response to my own prayers. I could honestly says "yes" to that. Often I have prayed, "Lord, show me the way and I will follow you." Jean Vanier's invitation to introduce me to L'Arche and the call from Daybreak that grew from that first invitation were a clear response to that prayer. Yet because I am a priest ordained to serve my bishop, the affirmation of the Church is of crucial importance. To feel called is not enough. It is necessary to be sent. At the end of our conversation the bishop said, "My first response is that I think you should go there, but give me a few days and call me on Saturday at noon. That will give me a chance to read the letter you received from Daybreak and to think a little more about it."

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