A Kind of Upside-Downess

Learning Disabilities and Transformational Community

David Ford, Deborah Ford, Ian Randall

• Publisher: Jessica Kingsley Publishers
• Year: 2019
• Print ISBN:
  9781785924965
• eBook ISBN:
  9781787751392
• Topic: Theology & Religion
• Subtopic: Christian Ministry

One of the great prophetic figures of our time was Jean Vanier, founder of the L'Arche communities, where those with and without disabilities share life together. This book tells the story of a new, practical development, inspired by Vanier, and taking further both his thought and the practice of L'Arche. Lyn's House is a small Christian house of hospitality and friendship in Cambridge, set in an open community of volunteers and supporters. Its story told here contains moving accounts of its origins and development, and of the friendships it enables. The contributors, all members of the wider Lyn's House community, also reflect on its meaning, and explore the implications for both church and society of this creative response to Vanier's call. Not only does the book convey the spirit of Lyn's House and its transformative effects on those who participate in it, it also offers inspiration and a practical guide to any who wish to begin something similar.

— PART 1 —

Called into
Community

— CHAPTER 1 —

Jean Vanier and a
Community in Cambridge

Deborah Hardy Ford

‘Will you be my friend?’

As Jean Vanier turned to leave, after visiting a residential home for men with intellectual disabilities1 in rural France, a voice suddenly cried out to him: ‘Will you come back? Will you be my friend?’ Something in its tone compelled Jean to respond and was the beginning of a lifetime’s vocation dedicated to seeking ways in which people with and without intellectual disabilities might discover the mystery and gift of life in one another.

It led to an extraordinary movement, known as ‘L’Arche’ (‘the Ark’ or ‘the Covenant’ – ‘rainbow’ in French), which gradually grew and found its expression in different cultures all over the world. Today (2019) there are over 150 different communities in an International Federation: from Argentina to Australia; Belgium to Bangladesh; Denmark to the Dominican Republic; from Egypt to Edinburgh; Ipswich to the Ivory Coast; Mexico to Manchester; from Uganda to the Ukraine; Palestine to the Philippines; Syria to Switzerland…

‘Faith and Light’ began to grow, too – overflowing out of a pilgrimage to Lourdes. The essence of Faith and Light is that local groups of families, friends and individuals with intellectual disabilities meet regularly to share friendship, worship and celebration. By contrast with L’Arche, there are no residential communities involved. There is, however, a strong link with L’Arche in that Jean Vanier, with Marie-Hélène Mathieu, co-founded the Faith and Light movement. It, too, now spans the world. L’Arche in the UK began in Kent in 1974.2 There are now twelve communities in the UK.

But back in 1993, I was oblivious: I had never heard of any of them, although I had heard of Jean Vanier and begun to discover a language which spoke and resonated deeply with my own life and spirituality in the writings of Henri Nouwen.3 Something about how Nouwen spoke (wrote) helped me begin to face my own fragility and brokenness with compassion and hope. It was not just his personal wisdom and experience that spoke, but the mysterious healing and transformation he had encountered through getting to know and love people with intellectual disabilities.

One day, my husband David told me he was going to meet Jean Vanier while he was visiting Cambridge. ‘Why don’t we invite him here, so you can meet him, too? It’s a great opportunity.’ ‘OK’ I replied: ‘When?’ – relishing the possibility of some stimulating adult conversation as life beyond motherhood began to open up again. We had moved to Cambridge from inner-city Birmingham a few years earlier and I was finding it very difficult. Our second baby had died not long before and it was all beginning to catch up with me. Whilst beautiful in many ways, Cambridge is a challenging place to live: especially if you are an ‘outsider’ and not feeling strong. People’s vulnerability is often deeply buried and guarded. ‘Will you be my friend?’ was the question I was asking deep down, too: ‘Does anyone care about me enough to be my friend? And hear my pain as well as my joy?’

So, I prepared carefully for the ‘important person’ coming for lunch: I tidied the house, prepared a tasty meal, laid a beautiful table… The doorbell rang; I scooped our son, Daniel (an infant), into my arms and opened the door: the precise moment at which Daniel decided to produce a very smelly nappy. ‘Hello! It’s so good to meet you…please come in and make yourself at home: I’m afraid I’m just going to have to go and change Daniel’s nappy,’ I explained. ‘Oh, I’ll change him for you!’ replied Jean; ‘I’d be happy to,’ lifting Daniel into his arms – before I’d even finished my sentence. And off they went. I couldn’t quite believe it: it was wonderfully ‘upside down’. No man (apart from David) had ever offered to change any of my children’s nappies. And, what’s more, there was not even a murmur from Daniel (who would usually protest vociferously if a stranger tried to pick him up). But that’s the sort of person Jean Vanier was: he had the knack of seeing what really mattered. And he looked and saw very attentively and tenderly. The result was that you wanted to open up and talk to him: he invited it in you.

We talked about a lot of things, including what I might be being called to in this next chapter of my life. Jean suddenly gripped me by the arm: ‘You should start a L’Arche in Cambridge!’ As soon as he said it, I knew he was right. In a place where people rely so heavily on their intellectual abilities (and are often very fearful of their ‘weakness’ and fragility), there needed to be a way to discover the ‘upside-down’ secret and mystery of L’Arche – a way for people to discover the gentleness and joy of loving and being loved, whoever they are and whatever their abilities/disabilities.4

Sharing a Vision

Twenty years later, the moment was ripe. David and I had had ongoing contact, visits and conversations with Jean and others in L’Arche over the years, and it had been a central part of my own journey into healing and formation as an Anglican priest and psychotherapist. And whilst I never would have chosen the long years spent grappling with deep and relentless questions about all sorts of things (God, meaning, suffering, identity, belonging etc.) I can now see they were crucial preparation in terms of finding deep ground and roots in preparation for what was yet to come. Vocations can be a long time in the making.

I now felt at home in Cambridge and enjoyed training and working as a hospital chaplain, a psychotherapist and spiritual director. And I remained convinced that Jean was right: Cambridge needed a L’Arche precisely because it is Cambridge. People with intellectual abilities and disabilities need each other.

Quite apart from the potential of L’Arche for personal transformation and growth, Cambridge is full of people in various processes of formation and discernment: most of them highly successful (although often deeply insecure); many going on to positions where they will voice, shape and influence society at all levels and all over the world; people who need to experience ‘upside-down’ wisdom and ways of doing things. Cambridge is very powerful, competitive and hierarchical in its (often very ancient) traditions and institutional life. It is also full of life, energy, vision and young people from all over the world who can write, articulate and give voice to those on the margins.5

The final prompt came out of a place of pain and disillusionment. Yet again, I was hurt and angry about the dominant patriarchal and hierarchical patterns of power I was experiencing in the systems and organisations of which I was part – this time, the Church. It was time to put faith into action: time to live and nurture a different way; time to start a L’Arche in Cambridge.

I mentioned it to a colleague, James Gardom, the dean of one of the Cambridge colleges. He and his wife Judith had recently begun to learn about L’Arche and wanted to know more – curious that there was nothing in the Cambridgeshire area. Their daughter, Clare, had been living and working with L’Arche Inverness and had been profoundly moved by her time there. She later wrote:

For me, L’Arche was a shock. I went to Inverness just after my degree, looking for community and a co-operative environment. I met people who were very different from me and to begin with felt completely uncomfortable and out of place. I had lots of ideas about how community should be (I had read Community and Growth6) and was disappointed that it wasn’t perfect. Gradually things changed – the house had been short-staffed, and we got more assistants. A few people left. I was no longer new. I made friends. Spring came. I began to notice God in the real experiences and people around me. I started to learn from the people with disabilities – to enjoy small celebrations; to accept what the day brought; to laugh, forgive and ask for forgiveness, over and over again.

I left reluctantly, to start a course I’d applied for at the beginning of my time in L’Arche. Returning to an academic context without a strong sense of community was a difficult adjustment. The intellectual conversations I had missed felt exhausting and overstimulating. For a long time, I wanted to return to L’Arche, but other aspects of life kept me in the south. I am still learning to balance the head and the heart.

The first discussions about Lyn’s House began the year I returned from L’Arche. I appreciated the chance to articulate and process what I had experienced, and it has been great to see the reality taking on a life of its own beyond our first theoretical discussions.7

Testing the Waters

Our conversation grew, with a group soon meeting regularly to pray and talk more about starting a L’Arche community in Cambridge. We googled and networked to try and learn whether others had tried anything here: nothing emerged. Jean encouraged us: ‘Talk to L’Arche UK – L’Arche is changing and having to adapt: be open to something new. Getting the spirit of L’Arche at the heart of what you do is the most important thing: right from the start.’

An early meeting with John Sargent (then National Coordinator of L’Arche in the UK) spelled out the challenges L’Arche UK were facing with their ‘traditional’ model of community at that time: a model based on residential homes where people with and without intellectual disabilities lived together; and those without disabilities were employed as service providers by the local authority. The challenges they were experiencing were primarily about the increasing demands of local authority regulation and bureaucracy, as well as a trend towards providing more independent or supported living for those with intellectual disabilities, a trend which has its own difficulties.8 ‘Why don’t you try something different?’ he suggested, ‘Have a look at what others are doing and consider alternative models.’ A key member of the group had lived and worked in L’Arche for many years. She was now living and training in Cambridge and longed for a model that would enable her to live in community whilst continuing to work and study. Inspired by the patterns of ‘Shared Lives’ in L’Arche Melbourne (Australia),9 we began to develop a vision for a model where those without intellectual disabilities might live together and create a welcome home to offer friendship and hospitality to those who did.

At that point, we knew hardly anyone with learning disabilities in or around Cambridge, but began to gather in someone’s home for monthly tea parties and tested our ideas with wider networks and contacts within the city; people started to come and the circle gradually grew. The pattern has been that the work has largely expanded through personal contacts. People encouraged us to keep going – many of them offering professional time and expertise if or when we needed it.

It emerged that a local Faith and Light group had met in Cambridge for many years, but had recently folded because it was just too hard: it was run by parents – already exhausted by the demands of caring for our families and children with intellectual disabilities. One of those involved spoke of how ‘we wanted to, but we simply couldn’t do it any more: we needed others to take a lead and provide something our children could participate in’.10

The vision soon became a project with a life and energy of its own, stretching us to keep up with it: developing and maturing a community of friendship and hospitality. The key elements were:

1. A Christian house (hopefully acting as a ‘hub house’)

2. A maximum of four to six people

3. Located in Cambridge

4. Living and sharing meals together

5. With a commitment to hospitality (for those of all faiths or none)

6. Building community with people with learning disabilities

7. Working with a group drawing inspiration from L’Arche

All we needed now was somewhere for it to happen: something easier said than done with the cost of housing in Cambridge. But within weeks a close friend of someone in the group died. Her daughter caught the vision and suddenly the vision became a reality. The house was a pure gift: a beautiful Victorian house to rent quite close to the centre of Cambridge, with a ready-made community room, which the owner (an artist) had built and used as her studio. After weeks of serious house clearing, cleaning and preparation, we were ready to go!

It was not all smooth sailing: almost immediately, th...

Table of contents

• Cover
• Title Page
• Contents
• Foreword by Frances Young
• Introduction
• In Memory of Jean Vanier
• Part 1: Called into Community
• Part 2: A Wisdom of Community
• Part 3: Discerning Community Today
• Appendix 1: Lyn’s House Practicalities
• Appendix 2: Our Accumulated Wisdom for Welcome and Community
• Bibliography
• The Contributors
• Join Our Mailing List
• Copyright
• Endorsements