Rembrandt, The Return of the Prodigal Son
(1669, detail)
Last week’s reflection
ended with words of Henri Nouwen (1932-1996), unquestionably one of the
twentieth century’s greatest spiritual writers. This week we reflect on why it
is that Henri Nouwen’s words speak to us as powerfully as they do. Are there
lessons for us in our own prayer life? He wrote over 40 books: few have read each and every one of his works and no claim to completeness is
made here.
The
chronological listing of his works brings out the main periods of his life; but neither these influences on nor the precise contents of his writings is our
principal concern here. What we are looking for are some of the keys as to why
his writings continue to have such a profound influence on Christian
spirituality sixteen years after his death. There are various descriptions
which may convey something of their tone: vulnerability (Nouwen’s openness to
God and to his reader); compassion (the concern for others as the practical
outreach of spiritual development); the assertion of the capacity for
forgiveness as the test of the Christian life; hospitality as the visible
evidence of our faith; the sense of the Christian journey as one of movement,
especially of homecoming to God; and finally his recognition that prayer in a
busy world is difficult and demands discipline: there can be no Christian
discipleship without discipline (Show me
the Way, 62).
Nouwen
accepts that ‘prayer is not our most natural response to the world. Left to our
own impulses, we will always want to do something else before we pray.’ Yet
prayer ‘is in many ways the criterion of Christian life’, ‘our first concern’;
‘we can do nothing at all, but… God can do everything through us’ (Seeds of Hope, pp. 116-117). At first we
prefer to cling to a sorry past rather than trust in a new future; only when we
dare to let go and surrender some of our many fears can our hands relax and our
palms spread out in a gesture of receiving. Only gradually is there a new found
freedom, a suspicion that to pray is to live (ibid. 118-19). ‘Compassion’,
Nouwen teaches us, ‘lies at the heart of our prayer for our fellow human
beings… but … I realize that compassion is not mine but God’s gift to me. I
cannot embrace the world, but God can. I cannot pray, but God can pray in me’
(ibid. 124).
‘Now I know’,
Nouwen reveals in Show me the Way,
‘that it is not I who pray but the Spirit of God who prays in me. Indeed, when
God’s glory dwells in me, there is nothing too far away, nothing too painful,
nothing too strange or too familiar that it cannot contain and renew by its
touch… He himself prays in me and touches the whole world with his love right here
and now’ (Show me the Way, 76). The
spiritual life is the life of true freedom, where we allow the Holy Spirit,
God’s love, to be our only guide (ibid. 98). ‘It is the Holy Spirit of God who
prays in us, who offers us the gifts of love, forgiveness, kindness, goodness,
gentleness, peace and joy. It is the Holy Spirit who offers us the life that
death cannot destroy’ (Bread for the
Journey, 158).
Listening
to God’s ‘still small voice’ (Show me the
Way, 62; 1 Kings 19:12) is the beginning of the move to an obedient life to God. ‘Without silence the
Word cannot become our inner guide; without meditation it cannot build its home
in our hearts and speak from there’ (Spiritual
Formation, 27). Spiritual formation is ‘the gradual development of the
heart of God in the life of a human being…’ (ibid. 38), but with the important
proviso that Christians are destined for life in community: ‘spiritual
formation always includes formation to life in community’ (ibid. 29). As people
who build up a common life, Christians ‘are sent into this world to be people
of reconciliation’ (ibid. 144).
The
dominating image for Nouwen in later life was Rembrandt’s remarkable depiction of the return of the prodigal son (Luke 15:11-32) in the Hermitage, St
Petersburg, to which
he alludes in several different contexts but chiefly in The Return of the Prodigal Son. A Story of Homecoming and Home Tonight. Reflections on the Parable of
the Prodigal Son. After the destruction of Armero in Colombia following a
volcanic eruption in 1986, he reflected: ‘As I pray and lift the thousands of people
buried in Armero up to God, I see once again Rembrandt’s painting of the old
father welcoming his lost son home. His large red cape has become so wide that
it covers the whole globe. He says again: “You are safe, my children, you are
safe with me. I love you all with a love that never dies. Do not be afraid, but
love one another as I love you”’ (Seeds
of Hope, 218).
‘Here is the God I
want to believe in’, Nouwen writes in The
Return of the Prodigal Son: ‘a Father who, from the beginning of creation,
has stretched out his arms in merciful blessing, never forcing himself on
anyone, but always waiting: never letting his arms drop down in despair, but
always hoping that his children will return so that he can speak words of love
to them and let his tired arms rest on their shoulders. His only desire is to
bless’ (The Return, 95-6). ‘The true
centre of Rembrandt’s painting is the hands of the father. On all them all the
light is concentrated; on them the eyes of the bystanders are focused; in them
mercy becomes flesh; upon them forgiveness, reconciliation and healing come
together, and through them, not only the tired son, but also the worn-out
father find their rest… Those hands are God’s hands. They are also the hands of
my parents, teachers, friends, healers and all those whom God has given me to
remind me of how safely I am held. Not long after Rembrandt painted the father
and his blessing hands, he died’ (ibid. 96).
Reflecting
on the relationship between Jesus and the Father in a workshop held on the
Rembrandt painting, Nouwen concluded: ‘the parable of the prodigal son invites
our reflection on this great, great revelation of amazing good news. The story
embodies the relationship. Look again at the Rembrandt painting of a father
laying hands on his young son. Feel those hands and remember how such loving
tenderness affects us and makes us live. We may know the anguish of not being
touched with love, but these incredible hands lift us from our knees in total
forgiveness while healing our broken hearts’ (Home Tonight, 97).
Note: descriptions of Nouwen’s books are to be found on the website: www.henrinouwen.org/Books/Bibliography/Bibliography.aspx
Rembrandt, The Return of the Prodigal Son (1669, detail)
