+
The second longest chapter in Jean Vanier's primer re: living into the charism of L'Arche, The Heart of L'Arche: A Spirituality for Every Day, explores the mystery of community. He has spoken of this commitment as a "new form of family" guided by the life of Jesus and articulated by St. Paul. "The challenge of our communities," Vanier believes, "is to bring together in unity people who are talented and strong with people who are weak and have been marginalized." In the apostle Paul's letter to the Ephesians, we find these words in chapter two:
(Jesus) is our peace. In his flesh he has made both groups into one and has broken down the dividing wall, that is, the hostility between us... that he might create in himself one new humanity in place of the two, thus making peace, and might reconcile both groups to God in one body through the cross, thus putting to death that hostility through it. So he came and proclaimed peace...
Breaking down barriers through sharing everyday life is one of the essential practices in the spirituality of L'Arche - especially the divisions that so regularly segregate our most vulnerable sisters and brothers to the periphery of the mainstream. "Through (our) daily life with those who are weak," Vanier writes, "Jesus enables us to participate in the communion that he enjoys with the Father. As we share the same table and become friends with people suffering from intellectual disabilities, people who have suffered marginalization, we achieve unity, reconciliation and peace." The blessings and trials of sharing ordinary life - eating, washing, laughing, weeping, listening, missing the mark, sharing forgiveness, cleaning, going to work, taking vacations, participating n meetings, and even sleeping - is how L'Arche practices dismantling the deep divisions. Kathleen Norris speaks of similar practices as the quotidian mysteries: cooking, cleaning, etc. Those who fully engage in these practice know - or soon learn - that there is nothing romantic, automatically redemptive or Utopian about life in this type of community.
It is not easy... to live day after day with someone... who is full of anger, darkness and depression. People who have been rejected tend to close in on themselves and refuse to communicate. Seeing themselves only as victims, they lock themselves up in their own pain and in a world o dreams. When they come to L'Arche, they are invited to open up, related to others and let down their barriers of protection. This is not an easy transition. At first, the poor will resist any change; they will cry out in their anguish, their anger, and their violence... Living with the poor (in community) is not a utopia... (And so we all) need to struggle against everything that keeps them close in on themselves to help them open up and not be governed by fear and depression. These struggles are painful. We need the support of community life as well as the help of professionals. (pp. 45-46)
Vanier is equally clear that just as core members face the challenge and messiness of learning to live in openly in community, so too the assistants and others without intellectual disabilities. In an anthology edited by Hans Reinders, The Paradox of Disability, the author of the fictionalized history of L'Arche tells us that "due to discontent with the liberal individualism of our time, we often hear 'community' spoken of in endearing terms - at least in the Western world - as a place where people positively experience the social nature of being human." He then shatters this naive illusion stating: "the truth of the matter is quite different."
More than anything else,"community" marks the experience of the brokenness of human beings. Very often L'Arche attracts people who want a better place. But those who have spent years of their lives in one of its communities know better. As Vanier has explained many times, there is no way of doing something for other people if you do not first learn how to receive whatever gift they have to offer, which presupposes your willingness to accept that you are also a person in need. The L'Arche community is about learning to receive other people as God's gift. (p. 5)
There is a reason why the etymology of the English word humility is connected to both hummus (the organic decay of garbage that fertilizes the earth) and humiliation (the abasement of our pride.) We are unable to live as equals in the world until we know, experience, and honor our own brokenness. "To look at other people's limitations without seeing our own is a gesture of power; to acknowledge our own wounds in the face of theirs is a gesture of community - and in this regard L'Arche is an extraordinary place of learning," Reinders reminds us.
Contrary to a frequent misreading of its experience, L'Arche has nothing to do with an ideal community that is shaped by morally exceptional people. Instead, it has everything to do with people learning to be with each other and be accepted as who and what they are. Thus understood, learning to live in L'Arche is not about following a pattern or a plan according to which the moral self must be shaped. Its gestures of community are about accepting brokenness and limitation in order to create the freedom of celebrating difference. (p. 6)
+ Descending into humility: Jean Vanier has said that practicing the mystery of community is like unto receiving a second calling. In our first calling, we seek to make a mark on the world. This calling is shaped by competition and pride. It is driven by living independently and protecting ourselves rather than opening our hearts in vulnerability. Fr. Richard Rohr believes that our first calling usually takes place during the first half of our lives: we strive to succeed, build a career and shape our world boldly. Our second calling, according to Vanier, is when we sense that this first calling is incomplete. Hollow. Having it all "our way" leaves us wanting more and opens us to a gradual letting go of pride and control.
It is not easy to enter into (this way of living) when competitiveness has been bred into us, when we have grown up to try to be the best, to get increasingly good results, to proves ourselves and to be admired. Often people develop this need to shine and be admired as a way of soothing anguish and lack of self-esteem. The urge to shine runs contrary to the spirit of cooperation and communion that is at the heart of community life. Entering into this way... involves real grief. No one is asked to give up his or her whole life or personal opinions, but everyone must be ready to listen to others, seek unity and not impose their way of looking at things. Community living implies cooperating with others and sharing decision-making with them. This means spending time in meetings that can seem long and demanding... (but this is how) we discover respect for others - especially the humblest. (p. 61)
Meetings, meals, shared tasks, and celebrations is where individuals learn how
to descend into humility. We try - we make mistakes - we own our failures - we ask for forgiveness - and slowly rebuild trust. We come to realize through these ups and downs that no one is perfect and that all miss the mark. Further, we start to know that none of us by ourselves is sufficient for the whole community. Everyone has different gifts that bring blessings to the Body, but no one is in possession of all the gift needed for unity and love. Daily living, therefore, becomes the school for descending into humility. "Humility means seeing in the beauty of others the gift of God; it means recognizing the dankness in ourselves, the self-satisfaction behind our good deeds, our longing to take first place. It mans recognizing that we need Jesus to free us from the pride that is inside all of us." There is grief in this school of descent. There is also forgiveness and joy. St. Paul once articulated our descent into humility as love in I Corinthians 13:
If I speak with human eloquence and angelic ecstasy but don’t love, I’m nothing but the creaking of a rusty gate. If I speak God’s Word with power, revealing all his mysteries and making everything plain as day, and if I have faith that says to a mountain, “Jump,” and it jumps, but I don’t love, I’m nothing. If I give everything I own to the poor and even go to the stake to be burned as a martyr, but I don’t love, I’ve gotten nowhere. So, no matter what I say, what I believe, and what I do, I’m bankrupt without love.
Love never gives up.
Love cares more for others than for self.
Love doesn’t want what it doesn’t have.
Love doesn’t strut,
Doesn’t have a swelled head,
Doesn’t force itself on others,
Isn’t always “me first,”
Doesn’t fly off the handle,
Doesn’t keep score of the sins of others,
Doesn’t revel when others grovel,
Takes pleasure in the flowering of truth,
Puts up with anything,
Trusts God always,
Always looks for the best,
Never looks back,
But keeps going to the end.
+ Practicing love through small things: The rhythm of life in a competitive and pride based society breeds dissatisfaction with small, ordinary events. L'Arche rejects the glitter of the world in favor of small acts of love shared over and again in ordinary life. Vanier has wondered if our addiction to TV and the Internet has trained many of us to expect scattered thinking and superficial relationships. "So many) no longer know how to find joy in small things. A daily routine consisting of meals, washing, gardening and simple friendships seems too dull and unproductive." St. Paul grasped this in his day and expresses it in a tender challenge in Romans 12:
So here’s what I want you to do, God helping you: Take your everyday, ordinary life—your sleeping, eating, going-to-work, and walking-around life—and place it before God as an offering. Embracing what God does for you is the best thing you can do for him. Don’t become so well-adjusted to your culture that you fit into it without even thinking. Instead, fix your attention on God. You’ll be changed from the inside out. Readily recognize what he wants from you, and quickly respond to it. Unlike the culture around you, always dragging you down to its level of immaturity, God brings the best out of you, develops well-formed maturity in you.
At L'Arche this looks like: "cooking meals, spending time together at table, washing the dishes, doing the laundry and the housework, helping meetings to go smoothly, organizing the house so that is happy, welcoming place: thousands of little thing that all take time." I recall one night at Mountanview House at L'Arche Ottawa where a Mennonite volunteer prepared dinner. As we ate some of his special bread and shared a simple feast, there was laughter and openness. As the meal matured, we started asking one another about our countries of origin. This led to picture sharing. And a deeper sense of where we came from and what has shaped us. This sharing included core members, volunteers as well as assistants. It went on much later than anyone expected, but was such a blessing. The charism of the table teaches us that there is enough time for all that is real and loving. Vanier celebrates this saying, "All these small gestures can become gestures of love that help create a warm atmosphere in which the communion of hearts can grow. In this way, community life becomes a school of love." One of the reasons I continue to return to L'Arche Ottawa is a joy that is palpable whenever we break bread together.
(In this era) there is a great temptation to allow ourselves to be seduced by big things, riches, success, power, possessions and privileges. If we devoted all our energies to these things, it would be easy to forget about human beings, about the need to create places of love and real friendships. (p. 58)
+ Recovering hope: I have served four congregations over the past 40 years (six including seminary internships.) During that time I came to know that in rich and poor communities everyone aches to be loved. Moreover, most of the loving people in each of those communities wanted something more solid than the promises of politicians or the lure of advertising. When Mother Theresa first visited the United States she told us: The number one disease that is killing the USA is not HIV/AIDS, or cancer, or even hunger. It is loneliness." Vanier puts it like this:
Our societies are becoming increasingly fragmented. The natural centers of friendship and community, such as parishes and villages, are breaking up. People go their own ways, perusing their own particular projects and pastimes... (In our pursuit of our own desires) may have lost confidence, not only in themselves, but in society and the human race. Wars, reports of corruption, greed and inequality all reinforce the idea that human beings are evil, that we live in a jungle where people must fight for themselves and where generosity and love are rarely found... We all need to recover trust and hope: to rediscover the fundamental beauty of the human heart and its capacity for love. (p. 59)
L'Arche does this in a variety of simple and quiet ways - the most obvious is by living in an integrated manner within the various neighborhoods the house their shared group homes. That is, each home seeks to be a tender, honest and good neighbor. "Like all Christian communities, L'Arche communities want to witness to a belief in love, a belief that human beings can put aside their egoism and open themselves to others. This is their mission in society."
Just as a lamp must not be hidden under a bushel, but must shine for everyone in a house, so our communities must enable others to find hope and to live lives of love, sharing and rejoicing in the gift of life... This helps us (all) discover that the smallest thing we do for a brother or sister can in some way affect the world. It can be a path to peace. (p. 60)
There is no one size fits all solution for unity in quest for community. Respect, trust, love, humility, patience and forgiveness are essential. So is an awareness that while our differences are real, the lives of those "with intellectual disabilities - the heart of the community - bind us together. Through their thirst to be loved and accepted, through the depth of their trust flowing from their weakness, they bring people to oneness. They give our lives and our communities their fundamental meaning. This is accomplished through faith and trust in God, and through the love that flows from the heart of the Trinity. This flow of love open the heart in each one, giving them new strength to overcome selfishness and to work for unity, peace and reconciliation" (pp. 55-56)
Just as a lamp must not be hidden under a bushel, but must shine for everyone in a house, so our communities must enable others to find hope and to live lives of love, sharing and rejoicing in the gift of life... This helps us (all) discover that the smallest thing we do for a brother or sister can in some way affect the world. It can be a path to peace. (p. 60)
There is no one size fits all solution for unity in quest for community. Respect, trust, love, humility, patience and forgiveness are essential. So is an awareness that while our differences are real, the lives of those "with intellectual disabilities - the heart of the community - bind us together. Through their thirst to be loved and accepted, through the depth of their trust flowing from their weakness, they bring people to oneness. They give our lives and our communities their fundamental meaning. This is accomplished through faith and trust in God, and through the love that flows from the heart of the Trinity. This flow of love open the heart in each one, giving them new strength to overcome selfishness and to work for unity, peace and reconciliation" (pp. 55-56)
No comments:
Post a Comment