Sep 2013

The Road to Daybreak
A Spiritual Journey

by Henri J M Nouwen

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On Slowing Down the Sun

Since returning from Freiburg I have been busy with countless tasks, yet feeling that nothing is being accomplished. From early in the morning to late at night I have been occupied with letters, phone calls, visits, meetings, and other seemingly urgent things. But I have not done much of what I think I am here for: praying and writing. I have kept up with my morning hour of meditation, I have celebrated the Eucharist every day, I have said my evening prayers, but I haven't felt any vitality. I have been somewhat wooden, hard, and dry! And I have let the days go by just keeping up with the little things. I found a suitcase filled with letters which had piled up during my six weeks in Germany. Wonderful, lovely letters. But as I start reading and answering them the hours flew by and the days melt away.

I am frustrated because in the midst of this busy life I keep having ideas, insights, and feelings which I want to pour out on paper. And the more ideas, insights, and feelings I have, the more frustrated I get: too many to hold, too much to remember, too much to save for later. I want to write now, not later.

One friend wrote in his letter, "I hope you find time to write, but don't take yourself too seriously!" Maybe I have to smile a little about my obsessions and compulsions. Maybe I have to trust that there will be time when there has to be. Meanwhile, I keep protesting to God that the days are created so short. I keep saying, "Please, Lord, slow that sun down!" But it keeps going as always, round and round and round. No faster, no slower, twenty-four hours each day!

Peter called today and said that the magazine America had rejected the meditation on the Pentecost icon I wrote in Freiburg. I felt it was the best of the four icon meditations I had written, but the editor of America wrote in a short note, "It is not up to the standard that we are used to from Henri Nouwen." Well that might slow me down a little instead of the sun! It was a good way to help me take myself less seriously.

Maybe this is one way of reminding myself that I cannot make myself holy. Holiness is a gift from God, not something I can ever claim as the result of my own doing.

Life is humbling, very humbling. I have to let it be that way. Someone said today, "We need a lot of humiliation for a little bit of humility."


Staying Connected with Jesus

In today's Gospel reading of the liturgy, Jesus reveals that everything he does is done in relationship with his Father: "The Son can do nothing by himself; he can do only what he sees the Father doing; and whatever the Father does the Son does too" (Jn. 5:19).

After the intense experience of disconnectedness I had yesterday, Jesus' words have a special meaning for me. I must live in an ongoing relationship with Jesus and through him with the Father. This relationship is the core of the spiritual life. This relationship prevents my life from being consumed by "keeping up" with things. This relationship prevents my days from becoming boring, fatiguing, draining, depressing, and frustrating.

If all that I do can become more and more an expression of my participation in God's life of total giving and receiving in love, everything else will be blessed and will lose its fragmented quality. This does not mean that everything will become easy and harmonious. There will still be much agony, but when connected with God's own agony, even my agony can lead to life.

I guess it all boils down to a call to pray unceasingly.


I Love Jesus, but . . .

The Gospel of today reveals that Jesus not only had good, faithful friends willing to follow him wherever he went and fierce enemies who couldn't wait to get rid of him, but also many sympathizers who were attracted, but afraid at the same time.

The rich young man loved Jesus but couldn't give up his wealth to follow him. Nicodemus admired Jesus but was afraid to lose the respect of his own colleagues. I am becoming more and more aware of the importance of looking at these fearful sympathizers because that is the group I find myself mostly gravitating towards.

I love Jesus but want to hold on to my own friends even when they do not lead me closer to Jesus. I love Jesus but want to hold on to my own independence even when that independence brings me no real freedom. I love Jesus but do not want to lose the respect of my professional colleagues, even though I know that their respect does not make me grow spiritually. I love Jesus but do not want to give up my writing plans, travel plans, and speaking plans, even when these plans are often more to my glory than to the glory of God.

So I am like Nicodemus, who came by night, said safe things about Jesus to his colleagues, and expressed his guilt by bringing to the grave more myrrh and aloes than needed or desired.

To his colleagues, the Pharisees, Nicodemus said, "our Law does not allow us to pass judgement on anyone without first giving his a hearing and discovering what he is doing" (John 7:51). These are careful words. They are spoken to people who hate Jesus. But they are spoken on their terms. They say, "Even if you hate Jesus and desire to kill him, do not lose your dignity, follow your own rules." Nicodemus said it to save Jesus, but hd didn't want to lose his friends. It didn't work. He was ridiculed by his friends: "Are you a Galilean too? Go into the matter, and see for yourself: prophets do not arise from Galilee!" His personal and professional identity are attached.

It is such a familiar scene. I have spoken like Nicodemus in episcopal committees and faculty meetings many times. Instead of speaking directly about my love for Jesus, I make a smart remark suggesting that maybe my friends should look at another side of the question. They usually respond by saying I have not studied my sources well enough, or that I seem to have some sentimental attachment that got in the way of a truly professional approach. Those who have said these things have had the power of right thinking and thus forced me to silence. But it has been fear that has prevented me from speaking from the heart and risking rejection.

Nicodemus deserves all my attention. Can I stay a Pharisee and follow Jesus too? Doesn't that condemn me to bringing costly spices to the grave when It is too late?



- To Be Continued -



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