20 of 21 people found the following review helpful:
5.0 out of 5 stars
Where There Is Drabness ... Beauty, May 19, 2000
This review is from: Make Me an Instrument of Your Peace (Hardcover)
Reviewer: Cory Giacobbe
This is an insightful, eloquent work. I appreciate that Kent Nerburn keeps honoring the mystery of life, crystallized here in his current work, on St. Francis, and his famous prayer.
Simple, powerful subject; simple, powerful book. There's an obscure song version of the prayer, that I was given to sing back in my Catholic all-girls high school. Replayed only in memory now, I've never again heard any singers perform that specific haunting melody and arrangement. It had a "descant" part, which I as high-soprano sang: a glorious flow of nonverbal, spiraling sound, overlapping the second-soprano and alto parts harmonizing on the actual verses, until all of us merged in a pulsating powerful finale. People would weep in hearing it (and I, in singing it). The author's style reminded me of this. He explores the verses in a quiet, clear, down-to-earth fashion, and yet somehow, audible to the "inner" ear, you might "hear" the counterpoint, a high wonderful rejoicing of the soul (at least, per my soul) in pondering chapter after chapter.
Each section focuses on one line of the prayer. My special favorite is the first chapter evoking the music of love that St. Francis embodies.
Kent Nerburn's book stimulated many realizations for me. (As did the books, The Way of St. Francis, by Murray Bodo, and Man With A Song by F. and H. Line).
In reading Mr. Nerburn's book, I saw clearly how the whole theme of St. Francis' life is that of welcoming. The prayer is an act of embracing. It somehow never registered for me until now, that Francis was of my own ancestry, Italian. At a time when there was no unified concept of an "Italy," at a time of warring city-states, Francis opened his arms, roamed, and welcomed. Ironic. In the latter's immediate world, there was little tourist-consciousness, or scenic appreciation. Villagers looked at forests and feared bandits. Looked at mountains and feared ambush, by enemy army forces. Looked at their nearby neighbors and feared espionage.
Yet here, as Mr. Nerburn exquisitely shows, is a man who felt beauty in viewing forests, mountains, people, and who blessed the outdoors. What an extraordinary mind! He went from place to place, fully expecting, with a miraculous faith in goodness, that fellow Italians would open their doors. He somehow knew they would share the little they had, their crust of bread with him -- and they did. (As did citizens of other lands, with him, later on). I really believe Francis was a forerunner of, what would later develop into, a modern Italian sensibility, love, reputation for, hospitality.
As a complement to this book, you might obtain an old film, The Miracle of Marcelino. In that movie, Italian Franciscan monks, in an Hispanic land, and their adopted orphan, a boy, experience a dramatic spiritual occurrence. With references to St. Francis' life at mealtime, and via the nature of the characters themselves, the very spirit of St. Francis, buoyant, magnanimous, subtly pervades this film. It's as if one is seeing St. Francis' prayer, discussed by Mr. Nerburn, take visible shape. I felt I was seeing St. Francis both as a boy, his sweetness, joy, liveliness, and also as the grown monks, open, caring, spiritually attuned.
Per this shimmering jewel of a book, Kent Nerburn, in his own manner, has accomplished the way of hospitality, harmonizing with his subject. The book prompts me to wonder that perhaps St. Francis deserves a whole line -- honoring mystics like him -- inserted into his own prayer: As in, "Where there is sadness, joy" I can imagine hearing, "Where there is drabness ... BEAUTY!"
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