Adam, God's Beloved, by Henri J. M. Nouwen

Henri Nouwen, theologian, professor, and priest, is know for his deeply reflective writing.  He manages to inspire while relating to the intense struggles of loneliness and depression.  In his last book, Adam, God's Beloved, these themes come through, but the sense of celebration of life comes through even stronger.

When Nouwen moved to L'Arche, a community of people with intellectual disabilities, he was assigned to assist Adam Arnett.  For two hours each morning, he would help Adam dress, take care of his personal needs, help him to breakfast, and help him get to his day program.  He writes about his time with Adam, who became Nouwen's friend, teacher, and guide.

Adam "offered those he met a presence and a safe space to recognize and accept their own, often invisible disabilities.  He radiated peace from his center. . . . He was simply present, offering himself in peace and completely self-emptied. . . . Adam was a true teacher and a true healer."  He goes on to compare Adam to Jesus in his ministry and vulnerability.

To a certain degree, I understand and appreciate Nouwen's perspective.  I love the fact that he's calling all of us to look to disabled individuals for what they can offer us, and to take time to include even those with profound disabilities in our lives.  You can never emphasize enough that everyone, no matter the extent or nature of their disabilities, is made in the image of God and has a purpose to fulfill.  I have a disabled child who is nonverbal, yet can communicate more with a gesture or body language than many people can with a paragraph.  I also spent several years visiting regularly with a friend who lives with cerebral palsy and could not speak and had very little means of communication, but with whom I formed a bond.

The problem I had with Adam, God's Beloved, is that Nouwen said so little about why he felt this sense of ministry from Adam.  Adam is nonverbal and, in Nouwen's telling, could do very little in the way of response.  In fact, Nouwen's descriptions almost made me thing Adam was in a catatonic state.  "Adam often looked at me and followed him with his eyes, but he did not speak or respond to anything I asked him.  He seemed unaware of all that was happening around him and through him. . . . He seemed to be without concepts, plans, intentions, or aspirations."  Adam's "communication" with Nouwen seemed to consist of totally passive silence.

So was Nouwen looking to Adam as a teacher, counselor, mentor simply a result of Nouwen's  being forced to slow down and be quiet?  As I was reading, I was reminded a bit of Peter Sellers's character in Being There, who either remained silent or offered tidbits of gardening tips, while people around him thought he was a brilliant fount of wisdom.  On another level, I was reminded of people who say their pets are great listeners and provide a sense of calmness and unconditional love.  (Forgive me if that sounds crude, but that's just how I felt.)

I am all in with Nouwen on the dignity of the disabled, and allowing ourselves to learn from and be blessed by them, no matter what their disability is.  But to me, Adam, My Beloved simply didn't make that case.