“Talking lessened my anxiety and I felt peaceful again. No one can ever heal this wound, but when I can talk about it with a good friend I feel better.

“What to do with this inner wound that is so easily touched and starts bleeding again? It is such a familiar wound. It has been with me for many years. I don’t think this wound – – this immense need for affection, and this immense fear of rejection – – will ever go away. It is there to stay, but maybe for a good reason.”

These were private words written in his journal by Henri Nouwen on Wednesday September 27, 1995 in Watertown, Massachusetts. They were recently published in Sabbatical Journey, subtitled The Diary of His Final Year.

Two years after his death,  Henri Nouwen continues to be an immensely popular spiritual writer, esteemed by people of various faiths for his deep insight and  persevering faith. The great wonder is that someone who was so tortured by restless-ness and need for reassurance could have been such a marvelous exemplar of spirituality.

Henri Nouwen was born in Holland in 1932 and was ordained a Catholic priest in 1957. He immigrated to this country in the mid 1960s and after further advanced studies in psychology taught at Notre Dame, and then successively at Yale and Harvard divinity schools. I had the privilege of becoming friendly with him while he was at Harvard.

Father Nouwen also wrote widely and gave talks to people in many different parts of North America and other areas of the world. Somewhat to his embarrassment, he developed a devoted following and his friends were legion.

Among his many books, the one I have always valued most is a slim volume called Aging: the Fulfillment of Life.  Although Henri disavowed any special insight into the aging process, to me his book continues to serve as an indispensable guide to thinking about the subject from a truly spiritual viewpoint.

It is the first book that I always recommend to readers seeking deeper knowledge of what it means to grow old.

Henri’s itinerary through adult life was marked by constant change. Until the last he felt never satisfied with where he was. As a result, his journeys took him to temporary homes in many different places.

His thinking, however, showed a continuity of theme and spiritual outlook. Much of it focused on the concept of “wounded healer,” something that he considered himself to be. As the passage from his journal indicates, he ultimately decided that, throughout his earthly life, he would never gain freedom from the inner anxiety about being loved for himself.

Even in the sabbatical intended for him to be free of other responsibilities, Henri was always flying off someplace to visit friends or to respond to some crisis. He complains frequently of being exhausted but his restless spirit never does find rest until the day of his death, September 21, 1996.

The closest he ever came to peace and satisfaction was his entrance to the L’Arche community near Toronto called Daybreak. There he came to live with people profoundly marked by physical and mental limitations, most of them caused  by developmental problems.

Father Nouwen overcame inner resistance and entered into close personal relationships with the residents whose lives were so burdened. He felt that he had never learned so much as when he lived in this community.

In the journal he singles out a young man named Adam who died during Henri’s sabbatical. The priest came back from Watertown, stayed with Adam during his last hours, and later celebrated his younger friend’s funeral with intense emotion.

Even at Daybreak, however, Henri was not entirely at peace. At the time of his death he had returned there but he was planning to build a separate house for himself next to the main building.

For me, the message in Henri Nouwen’s life is that you don’t have to be emotionally whole in order to be deeply spiritual. You can be troubled as Henri was and still enter profoundly into relationship with the deepest reality.

It’s a message that I find personally encouraging. I imagine that Henri would take great comfort in knowing that others find inspiration in inner experiences that he felt to be hard indeed.

Sometimes he himself saw the hand of God in his inner anguish. Concluding the entry quoted at the beginning, he wrote, “Perhaps it is a gateway to my salvation, a door to glory, and a passage to freedom.”

Richard Griffin