Een lezeres van mijn verhaal ‘De hemelse omhelzing. De gunst van geestelijke leven in de 21e eeuw‘ heeft een klein zoektochtje gedaan naar de herkomst van het verhaal dat ik bij Henri Nouwen had gevonden. In mijn lezing heb ik het zo doorgegeven:

Een eenvoudige man uit een Frans dorpje ging elk middag rond een uur of vijf naar het plaatselijke kerkje, waar ook Henri Nouwen wel eens wat tijd doorbracht. Deze man ging dan op de voorste bank zitten tegenover de crucifix die daar hing, beeld van de gekruisigde Christus. Hij zat daar een half uur en deed niets. Na dat halve uur vertrok hij weer. Dit maakte Henri Nouwen nieuwsgierig. Op een goede dag vroeg hij, nadat de man het kerkje uit was gekomen: ‘Wat doet u daar nu eigenlijk? Het lijkt wel alsof u niks doet.’ En de man antwoordde: ‘Hij – en de man doelde op de gekruisigde Christus van de crucifix – Hij kijkt naar mij, en ik kijk naar hem, en dat is genoeg.’

Van de genoemde lezers kreeg ik de volgende drie internetcitaten door (met hartelijke dank!):

Some have called contemplative prayer a “long loving gaze” or an inner Sabbath. It is prayer that enfolds us in the present moment experience of God. There is no other task of contemplative prayer than union with the divine. Being with God is the end itself, not the means to any other end. A good example of this is from the late Russian Orthodox archbishop Anthony Bloom who tells of an eighteenth-century priest who once asked an aged peasant what he was doing during the hours he spent sitting in the chapel. The old man replied, “I look at Him, He looks at me, and we are happy.” [Anthony Bloom, Beginning to Pray (New York: Paulist Press 1970), 62.]

In her book ‘Listening to God’, Joyce Huggett quotes a story told by Archbishop Anthony Bloom: A peasant had formed a habit of slipping into a certain church at a certain time of day with clockwork regularity. There, day by day, he would sit and, apparently, do nothing. The parish priest observed this regular, silent visitor. One day, unable to contain his curiosity any longer, he asked the old man why he came to the church, alone, day in, day out. Why waste his time in this way? The old man looked at the priest and with a loving twinkle in his eye gave this explanation: ‘I look at him. He looks at me. And we tell each other that we love each other.‘

Anyway, today, August 4th, is the feast of St. John Mary Vianney. He is as good a saint as any to start with. He was known as the “Cure of Ars” and you can read more about him here. Ars is the small town in France where he was assigned as priest. “Cure” (pronounced kyoo-ray) means “Pastor”. So, he was the pastor of a church in a small town in France. One day, or so the story goes, St. Vianney saw a little French farmer visit his chapel daily, about noon. The Cure was curious as to what the farmer was doing in there, as he was alone. Not worried, I guess, just concerned. Anyway, one day he decided to ask him. And so he did. The little farmer said that he comes in to visit Jesus in the Blessed Sacrament (The Eucharist reposed in the Tabernacle). The little farmer’s style of prayer was simple. He told the future saint, “I just look at Him, and He looks back at me.“