Henri J. M. Nouwen - Letters to Marc About Jesus: Living a Spiritual Life in a Material World

Living a Spiritual Life in a Material World

Some years ago Herman Pijfers, a publisher friend of mine, asked me: Why dont you, for once, write a book in Dutch? My answer at the time was, Ive been living in the United States for so long and been in my own country so seldom that I feel no longer in a position to sense the spiritual climate in the Netherlands fairly or to say anything about it. To this Herman replied, Even so, write some letters, based on your personal situation, to a Dutch person to whom you really would like to convey something about the life of the spirit. It was that simple, but fascinating proposition that touched off these letters to Marc.

Marc van Campen is my sisters son, now nineteen years of age. When I asked him whether he might feel inclined to share the task of writing a book of letters about the spiritual life, he turned out to be keen on it and promised his full cooperation. After that, it was some while before I could find the time and the quiet to begin writing; but in 1986, when I did at last get down to it, writing letters to Marc became such a source of inspiration for me that it proved easy to keep going.

So these are not letters which turned out, in retrospect, to be worth publishing. They were written with publication in mind. I make a point of this because it explains their style and tone. From the beginning, and despite the fact that these letters were indeed written for Marc, I had in mind a readership far wider than those of his age and upbringing. That may be why the epistolary aspect has here and there gone by the board. Still, it would not have been possible to write these texts at all had Marc not been open to receiving them as an interested and critical party. From beginning to end he was the center of my concern.

In the course of writing I became aware that I was engaged not only in telling Marc what I thought about Jesus and the meaning of our existence, but also in rediscovering Jesus and the meaning of my existence for myself. When I began these letters I had no precise idea as to how I should write about the spiritual life. I was often surprised to find that places where I was staying, events that were happening in the world, and people whom I met were providing me with new ideas and new perspectives. These letters, then, have come to be a logbook of spiritual discoveries that I want to share with Marc and others. Although my initial intention was to write something helpful to Marc himself, it soon became evident that my main concern was to convey to him the enthusiasm I was feeling about my own discoveries. The letters in this book witness first and foremost, therefore, to my personal dealing with the life of faith. It was in that spirit also that Marc himself has received and valued them.

The original plan had been to record Marcs reactions as well. I eventually dropped that idea because it suited me better to use his reactions, which were mostly requests for clarification, in my reworking of the text. That made it possible to achieve a greater degree of internal unity and clarity.

I am especially grateful to Herman Pijfers and to Marc for the parts they have played in the writing of this book. Without them it would never have seen the light of day. I would also like to thank Mrs. B. van Breemen for her secretarial assistance, Pieter Janssens and Margreet Stelling for their stylistic corrections, and Lieven Sercu for being of such great help to me on the editorial side.

I very much hope that those who are asking themselves what it means to lead a spiritual life will be helped by this book.

Tuesday, 11th February

My dear Marc,

Well now, Ive got round to it at last. It must be a year or so since I promised to write you some letters about the spiritual life. Over the past twelve months youve reminded me frequently of my promise. When are those letters of yours going to arrive? It was difficult to get down to it because there always seemed to be something more urgent to attend to. However, if I were to let my life be taken over by what is urgent, I might very well never get around to what is essential. Its so easy to spend your whole time being preoccupied with urgent matters and never starting to live, really to live.

But is writing letters to you essential? Of course not, at least in the usual sense of the word. Even without any letters from me you have two dear parents, a lovely sister, a caring brother, a comfortable home, good food, a congenial school, and plenty of relaxation. Youre well looked after, in good health, and intelligent. At eighteen youve already seen a good deal of the world: France, Germany, Switzerland, Italy, and the United States. Youve also got plenty of hobbiesstamp collecting, film, music, Egyptian artand lots to talk about. Youve not only got a very inquiring mind, but youre also very gifted. Theres really very little you cant do or cant acquire. So why do you need any letters from me?

When we spoke together about these letters, you said that you really did need them. That need, I think, is partly a consequence of your stay in the United States. When you attended that summer course in Concord, New Hampshire, and saw young men and women as intelligent as yourself genuinely concerned with religion in their lives, it raised some new questions in your mind. You asked yourself, What do I really believe? What kind of role does the church play in my life? Who is Christ for me? Does the Eucharist make sense to me? All those questions were more or less mixed up together; but it was clear that a new area had been opened up within you and asked for your attention. You might say that in the last year or so a new need has been brought to birth inside you: the need to look in the midst of everything you have and are doing, for the meaning and purpose of your life.

You yourself know that if you keep fit, if nothing goes wrong, if no war breaks out, and so on, then you probably wont have much trouble in becoming a prosperous lawyer or a well-heeled businessman. I havent forgotten what you said to me in Boston: that you would probably come back to America later on to make a career. When I pointed out that a lot of people in America fail to make it, you replied with considerable self-confidence, Not the clever ones! So youre evidently not worried about your financial prospects. Still, youre asking yourself, Even if I am a big success, so what?

It may actually be your self-assurance that allows you to raise frankly the question about the meaning of your life. A lot of people have to expend so much energy on overcoming their low opinion of themselves that they seldom get round to asking about the purpose of their existence. And if they do, it is often out of fear.

Its not like that for you. For you the question has a different significance because many problems that other people are intensely aware of are scarcely problems at all for you. Invariably, you sail through your homework and still get high marks for it. Youre good at sports, have good friends, and many interests. Everything comes easily for you. That is why, I think, you have room and time to ask yourself questions that to many of your classmates seem irrelevant. Your American experience has given you the confidence to pose these questions quite directly and not bother about what your friends are going to think. In that sense your self-assurance would seem to be an advantage where the development of a spiritual life is concerned. For it is indeed the life of the spirit with which we are dealing here: that is what these letters must be about. Now, if you set out to confront issues that affect the meaning of your life, you cant adopt an approach based purely on reason. Questions about the meaning of your life affect your whole person. They are connected not only with the way you think and act; but also, and even more so, with the way you are a human being, and with the bond between you and everything that is.