Jean-Jacques Odier 24.6.1927-19.6.2017
After studying at the University of Geneva, he decides to give all his time without pay to Moral Rearmament (Initiatives of Change). He befriended trade unionists and met workers in the industrial suburbs of France. He wrote plays, including a prophetic musical called "Pitié pour Clémentine" in which a Prime Minister uses a computer to run his country. Human emotions and weaknesses mess up this project! And that was in 1967! His play about the French socialist Jean Jaurès received a prize from the Canton of Geneva but unfortunately was never staged.
He worked for years building bridges in France, dialoguing with Muslims on the problem of cohabitation across differences, establishing relationships with the police, all problems that are still dramatically relevant today.
With a small team of friends and colleagues, he launched the magazine "Changer" of which he was editor-in-chief for many years, a newspaper that was a pioneer in the authentic Latin and French expression of the ideas and experiences of Moral Re-Armament. A penetrating writer and demanding editor, he is also a caring guide for young people in the fields of writing, proofreading, design and printing. He is a very committed member of the International Forum on Communication, which fights for media ethics, and he helped draft the "Sarajevo Charter".
He leaves behind a whole series of jazzy songs, which is surprising for a man who had no musical education and who could neither write nor read music. One of these songs entitled "There is no small country" evokes Switzerland and expresses the message that we are only as small as we think we are.
He wrote a fascinating autobiography, and once retired, he developed his artistic talents as a painter. We are the proud owners of two oil paintings purchased at an exhibition in Ferney-Voltaire. Very soon after this exhibition, Jean-Jacques was diagnosed with a cruel disease that gradually deprived him of everything but his fighting spirit, his sense of humor, his faith and his dignity. He spoke at medical conferences and seminars, bringing the much needed perspective of the patient. He continued to write articles, emails and letters, using an amazing voice recognition program that allowed him to dictate his output with the help of foot pedals, long after he had lost the use of his fingers. He was not known for his patience, especially with computers.
One day when I visited him in his room, I found him struggling with a letter addressed to a famous French politician, in which entire paragraphs appeared in italics. I sat down at the keyboard to try to help him and things only got worse. It took us a few minutes to figure out that the speech recognition program was desperately trying to keep up with our conversation and recognize a new and unfamiliar voice! And as is often the case with Jean-Jacques, we had a good laugh at our own expense.
He endured his illness with courage and dignity, surrounded by the affection of his two sons and his grandchildren. And of course his beloved Marie-Lise, who lived in their former apartment, close to the nursing home to which he had been transferred, and where he received visits in a wheelchair that he manipulated at a terrifying speed. Andrew Stallybrass, Caux
The funeral service was held on Jean-Jacques' 90th birthday. He described himself as the black sheep of his banking family. During my last visit, he told me about my father's death and asked me what I had learned from it. He pointed out the changes in his own relationship with his parents and the way his grandchildren were now stroking his cheek.
As I left, I bid him farewell and entrusted him to God, and added, "Until next time. The last words he said to me were: "If not before!"
Personal experiences with Jean-Jacques Odier, Jean-Jacques has meant a lot to me, not only in terms of friendship but also in terms of work. He was my editor-in-chief when we produced the CAUX Tribune every month. From him I learned how to make a newspaper, and in particular all the technical criteria that had to be mastered before the era of computers. Techniques that I later taught in Africa and elsewhere.
And I remember the day I went to him for help after a writing session. Indeed, there was quite a bit of disorder and indiscipline in the photo lab at the Conference Center in Caux, the lab for which I was responsible. After listening carefully to my concerns, Jean-Jacques answered me: "I would like to help you, Danielle, but first I want to tell you about an experience that Marie-Lise (his wife) and I often have. When you ladies are not very happy with something, and you have grievances to express, you often talk about it at length and with so much emotion that we men feel guilty and especially powerless. In fact, we feel we are victims of a kind of emotional blackmail. Think about it, and if you don't find the solution, then come back to me."
Walking down the very long corridor leading from the editorial office to the photo lab, pensive, I seemed to understand what Jean-Jacques wanted to tell me. I arrived at the lab where all my male colleagues were there chatting. I said calmly, "There is too much clutter here, tomorrow everything must be tidied up!" And I sat down at my desk, watching with quiet amusement as they all began to tidy up! Conclusion: I have managed many teams in my professional life and I have made sure that I never again use emotional blackmail to get anything from my colleagues. One more thing about Jean-Jacques: he helped me to finally write the story of some parts of my life (see Zig-Zag, page 8). Danielle Maillefer, Le Sentier
Jean-Jacques was both a brilliant intellectual and a generous person. He used his brain and his hands in many ways. With Marie-Lise they helped me to arrange my apartment near Plainpalais in Geneva. They drove me around and accompanied me in my search for objects to decorate it. But above all they lent me paintings by Jean-Jacques that we hung in the living room. When I was packing for my return to the Philippines, I contemplated these paintings and told them how much I would miss them. It was then that Jean-Jacques, with a broad smile, accompanied by a wink from Marie-Lise, said to me, "You can keep them!" These paintings are now hanging in my living room in Manila. Thank you, dear Jean-Jacques, for using your many gifts in the service of God. Your support, advice and friendship were greatly appreciated! Thank you very much. "Maramiing Salamat po". Alice Cardell, Philippines :
French
