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 Finding Vocation in Downward MobilityHenri Nouwen recalls his move from the elite to the vulnerable.
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From the beginning of my life, two voices have been speaking to me: one saying, Henri, be sure you make it on your own. Be sure you become an independent person. Be sure I can be proud of you, and another voice saying, Henri, whatever you are going to do, even if you don't do anything very interesting in the eyes of the world, be sure you stay close to the heart of Jesus; be sure you stay close to the love of God. I'm sure we all hear these voices to some degree—one that says, Make something of your life; find a good career, and one that says, Be sure you never lose touch with your vocation. There's a struggle, a tension, there. At first, I tried to resolve this by becoming a sort of hyphenated priest—a priest-psychologist. People would say, "We don't really like having priests around," and I could reply, "Oh well, I'm a psychologist. I'm clearly in touch with things, so don't laugh at me." I tried hard to keep those two voices together—the voice calling me upward and the voice calling me downward. Early in life I pleased my father and mother immensely by studying, then teaching, and then becoming somewhat well known, going to Notre Dame, Yale, and Harvard. I pleased a lot of people doing so and also pleased myself. But somewhere on the way up, I wondered if I was still in touch with my vocation. I began noticing this when I found myself speaking to thousands of people about humility and at the same time wondering what they were thinking of me. I didn't feel peaceful. Actually, I felt lonely. I didn't know where I belonged. I was pretty good on the platform but not always that good in my own heart. I began to wonder if, perhaps, my career hadn't gotten in the way of my vocation. So, I began to pray: "Lord Jesus, let me know where you want me to go, and I will follow you. But please be clear about it. No ambiguous messages!" I prayed this over and over. At that time, I was living at Yale. One morning at 9:00, someone pushed the bell of my little apartment. I opened the door and found a young woman standing there. "Are you Henri Nouwen?" "Yes, I am." "I've come to bring you the greetings of Jean Vanier," she continued. Jean Vanier was all but unknown to me at the time. I'd heard he was the founder of the L'Arche Communities (L'Arche means Noah's Ark) and that he worked with mentally handicapped people, but that was all I knew. I said, "Oh, that's nice. Thank you. What can I do for you?" "No, no, no," she answered. "I've come to bring you the greetings of Jean Vanier." Again I said, "Thank you, that's nice. Do you want me to talk somewhere or write something or give a lecture?" "No, no," she insisted. "I just wanted you to know that Jean Vanier sends his greetings." When she had gone, I sat in my chair and thought, This is something special. Somehow God is answering my prayer, bringing a message and calling me to something new. I wasn't asked to take a new job or do another project. I wasn't asked to be useful to anybody. I simply was invited to come to know another human being who had heard of me. |        
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