One of this book's greatest strengths—regrettably not yet translated into Italian (though an Italian edition appeared in 1986 from Jacabook, Editor's note)—is its insistence on viewing sexuality whole, rather than in fragments, as so much contemporary writing does.
Jean Vanier walks us through the specific challenges facing people with mental disabilities, challenges he knows intimately from two decades as an educator and life in community with them at L'Arche. He takes his time, moving step by step toward the particular difficulties.
The author is clear about this: he offers no universal solutions or final recipes.
The guidance and sensibilities he proposes gain their weight precisely from the foundational thinking and openness developed throughout the book. This is why it matters to read from beginning to end—not to rush ahead to the chapters on people with disabilities, and certainly not to stop there.
Vanier refuses to paint an idyllic picture. He acknowledges real difficulties squarely. Instead, he recommends a healthy realism. But for a Christian, this realism must also include evangelical light and an awareness of divine grace. Only by holding this question in its full human and supernatural dimensions can someone who is truly Christian and fully human offer solutions that actually work. Only then will people with disabilities be able to access, whatever their condition, "an authentic life of love"—as others do. Their happiness depends on it.
Those who share this vision have a duty to dialogue with those who do not benefit from it. But dialogue requires that each person remain fully themselves while trying to understand the other.
Moreover, who among us couldn't honestly endorse more than one of Jean Vanier's warnings and recommendations?
This book, then, should be used as a working tool and as the foundation for reflection—even contemplation—and action.
To our knowledge, it is the first book to address this whole question from this angle and at this depth.
H.B., 1984