Annick's idea: why doesn't Ombre e Luci invite readers to send letters to Jean Vanier from parents, friends, priests, and others to thank him and bear witness to their gratitude for all they have received? With this letter, Annick begins what we hope will become a rich and varied collection.
Rome, May 23, 2010, Pentecost.
Dear Jean,
I have wanted to write you a letter for some time. You don't know me, though we have met a few times. But I know your story. I have listened to you speak at several gatherings, and once I kissed your cheeks—so forgive me if I address you informally. In 1993 I heard about you for the first time. I took part in a retreat with some handicapped young people and some friends of Faith and Light. I was eighteen.
With this letter, I want to thank you for your testimony and to share with you how Faith and Light has transformed my life and continues to guide me toward living better today. I have so many memories. The episodes I have lived through have given me much; they have made me reflect, and they have worked deep within me. I want to tell you about one thing in particular. I care about this because I hope and believe you will be glad to know, at this point in your life, what fruit your work and your commitment have borne—even though in the end all will be revealed to you.
I had always been part of parish groups. Before joining Faith and Light, I belonged to a post-confirmation group.
One day my catechist said the time had come to put the Word into practice, so the group dissolved. A friend who was already in Faith and Light invited me to join, and I decided to enter the group. My intention was to "do good for people more unfortunate than myself." I had a particular affection for people who were "more difficult." But soon I realized how exhausting and demanding it was, and if I'm honest, sometimes annoying to help disabled young people eat, change clothes, wipe their mouths, walk—it had quickly become a sacrifice, despite the singing and celebration. I could not look at disabled people as persons I could truly relate to, from whom I might receive something. What I got from this "activity" was the satisfaction of having done "a good deed." But something didn't ring true.
Then one day we were away for a weekend in winter. It was cold. I was with Silvia, a girl with spastic tetraplegia in a wheelchair. I had just finished dressing her, not without effort. She was still lying on the bed when she said, "I'm cold. I'd like tights under my pants too." I answered, "But I've dressed you already, everyone else is ready for breakfast. I'll put them on later. Come on now." Silvia said sadly, "But I'm cold." "Come on, let's go," I said, already putting her in her wheelchair. Later, during breakfast, I saw another girl from the group take Silvia outside. Curious, I followed after a moment and found them in the bathroom. That girl was putting socks on Silvia's feet. I was hurt in my pride and burst out, "I told you I would do that for her afterward!" And she simply answered, "But I'm cold now." In that instant I understood. I understood that Silvia was asking me to enter into a real relationship with her, to listen to her truly. From that moment on, I realized that every person needs an authentic relationship of welcome, of mutual listening, of sharing. The way I participated in Faith and Light began to change, slowly but surely.
But something changed in my everyday life too, with everyone else, and it continues to change a little bit every day. Yes, selfishness is always lurking, but I try to keep it in check because I know it can make me lose sight of what matters most in how I act.
I have read some of your books: Each Man a Mystery, Community and Growth, The Fountain of Tears, and others. Slowly, through many moments, I have experienced what it means to recognize the mystery and sacredness of every person. No matter how disabled someone is, I have managed, in privileged moments, to see the transfigured and luminous face of Jesus in them. It was as if the disabled person had eyes in a dimension where they could see Jesus face to face and reflected his beauty and the joy of feeling loved by him. I feel and believe that Jesus speaks to the hearts of disabled young people in a very special way.
I have also learned from my disabled friends and their parents to scale back my ambitions, my desires for recognition from others, my professional and personal aspirations—the things that fed my anxieties and caused me suffering. I discovered from some of them that very little is needed to live in joy. In living alongside them through the everyday events of both our lives, I felt so much joy knowing I was loved simply for my willingness to be "present." And I saw in their eyes the joy of having me near. It was beautiful, in a way, to share their suffering too, their worries and choices. This changed me. I want to say that clearly. It changed how I am at work, how I relate to people outside Faith and Light, how I am with my husband, with my parents. For instance, right now I cannot have children, but this is no longer such a grave problem for me.
Karl König said, "It is possible that people with mental disabilities carry the seed of healing in today's social life." I think each person has a place in the world and a mission within the family and society into which they are born and live. We are all part of this mission. I believe that. I believe we are part of this one body that Jesus calls us to form. But this is only possible through Jesus, who little by little, through his Spirit, heals us and teaches us what matters most. He speaks to us through people like our disabled brothers and sisters, and through people like you, Jean, who have witnessed to these things through your lives. To learn to love one another, to give ourselves to each other with simplicity and patience day by day, as Jesus said, knowing that he loves us and that we will be able to live in his love forever—that is what matters most to me.
I apologize if these words seem rambling, but today is the feast of Pentecost and I feel such great joy inside and so much gratitude. I thank you, Jean, for having shared with us these "secrets" that Jesus revealed to you so clearly. I thank you for your words, for your life. I want to say to you: "Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord!" May you truly be blessed.
Annick, 2010