Why Henri Nouwen Fell in Love With the Trapeze

Daring to have spiritual lives that swing toward freewheeling motion, community inclusion, and humor.
A painting featuring two members of the Flying Rodleighs flying in the air with Henri Nouwen holding onto a trapeze in the background.
Illustration by Red Nose Studio

THIS SPRING, MY family and I were discussing what artistic representations of Jesus’ life have shaped our spiritual lives. For one son-in-law, it was Mel Gibson’s The Passion of the Christ, though he noted it is quite violent. For my husband and our adult kids, it was Jesus Christ Superstar. For me, it was seeing “Godspell” in Toronto in 1972 when I was 12. I vividly remember the wide-open energy that kept inviting new disciples into the group of Jesus’ followers, the circus-like performers bursting with enthusiasm, encouraging each other to creatively express what they were discovering together. It was physical, passionate, musical, hilarious. I looked up the musical’s history and discovered that my spirituality was shaped by legends of improv comedy, including Gilda Radner and Martin Short, who went on to be cast members of Saturday Night Live, and Eugene Levy, whose storied career continued this century in Schitt’s Creek.

Perhaps that early spiritual orientation toward freewheeling motion, fun, community inclusion, live performance, and humor is why I appreciate theologian and author Henri Nouwen’s efforts to image our spiritual lives as daring, interdependent trapeze acts.

In 1991, Nouwen watched a trapeze artist fall, and noted that he was left in emotional turmoil. He wrote in his journal:

As Karlene flew down from the top of the tent to be caught by her catcher, I saw that something had gone wrong. My body tensed up as I saw Karlene missing the catcher’s hands and plunging down into the net. The net threw her body back up until it fell again and came to rest. The audience gasped but quickly relaxed when it saw Karlene straighten up, jump from the net, walk to the rope ladder and climb back up to continue the show.

After that I could hardly watch any more. I knew that the woman I had met for a few seconds at the concession stand was all right, but I was suddenly confronted with the other side of this air-ballet, not simply the dangers of physical harm, but the experience of failure, shame, guilt, frustration and anger.

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