In Memoriam

Henri Nouwen: Home at Last
In rest and in peace,
not fighting

“I’m prepared for death” he told us a week ago, and he was. With inspiration he read the words of Psalm 91 that meant so much to him. These were his last words: My God, in Him will I trust. I often think of death with joy. It’s good to give my life in such a way that it bears fruit.

This celebrated man, writer and lecturer, departed in peace. A very special soul,- that was his strength - a man who could listen very intensely and who gave himself completely. He had so much to offer that I could listen to him for hours. It’s as if I had been on holiday for a month. Everyone who knew Henri Nouwen personally can tell you this. I met him after reading his book A Stranger in Paradise. Somebody gave me the book in a difficult period in my life. The book was like a revelation to me. It was as if he sat next to me. From that moment I wanted to do a program on this man. Afterwards we became very good friends. A few months ago we planned to do this program Home At Last, and during the preparation of it, the Lord took him home.

When I read my first book by Henri Nouwen – he lectured at the large universities in America, Notre Dame, Harvard and Yale. He loved his studies and made a very energetic career. But after twenty years he left the academic world and he always looked back to this period with mixed emotions. He always enjoyed and loved this work.

I’ve learned very much from it. Yet in the long run I felt that my calling was being obstructed by my career. I noticed an increase of tension inside of me – a tension between the things I thought and the way I lived. I gave lessons on communal life and at the same time I lived on my own. I gave lessons on prayer and could not find time to pray myself. I gave lessons on humbleness and at the same time I tried to reach the top. And of course here I was confronted with a lot of competition and ambition. I saw this competition especially at Harvard. When I was working here I realized that the Gospel teaches the opposite. It’s more like a way down, to the poor, the weak and the broken. Yet I was trying to reach the place of strength and influence. I got to feel the tension between those two ways very strongly. I decided to choose something else. I chose to follow my calling… the way down that leads to the poor, the weak and the sorrowful. Being a lecturer and writer it is easy to think that your opinion counts. Now I know it’s the other way around. It’s much better to be empty so there is room for people.

In 1989 Henri Nouwen left the academic world and dedicated himself to the handicapped at the L’Arche community in Canada. Here he was confronted with new perspectives in his restless search for God, especially when he took care of one of the most severely handicapped persons. He considered it a great privilege to take care of Adam.

Every morning I helped him out of his bed. I helped him change clothes. Little by little I became acquainted with him though I did not feel like a good person – I just felt privileged. You become so intimately acquainted with him that in the little things I discovered how big he really was. I’ve learned to love him in an intimate way. I’ve also learned that he is just as complete as I am. He’s not just partly human. He’s a complete human being. He has a heart that loves and wants to be loved. It doesn’t matter if one can talk. It is important to have a heart so that one can love and receive love. I’ve learned a lot of things… I’ve learned to know God in a very personal way. He cannot talk, he cannot have an opinion, yet in his weakness he reveals God to us … in a very gentle way.


What do you mean by ‘he reveals God to us’?

Blessed are the poor in spirit. I think what Jesus meant was ‘blessed are we in our weak areas.’ My poverty is different from Adam’s poverty. It’s not so much that I am rich and he is poor. He’s just more dependent, more crippled. In poverty he is a blessed person. Through him I’ve discovered my own poverty, my impatience, my lust, my desire to be successful, and my violence. I have to believe that God is present in these things. I’ve learned more about my poverty and that I’m blessed in this area. The significance… Jesus did not say ‘blessed is he who takes care of the poor’. No, blessed are the poor. Not “blessed he who brings comfort”, but blessed are the sorrowful. Blessing is found is spiritual poverty.
To this house Adam is the central person.

I can’t see that. You have to explain it to me.

Adam in his weakness creates this community. In his dependence he is asking the helpers to support one another. What he is really saying is ‘I’m living out of your mutual love. Here love is necessary for me to live well’ When we don’t love each other the quality of his life gets worse, so he’s like the tie, the bond, of this community. In a way he is my professor. You are a teacher, you know all about people.

I was looking for something that in a way I have already found. One cannot look for the unknown. I’m looking for the love that has touched me, for friendship I’ve already experienced. I’m looking for God who has already revealed himself to me. Providence is one of the most essential aspects of life. To have confidence in the future, confidence that God will always take care of you.

When I saw the flying Rodleys I saw freedom, discipline, friendship. I saw beauty, I saw heart and spirit. In this one act it all came together. I thought, ‘that’s it, it all comes together in this act.’

Henri was so fascinated by these artists that he followed them for weeks on their European tour. During the acts of the flying Rodleys Henri made some extraordinary discoveries.

The Rodleys were my spiritual brothers. Without knowing it or wanting it they taught me something about the spiritual life which until now I haven’t the faintest idea. They were sent to me to teach me something new about being human.

I’ve no idea what you mean. I see a couple of artists jumping through the air. One jumps the other catches. What’s the secret.

I see very clearly that all together they form one body as a whole. If one part of the body isn’t functioning the whole body isn’t functioning. For me it’s very fascinating that this act can only function when all the members give full concentration to each other. They particularly have to be aware where everyone else is. There is harmony. The beauty of human communion becomes visible in this act. Together they depict human harmony. They prove that harmony is possible among mankind. Rodley told me that it’s not the flyer who’s the real hero. The flyer appears to be the most important person. What he does is marvelous of course, but the real hero is the catcher - the catcher who sits in this floating chair. The flyer has to put his confidence completely in this catcher. There’s one mistake a flyer can make: when he wants to catch the catcher. The catcher has to catch, the flyer has to fly. Flying well is the only task he has.

To me this was a beautiful parable. Two months ago I had to preach at a funeral for a man who often flew during his life. He was a man of risks, a very special man. So I told the story of the Rodleys, of the flyer and the catcher. Then I said, ‘Our friend has flown a lot, but in the end he puts his trust in the Catcher. In the end he says ‘In your hand I commend my spirit.’ He stretched out his hands and the Lord caught him,’

I’ve so much to live for, and there’s so much that must die. I often think of death with joy. It’s good to live my life in such a way that it bears fruit. I’m not longing for a long life. I long for a life in Christ so I can bear fruit that lasts.
Life is a precarious balance. Sometimes I’m out of balance and writing helps me to find it again. After a very difficult day with a lot of setbacks, when I feel afraid or restless, I spend two hours writing about it and I’ve made my day.

What is it you want to achieve with you continuous scientific publications? You’ve written about your desire to live with God.

I’m not a scientific writer. You know that. In fact I never had the intention of writing books. I just want to write down the things that occupy my mind. So in the end I know more about my own struggle. I began to write by chance. When I told people about my experiences, they said to me, ‘those are my experiences too.’ They find comfort in the fact that they are not alone in their loneliness, which gives them hope. If you don’t know everything … I don’t have to know everything. I discovered it when I wrote about my experiences with God and man. Other people could relate to that. I’m not writing that much. The purpose of my writing is to protect my spiritual health.

The closer you come to God the more you will seek him. The closer you come to love the more you’re longing for love. The closer you come to joy, the more you realize you miss it. The more intimacy, the more you realize your loneliness. The more you’re aware of God’s presence, the more you’re aware of his absence. The closer you come to the cross, the closer you come to the resurrection. The closer you come to experience the pain of the cross, the more you know the mystery of existence.

Everyone is looking for identity. The world is offering us false identity – possession, power, having something and being somebody. If you haven’t these things can you explain true identity?

The Father told Jesus, “You are my beloved in whom I am well pleased.” You’re my beloved Son – that’s your identity. The devil said identity is fame. Turn these stones into bread. Come down off the temple. You’re important when you have power. But Jesus said, ‘My identity has nothing to do with these things. My identity is being a child of God.’ Who am I? What I have, what people think of me. It’s what I achieve! When I think my identity depends on these things I’m always trying to achieve. I’m not somebody until I have things. The mystery of the Gospel has to do with our identity. Our identity is to be a child of God. That’s what you really are. ‘You are my beloved son. You are my beloved daughter. You were my child even before you were born. Even before other people meddled with you! I will always love you.’ Jesus came to us and said, “You don’t have to surrender yourself to violence and to lust for power. You already belong to God. Your true identity has to do with divine sonship. When you claim this identity it is no longer a theory. When you are able to live self-confidently in this world.

Jesus said, ‘I am sending you into this world just like the Father sent me.’ Why? Because we don’t belong to this world. When I think I am because of what I do and what people think of me then I do belong to this world. It’s like a spiritual battle. We have to believe that our identity is found in God.

Home at Last is Henri Nouwen’s most important book. I read this book with tears because it touched me again and again. It is incredible how he is able to breathe new life into the story of the prodigal son. Just like this prodigal son we are searching and trying and in the end we go home to the Father. The pages 108/109 are very special to me. He describes the love of the Father so tremendously well. And he touches you deeply. This love was so real to him that he was able to write a book about one painting, about one simple parable. The book is so sublime that it will touch many even though he is no longer among us. It helps us on the way to the Father… until we are home at last.

This painting is like a summary of my own life. For five hears I meditated on this painting. I also read a lot about Rembrandt. It became a meditation on who I am… and what other people are. I visited St Petersburg and studied the original painting for days. Day after day I sat before this painting …praying, sitting, looking … occasionally making a note. I discovered I could identify with both the youngest and the eldest son. I thought I’m also the eldest son. And when I kept thinking about it I discovered I’m not only like the younger son who ran away and came back, but like the eldest son who became embittered. I didn’t have an intimate relationship with his father. I’m also called to become like a father –not a patriarchal father, but a father who has suffered. He’s almost blind, he holds his son. There are no opinions left in him. He doesn’t even ask what his son has done. He only says ‘I’m glad you’re home again.’ And at the same time he’s like a mother, that’s why Rembrandt painted the hand of a man and the hand of a woman. The mantel is like the wings of a mother-bird, and in this picture the fatherly and motherly love are united. And suddenly I knew I was called to become a receiving mother and father to the people I associate with. The eldest son did not run away. He was the so-called obedient son. The people who asked the question thought they were obedient to God, but Jesus said, ‘Yes you are obedient in following the law, but do you know God personally? Are you able to come home?”

The last week with Henri Nouwen was very special. He came from Canada to Holland and had a heart attack. He was brought to a hospital in Hilversum. At first they thought he could not make it. He was linked up to all sorts of medical equipment and yet his eyes were shining. He asked me to pray for him so that he could take his last step. He expected to see the Lord. After a few days he recovered and was allowed to walk again. We had very intense conversations. He forced me to listen to him and said, ‘We are here for each other. Just forget the pressure of your work. I am here for you and you are here for me. Let us seek the Lord together.’ We ended the day together with a special psalm, Psalm 91. First he read a verse and then I read a verse. I had never done this and yet it impressed me. After every verse he made a remark like ‘God is faithful’ which they chose for his verse on his requiem card. We went downstairs because it was late and the nurse wanted us to stop. His last words are engraved in my memory. This slight man with his shining eyes said ‘God is faithful’, turned around and walked away. A few hours after that, the Lord proved to be faithful. He took his servant home. He died in his sleep in the middle of the night.

The question is not what can I do with the years I have left, but what must I do to make my last and eternal days fruitful? We all push aside the thought of dying. No, it’s most important to prepare for death. Getting older is also a form of dying. You can’t do this, you can’t do that. Jesus told us about the grain of corn. It has to die otherwise it won’t bear fruit. We are always dying, the question is, are we able to make death a fruitful gift? I’ve always asked myself ‘how can I prepare myself for death so that my death bears fruit?’

God has blessed you with many talents and you did use them. You’re home at last, home in heaven. We return your memory to Daybreak and all the people. Saturday we shall bury you in the grounds you so loved in Ontario. Daybreak.
My dear brother, rest in peace!



Eulogy on Henri Nouwen
Jean Vanier, Founder of L’Arche Communities

The years that I have know Henry you never knew what was going on. We did not know what would happen and he surprised us all Saturday morning. His family had seen how well he was. I had rung him up on Friday night and then on Saturday he died. There’s a mystery in Henri. You know forty years ago he was lying on these steps to become a priest – on these steps where his body is lying today. So Henry, he came home, and you know how important home was for Henri. Tomorrow his body will go home to his community. Henri had many occasions to speak and to accompany people dying. I am very moved that I should be asked to say a few words about Henri before his family – his father, his brothers and sister, and the family of Daybreak, and L’Arche, and the family of his friends.
I just want to say a few words about Henri. The first thing I want to say… over the years that I met him … He was a man of anguish, A lot of anguish in Henry, this anguish fueled many of his actions. Anyway he was a man of movement. I was always moved when I sensed the depth of his pain. I discovered something – though he was running away from pain, he chose pain. He accepted anguish. He didn’t build up barriers to protect himself. In a mysterious way he was a wounded healer, the name of one of his first books – A Wounded Healer. Henry was a very wounded man.- a wounded man yearning, searching, crying out, a wounded man, brilliant, a wounded man who walked through the years of change in the Church and change in the world, because our world is a terrible and beautiful changing world. The world of his ordination in 1957 is not the world of today, 39 years later. It’s a world that is in incredible movement – the Church, incredible movement. A wounded healer crying out for friendship, crying out for love, incredibly faithful in friendship and in love! From psychology through the beginning of his teaching of spirituality, from Notre Dame to Yale and then to Harvard - such yearning, a man passionately interested in everything, from circuses to people with aids, music, all the forms of art and theatre, through painting… people in some areas in Latin America, a man passionately interested in people, seeking, yearning, searching, fueled by an anguish, fidelity and friendship, sometimes terribly demanding, but so frequently also so beautiful.

I want to say something about anguish. Because maybe we’re all frightened of anguish. Maybe we all want to protect ourselves from anguish; maybe we all want security. And Henry was plunging forward into a world of insecurity, sometimes I sensed in Henry the wounded heart of Christ, the anguish of Christ, the anguish of our God,. Not a secure God up there telling everybody what to do, but a God in anguish, a God yearning for love, a God who is not understood, a God on whom people have put labels. But it’s a God of love. Our God is a lover, a wounded lover - the mystery of Christ, the wounded lover. Somewhere that was Henri, a wounded lover, yearning to be loved, yearning to announce love. In many ways Henri was a genius. He was a genius of the word, for those who have read his books. What has always struck me was the sense of the word, for a word can kill and a word can bring together. A legalistic word can break people, yet the right word can bring people together. That is Henri, the seeker of the word. ‘The Word became flesh’., and when the Word becomes flesh it is also an anguished Word, it is painful Word. When the flesh becomes Word, the Word becomes flesh so that the flesh may become Word. So I was always touched by the depth of his pain, the depth of his searching. And in his anguish a cry for unity in announcing. He was passionate in his writing, writing that was coming from his anguish and the pain from his anguish, yearning for unity and for wholeness. He was yearning for wholeness, in himself and for others, passionately yearning for unity in the Church among Christians. Some people would see him as too traditional, and others would see him as too liberal. But in reality he was a man of anguish searching to announce - announce who? Announce Jesus. The incredible, vulnerable lover, for that is Jesus, a vulnerable lover, waiting, yearning to be loved. For the fundamental question of Jesus is ‘do you love me? Do you love me? Do you love me really?’ And Jesus is the silent lover waiting in pain, and vulnerable.

He came to L’Arche. He chose to come to L’Arche. And L’Arche is one of the poorest places in the world. It is very poor, because our people are poor. It is a place of pain. L’Arche is founded on pain, because the whole reality of L’Arche is to work on people in pain because they have been rejected and abandoned. And Henry sought such relationship with the cry for those who were rejected. All we know - and it is in all the books that he wrote over these last years - is how he was comforted by Adam. When he came to Daybreak he lived with Adam. Henri wasn’t particularly good at making breakfast. It wasn’t really his gift. And of course everything he did went wrong. That was Henri. He would laugh about it, he would get angry about it, because that was Henri. He would get excited and angry but somewhere living with Adam, living with Gaudy, he found comfort. He found that they too were wounded healers. Very wounded but beautiful healers. They were not ashamed to love. They would throw themselves into the arms of Henri and kiss him– that’s what he needed. That’s what we all need but we don’t know it, pretending to be strong and powerful. But Henri didn’t pretend to be strong and powerful. In all his books he talks about his weakness, fragility, his needs to be loved. And somewhere Gaudy and Adam and Peter and many others, by the way they took him in their arms, revealed something, that God – yes, he’s up in the skies, but more than that – when the Word became flesh it is the Son who enters the mud, our God who enters the mud, with pain … And that is the sole mystery of the Incarnation, a God who becomes flesh, who becomes mud so that we touch him… touch literally. The Word who became flesh so that the flesh can become word! He often felt that the flesh, the painful flesh of Henri revealed, revealed the word.

And so he came to L’Arche, he chose L’Arche, he chose to move from being a brilliant professor to entry into the demands of community life. It wasn’t always easy for Henry. It wasn’t always easy for the community, because Henri was always Henri – the beauty, the pain, the excitement, the kindness, and there, you could read that in one of his last books, The Return of the Prodigal Son, how he discovered to be found. The epilogue of that book, to become a father! Not to become a searching adolescent with other adolescents, but to become a father. To discover the fullness of his beautiful priesthood, the priesthood that he cherished, the priesthood that he loved because he loved the Eucharist. So he found in L’Arche a home, he found not only a home, but he found wholeness. Things came together. The psychologist, the professor, the priest – it all came together. Because he was living with wounded healers – people that nobody wanted, people who came from asylums, people that were taken out of institutions, people that had been looked down upon, people that had been rejected and told they were not good – they were his wounded healers. So there was this … between the brokenness of people with disabilities and the brokenness of Henri. Between the wounded heart of people with disabilities and the wounded heart of Henri – the wounded heart of Christ - because we must look for Jesus in broken hearts.

So he found a home. And there discovered and became so much wholer. L’Arche was a gift for Henri, but Henri was an incredible gift for L’Arche – the gift of Jesus to L’ Arche, the priest, a compassionate friend, the compassion that was in his heart. He would go round the world to help someone. He wasn’t a man who was terribly excited about structures. It wasn’t his cup of tea. But people, wounded people, people in pain, people suffering, old people, people dying, people with Aids. There Henri was attracted in a mysterious way – his pain meeting the pain of others, and both contained in the pain of our crucified Christ. And he put a word, he put words on L’Arche, he put words on what we are living. He announced something important, that unity in our world and in our Churches would spring from the poor. Somewhere where Henri began in a fortress Church, he began to discover the Church as the temple; that the waters are flowing, waters are flowing, and people, particularly the poor, the thirsty, come to drink. Henry was a man who put names on things, that brilliant man of the word, and the word became flesh. He loved people, he loved poor people; he loved the world; he loved the Church.

I just want to end by citing one or two little things. The first thing I want to say is that many will weep, many will weep his leaving, because he was a sign of hope, a sign of meaning in a divided world, divided Christians. He was thirsting for unity and he brought the word that can bring meaning, and he brought meaning to many. I rang up … last night Jo Lennon the coordinator of L’Arche. I told her where I was and she sent her love to all. She said, ‘You know I was speaking to someone this afternoon.’ A young student had come to see someone and had just heard that Henri had died. That student had just read one book of Henri. He came and he wept, and he wept and he wept. Because this book of Henri had given him life and brought to him a new meaning for life, had helped him discover who he was. So, many will weep because there was something prophetic in Henri. He accepted pain, he chose pain, and he chose to walk through pain. Because it’s the road for all of us – to choose the cross, to walk through the cross, for we will never discover resurrection unless we walk through the cross. Unless somewhere we are stripped –in many ways Henri was stripped, pain. So many will weep. But you know in his little book, his little brochure after the death of Adam, whom he loved and Adam loved him, this is what Henri writes: “I realize how much we will need each other in the days and weeks to come. How are we going to live on without Adam?” How are we going to live on without Henri? How are we going to be together to feel the biting pain of his absence? Nobody could give answers to these questions. But we must trust together. We will discover new life amongst us. In fact it’s already happening – Henry’s funeral has brought together people who are not comfortable in each other’s company – and reunited people who never thought they would see each other again. Healing and reconciliation were happening in the open space that Henri has left behind – the open space that Henri has left behind. The open space of a prophetic vision where not only Christians and adults who are searching truth, searching love, searching a real spirituality, a spirituality that will flow from the broken hearts of people, not through power, but through the wounded hearts of people. So who will… we must fill that empty space. I just want to end with something beautiful Henri wrote in the little book, Our Greatest Gift: “How can we prepare ourselves for our death in such a way that our dying will be a new way for us to send ours and God’s spirit to those we have loved and those who have loved us.” A new way of dying, preparing ourselves to send God’s spirit and our spirit upon those who have loved us and whom we have loved. The question today for all of us is to be prepared to receive that spirit, the spirit of love, the spirit of God, the spirit of Jesus, that spirit that motivated, inspired and pushed forward Fr. Henri – and I end by saying Fr. Henri.