Michael O'Lauglin is a spiritual director with offices at the Healing Center in Arlington, Massachusetts. He has received advanced degrees in Theology from Harvard University and Oxford University. While studying at Harvard he was Henri Nouwen's teaching assistant.
O'Laughlin is the editor of Henri Nouwen's award-winning Jesus: A Gospel. He's also the author of God's Beloved: A Spiritual Biography of Henri Nouwen. His book Henri Nouwen: His Life and Vision was recently published by Orbis (U.S.A.) and Novalis (Canada). I reached him at his home near Boston.
Gerry McCarthy: In Henri Nouwen: His Life and Vision you write that: "Jean Vanier and l'Arche were a revelation to Henri Nouwen. Here he saw put into practice many of the principles he had preached and championed for years --the downward mobility and solidarity of the young volunteers, the centrality of the Eucharist, the inclusion of the most marginalized members of society, and the recognition of God's grace working among and through these forgotten individuals. According to Henri, l'Arche was a community living in the true spirit of Jesus, in the spirit of the Beatitudes." How was Nouwen first drawn to l'Arche --and how did he come to meet Jean Vanier?
Michael O'Laughlin: Henri Nouwen's life was always marked by a deep restlessness. He was never sure he had found his proper place in the world. He had tried all the standard paths open to a priest. He explored being a psychologist, an academic, a monk, and a missionary. Normally when someone has a "higher" vocation, they fit into one of those slots. Henri hadn't fit anywhere, and he was beginning to run out of choices. The time he was at Harvard Divinity School --before he went to l'Arche-- was a time of waiting for him. It's only in retrospect that we see that l'Arche was his vocation and he was moving toward it. While he was at Harvard he was being drawn forward through darkness, and it was driving him crazy. He spoke often about the need for community at that time. He had pretty much decided that Christians who couldn't find one, had to make community wherever they were.
The way he met Jean Vanier is a story Henri enjoyed telling against himself. He had mentioned Vanier in his book Clowning in Rome as someone he greatly admired, but hadn't met. After that Vanier sent someone to Henri while he was living at Yale Divinity School. The woman went as an emissary who simply said: I was sent by Jean Vanier to stay with you. This woman moved in on Henri and stayed with him for a week or two, making his bachelor pad more of a real home. Henri kept waiting to see what she would say to him, what the message would be. He finally realized that this woman was the message. After that happened he became more intrigued by Vanier, someone who would send an emissary just to spend time with him, and then simply say, "Jean says hello."
Although Vanier was becoming a bit of a mystery man to Nouwen, at this point, Henri was cautious and famous enough to think that Vanier really wanted him to help with some project or write a forward to a book. He kept waiting to see what the payback would be. When Vanier finally called him and invited him to retreat in Chicago, Henri realized that this was what had been expected of him, that he would have to go and give a retreat. He then told Vanier he couldn't do it, because he had many other teaching commitments. But Vanier said: "No, Henri, it's a silent retreat." Henri had built up a worldly expectation about how people treat each other, and Jean Vanier defused Henri's fearful attitude that people only wanted to use him by inviting him on a silent retreat where he wasn't going to have to do any talking.
At the retreat --at and other meetings-- Vanier became aware of just how terrible Henri was feeling. Vanier said: "Why don't you come and spend some time with us? I think that we can help you." So during the summers --between terms at Harvard-- Henri went to l'Arche in Trosly, France. Spending time there was truly a remarkable, liberating experience for him. He found he didn't have to invent a community after all, because the l'Arche community was already there for him.
GM: You write about Nouwen's near-death experience that took place in 1989. At one point you explain that: "In the depths of this experience he had found Christ not only present, but showering him with love. He could not help but feel the irony that his friends rejoiced in his recovery, while he was left feeling ambivalent about returning to a world that is not as close to Jesus as he had been while standing on the edge of eternity." Can you speak to me about this --and how Nouwen "befriended death" in the last years of his life?
MO: There are several things I want to include in my answer: The "befriending" idea comes from the Jungian author, James Hillman who often spoke about "befriending the shadow." Hillman attended a seminar given by Nouwen. After meeting him, Henri latched on to Himan's idea of "befriending" things we naturally avoid and made it his own.
There were in fact several negative issues that Henri tried to befriend. But death is the final enemy, and perhaps the most difficult thing to embrace. It was a terrible shock for Henri to lose his mother. He began to realize through that experience --and through the deaths of other friends he witnessed in his own pastoral work-- just how tenuous life is. This drove him to think about his own death. Throughout most of his life, Henri had assumed he would live to an old age like his father who lived into his nineties, but sooner or later he would die, too. At one point he went to Germany and sat down and wrote a book about what death means entitled Our Greatest Gift. But it's one thing to write a book about dying while you're sitting in a cozy apartment in Germany. It's another thing to be at death's door.
When Henri had an accident while walking on a road in Canada he was driven to confront this reality. What was most remarkable about this episode and the book he wrote about it, Beyond the Mirror, is that you can't be cute or lie about a near-death experience when you're Henri Nouwen and it happens to you; this was something that Henri really experienced. He said what he saw wasn't like a door or light. It was the presence of someone --he couldn't even say it was Jesus-- but it was human and divine. He said the figure "was embracing me and bringing me forward into total forgiveness and love." I am very moved by Henri's account. I say: If that's what's waiting for us, then Hallelujah!
What Henri discovered through this experience was the relativity of our short life on earth. For him life became only a brief interval where we are separated from God. We start out with God; we're separated from him as we spin off into earth, space, and time. Then we go back home. That was his idea of what death is: It was a return to where we were before.
GM: You quote Nouwen describing the adjustments he made moving to l'Arche Daybreak in Toronto: "Writing books and giving lectures seemed like easy hills to climb compared to the mountainous complexities of daily living. No wonder that I soon gave up on the idea that some of us are handicapped and others not." Living at Daybreak was a very difficult transition for Nouwen wasn't it?
MO: Yes. In many ways Henri was the typical priest of his generation. It was just assumed that you were called to meals, and put your shoes outside the door to be shined. This detached mentality was compounded by the fact that Henri was a total klutz when it came to living on this planet. He was almost a danger to himself and others in terms of his physical movement through space. At his funeral, Sr. Sue Mosteller told the story that illustrates this point. One time she went on a retreat with Henri, but he had to stay behind and catch up later. When he finally arrived at the retreat he was covered with bandages and had his arm in a sling. She said: "Henri what happened to you?" He said: "Well I was at the airport and I was going through the door, but it turned out it wasn't a door; it was a window." This was Henri. He was out of touch with physical things.
Remember that at this point in Henri's life he was old enough, famous enough, and financially secure enough that he didn't have to go and live at l'Arche --or submit to any of the drastic changes in lifestyle that would imply. He could have easily set himself up anywhere in the world and just written books and given talks. That's what I thought he should have done. Instead he did something kenotic (meaning that he emptied himself of his identity as an academic and priest) and went and lived with people who didn't understand any of his accomplishments and needed very hands-on help.
GM: At one point in the book you talk about a New York Times reporter Fred Bratman who came to interview Henri Nouwen at Yale Divinity School. But you write that Nouwen turned the tables on him and started to interview him and query him about his hopes and dreams. Can you talk to me about this? This was characteristic of Nouwen wasn't it?
MO: Yes, it was very characteristic of him. When Henri Nouwen was with someone, it was as if everything else in the universe no longer mattered. He focused on that person right in front of him. They might have been outside of time and space. All he cared about was the person he was looking at. This was one of the things that made people feel like Henri was almost like Jesus. Because of it, a few minutes with Henri Nouwen could be very transforming. The story you mention is an example of his amazing generosity. This young reporter comes up from New York and is someone with whom Henri had no natural connection or affiliation. Bratman confessed to Henri that this wasn't the job he wanted, that he wanted to write a novel. But time was slipping away and he had many obligations. Henri said: "Come up to Yale, and I'll find the money and you'll write your novel." Bratman was from New York. He'd been around and knew this was impossible. No one would just invite you to come and fulfill your dream at Yale University. He was suspicious of Nouwen and it took him a long time to believe this was really true: This man wanted to help him that much and there were no strings attached.
Thus began the interesting relationship between Bratman and Nouwen. Bratman did try his novel, although it never went anywhere. But they stayed in touch. Over the years Henri visited New York, and there was Bratman, living his different lifestyle with different kinds of people. It was an opportunity for Henri to get outside the box. He could go to New York and see Fred Bratman, who was not a Christian or a spiritual person. Fred was living this fast-paced life full of appointments and telephone calls. In many ways it was like Henri's life, but without the religious component.
Henri found this fascinating. He liked Bratman and they got along together. Over time Henri helped him become a better Jew, and went with him to the synagogue. They shared things on an intimate level. What came out of this was Henri's most daring book, ecumenically speaking, which was written for Bratman and entitled The Life of the Beloved. This is where Henri takes his striking insight into God's love for all of us, and applies it to the Fred Bratmans of this world.
GM: How did you come to know Henri Nouwen yourself?
MO: When I began my doctorate at Harvard University I worked at a Catholic bookstore in Harvard Square. One day I was packing books in the back of the store and there was a man who kept looking at me. Finally he came over and said: "Do you send books out to people? Could I have an account here, and could you send books out for me?" I said that the bookstore didn't want to open new accounts, but he could speak to the manager. The manager then told him the same thing, but asked: "I'm sorry to be so blunt, but who are you?" He said: "I'm Henri Nouwen." The manager then said: "Of course you can have an account."
I was so deeply engaged in my doctoral work in early Christianity at that point that I'd never read a Henri Nouwen book. But working in this bookstore I saw lots of Nouwen titles, yet I hadn't thought too much about them until I'd met Henri.
The next time I saw Henri I was in the Harvard Divinity School library. The dean of the school was showing Henri around. Henri saw me there, and came over to me saying: "So you just don't sell books --you read l them, too." I said: "Yes, I'm a doctoral student." He said: "Oh, I need some doctoral students to help me teach my class." We talked for another minute, and I realized he'd already decided to hire me to help teach his course on spirituality. He was very impulsive, welcoming and sure of himself, even when he shouldn't have been. Because he didn't know who I was, but still he invited me to help teach his class.
GM: Earlier in the book you write that the philosophy of Vatican II was to play a defining role in Henri Nouwen's life and work. What were his thoughts on the Church moving away from the spirit of Vatican II?
MO: Henri Nouwen and Vatican II is an important story. Before Vatican II took place, one country in particular was pioneering a lot of the reforms that we associate with the Council. That country was Holland. When Vatican II took place Henri had already been living a Vatican II lifestyle for years, because that's what he'd been trained in and taken part in. The Dutch Church's great moment in Church history over the last century is their contribution to Vatican II. They were considered by many to be the vanguard element at the Council. Some journalist even assumed that every Dutchman was a radical. Henri was able to attend some sessions of the Council, because his uncle was called as an expert on Jewish Christian relations, and he was able to attend as his assistant. So Henri saw the Council unfold firsthand.
No one has ever talked --especially not Henri-- about the importance the Council had on him. But it was enormous. All you need to do is compare the theology and spirituality of Vatican II with that of Henri Nouwen, and you'll see it's a direct outgrowth of the Council.
Because of the contribution of the Dutch Church to the Council, it became clear to everyone that their theology was progressing rapidly. The Vatican did not approve of this and cracked down on the Dutch Church afterwards by nominating strong conservatives to the episcopacy. That ended up alienating the Church in Holland. It's one of the reasons that the Dutch Church is one of the weakest anywhere today --after having been a model of piety and conformity.
Henri was bitter about the polarization of the Dutch Church, because they moved to an almost post-Christian excessiveness after the Council. Henri was in the U.S. for much of that time, and he began to feel alienated from his own people. Then the whole world began to abandon the vision of the Council, and he was left as one of the only people that remained faithful to the Council's principles. But as the Church began to turn and change we shouldn't think that Henri went around telling people we have to get back to the Council. He had a negative impression of Church politics. He saw how involved I was becoming in Church politics at one point and said: "That's a waste of time --that's not the important thing." He thought getting involved in theology or politics at the Church level was draining and not very rewarding.
What Henri did was simply continue to live his life. He never told people: Here I am --I represent Vatican II. He was living and breathing it, because he couldn't have done anything else. That's what he'd been trained to do. But he hated being labelled, and would never have taken even Vatican II as a label. In the U.S. we have such a polarized political situation and every once in awhile a centrist comes along that everyone likes. That's what Henri was. He was someone who tried to bridge the gap between conservative and liberal, and was comfortable and popular with everyone.
GM: Can you speak to me about the impact Thomas Merton had on Nouwen's spiritual writing and faith?
MO: Thomas Merton was probably the single greatest influence on Henri Nouwen --although there were other candidates for that position. For Nouwen, Merton represented the possibility of living a committed Christian life within community and at the same time pursuing the creative life of the writer and commentator. In many ways it was because of Merton's example that Henri Nouwen was able to take as an artistic a position as he did. I explore this more completely in my other book on Nouwen entitled God's Beloved. In that book, I talk about his artistic development and experience. Merton showed Nouwen that this was mostly a contemplative experience. When Henri would look at something he would remain and sit with it long enough that eventually the lines would begin to blur, just as when you stare at something for a long time and it eventually becomes something else.
Whatever the topic was that Henri worked on, he worked it over long enough that it became his own and something totally new. There was a genuine outgrowth, whether his subject was a painting by Rembrandt or a passage in the Gospel of John. An artistic development took place. Much of this can be traced back to Vincent van Gogh and to Thomas Merton who both practiced the same kind of contemplative and artistic freedom. They didn't just look at something, but would take it on in an artistic fashion and transform it.
GM: In the book you explain that Henri Nouwen never wrote about being gay. Can you talk to me about this? What was the reason behind this?
MO: When we talk about Henri Nouwen's homosexuality we must remember that Henri died in 1996. He was never alive during the period that we're living in now, in which homosexuality is widely accepted. Henri was born in 1932. He knew by the time he was six-years-old that he was different than other people, and that he had a secret he couldn't tell anyone. If he did, it would be the end. Homosexuality was never discussed in his family. It was something that I'm sure he kept hidden for most of his life.
As part of his psychological studies, Henri did some research on gay people. His general idea toward homosexuality at that point was this was something bad you had to overcome. This was pretty much in line with the thinking of psychology and certainly the Catholic Church. Homosexuality was considered part sin and part mental illness.
Up until the time when he was at Harvard (and during the time I was working with him) Henri did not admit to anyone --except a close circle of people-- that he was a homosexual. I never learned of it until after his death.
However when Henri went to l'Arche in Trosly, France everybody was so open about their woundedness and their issues that it came out. He was also in Europe at that time, where the issue wasn't so difficult to talk about. So he found that he was telling people he was gay and that was fine.
That was an important step for Henri. Also: the AIDS crisis happened at that same time. By ministering to gay people, many of whom were dying, Henri came to the position of believing that gay people needed to be accepted and loved. He went from a position of being condemnatory or dismissive of the gay lifestyle, to being much more accepting of it through his pastoral work and the evolution of thinking about homosexuality that took place in the 1980s and 1990s.
GM: It was interesting to learn about Nouwen's social justice and peace activism. But you explain that: "Nouwen's message regarding peacemaking was not as widely heard as some of his other insights. Some of this was due to his own quiet approach to the issue. He came to believe that spending the afternoon visiting the sick could contribute to God's peace just as much as going to a rally for nuclear disarmament, or perhaps even more." Can you speak to me a bit more about this? He had some ambivalence toward peace work didn't he?
MO: Yes, he was ambivalent about peace work and radical attempts at peace work. However, he was willing to engage in it. For example: His work on behalf of Central America or the civil rights movement was admirable. At the same time he was critical of the kind of people involved in the peace movement, because often their ideal was a hippie anarchy. Henri couldn't accept that part of their platform or lifestyle. He thought they exhibited as many faults as the people they were criticizing.
In many ways Henri was a regular middle-class person with traditional values. He was influenced by the Gospel story. He found himself in the same position that Jesus was in. Remember that Jesus was asked: When do we fight the Romans and get our freedom? Jesus was pointing in a more spiritual direction when he talked about the Kingdom of God. People didn't really understand that about Jesus. They wanted him to get rid of the Romans --that was the urgent task of the day. Henri was in the same sort of position of having people want him to come out in favour of their cause. But Henri had a more spiritual agenda.
GM: Toward the end of the book you quote a beautiful passage from Nouwen's book Can You Drink the Cup? He wrote that: "A life that is not reflected upon isn't worth living. It belongs to the essence of being human that we contemplate our life, think about it, discuss it, evaluate it, and form opinions about it...Holding the cup of life means looking critically at what we are living...When we drink the cup without holding it first, we may simply get drunk and wander aimlessly." This was the last book published during Nouwen's lifetime. What was new about his reflection on the Eucharist?
MO: This is one of Henri's great contributions to the thinking of Catholicism. I have a chapter on this in my book God's Beloved. Henri's views on the Eucharist are very different from traditional Eucharistic theory. Over the centuries we've made of the Eucharist the one moment when we stand closest to God. By doing so we've made it a formal, challenging, and special moment in our lives. It's a moment with a certain drama. I'm reminded of Martin Luther. The first time that Martin Luther handled the Eucharist he fainted, because of being overcome by the solemnity of the moment.
For centuries we have been making the Eucharist into almost a miracle, which is enacted before our eyes. It's the moment of greatest solemnity and power that we have available to us in our religion. Henri took a different line. What he wanted to do was show that the Eucharist is an experience that God shares with us on a very familiar basis. By remembering that Jesus is sitting down to table with us, he breaks free from the formality and the sense of the miraculous and solemnity of Eucharistic celebration --and reminds us that we are friends of Jesus, that we all sit down to a table and eat and share food with the people we care about. That's what Jesus is doing with us in the Eucharist. He's setting aside the cares of the world and business of the day. He's taking timeout to eat and drink.
The book Can You Drink the Cup? goes even further. By returning us to a table, and a meal type of understanding, Nouwen is telling us that the cup symbolizes a lot about our lives. When we lift the cup we're celebrating. We're taking the time to think about what our life is. We're doing what we would do at a great banquet, where we would have time to take stock of our lives and friends --and think about who we are and what we've become. All that happens for Henri Nouwen when we pick up and drink from the cup of Christ.
Gerry McCarthy is Editor of The Social Edge.
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