Thursday, February 27, 2020

what the hell is going on...?



































Having just returned from being in community with friends at L'Arche Ottawa - sharing conversations, wrestling with hard feelings and fears, listening carefully to one another, and opening our hearts to discern where the Spirit of God's grace might be calling us beyond the wounds - I am aware within myself of how hard it is to reconcile the historic wisdom and love of Jean Vanier with his deceit and abuse both sexual and spiritual. My mind feels broken - and so does my heart.

Perhaps that is why I wanted to take this photograph. For the past four years I have tried to remember to shoot this strange sculpture along the US/ Canada border in NY State, but have regularly forgotten. Yesterday, Ash Wednesday, the weirdness of it all kept me alert: these field crows are about six feet tall and 10 feet wide and pop up from out of no where. I shot 10 pictures on my phone as I raced by at 75 mph all the while thinking: what the hell is going on here? It was an existential prayer for all that has been up-ended. At L'Arche, in the midst of our tears and disappointments, our disgust and confusion, over Jean Vanier's sexual and spiritual abuse, there was also prayer and laughter and Fat Tuesday pancakes in community. We gathered for song, conversation and quiet waiting in the trust that at some deep level, even in the agony, God can work something holy for those who wait upon the Lord. And all the while we are processing and praying, stock markets all over the world were tanking and international panic was rising over an impending coronavirus pandemic. India descended into the worst ethnic/religious violence in decades. And the Democratic candidates at the most recent debate showed us seven good people forming a circular firing squad and letting it rip. Lord, have mercy. 

This sculpture says so much more than I could ever hope to express. The birds are weird - frightening even - and did I say weird? On a harsh winter field, they appear to be pecking and searching for nourishment in the bareness. They are desperate. Gazing upon this creation, those of us of a certain age cannot help but recall Alfred Hitchcock's chilling movie, "The Birds," too.  At the same time, if you look more carefully, these birds also look goofy. Foolish and absurd. No wonder I keep asking: what the hell is going on? 

When I finally got home, I took a nap and then came across these words from Henri Nouwen. At one of his lowest points, this priest was deeply influenced by Jean Vanier and L'Arche, and spent the last years of his life at L'Arche Daybreak. Nouwen remained a broken, wounded, wise, complicated, prayerful, faithful and questioning soul until the end. Maybe that's why I prayerfully fantasized that in the realm beyond our own, Nouwen is now asking his one-time mentor, Vanier, "What the hell was going on?" He's listening and weeping. He's praying comfort and strength for the abused women. And... he's trusting that through this pain we will grow-up beyond our idol worship. 

Aren’t you, like me, hoping that some person, thing, or event will come along to give you that final feeling of inner well-being you desire? Don’t you often hope: “May this book, idea, course, trip, job, country, or relationship fulfill my deepest desire”? But as long as you are waiting for that mysterious moment you will go on running helter-skelter, always anxious and restless, always lustful and angry, never fully satisfied. You know that this is the compulsiveness that keeps us going and busy but at the same time makes us wonder whether we are getting anywhere in the long run. This is the way to spiritual exhaustion and burnout.

Nouwen had to come to terms with these demons while in community - and they broke him apart body, mind and spirit for a few years. When he put his life back together on the other side of collapse - through the help of time, beloved friends, and the grace of God - he was a servant of grace filled with wisdom, humility and tenderness. In a conversation with others at L'Arche last week, I confessed: "I am trying to live into the wisdom and truth that each of us is doing the best we can at any given moment in time. No judgment. No critique. Just acceptance - trusting that God knows far better than me. At the same time, I'm having a hard time applying this to Jean because some of his actions and beliefs were so ugly and destructive. To be honest, my mind feels like it is breaking." So, for the time being I'll keep asking and praying: what the hell is going on? It is Lent and I also confess that I believe, Lord, I believe: help my unbelief.

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