"My Story is a strange one, but I feel compelled to tell it"
When I am not editing or writing books, I work as an archivist for the Henri Nouwen Legacy Trust. Part of my job is to identify books about Henri Nouwen that might be useful for researchers. The idea is to assemble a collection of everything published by and about Nouwen and make it available through the Henri J. M. Nouwen Archives and Research Collection. Today I discovered The Priscilla Revelation and the Discovery of the Apple Constellation by Carolyn M. Beehler, edited by Dana B. Goward (Xlibris, 2015). Although not apparent from the title, Henri Nouwen features prominently, and makes this book an excellent candidate for our collection. It is also an intriguing story of one woman’s spiritual journey following an unexpected, life-altering religious experience.
I found out about this book in an indirect way. I was going through old computer files and came upon a listing of letters by Nouwen that I had read in preparation for my book Love, Henri: Letters on the Spiritual Life. One entry caught my eye: a full transcript of a letter to Carolyn Beehler of New Haven, CT from Henri Nouwen. It was dated 1978 and Nouwen was in Rome on sabbatical, at North American College in Vatican City. He wrote, “Many thanks for your very kind letters. I am excited about your excitement and I share your hope that a woman wrote one of the books of the Bible.” (letter can be found in the Nouwen Archives, Beehler accession, 2011 50).
By now I too was excited about the excitement; a woman wrote one of the books of the Bible? I remembered a Dana Beehler Goward had contacted the Legacy Trust a few years ago for permission to publish some of Nouwen’s letters in a posthumous book she was editing of her mother’s writing. The mother was, of course Beehler, recipient of Nouwen’s letter. What had become of that project, I wondered. An internet search indicated her book had been self-published in 2015, and I ordered it immediately.
Carolyn Beehler came to know Nouwen while he was a professor at Yale Divinity School. They met through a series of coincidences just as her ordinary life as artist, art teacher, wife and mother of three, was interrupted by an unusual event – a revelation, in fact. Beehler was preparing for an art course she was to teach when she received what she called a ‘transmission of knowledge’, relating to The Letters to the Hebrews in the New Testament. A voice seemed to tell her it was written by a woman and that her task was to prove it. As an ‘occasional holiday’ Christian, she was flummoxed. Why her, a woman with only a high school education? “I had never studied parapsychology, nor was I a scholar or historian. Yet for some strange reason, a message from an ancient woman came to me clearly, with an urgency that stirred me deeply.” (p.xiv).
But somehow, as it was happening, she managed to write the transmission down and even had the presence of mind to turn on a tape recorder to record her thoughts, which were spilling out faster than she could write.
I was drawn into her tale. Beehler is a vivacious woman and her story has elements of a page-turner. She travelled to Rome, to the ancient catacombs, to the summer house of the Pope and numerous libraries. She met with theologians, Biblical scholars and eventually the Pope himself. Ultimately, she made a historically significant discovery in a catacomb under Rome of a fresco depicting a tree full of apples, seemingly meaningless decoration. Then she saw the apples represented stars and depicted a constellation, marking the time of Jesus’ birth. The subterfuge was because of a ban on astrology at the time the artwork was created. Beehler would achieve international recognition for this discovery of the “apple constellation.”
Henri Nouwen features in her story as a mentor and passionate supporter. Some of her anecdotes create a portrait of a man Beehler describes as “the most spiritual and saintly man I had ever met.” (p.104) She writes of her first encounter with Nouwen at one of his public lectures at the Mercy Center, a spirituality and retreat facility close to Yale. She writes, “He wore glasses and a scratch tweed jacket. Could this be our speaker, the priest? Father Henri Nouwen? He walked over to the lectern and did a most unusual thing. He lifted the lectern, turned, and carried it off stage! He must be the custodian, I thought, for he left a very empty stage, devoid of anything. But no, he returned and walked over to where the lectern had been and stood in its place! Not moving but staring out at all of us. Of course, we were all staring back at this lone figure. He stood there very tall and very still. He did not speak for many embarrassing moments until all sound ceased. We waited. The quiet seemed to bring him to life. He raised his head. His extralong fingers reached out in an imploring gesture. From the silence, a strange heavily accented Dutch voice broke the silence. “Now you will listen!” (p. 3)
In another anecdote, the two of them were together in Rome. He was teaching and she was doing her research. Nouwen had made arrangements for Beehler’s accommodation at a local convent. One night she stayed out late and found the convent door bolted shut. After knocking in vain, she telephoned Nouwen for help. He sprang out of bed and arranged for a taxi to bring her to his residence while he searched for a hotel for her. Finding one they hopped back into a cab and tried to check in. “The hotel clerk tried to charge me twenty-four thousand liras, but Henri said, “No, it is too much.” The clerk said, “Twelve thousand lira” and asked for my passport, which was still back at the convent. Henri grew angry and spoke to him with such authority that anyone in the world would have obeyed. The clerk demanded the money then. Henri said, “No, tomorrow.” (p.46) This is a great example of a flare of temper in Nouwen I have rarely heard about before.
At one point in her research, Beehler started to lose energy for her project and questioned the whole enterprise. She recalls, “I met Henri at 10:30 a.m. as he was arranging my visit to the Scavi, the necropolis under the Vatican Basilica, where Saint Peter and so many others are buried. I felt sad and depressed. I was bemoaning my helpless ways and questioning my worthiness for this mission. Henri scolded me for my feelings. How could I tell him I was overwhelmed and feeling unworthy of it all after he and everyone had done so much for me? Deeply frustrated, Henri nearly shouted that God and many people had continually helped me, could I not see it? What more did I want?” (p.54). Beehler needed this bracing pep talk. “It was a positive expression to shake me up and encourage me to go on.” (p.54).
This book indicates how supportive Nouwen was of women and speaks to his openness to unusual religious experiences. Beehler sought help with her project from priests, theologians and people from religious orders; not all of them were receptive. Nouwen on the other hand, was open to the hypothesis that a woman could have written part of the Bible. He even hoped it was so. And he never doubted Beehler’s capacity to find the answers to her questions. He encouraged her while cautioning that it would not be easy. Beehler records, “His thoughts were that if I truly accepted the revelation, I must be strong enough to believe it through whatever the obstacles and problems that might arise. I would meet some people who would think I was crazy, he said. Others would be indifferent, some would believe, and still others would try to use me. He asked if I prepared to accept the consequences of this revelation. I did not know.” (p.48).
As is often the case, Nouwen’s words speak directly to me too. Words of being strong in the face of judgement encourage me to persist with a personal writing project of my own that is proving difficult. Perhaps you, dear reader, need these words as well. Nouwen’s advice to Beehler is for anyone daring to tell “a strange story.”
The book had one final gift for me as an archivist: a mystery of my own to solve. It involves a painting of frogs that Beehler gave to Nouwen as a present early in their friendship. A quote by Thoreau was the inspiration:
Why should we be in such haste to succeed and in such desperate enterprises? If a man does not keep pace with his companions, perhaps it is because he hears a different drummer. Let him step to the music which he hears, however measured or far away.
Beehler gave Nouwen the painting when she noticed that he quoted the same passage in his book The Genesee Diary (1976). The last time she saw her painting was in 1979, as Nouwen packed it in his luggage bound for the Abbey of the Genesee, where he was headed for his second extended stay.
Where is the painting now? Curiously, it is not among the scores of objects and artwork preserved in the Nouwen Archives. I wondered if perhaps the Nouwen family in Holland might have it, but after checking with Laurent Nouwen, Henri’s younger brother, I am still at a loss. Another email to Brother Augustine Jackson of the Abbey of the Genesee has turned up nothing. I had hoped it was hanging on some lucky monk’s wall, but this is also a dead end. The mystery of the missing painting continues. Carolyn Beehler’s book however, will be preserved for generations to come in the Henri J. M. Nouwen Archives and Research Collection - a strange and compelling story wonderfully told.