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Daily Meditations of the Henri Nouwen
Society
On the Journey Towards Empathy
written by JOE VORSTERMANS
Real empathy is not rooted in guilt. It may be that feelings of guilt will prompt us to recognize
injustice or suffering but the guilt is only a red flag that signals us that something is wrong or that
someone is in pain and they are in need of our support or care. In that way guilt can serve us well
but we need to be vigilant that our actions to care for another are not finally motivated by guilt
but by empathy. Real empathy is rooted in our understanding that all humans share a common
vulnerability and at any time I can be the one who is "in need" and hopefully open to the care of
others.
I remember an old cartoon about two old men who lived on the street. The drawing showed them
sitting on a park bench, looking disheveled and sharing a bottle wrapped in a brown bag. In front
of them is walking a very distinguished and well dressed business man who is walking with
purpose and direction. The one old man says to the other, "There but for me, go I!" It is a
humourous way of expressing the even more humbling and true proverbial adage, "There but for
the grace of God, go I!"
When we sit with another who is experiencing loss or pain and the other knows, that we know,
that it could just as easily be the other way around, our empathy has a validity and strength that is
truly comforting. In this way we are sisters and brothers under one God walking towards
redemption.
- JOE VORSTERMANS is a husband and father of four adult children, a long time member of
L'Arche and currently the director of Intercordia Canada, a university level, engaged learning
program inspired by L'Arche.
Who Is My Neighbour?
"Love your neighbour as yourself" the Gospel says (Matthew 22:38). But who is my neighbor?
We often respond to that question by saying: "My neighbours are all the people I am living with
on this earth, especially the sick, the hungry, the dying, and all who are in need." But this is not
what Jesus says. When Jesus tells the story of the good Samaritan (see Luke 10:29-37) to answer
the question "Who is my neighbour?" he ends the by asking: "Which, ... do you think, proved
himself a neighbor to the man who fell into the bandits' hands?" The neighbour, Jesus makes
clear, is not the poor man laying on the side of the street, stripped, beaten, and half dead, but the
Samaritan who crossed the road, "bandaged his wounds, pouring oil and wine on them, ... lifted
him onto his own mount and took him to an inn and looked after him." My neighbour is the one
who crosses the road for me!
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Crossing the Road for One Another
We become neighbours when we are willing to cross the road for one another. There is so much
separation and segregation: between black people and white people, between gay people and
straight people, between young people and old people, between sick people and healthy people,
between prisoners and free people, between Jews and Gentiles, Muslims and Christians,
Protestants and Catholics, Greek Catholics and Latin Catholics.
There is a lot of road crossing to do. We are all very busy in our own circles. We have our own
people to go to and our own affairs to take care of. But if we could cross the street once in a
while and pay attention to what is happening on the other side, we might become neighbours.
Bridging the Gap Between People
To become neighbours is to bridge the gap between people. As long as there is distance between
us and we cannot look in each other's eyes, all sorts of false ideas and images arise. We give
them names, make jokes about them, cover them with our prejudices, and avoid direct contact.
We think of them as enemies. We forget that they love as we love, care for their children as we
care for ours, become sick and die as we do. We forget that they are our brothers and sisters and
treat them as objects that can be destroyed at will.
Only when we have the courage to cross the street and look in one another's eyes can we see
there that we are children of the same God and members of the same human family.
What We Feel Is Not Who We Are
Our emotional lives move up and down constantly. Sometimes we experience great mood:
swings from excitement to depression, from joy to sorrow, from inner harmony to inner chaos. A
little event, a word from someone, a disappointment in work, many things can trigger such mood
swings. Mostly we have little control over these changes. It seems that they happen to us rather
than being created by us.
Thus it is important to know that our emotional life is not the same as our spiritual life. Our
spiritual life is the life of the Spirit of God within us. As we feel our emotions shift we must
connect our spirits with the Spirit of God and remind ourselves that what we feel is not who we
are. We are and remain, whatever our moods, God's beloved children.
Overcoming Our Mood Swings
Are we condemned to be passive victims of our moods? Must we simply say: "I feel great today"
or "I feel awful today," and require others to live with our moods?
Although it is very hard to control our moods, we can gradually overcome them by living a well-disciplined spiritual life. This can prevent us from acting out of our moods. We might not "feel"
like getting up in the morning because we "feel" that life is not worth living, that nobody loves
us, and that our work is boring. But if we get up anyhow, to spend some time reading the
Gospels, praying the Psalms, and thanking God for a new day, our moods may lose their power
over us.
On the Journey Towards Being Vulnerable
written by STEVE IMBACH
1. Our media are saturated with images of individuals wearing the mask of "all togetherness". I
rub shoulders daily with people quick to reassure me of the unreality "I'm fine, thanks". I find
myself trapped in a superficial community, stuffed in my self-imposed cocoon of fear and shame,
afraid to admit my brokenness and weakness. I can't face the possibility of rejection and loss, not
making the cut, not fitting in. To break out of this prison, we are invited into the honesty of
becoming vulnerable. Vulnerability dismantles our obsession with getting it right.
As I take off the mask of "all togetherness", I discover a vast world of freedom. In my
vulnerability, I become accessible to fellow companions on the journey. My vulnerability invites
others in, offers understanding and empathy, but also can be a cry for help. Even though
vulnerability's path is often painful, its reward of deepening intimacy is welcome. Being
vulnerable opens my heart to a larger worldview. I become free to explore beyond the exhausting
self-focus of supporting my false image of "OKness". I find myself challenged to deeper
transparency as I sing along with Leonard Cohen "Ring the bells that still can ring, forget your
perfect offering, there is a crack in everything, that's how the light gets in".
Digging Into Our Spiritual Resources
When someone hurts us, offends us, ignores us, or rejects us, a deep inner protest emerges. It can
be rage or depression, desire to take revenge or an impulse to harm ourselves. We can feel a deep
urge to wound those who have wounded us or to withdraw in a suicidal mood of self-rejection.
Although these extreme reactions might seem exceptional, they are never far away from our
hearts. During the long nights we often find ourselves brooding about words and actions we
might have used in response to what others have said or done to us.
It is precisely here that we have to dig deep into our spiritual resources and find the center within
us, the center that lies beyond our need to hurt others or ourselves, where we are free to forgive
and love.
The Dynamics of the Spiritual Life
Our emotional lives and our spiritual lives have different dynamics. The ups and downs of our
emotional life depend a great deal on our past or present surroundings. We are happy, sad, angry,
bored, excited, depressed, loving, caring, hateful, or vengeful because of what happened long ago
or what is happening now.
The ups and downs of our spiritual lives depend on our obedience - that is, our attentive listening
- to the movements of the Spirit of God within us. Without this listening our spiritual life
eventually becomes subject to the windswept waves of our emotions.
A Window on Our Spiritual Lives
Even though our emotional and spiritual lives are distinct, they do influence one another
profoundly. Our feelings often give us a window on our spiritual journeys. When we cannot let
go of jealousy, we may wonder if we are in touch with the Spirit in us that cries out "Abba."
When we feel very peaceful and "centered," we may come to realise that this is a sign of our deep
awareness of our belovedness.
Likewise our prayer lives, lived as faithful response to the presence of the Spirit within us, may
open a window on our emotions, feelings, and passions and give us some indication of how to
put them into the service of our long journey into the heart of God.
Putting Our Temperaments in the Service of God
Our temperaments - whether flamboyant, phlegmatic, introverted, or extroverted - are quite
permanent fixtures of our personalities. Still, the way we "use" our temperaments on a daily basis
can vary greatly. When we are attentive to the Spirit of God within us, we will gradually learn to
put our temperaments in the service of a virtuous life. Then flamboyancy gives great zeal for the
Kingdom, phlegmatism helps to keep an even keel in times of crisis, introversion deepens the
contemplative side, and extroversion encourages creative ministry.
Let's live with our temperaments as with gifts that help us deepen our spiritual lives.
Spiritual Dryness
Sometimes we experience a terrible dryness in our spiritual life. We feel no desire to pray, don't
experience God's presence, get bored with worship services, and even think that everything we
ever believed about God, Jesus, and the Holy Spirit is little more than a childhood fairy tale.
Then it is important to realise that most of these feelings and thoughts are just feelings and
thoughts, and that the Spirit of God dwells beyond our feelings and thoughts. It is a great grace to
be able to experience God's presence in our feelings and thoughts, but when we don't, it does not
mean that God is absent. It often means that God is calling us to a greater faithfulness. It is
precisely in times of spiritual dryness that we must hold on to our spiritual discipline so that we
can grow into new intimacy with God.
Two Kinds of Loneliness
In the spiritual life we have to make a distinction between two kinds of loneliness. In the first
loneliness, we are out of touch with God and experience ourselves as anxiously looking for
someone or something that can give us a sense of belonging, intimacy, and home. The second
loneliness comes from an intimacy with God that is deeper and greater than our feelings and
thoughts can capture.
We might think of these two kinds of loneliness as two forms of blindness. The first blindness
comes from the absence of light, the second from too much light. The first loneliness we must try
to outgrow with faith and hope. The second we must be willing to embrace in love.
On the Journey Toward Intimacy
written by SHIRLEY K. LEWIS
The journey towards intimacy is perhaps the longest, most difficult journey we take as human
beings. While the dictionary defines intimacy as "close familiarity or association and nearness in
friendship", it also requires us to stand naked in front of another human being with all of our
warts and flaws. We are the too large belly hiding a waistline that used to measure eighteen
inches around, declaring, "This is me. This is who I am. I am worried about you rejecting me. I
am worried I have shown you too much of me. This is me. This is who I am."
Even further, intimacy is the ability to share our heart and soul with another; it is truly taking
down our defenses just as we "take off your clothes." It is a tremendous risk for some, less so for
others but never inconsequential. It is intertwined with trust, though sometimes we trust the
wrong people who hand it back to us, battered and broken. Nevertheless, intimacy is definitely
resilient, and we stay on the journey, looking for intimacy in our soul-mates, our families, our
children and our dearest friends. This journey requires us to look deeply within ourselves and
examine our thoughts and feelings from the inside out. This is the toughest part of the journey,
but the results can lead us to accept and be our best friends and to love and embrace our families.
It is on this journey that God tells us to stay, hard as it is, and listen to our heart and those of
another. God speaks. Hearts speak. Our journey toward intimacy helps us to hear them clearly.
All People Lifted Up with Jesus
The death and resurrection of Jesus are God's way to open for all people the door to eternal life.
Jesus said: "When I am lifted up from the earth, I shall draw all people to myself" (John 12:32).
Indeed, all people, from all times and places, are lifted up with Jesus on the cross and into the
new life of the resurrection. Thus, Jesus' death is a death for all humanity, and Jesus' resurrection
is a resurrection for all humanity.
Not one person from the past, present, or future is excluded from the great passage of Jesus from
slavery to freedom, from the land of captivity to the promised land, from death to eternal life.
The Door Open to Anyone
Jesus is the door to a life in and with God. "I am the gate," he says (John 10:9). "I am the Way; I
am Truth and Life. No one can come to the Father except through me" (John 14:6). Still, many
people never have heard or will hear of Jesus. They are born, live their lives, and die without
having been exposed to Jesus and his words. Are they lost? Is there no place in the Father's house
for them?
Jesus opened the door to God's house for all people, also for those who never knew or will know
that it was Jesus who opened it. The Spirit that Jesus sent "blows where it pleases" (John 3:8),
and it can lead anyone through the door to God's house.
Jesus Comes to Us in the Poor
What finally counts is not whether we know Jesus and his words but whether we live our lives in
the Spirit of Jesus. The Spirit of Jesus is the Spirit of Love. Jesus himself makes this clear when
he speaks about the last judgment. There people will ask: "Lord, when did we see you hungry and
feed you, or thirsty and give you drink?" and Jesus will answer: "In so far as you did this to one
of the least ... of mine, you did it to me" (Matthew 25:37, 40).
This is our great challenge and consolation. Jesus comes to us in the poor, the sick, the dying, the
prisoners, the lonely, the disabled, the rejected. There we meet him, and there the door to God's
house is opened for us.
Being Joyful Witnesses
To speak about Jesus and his divine work of salvation shouldn't be a burden or a heavy
obligation. When we go to people feeling that unless they accept our way of knowing Jesus, they
are lost and we are failures, it is hardly possible to be true witnesses.
It is a great joy when people recognise through our witness that Jesus is the divine redeemer who
opened for them the way to God. It is a true cause for gratitude and celebration. But we should
also be able to live joyful and grateful lives when our witness with deeds and words does not lead
people to accept Jesus in the way we do.
Keeping the Peace in Our Hearts
Whatever we do in the Name of Jesus, we must always keep the peace of Jesus in our hearts.
When Jesus sends his disciples out to preach the Gospel, he says: "Whatever town or village you
go into, seek out someone worthy and stay with him until you leave. As you enter his house,
salute it, and if the house deserves it, may your peace come upon it; if it does not, may your
peace come back to you" (Matthew 10:11-13).
The great temptation is to let people take our peace away. This happens whenever we become
angry, hostile, bitter, spiteful, manipulative, or vengeful when others do not respond favourably
to the good news we bring to them.
On the Journey Toward Living With Doubt
written by SUSAN M. S. BROWN
1. In his ecstatic poem "I thank You God for most this amazing day," e. e. cummings wonders
how any "human merely being" could "doubt unimaginable You." And I know that feeling, from
rare moments when I seem to rise above, sink below, or expand beyond my small, everyday sense
of self, my busily thinking mind, my ego working so hard to preserve the separateness of me. But
most of the time, my consciousness is filled with doubts of every variety.
It is so easy, and often not unjustifiable, to doubt the truth of what we are told, the motives of
people who affect our lives, the security of our future, the value and meaning of our past. And it
can be hard to see the presence of God as the forest that contains all those trees. In this routine
state of mind, it's just as easy for me to wonder how any "human merely being" could not doubt
the unimaginable.
I wish I could trust and believe unquestioningly. But doubt is an undeniable aspect of who I am. I
cannot banish it. But I can work diligently to keep it from sliding into the negative entrenchment
of cynicism. Perhaps the key is to make sure I also doubt my doubt: remember my own
experiences of assurance, really listen when others share theirs, and leave room for the
inbreaking of transcendent certainty, which can come in the most surprising ways.
- SUSAN M.S. BROWN is an Episcopalian laywoman and a freelance editor who lives near
Boston, Massachusetts.
Being Unconditional Witnesses
Good news becomes bad news when it is announced without peace and joy. Anyone who
proclaims the forgiving and healing love of Jesus with a bitter heart is a false witness. Jesus is the
savior of the world. We are not. We are called to witness, always with our lives and sometimes
with our words, to the great things God has done for us. But this witness must come from a heart
that is willing to give without getting anything in return.
The more we trust in God's unconditional love for us, the more able we will be to proclaim the
love of Jesus without any inner or outer conditions.
Being Living Signs of Love
Jesus' whole life was a witness to his Father's love, and Jesus calls his followers to carry on that
witness in his Name. We, as followers of Jesus, are sent into this world to be visible signs of
God's unconditional love. Thus we are not first of all judged by what we say but by what we live.
When people say of us: "See how they love one another," they catch a glimpse of the Kingdom of
God that Jesus announced and are drawn to it as by a magnet.
In a world so torn apart by rivalry, anger, and hatred, we have the privileged vocation to be living
signs of a love that can bridge all divisions and heal all wounds.
Burning With Love
Often we are preoccupied with the question "How can we be witnesses in the Name of Jesus?
What are we supposed to say or do to make people accept the love that God offers them?" These
questions are expressions more of our fear than of our love. Jesus shows us the way of being
witnesses. He was so full of God's love, so connected with God's will, so burning with zeal for
God's Kingdom, that he couldn't do other than witness. Wherever he went and whomever he met,
a power went out from him that healed everyone who touched him. (See Luke 6:19.)
If we want to be witnesses like Jesus, our only concern should be to be as alive with the love of
God as Jesus was.
Trusting in the Fruits
We belong to a generation that wants to see the results of our work. We want to be productive
and see with our own eyes what we have made. But that is not the way of God's Kingdom. Often
our witness for God does not lead to tangible results. Jesus himself died as a failure on a cross.
There was no success there to be proud of. Still, the fruitfulness of Jesus' life is beyond any
human measure. As faithful witnesses of Jesus we have to trust that our lives too will be fruitful,
even though we cannot see their fruit. The fruit of our lives may be visible only to those who live
after us.
What is important is how well we love. God will make our love fruitful, whether we see that
fruitfulness or not.
Hiddenness, a Place of Intimacy
Hiddenness is an essential quality of the spiritual life. Solitude, silence, quiet, ordinary tasks,
being with people without great agendas, sleeping, eating, working, playing Ö all of that without
being different from others, that is the life that Jesus lived and the life he asks us to live. It is in
hiddenness that we, like Jesus, can increase "in wisdom, in stature, and in favour with God and
with people" (Luke 2:51). It is in hiddenness that we can find a true intimacy with God and a true
love for people.
Even during his active ministry, Jesus continued to return to hidden places to be with God alone.
If we don't have a hidden life with God, our public life for God cannot bear fruit.
Hiddenness, a Place of Purification
One of the reasons that hiddenness is such an important aspect of the spiritual life is that it keeps
us focused on God. In hiddenness we do not receive human acclamation, admiration, support, or
encouragement. In hiddenness we have to go to God with our sorrows and joys and trust that God
will give us what we most need.
In our society we are inclined to avoid hiddenness. We want to be seen and acknowledged. We
want to be useful to others and influence the course of events. But as we become visible and
popular, we quickly grow dependent on people and their responses and easily lose touch with
God, the true source of our being. Hiddenness is the place of purification. In hiddenness we find
our true selves.
The Hidden Life of Jesus
The largest part of Jesus' life was hidden. Jesus lived with his parents in Nazareth, "under their
authority" (Luke 2:51), and there "increased in wisdom, in stature, and in favour with God and
with people" (Luke 2:52). When we think about Jesus we mostly think about his words and
miracles, his passion, death, and resurrection, but we should never forget that before all of that
Jesus lived a simple, hidden life in a small town, far away from all the great people, great cities,
and great events. Jesus' hidden life is very important for our own spiritual journeys. If we want to
follow Jesus by words and deeds in the service of his Kingdom, we must first of all strive to
follow Jesus in his simple, unspectacular, and very ordinary hidden life.
On the Journey Towards Gratitude
written by LISA CATALDO
1. Melanie Klein, a German psychoanalyst who wrote in the mid-twentieth century, talks about
gratitude as a hallmark of healthy human development. The infant, Klein believes, struggles with
conflicting responses to her environment, mostly represented by the mother. The child
experiences intense love, aggression (manifested in biting the breast) and even envy. How could
a baby feel envy? In Klein's view, the baby envies the mother's seemingly endless supply of milk
and wishes it, too, could be the source of such goodness. In healthy development, the baby comes
to experience that the mother it envies and the mother it loves are the same person. The natural
response to this realization is gratitude, and this gratitude is the baby's reparation for the biting
and envious feelings.
Isn't this a wonderful metaphor for the way human beings relate to God? We receive our very life
from God, but it is only over a long journey of spiritual development that we can grow into true
gratitude. Do we envy God? Maybe it's hard to admit, but I think most of us do. After all, don't
we feel on some level that we are the creators and centers of our little universes? And don't we
wish that others would pay us homage, at least a little? We certainly struggle with envying the
gifts given to others. In these ways, and by taking for granted the gifts that we have been given,
we bite the breast of God.
Along the way to spiritual maturity, we begin to encounter the reality that we are not the source
of all goodness, that bad things happen, and that life is a gift. Once we realize the God we "used"
is also the God we love, we want to "make reparation" - this is the Christian notion of
repentance. We turn, as Klein says, from envy to gratitude. We spend less time coveting the
goods of others and appreciate the wonder of life just as it is, a gift from God. This gratitude is
not diminished by sorrow or trouble or fear. This is a gratitude that survives all the "empty
breast" moments of our lives, because we know that our God is the Spirit of life itself, a Spirit
that can never be extinguished. Then we can say from the heart, "Thank you, thank you, thank
you."
- LISA CATALDO, M.Div., Ph.D. is a teacher of Psychology and Religion courses at Union
Theological Seminary and several psychoanalytic Institutes, and leads retreats and spirituality
workshops for churches and schools. She is has a private psychotherapy practice in New York City.
Protecting Our Hiddenness
If indeed the spiritual life is essentially a hidden life, how do we protect this hiddenness in the
midst of a very public life? The two most important ways to protect our hiddenness are solitude
and poverty. Solitude allows us to be alone with God. There we experience that we belong not to
people, not even to those who love us and care for us, but to God and God alone. Poverty is
where we experience our own and other people's weakness, limitations, and need for support. To
be poor is to be without success, without fame, and without power. But there God chooses to
show us God's love.
Both solitude and poverty protect the hiddenness of our lives.
Clinging to God in Solitude
When we enter into solitude to be with God alone, we quickly discover how dependent we are.
Without the many distractions of our daily lives, we feel anxious and tense. When nobody speaks
to us, calls on us, or needs our help, we start feeling like nobodies. Then we begin wondering
whether we are useful, valuable, and significant. Our tendency is to leave this fearful solitude
quickly and get busy again to reassure ourselves that we are "somebodies." But that is a
temptation, because what makes us somebodies is not other people's responses to us but God's
eternal love for us.
To claim the truth of ourselves we have to cling to our God in solitude as to the One who makes
us who we are.
Focussing Our Minds and Hearts
How can we stay in solitude when we feel that deep urge to be distracted by people and events?
The most simple way is to focus our minds and hearts on a word or picture that reminds us of
God. By repeating quietly: "The Lord is my shepherd, there is nothing I shall want," or by gazing
lovingly at an icon of Jesus, we can bring our restless minds to some rest and experience a gentle
divine presence.
This doesn't happen overnight. It asks a faithful practice. But when we spend a few moments
every day just being with God, our endless distractions will gradually disappear.
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 - Simon Dewey.JPG)
