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Far from blathering, B.N., there are real solutions in this type of exploration, and the fact that you are even reading and assimilating Fancis is nothing short of miraculous. Nine out of ten people I meet aren't really interested. It's a priviledge to find a few who are. Recommended: Dietrich Bonhoeffer, Ethics, Letters and Papers from Prison and The Cost of Discipleship. Masticate and ruminate thoroughly... mooo... What is this Troubadour F.M., please? It seems very interesting. I am working my way through Augustine's Confessions and a biography of Francis and they were indeed wild young men who might have felt quite at home in our times. caritas, mm <*))))>< | ||||
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Thanks, MM. I've had my head buried in the subject for the last couple days and have since ordered Reluctant Saint: The Life of Francis of Assisi. I also understand that The Road to Assisi is a good biography. What is this Troubadour F.M., please? It seems very interesting. There's a nice bio on Francis called God's Troubadour. It also features what I think is a nice version of Brother Asses' Song of the Sun. This biography was the first relatively condensed bio that I had read from start to finish. It takes a while to get through even this fairly short version and, I guess, the story is a compelling one because quite unexpectedly, and for no apparent reason, I burst into tears upon reading the final paragraph: I don't think I could live like Francis but I think I get Francis. It was sad to see his simple way of life be sort of overrun and demolished by the needs of structure and organization. I kind of feel that for people who really get it you don't need a ton of rules�especially for the things St. Francis was about. But having gotten my gander up about all this I then read the following: That sort of tempered my desire to ring the necks of the bastards who would betray the spirit of such a sweet and gentle man although I know that this guy's opinion could be crap. But it does seem likely Francis was not born to be an organizer and administrator. But I got a BIG chuckle when reading through some of the later Franciscan history. It seems that at one time they (maybe all of the First Orderers or just half of them) set it up so that technically the Pope owned all their stuff. This gave them somewhat of an out on their vow of poverty and of having no possessions. Well, at some point, and this may have been in the middle of a larger disagreement, the Pope says in essence "Hey, come to think of it, I don't really need all these Franciscan possessions. And besides, *I* don't use them so I guess you all can have them back." This just totally blows their cover for supposedly having no possessions and living in poverty. But such is the nature of ANY organization to ring much of the spirit and life out of it in order to meet the needs of the many. I suppose this is an inevitable trade-off. One can still, if they desire, follow in the footsteps of Francis. You don't need the permission of the Order or of the Pope. No rule or regulation that says you don't have to live such a severe life is an excuse not to do it anyway. But it still saddens me to see stuff dumbed-down for the wrong reasons. "O Lord, we praise Thee for our Brother Sun, Who brings us day, who brings us golden light. He tells us of Thy Beauty, Holy One. We praise Thee, too, when falls the quiet night, For Sister Moon, and every silver star That Thou hast set in Heaven, clear and far. "For our brave Brother Wind we give Thee praise; For clouds and stormy skies, for gentle air; And for our Sister Water, cool and fair, Who does service in sweet, humble ways; But, when the winter darkens, bitter cold, We praise Thee every night and all day long "For our good friend, so merry and so bold, Dear Brother Fire, beautiful and strong. For our good Mother Earth, we praise Thee, Lord; For the bright flowers she scatters everywhere; For all the fruit and grain her fields afford; For her great beauty, and her tireless care." "We praise Thee, Lord, for gentle souls who live In love and peace, who bear with no complaint All wounds and wrongs; who pity and forgive; Each one of these, Most High, shall be Thy saint." | ||||
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I'm into the Omer Englebert book, and will try to read the Troubador link tomorrow. Thanks 4 the reference. I feel a special relationship to Saint Theresa, and when relating that to a devout Catholic freind of mine, it was suggested that, "You don't choose your saint, your saint chooses you." Now there is one to ponder... caritas, mm <*)))))>< | ||||
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This is from "The Little Flowers" which, according to some, is also comprised of "Little Fabrications" by well-meaning Brothers wishing to add to the Francis legend. The following "Little Flower" doesn't sound like something that was made up, however, even if it might have been much paraphrased due to the length: There is, of course, quite a severity to such sentiments. It seems that the difference between Francis and many others is that it doesn't particularly seem as if this is some kind of parable meant only to suggest or hint at some larger, more tangential truth. He really means to find joy in our suffering. It certainly can be a fine line between wisdom-gained-through-suffering and self-abuse but I think he walks this line splendidly. If one truly, deeply and serenely believes the things of the Christian faith then it really does seem the logical path. It's hardly extreme asceticism at all. We're probably better off admitting "I can't do that" or "That's too inconvenient" rather than to think of the life that St. Francis lived as being freakish, inherently singular or "of another time and place". That's letting ourselves off the hook much too easily. We can maintain a cheerful countenance in the face of injustice or pain. We just don't like doing it. We often like to revel in our pain, not as a joy, but as a means of trying to excuse ourselves from our burdens and responsibilities and capabilities. Of course, there are larger lessons, both theological and practical, from such teachings. I can't really comment on the theological ones, but at the same time, I don't wish to rob the corpse of St. Francis as if I were some New Age environmentalist. Francis and his faith are one and the same. There's no way to pull the Christian parts out just because they are inconvenient to one's beliefs. But there's also no denying the universal appeal of his life and his teachings and the lessons that can apply to anyone of any faith (or no faith). It would be a harsh and disadvantageous judgment indeed to not avail one's self of such wisdom because one isn't in complete accord on other matters. Looking forward to your links and comments on St. Augustine, MM. | ||||
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I don't wish to rob the corpse of St. Francis as if I were some New Age environmentalist. Francis and his faith are one and the same. There's no way to pull the Christian parts out just because they are inconvenient to one's beliefs. I say this not only because it is true but because his beliefs gave his teachings authority. I could strip down to my skivvies and go around barefoot in the park teaching the gospel of St. Rush and I would be lucky in three years time to collect a couple loons and a libertarian (not necessarily one and the same). My words would lack authority. It may be the case that St. Francis couldn't prove any of what he believed, but he clearly believed it with all his heart and this gave him strength and authority. His was a kind heart so it gave him kind strength and kind authority. Such surety of belief in the hands of others (even the same beliefs, more or less) can lead to bloodshed and torture. This latter group may presume to hold the same beliefs but clearly it takes only the slightest bit of cajoling to reveal that the beliefs (as so easily shown by their actions) are beliefs grounded in the desire for authority, control and probably ego. It's best if people earn authority, but too often there are those who couldn't do so if they tried (and deservedly so) and so much resort to coercing their authority. Authority and structure are necessary in any large endeavors, but note that it was while working beneath or outside the normal confines of Church authority that St. Francis was able to enact needed change and introduce a renewed spirit. And I would be careful to note how it seemed he intentionally tried to keep under the radar and definitely out of the loop of authority issues altogether by submitting to the current authority even while sometimes undermining it with his actions. The lesson? Any two-bit provocateur (and I'm not talking about you, thalo) can get the world and/or authorities mad at him. It is the true genius who keeps his eye on the ball and remembers that positive change was his point all along and that bleeding off this energy in unnecessary posturing and ego conflicts are pointless. Often it seems that St. Francis is portrayed as a bit of a simpleton. Dumb like a fox, I'm sure. But I think I would also admit that in many ways his habits and dress were extremely provocative and somewhat intentionally "scandalous" so as to (hopefully softly, but forcefully) break through the boundaries, assumptions, and preconceptions of the status quo and allow people to see things as new again. He seemed the master, if only by instinct and not premeditation, of playing both the insider and the squeaky-wheel. I don't think it hurt any that his motives were pure and he was kind and peaceful to an almost fault. | ||||
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Interesting that to be dead is to be completely without movement; still. And yet we revere stillness as being conducive to enlightenment, as a means to gain closeness to God, and to become "one" with the fullness of life. The opposite of stillness is activity. Seemingly the more active we are (at least theoretically) the more riches and power we acquire�and the closer we are to becoming god-like creatures ourselves. The conundrum is that we can be too active (manic) or too still (sloth) and that seemingly both extremes can bring us either nearer to something desirable or as far away from it as possible. I suppose too that it can become difficult to know when one is doing one and not the other. I'd better get a move on. Or slow down. I'm not sure. | ||||
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C.S. Lewis said that most miraculous events from recorded history are false. That need not bother us too much, and most nonmiraculous events from recorded history are also false. Legends and myths are frequently combined and intermingled with actual events, and one could spend one's entire life wondering if George Washington actually chopped down a cherry tree. I believe that may well be an example of an apocryphal story, but it communicates a truth about George Washington's character, which was very near to impeccable by my understanding. ADVANCED contemplatives, according to Thomas Keating, are frequently quite active people. Many of them fly around the world giving conferences and teaching others. They bring their inner sanctuary with them wherever they go. This is a very Franciscan idea. Monastics, anchorites and hermits also have their place and function. Perhaps the greatest theologian and apostle, Saint Paul, reportedly spent seven years in the desert being taught by God. There is a time and a place for contemplation and for apostolic ministry. Blaise Pascal said that most of mankind's problems could be solved if man could learn to sit quietly by himself. This statement rings true enough for me. Francis believed in renunciation. Buddha would have recommended the "middle way." Augustine was an intellectual and philosopher. Francis followed his heart. Another principle which I have observed is that saints are continually misinterpereted by others. This is why many of them withdraw from the world. It seems to get to the point where their lives are often endangered by people who misunderstand them. I will never understand Saint Francis in this lifetime. Not until I walk in his shoes. That would be firewalking, and I haven't had that class yet. caritas, mm <*)))))>< | ||||
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I will never understand Saint Francis in this lifetime. Not until I walk in his shoes. Yes, to walk in his shoes is to understand him. Outside of that we can only try to imagine what it is like; what it is like to do gladly, with good cheer, and while asking nothing for one's self the tasks that regularly wear down, wear out and confound paid professionals such as firemen and policemen. The power of one little poor man and one big idea. | ||||
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C.S. Lewis said that most miraculous events from recorded history are false. I do enjoy reading books and reading them slowly. But I look forward to the day when I can upload an entire book to my brain in the blink of an eye. There just isn't enough time to read all the good stuff. Ann, can you ever forgive me? I might not make it to Treason or even Slander. There's too much C.S. Lewis left to read first (or the next Harry Potter). And speaking of falsehood and fairy tales� Me, I'm not looking for inerrant truth. I'm a fault-finder, that's true, but I can live with imperfect. I'm not the equivalent of a pilgrim-slash-lawyer who is looking for truth, goodness and beauty and if he finds will throw it all away for the sake of just a few little blemishes. Hell, apparently the very grounding of reality is based on no more than probability, on no more than chance (at least physical reality, that is) according to quantum physicists. My expectations therefore ain't all that high anymore. Heck, I'd even accept a blonde over a brunette these days. I don't need perfection. In fact, I was just talking to someone the other day about how often we cause ourselves such misery shooting for perfection. It's bad for us. The search for utopia has literally claimed tens of millions of lives in the last century alone. Give me imperfect. Give me humble. And while you're at it, just gimme gimme gimme. But your point is well taken, MM. Francis believed in renunciation. Yes. Apparently so. But I'm still integrating all that. I'm tending to want to spit out another interpretation. Let me quote from some Brother Ass stuff I found (note the bolded parts): I understand, I think, that asceticism-run-wild (coming soon on DVD) can lead to a sort of self-abuse mindset. And I'm not gonna sit here and tell you that Francis and other of the Brothers didn't take years off their lives because of improper nutrition and other stresses on their bodies�stresses they went out of their way NOT to avoid. But I think it highly inaccurate to say that Francis "renounced the world". Hardly. He was intimately in love with the world, with the plants, with the animals and with the people. What he left, what he renounced was his position in the middle class. I realize a lot of this text has been written centuries after the fact and gone through at least one translation. But to say that Brother Francis despised the world is just ridiculous. But I have the distinct feeling that these types of Orders tend to attract these type of people who make a type of religion and worship out of self-hatred. Sometimes it does indeed look like a fine line between humble and instructive poverty and just sadomasochism. Another principle which I have observed is that saints are continually misinterpereted by others. This is why many of them withdraw from the world. It seems to get to the point where their lives are often endangered by people who misunderstand them. That's an interesting observation, MM. I'm going to take that as a fairly reliable description of what goes on because I think you've done more than just a bit of study in this regard. I'm still just on Francis! It is the nature of society to assemble themselves into rather snug status quos. We need structure, habit and predictability in our lives. We just can't wake up every day and reinvent either ourselves or the wheel. But status quos can be rather smothering and they are always short-sighted. And they have a tendency to want to preserve themselves. Status quos become comfortable (at least for a large portion of any given population). If they weren't it's likely they wouldn't become status quos in the first place. Those who question the status quo are often, I think, the sanest people in town, because there's nothing novel or particularly intelligent about following the rest of the people like sheep. It is extremely healthy to have independent-minded people who resist being assimilated (they'd make poor Borg prospects); who don't so easily join the often oppressive societal trance of "how things are". | ||||
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He honors us all by revealing our potential. He honors God who did the work inside him. Would Jesus have him pursue such masochistic aceticism to reach his goal? I don't know. Some of that may have been a man-made idea, but the motive was good. I would agree that the body may be "brother ass" and difficult to control, but caring for it would also glorify God who gave it too us. You'll get to the part about the stigmata, and that is more than I can take in. I believe it really happens. His trancendence of this world is beyond comprehension. I've had a taste of it, and there is much more to learn. The closer to the light I go, the more sin and shame I feel, but this too must be turned over to God. God's energy can shake everything in a person until most of the not-God parts fall away. Now here is the thing that really gets me. Thomas Keating believes that Divine Union should be within the reach of most of us. The Holy Grail is already with us, and not quite as distant as it seems. The love of God is most certainly near to us at all times. caritas, mm <*)))))>< | ||||
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St. Francis of Assissi is surely one of the most advanced examples of theosis/deification in the Christian tradition. His transparency to Christ and the powerful charisms at work in him have attracted multitudes to a deeper appreciation of the meaning of the Gospel. What's interesting is that, even in this deep state of divine union, he is always very much "himself" as well. Human nature is preserved and even his true individuality is developed as he grows in divine union. In fact, we might say that all that is missing from Francis and other Saints, really, is an inauthentic persona/false self. They would attribute this completely to the working of grace rather than to any accomplishment of their own. It's a mistake, I think, to put people like Francis on too high a pedestal. Anyone growing in the life of grace will resonate with aspects of his life and see evidence the same in their own. But there is a sense is which Francis' journey is uniquely his, and in such a manner that one ought not compare oneself to him in any way except, perhaps, his depth of devotion, surrender, and willingness to live out the Gospel. IOW, we might not be called to the poverty that he embraced or the services he rendered, but we are all called to the same depths of surrender to the Spirit that underlie all that is good about him. Even this did not come without struggle, as his biographers indicate many times. | ||||
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It's a mistake, I think, to put people like Francis on too high a pedestal. Yes. I think you are right. We might fail to learn and to integrate the lessons Francis' life has to teach if we don't see him as painfully and intimately human. In other words, we can do this. Maybe not, as you said, in just the same way but surely the Great Dividing Line between believers of any stripe and non-believers is the belief that we are called by the universe (God, it, what, or whomever) to try to make things better; that we can and should have a feeling of responsibility to ourselves and our fellow travelers based on something more than gut hunches and surface feelings. One of the remarkable things about Francis seems to be his almost total lack of fear. At times it makes him reckless but it also leaves him open to all sorts of good possibilities. From a personal standpoint I understand this completely�only in reverse. Fear being the predominant emotion in me, it keeps me from being reckless (and closed to many of the bad possibilities) but it also leaves me closed to all sorts of good possibilities. Surely Francis' life showed a deep trust in what I remember JB calling "uncertain reality". There was something extraordinary going on in Francis. I'm sure some of us might have experienced the same thing if only in small doses in all-too-fleeting moments. But I suspect many of us here can imagine what a life like Francis might feel like. I also think it could definitely be a case of "be careful what you wish for" because what a burden (and joy, of course) that life would be! And surely the false ego or false self is the first thing severely stressed by any move toward whatever it was Francis moved toward. I think all of us intimately know, through personal experience and watching the experiences of others, just how precarious being or doing good can be. Always at hand is the thought of "What a good boy am I!". Our egos are always at the ready to be re-inflated. I love this following little story that I think does a good job of showing what, at least to my eye, looks like the proper role and use of discipline, obedience and humility. All these things can be harsh and hurtful in the wrong hands. In the right hands they are simply amazing: Alas, few people, I think, are competent enough to teach such lessons without doing more harm than good. And from that lesson, if that indeed is a lesson, is the lesson of leaving saintliness to the saints, so to speak, and to not try to mimic them out of ego but to play to our own strengths where our own authenticity may surely, if anything will, steer us in a direction that helps us and others, rather than possibly doing the reverse. | ||||
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Always at hand is the thought of "What a good boy am I!". But often I think the greater danger is resisting or demonizing the notion of "What a good boy am I". Maybe human beings are fundamentally flawed in some way, and it would certainly do no good to deny this if it's true. But I think it's a BIG mistake to ever equate holy with self-flagellation. If we think ourselves worthy of abuse than why not our neighbor? If life is good than humans can not be fundamentally evil. If god is good then humans can not be fundamentally evil. I don't think it's healthy or particularly helpful to reinforce the notion that we are uckky (as my nephew would say of some vegetable he doesn't like). What need have we of the divine to transform our sins if we can simply do so ourselves by beating ourselves on the back with a whip? (I'm VERY much against the Buddhist monks whacking their students with a stick.) Francis' vow of poverty is a LOT more complex, I think, than it first seems. If one believes our ultimate concern lies elsewhere then, I guess, our bodies in this world don't matter so much. That's seems to be what Francis thought. But surely that this world exists means it's not simply a step that can be skipped. I'll even go so far as to said that one could make the case that the saintly would cherish this world and the pleasures contained herein. Having families could be holy. Having sex could be holy. Eating good food could be holy. Might celibacy be seen as a rejection of this world? Might abusing one's body be seen in the same light? But I'm still willing to cut Francis a whole lot of slack in this regard because his actions led to such wondrous and beneficial things. If there *is* something beyond this world then Francis gave us a needed reminder that if we get too stuck on the pleasures of this world (and, in fact, this is true whether or not heaven exists), we will contribute to making this world a living hell. It seems contradictory, but then so do so many of the lessons that seem to flow out of this. I guess that's telling us something as well. | ||||
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Ah, a Unitarian Universalist! On a tangential subject, hell , the Unitarians always believed that they were too good to be damned. The Universalists always believed that God was too good to damn them. apokatastatically yours, jb | ||||
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Ah, a Unitarian Universalist! Ahhh, I see how one could easily jump to that conclusion. Let me amend that a bit. I am a member of the Unitarian Many-Universalist Church (Hawking Synod). We think that all worlds are good. Verstehen? | ||||
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