Henri catching
the wing of a windmill.
I invite you to Be Still! Be Loved! Be Grateful!, a Spiritual Formation course
that I will be leading at Columbia Seminary in Decatur, GA, on Henri Nouwen’s
life, ministry, and writings Sept. 22-24, 2016 following the 2oth anniversary
of his death Sept. 21, 1996. A technical glitch tried to put some registrants
on a waiting list, but there are still openings.
Attending an
international Nouwen conference in Toronto this past June and doing further
reading in preparation for the course, I’ve been thinking about the research
Henri did for a book he never wrote about the Flying Rodleighs, trapeze artists
in a German circus. He wanted it to say something about the spiritual life in
more universal (rather than religious) language. So, last week, this children’s
story came out of me!
Once
upon a time there was a wide-eyed boy named Henri. He lived in Holland during a
great war. His hands were large, his ears were large, he was clumsy and
awkward, and he felt like a clown.
And
so he went to clown seminary. He devoted himself to learning all the gestures a
clown must use, flapping his oversize hands like birds, extending them at arms’
length in welcome, clapping them rapidly together as if offering multiple
expressions of gratitude for everything and everyone he encountered.
He
stuck his neck out, squinted his eyes as if to see better, turned a big ear to
hear clearly, bowed grandly but deferentially, and stood on tippy-toes to
accentuate his already great height when making a point. And he had a huge,
goofy grin that revealed his absolute delight at encountering you.
Henri
found a costume that accentuated his vocation, and learned how to apply garish
makeup that sometimes covered his true feelings.
So
Henri joined the circus, following the poet e.e. cummings’ famous advice: “damn
everything but the circus.” He travelled hither and yon, over hill and over
dale, as the circus wagons kept rolling along.
He
stumbled and fumbled and tumbled and somersaulted his way into people’s hearts.
“He is just like us,” they said, sometimes smiling in recognition, sometimes
deeply moved as his familiar foibles and limitations tugged at their heart
strings. His disabilities mirrored our disabilities.
But
Henri had a secret wish: to fly through the air with the greatest of ease.
Sometimes his height allowed him to catch an arm of a windmill, common in
Holland’s countryside, and the uplift took his breath away. He could see great
distances and imagine himself flung to the heavens before crashing to earth in
a pile of hay, cushioning his fall.
And
then Henri met Rodney, a trapeze artist. Rodney was strong and graceful, beautiful
and amazing. He was everything Henri wished to be, and HE COULD FLY! Boy, could
he fly, doing doubles and triples midair without a care in the world.
“How
do you do that?” Henri asked Rodney, appreciatively. “Being absolutely present
in the moment,” Rodney explained. “I let go of everything that can hold me
down: my cares, my doubts, my fears, even yesterday’s mistakes. And I trust. I
trust the Catcher, and I trust the net. Gravity is not my enemy; it is the
friend that brings me home. I can go up toward the skies knowing I will come
home. I surrender to the moment and soar, knowing gravity will keep me down to
earth.”
Then
Rodney added, “It’s the same thing you do when you stumble and fumble and
tumble and somersault into people’s hearts—except you do it grounded. Your
gravity is compassion. Your home is the heart.”
Henri
was stunned. He had never thought of his work in this way. Rodney’s words
lifted him up, and Henri felt like this man on the flying trapeze.
My book about Henri:
Click here for my posts
that mention Henri, and scroll down.
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Copyright © 2016 by Chris R. Glaser.
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Thank you, Chris (and Henri) for this story. I believe i will think of it often. It is good for me.
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