Etty Hillesum wrote that "the great obstacle is always representation, not reality. We carry reality with all its suffering. We load it on our shoulders. But the representation of suffering—which is not suffering itself, because suffering is fruitful and can make life precious to you—we must break it. By shattering these representations, we free real life within ourselves with all its potential, and we become able to bear suffering in our own lives and in the life of humanity."
In February, here at Trosly, I met with the Board of Administrators and the International Coordinating Team made up of the Vice-Coordinators of Faith and Light. It was beautiful to be with them, to listen to them, and through them to reach every small Faith and Light community in the world—especially those that are isolated and struggling.
I am happy to be at Trosly, to listen to each person who comes to see me. Because everyone is a presence of God, a gift I want to welcome and for which I want to give thanks.
I love to take my meals in my home, "Val Fleuri," and being there with each person is a great joy for me, because each one is so beautiful! Pope Francis—I saw him, yes, I saw him. I spent some time alone with him in his office.
He is so beautiful, so quiet, gentle, and joyful. We looked into each other's eyes with my hand in his. I don't know what we talked about. It doesn't matter. We met. He is so humble that God seems to pass through him. This is what matters—to meet, to be in his presence, and to give thanks for the presence of God.
Now and then I leave my desert at Trosly. I spoke to all the bishops of France gathered at Lourdes. I wanted first to say "thank you" to them, because each of these men carries a heavy burden, borne with such courage and faith. They are a sign of the presence of Jesus. I shared with them everything I have discovered, year after year, during the fifty years I lived in L'Arche and also in Faith and Light—how I was transformed little by little through the experience of living with people with disabilities.
Behind my life, behind everything I have done and have not done, behind all that is hidden in creation and all that is visible, behind all of this, behind the birds, the flowers, the moon and the earth, there is this God who is so humble, so beautiful, and so hidden that some people think he does not exist. They cannot feel his presence in life, in the evolution of life and of humanity, in the weak and in weakness. It is by pausing in silence that we can grasp his presence, because God speaks in silence. His word is so beautiful, so luminous—we must be silent to hear it.
We are in Easter time, a passage, a moment of transformation: from suffering and loss springs forth new life, the Resurrection, a rebirth, our hope. Thank you, Jesus, for teaching me to love each person regardless of their religion, their faith, and their vision of life.
In my small desert here at Trosly, I carry in my heart all our communities of L'Arche and Faith and Light scattered throughout the world. I feel in communion with each one because L'Arche is turning fifty. This great ship sailing on the waters, so well guided by the breath of the Spirit, by Patrick and Eileen and all those who work in this great boat—which glimpses a distant horizon of peace where every human being, the strong and the weak, are united hand in hand and celebrate life.
Sometimes I feel tired. My legs, my head feel heavy, and I struggle to find words. But I am happy, and I dwell in silence, in the depths, where we are in communion with one another. I feel so poor in the face of the war in Syria and the death of Father Frans, who inspired L'Arche in Damascus and was murdered recently in Homs. There is a dangerous crisis in Ukraine, there are walls around Israel, walls around Palestine, walls around our hearts.
God thirsts for unity. He deeply desires to gather all his scattered children together. He wants to tear down the walls that separate human beings so that life can be reborn. God weeps over division. He wants us to celebrate unity and to work for unity in humility and poverty. This God is so hidden behind all the noise and stress of our societies. He is there, waiting—waiting for an encounter, waiting for me, waiting for each of us. Let us pray together for our world, which cries out its pain.