The Mystery Of Communion

Editor’s update: In February 2020, L'Arche International released a report detailing an investigation that found Jean Vanier "engaged in manipulative sexual relationships with at least 6 adult (not disabled) women," and was aware of sexual abuses against women committed by his mentor, Fr. Thomas Philippe. For additional reporting and commentary on this news, visit sojo.net/jean-vanier.

I live with 10 men and women who are very poor. None of them can talk; only six can walk. All of them have a very limited level of understanding. But each one has a heart. Each one has a real need for tenderness, love, and a stable relationship with another person. These men and women are weak and fragile. Most of them have passed through many different hands in their lives. They are almost constantly on the borderline of deep insecurity and anguish. It is difficult for me when I sense their anguish and know my incapacity to respond to it. Children who are loved and cared for by their mothers and fathers know deep security. They sense that in their fragility they are loved. They are not afraid. But children who have never known these privileged, stable relationships stemming from love that is freely given—who have only known aggressiveness and abandonment—these children live in depression: "I am worth nothing!" "I am only a source of anguish and anger for others!" "I am no good!" They blame themselves.

As they slip into a state of anguish, they are obliged to create defense mechanisms, such as psychoses or other mental illnesses. But there are other ways of defending oneself: anger, peculiar behavior, self-destructive gestures, refusal to eat. Behind all these defenses there is, and always will be, a heart that is vulnerable and yearning for relationship, love, and presence. But this heart is a very frightened one. It does not know whether it is lovable or not, whether it is capable of loving.

In our l'Arche homes, the aspect of service is quite evident. There is the cooking to be done, the evening activities to organize, someone to be helped. These are the thousand and one little things that have to be done each day. And service means action; one does something. A relationship of communion, however, comes into being through silence.

When there is a deep communion between two people, perhaps one does nothing. It is more an attitude: two people are open to each other. There is a real meeting of their hearts, which look at and listen to each other. They know each other by name. There are links which unite them. Intimacy grows between them. In order for a relationship of communion to remain on a level of true and faithful friendship rather than fantasy or possessiveness, one needs the strength and love of Jesus. The communion that comes with a poor person, a weak person, where there are no natural ties or attraction, is a gift from God. This relationship of communion is not an active reality like service. It implies a certain passivity: being open to another, taking him or her into your heart.

Service is a question of willing. We can serve others whenever we want. We just have to put our minds to it. But a relationship of communion is a gift, a gift from God. We cannot simply put two people together and expect to have communion. We cannot simply decide when and with whom we want to have a relationship of communion. We must open our hearts to the other at the same moment and manifest trust in some way. We must let down the defenses which protect our vulnerability.

When such relationships deepen and take root over a period of time, through difficult moments, this communion becomes a space in which the wounded find security, rest, and new life. It may take many years for trust to develop. But little by little we begin to see small gestures which show confidence; smiles appear more often, and spurts of anger, which are the fruit of anguish, dimmish.

It also takes time for the assistant. Often he or she has come to l'Arche to do things for others, to be good and generous. But we are so afraid of letting ourselves be stripped, of opening our hearts, of making a commitment. It may be easy to welcome someone for a few months; but for the rest of our lives, that's another thing entirely! It may be easy to come to l'Arche for one or two years. But those who are wounded ask for more: "Come and follow me. I need you." They ask for our life!

The assistants discover the mystery that is hidden in this heart-to-heart meeting with the weak and the poor: Each one needs the other. In this relationship of communion, Jesus reveals himself and gives himself. It is there that he nourishes the heart of each one. Wounded people cannot know that they are loved by God if they have not experienced and lived the love of Jesus which dwells in a human heart. And likewise, the wounded one becomes the face, body, and heart of Jesus for the assistant. The assistant and the wounded person discover the covenant that has been created between them by Jesus and in Jesus, for the glory of God. Their hearts can burst with joy in giving thanks.

Welcoming the poor into community is a great mystery which Jesus invites us to penetrate in order to discover the sacrament of the poor. We can only live this great sacrament fully if we prepare for it and prolong it in the heart-to-heart meeting with Jesus which is prayer.

We are all wounded in one way or another: wounded by abandonment, fear, pride, all kinds of psychological pain, and by the seduction of the world. The barriers which protect our vulnerability never disappear completely. In each one of us there exist these roots of selfishness. Our hearts are never totally filled with the love of Jesus. Because of all these barriers, moments of communion are rare.

Our road is paved with service, crosses, and obedience in faith. But there are oases, moments of grace, when we rediscover this mystery of communion which is so obviously a pure gift of God, which plunges us into the heart of the gospel, into the heart of the beatitudes, as well as into the heart of Jesus.

Excerpted from Tychique (Lyon, France; May, 1981).

This appears in the January 1982 issue of Sojourners