Attachment201512lettrejeanvanieren.pdf
Christmas 2015
In mid-December, I was in Bethlehem. It was an immense joy to find that since my last visit there, three years ago, our community has grown - a joy again to meet Kathy, Mahera, Amira, Haythem, Sara, each one. The community is now located in...
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"A Letter from Jean Vanier"
In mid-December, I was in
Bethlehem. It was an immense joy to
find that since my last visit there,
three years ago, our community has
grown - a joy again to meet Kathy, Mahera, Amira,
Haythem, Sara, each one. The community is now
located in a large house close to the Basilica of the
Nativity. A beautiful community, exploding with joy,
even though the situation in the country remains very
difficult. It was obvious how happy everyone was to be
together, Muslims and Christians, in an atmosphere of
mutual support, simplicity of life and productive work.
You have probably seen - at least in photos - the nativity
scenes and other felted wool items made at the
workshop from the wool of Bethlehem sheep. Could
they be the descendants of the sheep in the flocks kept
by the shepherds in Jesus' day?
These shepherds heard the angel say to them, "Do not
be afraid, for behold, I bring you good news of a great
joy which will come to all the people: for to you is born
this day in the City of David, a Saviour, who is Christ the
Lord. And this shall be the sign for you: you will find a
new-born baby wrapped in swaddling clothes and lying
in a manger." And suddenly, the heavenly host began
to praise God saying, "Glory to God in the highest
heaven, and peace on earth." Then the shepherds said
to one another: "Let us go to Bethlehem." And there
they found Mary and Joseph with the new-born baby
lying in the manger.
Christmas
- 2015 -
Today Bethlehem is surrounded by a huge
wall, eight meters high and over 500 km long.
On both sides of this wall live men, women
and children who are afraid. Very close to
Bethlehem is Jerusalem, a city of hope in
spite of war and division. This is the heart of
a torn humanity, a city where people weep
and live in fear, where there are signs of
death but at the same time, signs of hope and
resurrection. Out of Bethlehem, where there
is so much desolation and fear, there springs
forth a song of thanksgiving. And at the heart
of Bethlehem there is our community that
sings about peace, unity and joy. It was a
great joy for me to be at the heart of the
community and also to pray in the grotto of
the vast Basilica of the Nativity, the hidden
place where Jesus was born. Accompanied
by Odile, I spent four days of joy and peace in
our community, happy with all that I have
seen, touched and heard.
This new-born baby is the Prince of Peace
announced by Isaiah (chapter 9). Peace, yes
peace! St Paul says of Jesus: "He is our peace,
who has broken down the barrier between
two peoples and made them one, in his own
flesh, removing the hatred." (Ephesians 2:14). What
great hope this is for the world wounded by
hatred, divisions, violence and fear.
The weakness of different people, born of
different cultures and religions, has become
the place of relationship. Weakness has
found a new meaning through what we
desire to live in our communities of L'Arche
and Faith and Light. It is no longer a reality to
be despised, to be kept at a distance, but a
reality that becomes a link. It is the cry: "I
need you, your respectful and loving
presence." Weakness becomes a gift that
unites the community, as we come to realise
our great need for one another.
L'Arche is small and composed of very fragile
and weak people who have often been
viewed by their parents as a source of shame
and sometimes even as a punishment from
God. And yet in L'Arche they become a sign
of real relationship.
In Arabic, our community is called Ma'an lilHayat,
which means "together for life." The
cultural barriers that keep us apart have been
destroyed, the hearts of everyone united. We
discover in L'Arche that the essence of the
human being is weakness, and at the core of
this weakness is a loving heart. We are all
born into the extreme weakness of a small
child who needs the reassuring and loving
arms of a mother. And the end of our lives
will again be a time of extreme weakness
when we will need the competent and tender
hands of someone who accompanies us. At
the beginning and at the end of our lives
there is suffering, and throughout our lives
we face weaknesses and limitations. We have
a great need for one another. But each of us
also has an ego that grows and tries to prove
our strength, our skills and our need to win,
hiding our limitations and weaknesses. We
can very quickly hate those who seem to be
against us, our enemies.
In the sixth century BC, Buddha said: "A man
may conquer a million men in battle but he who
conquers himself is the best of conquerors."
Yes, it's a struggle to discover our true
humanity and not be overwhelmed by our ego:
to become men and women who, while
certainly needing to grow in competence - not
for our own glory but to become responsible
for our brothers and sisters in the human
family, whatever their religion or culture - must
die to ourselves, to our ego, in order to help
one another and enable each person to
become more human and more loving and so
work together for peace.
In the manger, is Jesus not asking us to let
ourselves be transformed by children and
even to become like children? On the cross, is
he not asking us to get close to the earth's
poor people, to those abandoned and
crucified, in other words the people locked
up in their weakness? Being close to those
who are weak transforms those who accept
to enter into relationship with them.
The two symbols of the religion of Jesus are
the manger and the cross, two moments
when Jesus shows his weakness. The hope
for Christians is a child in a manger! A weak
and tiny child needing to be loved, fed,
changed, and dressed by his mother. And this
same hope also comes from Jesus rejected,
brought low and finally crucified. On the
cross, Jesus cries out his abandonment by the
Father. He shouts his thirst for love.
Weakness is the sign of a cry for love.
In his weakness, Jesus calls us to welcome
our humanity. He promises to give us new
strength, a strength that will allow us to love
all people, even to love our enemies and to
bless those who curse us. He calls us to do
something that seems impossible: to be
artisans of peace in a world of war: not just to
love the people in our tribe, our group, our
religion, but to love those from different
religions and cultures because they are all
human beings, people loved by God. Jesus
comes to change our hearts of stone into
hearts of flesh. He promises to give us His
Holy Spirit, the Paraclete.
It is a call to live tenderness:
no longer trying to
dominate but drawing near
and being present to each
one. A child and a person
who has suffered
humiliation both need
encounters that are loving
and respectful because
each one is a child of God, infinitely precious.
It is all about helping a person, by means of
friendship, to discover her true freedom, and
the profound meaning of her humanity so
that once more she can rise up and stand, and
in her turn, become a sign of peace and love.
Our humanity seems to have lost its way on
the path to life: yet I would like this letter, far
from being a cry of sadness, discouragement
or weakness, to be a small sign of hope in the
face of all the difficulties, insecurities, or fears
that may invade us. Personally, I experienced
the horrible tragedy of 13 November, and the
savagery of these young jihadists, as a call to
not sink into fear, discouragement or even
hatred but to get up and live my faith in Jesus
who is our peace and to become a
peacemaker myself.
Masaichi Wakamoto
A new “lively” quote from Jean on:
www.facebook.com/Association.Jean.Vanier
These are the words of Etty Hillesum, the
young Jewish woman hunted down by the
Gestapo who died in Auschwitz:
"Other people can't do anything to us, they
really can't. They can harass us, they can rob us
of our material goods, of our freedom of
movement, but we ourselves forfeit our
greatest assets by our misguided compliance.
By our feelings of being persecuted, humiliated
and oppressed. By our own hatred… We may
of course be sad and depressed by what has
been done to us; that is only human and
understandable. However, our greatest injury
is one we inflict upon ourselves. I find life
beautiful and I feel free. The sky within me is as
wide as the one stretching above my head. I
believe in God and I believe in man and I say so
without embarrassment. Life is hard, but that
is no bad thing…. True peace will come only
when every individual finds peace within
himself; when we have all vanquished and
transformed our hatred for our fellow human
beings of whatever race - even into love one
day, although perhaps that is asking too much.
It is, however, the only solution".
However, if we are to be true peacemakers,
are we not being led to try to discover what
is most human and most hidden in each
person, beyond their actions?
I would so much love to be a peacemaker
there where I am, through prayer, through
encounters, through listening and kindness
to each person, through my life in my foyer
and in the community. John Paul II used to
say: "There is no peace without justice, and
there is no justice without forgiveness." I am
currently reading a great book about
forgiveness written by Desmond Tutu and his
daughter Mpho Tutu: The Book of Forgiving.
Having led the Truth and
Reconciliation Commission in
South Africa, Desmond Tutu
tells us: "Forgiveness is
nothing less than the way
the world is healed." After
the end of apartheid, this
commission has worked to
heal the hatred between
white people and black people. Forgiveness
is at the heart of any relationship, and at the
heart of community life. Personally, I need
not only to be forgiven but also to forgive.
Our Pope Francis, in opening the door of
mercy, shows us the way of compassion and
forgiveness. Forgiveness does not mean
forgetting; it brings hope for a true
encounter with the other. It allows us to free
ourselves in order to build the future.
Peace is not a utopia - it is really very practical
and I have to work on it. It is not a flower that
I pick but rather bread that must be kneaded.
Etty's words express it well for us: they invite
us to adopt an approach that actively
welcomes the other person and oneself as
we are, without judgment. Certainly each of
us is responsible for our actions and needs to
be accountable for them.---------------------
Association Jean Vanier
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