reflections in community

xavier was driving along the motorway out of paris, on his way to begin a new job in le harvre.  we had spent the weekend together; it had been a sleep-deprived melange of cold streets, warm cafés, a friend's birthday party, a visit to a cinema, a loud sound drum and bass nightclub till four in the morning then driving around looking for a place to sleep by the canal.   it felt good to be leaving paris, to return to the open fields and the trees, to look at the luminous blue sky and see the white fluffy clouds spreading out in all directions.  after days of grey and brrrr button-your-coat-up cold a memory of summer suddenly came.  a feeling of summer.  a luminous blue sky and all the possibilities that offered.   you could walk for twenty miles and it would still be warm.


when we arrived at the community, Xavier sat in the living room and watched the coming and going of Laurent.  it was suddenly interesting for me to see this house through the eyes of somebody who was seeing it for the first time.  Laurent was entering and leaving the room, his eyes open wide, sharply intaking his breath, giving low suspicious growls, continually internally voyaging.    there was Gégé, lying on the sofa - having a very sleepy day - listlessly dangling a cuddly toy.  Xavier looked at them with eyes that were troubled.  what is the point? was the question he tried to form, what are they living for?   it is a question that has entered my mind on occasion.  it is true that with our handicapped guests there is not a mutual listening-to-one-another which might be considered a necessary part of a good relationship.  Laurent is dependant on me helping him with the daily tasks in this house.   he is full of curiosity and wonder.  i often find his presence a joy.   i tried to say to Xavier that we do have a relationship, even if it is not that of two equally free agents.  sometimes Laurent looks me in the eyes and there is something about the innocence and sincerity of his being which touches me.


i found myself irritated with Gégé the other day.   it was because Gégé was not moving and i had to finish the bath quickly to attend the morning meeting.  why don't you help me a little bit Gégé?  i know that you can help me if you want to.  it is a simple case of lifting your foot up so i can put your trousers on.  it is really very simple.  please help me a little bit Gégé...
other times Gégé fixes me with his eyes and there is a slow inscrutable smile curling round his lips.  Gégé belongs to another place another rhythm of life how can we expect him to fit into our societal rhythms so graciously?


xavier thinks - he is turning the question over in his mind - and says "but then what is the purpose of any of our lives? a quoi sert la vie de chaqu'un de nous?"
all i have to do is to make the comparison between a person and a stone to realise that a person is a very special thing indeed. 




each person is a sacred story says Jean Vanier but it is not always easy to live in community.  a community is an ideal.  each person comes to the community desiring the ideal and then comes face to face with a real concrete person and,
how does it happen?
how does one get on well with one person? but not have much in common with another?
it requires continuous calm-minded resolve and good intentions but life is a spontaneous thing.
people are crazy centres of spinning energy.  people are curious things.   is each person a sacred story?

i would advise myself often to not even embark on that question on that level of reflection because the reality is probably a lot deeper that any of us could ever suspect and in the end what is most important will per force have taken place and we may realise that we were in fact barking up the wrong tree.


all Gégé wants to do is move slowly.  when i cajoole him to put on his socks he gives me an underimpressed questioning look and i think:  he is right, why does he need to wear socks?


when Sabine tries to eat with her hands, somebody sometimes says "use your cutlery sabine; we are in france, not in india!"


we are in france, not india.


when Laurence is filled with disquiet, when he cannot stay still and must look at everyone and every direction with wide eyes, i think: he feels our existential anguish more keenly than those who remain untouched, those who say: everything will be okay.

when somebody has given themselves clear-cut conclusions, this is the way things are done, full stop.

(no questions asked)

that is when living with them becomes....

it is so important to be connected to people.  to have a deep rich flowing exchange of energy with someone that you like.  if it wasn't for marie and mattias, who have been placed in another house, who i first met at taize.  the three of us decided to come here.  soon all that happens is our eyes cross in a room full of busy people, and the connection is there, solid and happy and speaking without words.  it could be just looks, or it could be sitting round a candle drinking tea till late, pondering the question: how long does the present moment last? drifting slowly to sleep with one person plucking some sleepy guitar strings, happy just to be, together, or standing on top of the thick frozen pond, spending night hours sliding and singing and giving big animal hurls to the full moon, discovering that the ice makes a funny high-pitched curvy sound when tapped, only perceptible to a person standing at the opposite side of the pond; then afterwards walking through the deeply cold frosty nightwoods, looking for the abandoned chapel, a night after which mattias said, simply, it was nice to be crazy with you.

i said:  i find it difficult to write fiction.  i find it much more meaningful and ultimately more interesting to recount real stories.  when i said that marie said: but when somebody writes about themself, do they not always present themself in a good light?  

marie could be right.   in any case wanting to be good is the important first step of being good, for if one did not want to present oneself in a good light how could one become a light?

be a light? become light-footed and alight at the next station.




after somebody has recounted some event from real life, Marie often follows it with a fictional tale, giving more or less the same message, or presenting more or less the same moral dilemma but in story form. i realise the power of stories.  they are powerful.  they are unattached to the personal real feelings of real life situations. 
jesus knew how powerful stories were.


Marie says that during mass she is often too distracted by puzzling out the meaning of the words the symbols the images the story, too puzzled there to be with God.    when encountering people or there when walking through the woods, being with God is easier.


i met up with Pere Stephane here to talk about how i could participate in the community mass.  somebody had seen me taking communion and told me: actually, that is only for Catholics.  i told Pere Stephane that i wanted to share in the community's faith expression, and i knew that Jesus had said: do this in remembrance of me.  Pere Stephane thought for a while and said, unhurridly: it is a pity that the Church separated.  c'est domage que l'eglise s'est séparé.  when he said that he meant: the communion is only for Catholics.  in place of receiving the communion i receive a blessing.  the father draws a cross on my forehead and says: i bless you in the name of the Son. 
the community mass has a great air of welcome and acceptance.  there are wheelchairs, low grunts and inadvertant mumbles.  sometimes when Laurant makes distracting noises, i have to leave with him midmass to take a little walk.  at one point the father wishes that the Peace of Christ be with us, and then everyone exchanges the same wish among those round about, saying "la paix du Christ" while looking each other in the eyes and shaking hands and smiling warmly.   sometimes there are those who walk around the whole hall, making sure they have shaken hands with and wished the peace of christ upon everybody. 



c'est un beau moment.