L'Arche Harbor House..... hope in a divided world 

5 6 Volunteers and Friends

“In the domain of the heart, the weak and wounded are the teachers of the wise and robust.”  Jean Vanier  

L’Arche Harbor House is fortunate to have many friends who share their time, energy and resources.  Many friends have established relationships with the core persons of the community.  Others have assisted by donating labor or materials. 

© One-on-one walks and outings to library, bookstores, movies, bowling, and other local activities

© Help with shopping

© Accompany core persons to medical appointments

© Gardening

© Assist core persons with dressing, showers, laundry, personal needs

© Accompany core persons to church, dances, and Bible classes

© Help cook dinner or Sunday breakfast

© Invite core persons out to eat, to the beach or museums

© Assist at Rainbow Workshop with craft projects, exercise, or swimming

© Assist with fund-raising events

©        Join the Auxiliary or Board Committies

We invite you to join our circle of friends by giving of your time and talent.  Our friends tell us that the rewards they receive are far greater than what they give. 

If you would like more information, or are interested in visiting our community, please write, call or e-mail:

Sister Rita Baum

Homes Coordinator

Phone: (904) 721-5992 extension 223

Fax:     (904) 721-7143

E-mail:  homescoord@bellsouth.net

 One fine summer I worked at a L'Arche in Jacksonville, Florida.

L'Arche is an organization of communities around the world composed of so called "normal" people who live in community with people with mental and physical disabilities.

A Canadian, Jean Vanier, started L'Arche back in the '60s I think. In his madness for Jesus, he wanted to create a community of compassion for those who were sometimes forgotten, misunderstood and rejected. He dreamed of a community where people could come to know their brokenness before God and be healed eventually over a lifetime of commitment to Him and one another.

He's older now. But his life's work has taken flight. L'Arche communities are all over the world. He's one of the most remarkable Christians of our age and his reflections on "brokenness' continue to help a great many people.

Anyway, when I finally can get to a beach, I get lost in its mystery. I can walk on a beach for hours, days, weeks, even years. Call it some kind of landlocked Mississippi River disease, I don't know...but one day I'm exploring this really beautiful Jacksonville beach when I spy a conch. Not a pretty conch mind you. This one was all busted up which was aggravating. Really aggravating.

I spent a lot of time seeking out the perfect conch that summer. I wanted one with no holes, no oily guck, no seaweed scares, no weird growths....just a perfect conch to take home and "listen" to the ocean with from time to time. It became a quest for the Holy Grail of conches.

So as I prepared to launch this ugly duckling conch back into the sea for another 2 thousand years, my friend stopped me and asked why.

I explained the dilemma but she didn't buy it. My tree hugging friend told me the sea had sent it to me for a reason. Well....whatever. As far as I was concerned, I was competing in a Scottish Highlander midget throwing contest and this little guy was going back where it came from.

But my friend persisted and got serious with me. She began to point out some interesting things about the conch that in my haste I had completely missed.

For example, she told me that unless the conch was broken I would never be able to see inside of it. Without a window into the belly of this conch, I would miss it's beautiful lining. I would never see how the light reflected whole arrays of colors and shapes.

She pointed out the complexities of the conch...its different and interesting contours, swirls upon swirls of shell. Stuff I never noticed before. She told me that the broken conches were her favorite ones, because each one was so vastly unique from the next. She literally and figuratively saw their inner beauty.

She even likened the conch to our experience of working with the residents at L'Arche who were unable to conceal or hide their vulnerability. Residents who could not wear masks effectively like us and who had no choice but to depend on us to love them as equals, unconditionally, in spite of the fact they were exposed in all their brokenness.

4 weeks ago a visiting priest came to our parish to take the 10:30 p.m. Mass for his buddy on sabbatical.

This guy is older. I'd say he's in his 60s.

I can't remember at what point during his homily I began to believe what I was hearing. But this priest actually shared with the entire congregation his struggle with alcoholism, depression and even anger. He shared with us how lonely he sometimes got. And he did so in such a genuine, real way that I felt a true brother was talking to me about his walk with the Lord in all of his brokenness. I was dumbfounded. It was one of the most powerful talks I've ever heard.

4 weeks later and I'm still not over his absolute dependency on the Lord and others for sustenance.

Why is it when we allow ourselves to be vulnerable, admitting and owning our brokenness that others are so drawn to see our beauty in all of its complexity?

St. Paul left us a haunting paradox you may recall, namely, "in weakness, power reaches perfection."

I call it haunting because Paul pleads with us to be broken, to be that vulnerable! He must have known from his own complexity, his own sinfulness, his own dishonesty, the Lord's nearness would be made visible to him in his dependence.

I saw in that priest, for an instant, for a suspended moment, the very essence of the priesthood. I witnessed the priesthood perfected in the risen Christ. In this priest's vulnerability I experienced Jesus. He reached out to everyone of us and healed us.

Only Jesus, who became broken for us, so that His beauty could be revealed time and time again, can teach us to be utterly dependant, forever saving us from ourselves, lightening our burden, sharing in our brokenness, and loving us unconditionally. Only Jesus can finally reveal to us our true beauty in spite of our wounds and brokenness.

Many parishioners were moved to tears when he finished. The whole parish responded with a standing ovation that went on for some time.

I thought of the conch I almost threw back into the sea.

I'm glad I didn't.

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Last modified: 02/11/08