Father Carlo Carretto was a man of rare and subtle insight. A simple priest, he got right to the heart of the matter at hand with his unnervingly penetrating wisdom.
Good Pope John was astonished by his simple wisdom and made him a Force for Change during Vatican II.
And he died with his boots on. As one of the lowest of the low in the deserts of the MidEast, he told the poorest of the poor of the Hope of Jesus’ Good News.
Look at his quicksilver penetration of what ails the modern Church (from his simple treatise God is Love):
“Each of us has some object of adoration, some subject we set up on our altar; for some it will be chastity... for others it will be work, or economy or good name... but few, all to few, come to adore the loving will of Jesus, which was spelled out so carefully in the Father’s name.”
When I started a new high-stress plateau of my career thirty years ago, I found myself catapulted precipitously out of a comfortable and gentlemanly niche in a quiet unassuming office, into a dog-eat-dog atmosphere supercharged with suspicion, ambition and underhanded behaviour.
It was pretty tough.
But there were a few bright lights in that viciously competitive lower circle of infernal fire.
One of them was Lee.
A quiet and gentle middle manager, he could not help arousing a sense of wonder in you by his aura of pure unhurried Peace.
To sit and discuss workplace projects in his little office was like escaping to an oasis of pure tranquility.
His was an aura of simple abiding, graciously hidden amid the cacophony of combativeness produced by the inmates of an insidiously ill-intentioned bureaucratic zoo!
Then he retired - for he was not a young man.
When his subordinate - let’s call him Tim - passed away, Lee had another epiphany in store for me - at a nearby church, this time.
During Tim’s funeral Mass, Lee assisted as Deacon at the altar.
He had become a Franciscan lay brother! Now, HERE was a guy who had REALLY found his niche.
Carlo Carretto was another gentle guy who was doing exactly as his quiet nature saw fit.
He played a pivotal role with the Catholic Youth movement in the forties and fifties, he added his wisdom to the Vatican II deliberations, and he ended his life working in the desert with the Little Brothers of Jesus.
All of his life was led by the inner call of the Spirit.
His was a vital, spontaneous and engaged spirit, for he came to eschew formality and ornate ceremony. Like Thomas Merton, in fact, he found himself at variance with traditional church rigidity, and many of his later writings are outspoken.
So what vital and spontaneous faith he brings to this little rhapsody on St. Francis - from Francis’ “own” mouth!
It’s beautiful.
Try to imagine yourself deep in the desert of the Middle East, ministering to the poor and dispossessed, as he did at the end of his life, and in your free time penning these words:
“If human beings go to war, it is because they fear someone.
Remove the fear, and you shall establish trust. And you shall have peace.
Nonviolence is fear’s destruction.
That’s why I tell you once more, I, Francis: Learn to conquer fear, as I did that morning when I went out to meet the wolf with a smile.
By conquering myself, I conquered the wolf.
By taming my wicked instincts, I tamed those of the wolf.
By making an effort to trust the wolf, I found the wolf trusted me.
My courage had established peace.”
A peace which is always available, but can only be arrived at by strenuous lifelong effort at a loving engagement in life.
FOUR gentle STARS for a Wonderful book!