Febuary 2013 The Road to Daybreak A Spiritual Journey by Henri J M Nouwen

Continue from ...... Feeling Protected Gradually I am becoming aware of a new dimension in my prayer life. It is hard to find word for it, but it feels like a protective presence of God, Mary, the angels, and the saints that exists in the midst of distractions, fears, temptations, and inner confusion. While my prayers were not at all intensive or profound, I had a real desire to spend time in prayer this week. I enjoyed just sitting in the small dark side chapel of the mother house of the Vincentian Sisters. I felt surrounded by goodness, gentleness, kindness, and acceptance. I felt as if angels' wings were keeping me safe: a protective cloud covering me and keeping me there. Though it is very hard to express, this new experience is the experience of being protected against the dangers of a seductive world. But this protection is very soft, gentle, caring. Not the protection of a wall or a metal screen. It is more like a hand on my shoulder or a kiss on my forehead. But for all this protection, I am not taken away from the dangers. I am not lifted from the seductive world. I am not removed from violence, hatred, lust, and greed. In fact, I feel them in the centre of my being, screaming for my full attention. They are restless and noisy. Still, this hand, these lips these eyes are present and I know that I am safe, held in love, cared for, and protected by the good spirits of heaven. So I am praying while not knowing how to pray. I am resting while feeling restless, at peace while tempted, safe while still anxious, surrounded by a cloud of light while still in darkness, in love while still doubting. It is such a grace that I have the time to step out of my room any time durnig the day and go to the chapel just to be there and to be reassured. The angels of God are always waiting there for me and eager to stand around me and cover me with their wings and let me rest, not giving much attention to all that clamours in my inner darkness. They do not say much; they do not explain much. They are just there to let me know that God's heart is so infinitely greater than my own. The Compassionate Eyes of Christ Christ on a Donkey, in the Augustiner Museum in Freiburg, is one of the most moving Christ figures I know. I have sent many postcards of it to my friends, and I keep one in my prayer book. This afternoon I went to the museum to spend some quiet time with this Christus auf Palmesel (Christ on palm-donkey). This fourteenth-century sculpture originally comes from Niederrotweil, a small town close to Breisach on the Rhine. It was made to be pulled on a cart in the Palm Sunday procession. In 1900 it was sold to the Augustiner Museum, where it now stands in the centre of the first exposition hall. Christ's long, slender face with a high forehead, inward-looking eyes, long hair, and a small forked beard expresses the mystery of his suffering in a way that holds me spellbound. As he rides into Jerusalem surrounded by people shouting "hosanna," "cutting branches from the trees and spreading them in his path" (Mt. 21:8), Jesus appears completely concentrated on something else. He does not look at the excited crowd. He does not wave. He sees beyond all the noise and movements to what is ahead of him: an agonizing journey of betrayal, torture, crucifixion, and death. His unfocused eyes see what nobody around him can see; his high forehead reflects a knowledge of things to come far beyond anyone's undersanding. There is melancholy, but also peaceful acceptance. There is insight into the ficklesness of the human heart, but also immense compassion. There is a deep awareness of the unspeakable pain to be suffered, but also a strong determination to do God's will. Above all, there is love, an endless, deep, and far-reaching love born from an unbreakable intimacy with God and reaching out to all people, wherever they are, were, or will be. There is nothing that he does not fully know. There is nobody whom he does not fully love. Every time I look at this Christ on the donkey, I am reminded again that I am seen by him with all my sins, guilt, and shame and loved with all his forgiveness, mercy, and compassion. Just being with him in the Augustiner Museum is a prayer. I look and look and look, and I know that he sees the depths of my heart; I do not have to be afraid. Window Faces Rosenmontag (Carnival's Monday) in Freiburg. At 2pm I went downtown for the carnival parade and saw clowns, bands, small and large floats, an endless variety of masks, and an abundance of confetti. It was bitterly cold. People kept themselves warm with waffles and Gluhwein (hot spiced wine). The parade numbered 149 shows, and it took two hours to pass. Most impressive were the huge masks. They were often pieces of art expressing a variety of emotions: anger, joy hatred, love, goodness, and evil. Some masks were so realistic I could hardly imagine that the people wearing them had a different feeling from what the mask expressed. Some heads were so huge that their wearers' faces could be seen only through windows in the neck. Many blew trumpets, flutes, or horns through the windows. I was struck by the contrast between the faces on the masks and the faces in the windows. The "window faces" all looked quite serious, compared to the wild faces on the heads above them. While the parade invited us to be fools for a day, it convinced me how hard it is for people to relax and truly celebrate. Also, the people on the sidewalks watching the parade took it all in with great seriousness. If there had not been so many bands, it would have been an extremely dull event. It all had a somewhat obligatory quality. Even widly dressed people had a hard time smiling! It was a serious job for them. The children seemed the most serious of all. Whether they looked like cats, mice, polar bears, screwdrivers, Indians, Mexicans, or witches, their little faces showed that they were performing an important task! I watched all this, ate a waffle, drank two cups of Gluhwein, and went home. The sister who opened the door greeted me with an open face, a big smile, and a free laugh. I suddenly realized that no mask can make people really happy. Happiness must come from within.

- To Be Continued - © Copyright Shalom 2013. All rights reserved.