I’ve been a fan of Carlo Carretto for many years, though I’d only read two of his books. This is my third and the first one he wrote. A schoolteacher and leader of the Italian youth movement of Catholic Action for twenty years, he heard God call him to “leave everything and come with Me into the desert. It is not your acts and deeds that I want: I want your prayer, your love.” So, he went and joined the Little Brothers of Jesus in El Abiodh, a remote oasis in the Saharan desert of Algeria in 1954. From there he wrote the letters that were printed in this book in 1964.
I know little about his impact as a Catholic activist but, it appears to me that God used him well as a writer. It is curious to the people around men and women like Carretto who leave an active leadership to go into the desert, to stop doing good and retreat into the wilderness, to move from the “front page” and disappear. But God knows what He’s doing, and, in the desert, God has your complete attention.
There are things one can only learn in the desert. Jesus started His ministry in the desert. We don’t know what He learned, but at the end of His stay, He had resisted temptation. If one can learn that, it is all one needs.
Carretto learns the centrality of love, to everything: God slowly – He is bound by our laziness – transforms us by His love into love, by which we’ll be judged. Carretto is told that he must strip his prayers, simplify them, deintellectualize them. He must become a poor man, begging for Christ. It is impossible to reach God with our understanding. We can reach God with love.
He discovered that he was nothing. But it is out of nothing that God created the beauty and expanse of the universe. We can do nothing on our own, but God can defeat darkness with that. The author reminds us of what St. Ignatius said: “Act as though everything depended upon you. But pray as though everything depended upon God.” And wonder that God uses the insignificant, the worthless, the no ones, to build a Kingdom that will never end. What we are to contribute is love.
Carretto has much to say about prayer. It is in prayer that we are drawn closer to God, that our faith is built up, that our hope is fulfilled, and that love is generated. “We are what we pray. … And since prayer is the relationship between one particular person and God, it is different for everyone. So, no prayer is exactly like another. Prayer is a word of infinite variety.” And because prayer is this relationship with God, we share God’s life with Him. This is the marriage of the Lamb with the church – we are the church.
In marriage, the two make themselves fully known to each other, although this can never be completed; there is always more to be known, there is always mystery left to be solved. In marriage with God, this mystery deepens infinitely. For the natural to be wed to the supernatural, even though the supernatural created the natural, is beyond impossible. But nothing is impossible for God, yet it is untranslatable into human language. Therefore, “those who feel God most deeply can say least about Him.”
Prayer is a gift, groanings of the Holy Spirit too deep for words (Rom.8:26). So for our part, “prayer is more passive than active; it requires more silence than words, more adoration than study, more concentration than rushing about, more faith than reason.” Words have limits, but silence is limitless.
Contrary to Meister Eckhart’s belief that intellect is the connection to God because God is intellect, Carretto insists the connection is love. He believes, and I tend to agree with him, that if it required intelligence to find God, it would be most unfair to the little ones, the poor, the uneducated. Instead, God ensured that all could have equal access to Him, all could find revelation, in the faculty we can all share, love. “This is the highest state of prayer: to be children in God’s arms, silent, loving, rejoicing.”
But not everyone is called into a literal wilderness, nor are most called to remain in the desert. Carretto says that he was called to the actual desert because he was so “thick-skinned” and God needed his full attention. Eventually, we are called to bring our contemplation into the streets. One should always make some desert in his/her life. He suggests, “One hour a day, one day a month, eight days a year, for longer if necessary, you must leave everything and everybody and retire, alone with God.” And then return among people, “mix with them, live your intimacy with God in the noise of their cities.”
Now comes the conundrum: love that leads to sentimentalism. I see this more and more and experience it as well. It is really a love that becomes an idol. Just as one should not worship the creation above the Creator, one should not worship one of God’s attributes above God. In Carretto’s love for a Muslim boy, he implies that the boy will go to heaven, regardless of belief. He tells the boy, “God is good and will save both of us. He will save your father, too, and we shall all go to heaven.” This is a sweet sentiment and, certainly, God can rescue them before it is too late. But what he says next to the boy is what is misleading, and not loving in the long run. “Don’t believe that just because I am a Christian I shall go to hell, as I don’t believe you’ll go there just because you’re a Muslim.”
His reasoning is faulty and sentimental, and I am surprised by it. I did not get any sense of this from his later books. Perhaps he amended his thoughts. But this reasoning is prevalent in the letters and harder and harder to get around. “You, too, are a victim of fanaticism, the stormy zeal of religious people, the so-called ‘men of God,’ who would send half the human race to hell, just because they are not ‘one of us.’ How can the thread of love which links me to a brother be broken by an alleged purity of faith, or that religion, instead of being a bridge of union, should become a trench of death, or at least of unconfessed hate? We’re best off without it, this religion which divided us. Best to fumble around in the dark, than to possess a light like that!”
I was shocked to hear this from a man I revered. As I said, I hear this a lot, and I myself am drawn to it. No one wants to think a loved one may go to hell. But is giving false hope loving? Jesus is the Light of the world – we are not to “fumble around in the dark.” Jesus is the zeal of the Lord (Jn.2:17), and no one comes to the Father except through Him (Jn.14:6). No one comes to the Father through Muhammed. Is the truth fanaticism? Certainly, it can be made an ugly thing, but the truth is still the truth. It is not “men of God” who send people to hell, it is people who deny God, the Truth.
I do not know who will be saved. I don’t know what happens at the moment of death. Perhaps Jesus stands at the threshold and pleads one more time for the individual’s soul. Given His deep love for each one of us, I would not be surprised, and hopefully, would not begrudge His doing so (see the parable of the farmer who hires workers at five different times over a day, Mt.20:1-16). But this kind of sentimentality is hard to get around. It is done, I believe, out of kindness, but it is done without thought. When someone believes God made them in a particular way, even though it goes against the teachings of Scripture, it is near impossible to separate the sinner from the sin. I see the problem. Unfortunately, I do not have a good answer. Or maybe I do. Prayer.
Lately, I have also learned that I can learn something from everyone, whether they are Christian or not. God uses everyone, whether they believe in Him or not. So even though I find this book flawed, there is much I have learned from it, and I would still recommend it. None of us is perfect, none of us is sinless, none of us knows the full truth, but each of us can search, and if we search honestly, God is faithful and just to give us the Truth.
One last word to those who say things like, “It doesn’t matter what you call God.” Remember that Allah and Buddha and Vishnu and Shiva, etc., did not have a son. To call God by any of those names is to deny Jesus as the Christ. At best He is reduced to merely a prophet. Names matter.