Who is my neighbor?

Reflection based on “Becoming Human” by Jean Vanier

In his book Becoming Human Jean Vanier says: “Those who are weak have great difficulty finding their place in our society. The image of the ideal human as powerful and capable disenfranchises the old, the sick, and the disabled. For me, society must, by definition, be inclusive of the needs and gifts of all its members; how can we lay claim to making an open and friendly society where human rights are respected and fostered when, by the values we teach and foster, we systematically exclude segments of our population?

“I also believe that those we most often exclude from the normal life of society, people with disabilities, have profound lessons to teach us. When we do include them, they add richly to our lives and add immensely to our world.”

Vanier describes how in the life cycle of our families children grow, develop their gifts, and are encouraged to leave home, go to university, get married, have children, and progress in the corporate world. However, children with disabilities, especially intellectual disabilities, have no such future. They move quickly from childhood to adulthood and reach immediately the peak of their development. There is no place for them. They are left by the roadside, destined to sit and not travel furthur up the road. We see them, do not understand them, fear them, and shun them, or abuse them.

People with intellectual disabilities by necessity live in their hearts. How difficult it is for us to accept that. We fear those people who cannot respond to us on the intellectual level. If we have to respond with our hearts, we have to become vulnerable, and that is weakness. Vanier contends those we have excluded because of their weakness have much to teach us about what it is to be human.

Vanier writes: “Gradually, through L’Arche, I began to see the value of the communion of hearts and of a love that empowers, that helps others to stand up; a love that shows itself in humility and trust. If our society has difficulty in functioning, if we are continually confronted by a world in crisis, full of violence, of fear, of abuse, I suggest it is because we are not clear on what it is to be human. We tend to reduce being human to acquiring knowledge, power, and social status. We have disregarded the heart, seeing it only as a symbol of weakness, the centre of sentimentality and emotion, instead of as a powerhouse of love that can reorient us from our self-centredness, revealing to us and to others the basic beauty of humanity, empowering us to grow.”

If we are to take heed of those with disabilities we must empower them to be everything that they can be for us. Love is not about doing for, it is about empowering others to be all that they can be for us. We must be prepared to learn the lessons the disenfranchised can teach us.

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• Take up a comfortable sitting position. Place your hands in an open position.
• Listen to the passage. Let the words wash over you.
• As you hear the passage the second time, try to imagine the scene as vividly as you can.
• Become Bartimaeus. In the meditation that follows the second reading feel the sense of isolation as you sit alone by the roadside, your pleas for alms ignored by the passers-by. Hear the noise of the gathering crowd, the excited shouts of “Jesus is coming.” Be attentive to the feelings in your heart.
• At the end of the exercise sit in quiet for a few minutes. End the reflection time with " Glory be..."
• You may wish to journal about your experience.

You are sitting at the roadside. Your mouth is parched and full of dust raised by passing carts. “Alms!” you cry out passively. You are ignored. Nobody pays attention. No one cares. It is as if you do not exist. You feel your isolation. How you wish you could see, to be able to be one with the others.

Slowly you sense something is changing. A crowd seems to be gathering. You ask, “What is happening?” No one responds. The noise gets louder and people seem to be around you. You try to get up, but are rudely pushed down. “Jesus is coming!” someone shouts. The healer from Nazareth is coming, you think. You get up you face the direction of the noise. You cry to be heard, “Jesus, Son of David, have mercy on me!”

“Be quiet! You fool!” someone shouts. “What would Jesus want with someone like you? Leave him alone.” You sense the anger and hostility in the voices. You cringe and fall to the ground, but cry out even more loudly, “Son of David, have mercy on me!”

Many in the crowd turn on you, ordering you to be silent. Above these shouts, however, you hear an authoritative but gentle voice say, “Call him here.”

The crowd’s mood changes. Someone says, “Take heart: get up, he is calling you.” Throwing off your tattered cloak, you spring up and come through the parting crowd. Pushed forward to where Jesus is, his gentle voice stops you. “What do you want me to do for you?”

What do I want you to do for me? The gentleness of the voice, the acceptance of this person, Jesus, the invitation to enter into relationship with him creates the trust that allows you to blurt out, “My teacher, let me see again.” You stand in anticipation, trembling with fear. You feel a tender, healing touch, and gentle words wash over you, “Go: your faith has made you well.”

Slowly, darkness changes to light, vague shapes change to clear images. “I can see, I can see,” you shout. An impish grin appears on the face of Jesus as he turns to continue his journey. Dancing and shouting praises in the midst of and part of the throng, you follow Jesus down the road, rejoicing in this new relationship of trust.

• How did you feel when you were alone and ignored?
• Why do others fear to come near you?
• How did you feel when Jesus treated you gently and with total acceptance?
• How did you feel when Jesus invited you into this new trusting relationship?

• What lessons does this story of the man who is blind teach us? 
• Richard Rohr, OFM. says that faith is “the active empowering of the other to be everything he or she can be.”