The Paolo VI Institute in Brescia, founded after the death of Pope Paul VI, exists to advance and deepen the thought of this Pope "in constant dialogue with the history of the Church and of our century."
One of the Institute's major initiatives is the "International Paolo VI Prize," awarded to individuals or institutions that have made significant contributions to religious culture through their scholarship and work.
On June 19, 1997, the Institute conferred the International Paolo VI Prize on Jean Vanier, founder of L'Arche communities and initiator of the Faith and Light movement.
"In the centennial year of Pope Paul VI's birth," the prize citation read, "and marking the thirtieth anniversary of the encyclical Populorum Progressio, we honor a great and active interpreter of what Paul VI calls the 'civilization of love'—a vision rooted in the dignity of the whole human person and all humanity."
Jean Vanier's Address
Many men and women whom we have welcomed into our 105 communities, spread across 30 countries, lived in depression and violence before they came to L'Arche. They carried a negative image of themselves, and sometimes wounded their own bodies or wished for death. Rejected by society, they had rejected themselves. They lived in complete absence of self-trust, unaware of their personal dignity, their human worth, and the meaning of their lives.
Once accepted, when they discover they are respected and loved, many
"In a society that marginalizes the weak and threatens their lives in the name of so-called freedom, the pedagogy of sharing life with people who have mental disabilities—lived out by Jean Vanier and the assistants of L'Arche communities—stands as both an ideal affirmation and a concrete recognition of the unique and irreplaceable value of every human person."
"Jean Vanier, as founder of L'Arche communities and as initiator and inspiration of the Faith and Light movement, has made a remarkable contribution to the affirmation of a culture of solidarity."
Today there are more than one hundred L'Arche communities in thirty countries, where men and women share their lives with friends who have mental disabilities, and more than 1,250 Faith and Light communities in seventy countries where people with mental disabilities, their families, and friends gather regularly to share experiences, celebrate together, and pray. In modern society, these communities are a sign and stirring example of the "civilization of love."
undergo a true transformation. Slowly they move from chaos to life. They teach us that "to love" is not first of all to do something for someone, but to help them discover their worth: to show them they are beautiful, that they matter, that their life is precious. This revelation happens through the eyes, the hands, the tone of voice, through all the daily gestures of the body. It happens through a quality of listening, of presence, of patient and faithful care. This benevolent attention gradually becomes communion of hearts—for even the person with severe disability responds to love with love. Communion is different from generosity. In communion there is a reciprocity of relationship, a giving and receiving of love; each one gives and each one receives. Each one listens to the other and becomes vulnerable before him. Communion is neither fusion nor control nor power nor possession. It is a relationship of mutual trust, built not only on shared values but on shared weakness and limits. It transforms the wounded and diminishing image of a person into a positive one, helping them discover their worth, their dignity, and giving them hope and reason to live.
(...)
Communion is the place of healing for hearts closed by the despair of mental illness, alcoholism, old age—for all men and women who feel weighed down by some form of material or human poverty. Communion lies at the heart of life for people with mental disabilities, who may never reach full development of intellect or independence, yet who can achieve true maturity of heart.
A Communion That Transforms Us
This call to communion transforms the lives of those who enter into relationship with these people—the L'Arche assistants, even the parents. Many young people today have overdeveloped their knowledge and skills, driven by aggressive competition and the hunger for power, even spiritual power. They believe that to be and to live means to win at any cost, to be better, to dominate others, to chase success. These young people, often without realizing it, have neglected the development of their hearts. Perhaps they are afraid. They remain immature in affection and sexuality. They struggle to find their inner unity. When they become friends with people who have disabilities, they discover their hearts—not as places of fleeting sensation and emotion, but as hearts filled with light and intelligence, capable of bringing others into freedom and life. In this way, unity emerges between their minds and their hearts. It is a long journey of maturation and transformation.
Yet this transformation is painful. People with disabilities are not always calm or easy. They are often filled with anger, depression, violence, and rejection of life because of the frustrations of their disabilities and the rejections they have suffered. They reveal all their poverty and their incapacity to love to those who try to enter into relationship with them. Living with them means touching a world of darkness, fear, anguish, and violence hidden within ourselves.
Until that moment, this darkness was hidden or covered behind psychological walls that channeled it into prejudice, the drive for power, the need to dominate or control. Certainly these walls are necessary at some point in life to protect us. But slowly they must begin to dissolve to allow us to enter into communion—into vulnerability, trust, and humility—with another, especially with someone different, poorer than ourselves. Only then can we discover in them all that is beautiful and true in the image of God.
Yet when, by an inner force of love, these walls fall, anguish and even violence may rise to consciousness. Those who dare to experience this communion lose a certain identity built on power, and some certainties about themselves. They need good human, spiritual, and sometimes psychological companionship to recognize and integrate both their capacity for tenderness and the chaotic forces of fear hidden within. They need help to grow in a life of communion and truth, integrating human laws. Then many make the passage from faith and trust in another human being—the person with mental disability—to faith and trust in Love itself, in God and in Jesus. They discover the wounded, loving heart of Jesus, meek and humble, the Sacred Heart, and communion with his Eucharistic Body.
This simple and humble communion with the weak becomes not only a place of human maturation but a place of communion with Jesus and, in him and through him, with the Father. Is not God hidden in this communion? "Where charity and love are, God is there." "Beloved, let us love one another, because love is from God; everyone who loves is born of God and knows God" (1 John 4:7). This communion gradually draws us into the very life of the Triune God, who is communion and gift of love, and into the mystery proclaimed by Jesus: "Whoever welcomes this child in my name welcomes me; and whoever welcomes me welcomes the one who sent me" (Luke 9:48).
Community: A Place of Communion
A life of communion demands a warm, affectionate, and competent community. While community can be an extraordinary place of belonging where we are no longer alone, it is also a demanding place of purification. Communal life, with all its relational difficulties, strips us bare. To be stripped and pruned is necessary to free ourselves from false selves and reach inner unity and human maturity. L'Arche communities are founded on suffering and the cross, yet they are also communities of resurrection. And precisely because they are communities of resurrection can this purification take place. People with disabilities, assistants, and parents are called each day to live the paschal mystery. The community provides necessary support, renews motivation, and gives meaning to suffering through communal and scriptural witness. It calls each one to walk humbly in prayer and in the Holy Spirit. It nourishes hearts with the Eucharist.
The primary mission of L'Arche is this communal life with people who have mental disabilities, rooted in neighborhoods and cities and in the local Church. Our common life is meant to be a sign for the Church and the world—a sign that reveals the beauty of the weak and the love of Jesus, who calls all of us, strong and weak alike, to love one another and to open ourselves to those who are different or suffering.
The daily life of these communities is simple. Each day is like the one before. There is waking, sleeping, meals, work, times of prayer and celebration. Yet each day is full of surprises. L'Arche communities seek to be deeply human, evangelical, and contemplative, living each day in the presence of Jesus hidden in the heart of the community and in each person's heart. We are called to live the blessing Jesus announced, washing one another's feet with gestures of communion and service, eating together at the table of the poor: "When you give a luncheon or a dinner, do not invite your friends or your brothers or your relatives or rich neighbors; instead, when you give a banquet, invite the poor, the crippled, the lame, and the blind. And you will be blessed" (Luke 14:12-13)
What a Moving Day
With great excitement, one June day I received word from Lucia Casella that I had been invited to the Vatican audience with the Holy Father on the occasion of the International Paolo VI Prize, awarded to Jean Vanier for his significant contribution to religious culture.
That Thursday, June 19, was deeply moving because I could see Jean Vanier, the Pope, and the young people from L'Arche up close. During the audience it felt like a dream—his simple and joyful presence among us. My mind drifted back through the years to when, as a child, I saw him for the first time in Rome at an international Faith and Light gathering.
Even at such a beautiful and important moment for him, he wanted our presence there to demonstrate the love and respect he carries for the weak with whom he shares his life.
Finally, a special thanks to all the friends of Faith and Light in Rome whom I met at summer gatherings. They have not only welcomed me when I wished to come to Rome, but have also helped me during my stays—with their generosity, I have come to know the beauty of the city and so many new friends.
- Gianni (S. Lorenzo Community - Abano T.), 1997