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A Christian Hasid Lost in Wonder
Marie Madeleine Yung
Francis of Assisi, who may be called a Christian Hasid, spent all his life lost in wonder at the marvels of God, the beauty of creation, the light of life. Just like the Lord in the presence of all his work, he "saw that it was good" and that the world is filled with his glory. He was not a man of letters, a seeker after ideas, a doctor of dogmatic theology. He was more like one of those little ones, the pure of heart to whom Jesus promised the Kingdom. His enthusiasm was spontaneous, even naïve, and he communicated it to his disciples who have transmitted its fragrance to us in the Fioretti. He wished to imbibe the Good News at its source and not from a cup made by man.
We find in all this a certain kinship with the eighteenth century Hasidic movement in Poland, under the influence of the Baal Shem Tov, which gave rise to a spiritual renaissance on the bleak horizon of Judaism. There was the same freshness, the same sense of freedom and joy.
"This movement emphasized the value of the individual and the need to respect his sensitivity. It reacted against the ever-present danger of rabbinical domination, of religious aridity and a frigid rigidity, empty of all true spiritual vitality. The joyful singing and dancing which characterized Hasidism is the sign of a relationship with God and with people which was both fulfilling and broadening. Outside a setting which had become too restrictive they discovered spontaneity, creativity, enthusiasm, warmth of feeling and joy."1
The Wonders of God and His Creation
Rabbi Nahman of Bratzlav has handed down to us these words of the Baal Shem Tov: "Alas! the world is full of enormous lights and mysteries, and man shuts them from himself with one small hand." 2
Francis, the troubador of God, had rightly lowered his small hand which hid the universe from sight and he was filled with wonder . . . wonder above all in presence of his Creator. He loved to surrender himself to the contemplation of God in silent caverns, as did the Baal Shem Tov, but he also loved to praise and extol him with his poet's soul: he sang at the top of his voice his undivided love which could not be expressed in any single word:
"Thou art beauty,
Thou art gentleness,
Thou art protector,
Thou art our guardian and our defender,
Thou art our strength,
Thou art our hope,
Thou art our faith,
Thou art our charity,
Thou art all our sweetness,
Thou art our eternal life."
There is an echo of this hymn in one which Rabbi Berdishev loved to sing. It the same music of the spirit.
"Wherever I go, thou art there! Wherever I am, thou art there! Nothing but thee, always thee! All goes well? It is thee! I am suffering? It is thee! Heaven is thee! Earth is thee!
On high, it is thee; Down below, it is thee! Wherever I turn, it is thee! In the end, it is thee!
Only thee, nothing but thee, always thee!
Thee! Thee!"
The two violins are in harmony, expressing the same burning love for the Lord. There is another passage with the same idea:
"Once Rabbi Shneur Zalman interrupted his prayers and said: do not want your paradise.
I do not want your coming world. I want you, and you only.'" 3
Obviously for Francis this love of God included his devotion to Christ and Christ crucified.
Francis' Affinity with Nature.
It is said that saints resemble their native environment, of which they are the most beautiful blossoms. There is in the Poverello something of the joyful gentleness of the Umbrian plain, with its silver olive trees and cypresses of bronze under a burning sun. Even as a young man Francis possessed a strong affinity with nature.
"His whole soul expanded when he saw beautiful flowers and inhaled their fragrance. His contemplation then turned to that other springtime flower which sprang from the Root of Jesse, and whose scent gave life to thousands of the dead. When he came across a field of flowers, he preached to them as if they were rational beings, inviting them to praise the Lord. Crops and vineyards, mountains and forests, thickets, earth, fire, air and wind, all with true simplicity were exhorted to praise God and to serve him with an undivided heart. All things were called by the name of brother. The penetrating insight of his heart enabled him to discover, in a extraordinary way not given to others, the inner mystery of created things, because he already shared in the glorious liberty of the children of God." (Thomas of Celano 81).
Hasidism's Affinity with Nature
The Hasidim also show an overflowing love for creation. Listen to this prayer of Rabbi Naaman of Breslau:
"Master of the world, grant me perpetual solitude, allow me to go into the countryside each day, among the trees, meadows and thickets, and then, thanks to the solitude, I will be able to lose
3 Ibid., p. 267.myself in meditation, in prayer to my Lord; I will be able to pour out my heart. All the shrubs in the fields, all the grass, all the plants and the trees, wilt awaken to my call; they will support and give life to the words of my meditation and my prayer until they become perfect, totally perfect, so that all things share in my prayer from the depths of their being."
It is said also of Rabbi Zusia that "he spent his days and nights roaming the woods, singing and dancing for God." 4
Francis preached the gospel to all creatures and the birds sat around in a circle listening to him. This same communion with nature is found among certain Hasidim:
"Young Zalman invited Rabbi Pinhas of Koretz. Rabbi Pinhas wanted to teach him the language of the birds and the language of plants, but the younger man refused! 'There is only one thing men need understand', he said.
In his old age, Rabbi Shneur Zalman was once driving through the country with his grandson. Birds were hopping about and twittering everywhere. 'How fast they chatter!' he said to the child. 'They have their own alphabet. All you need do is listen and grasp well, and you will understand their language.'5
In the Image of God...
Wonder and amazement before God's creatures obviously goes hand in hand with wonder before the highest of these creatures, the human person made in his image. Francis recognized that likeness in the most humble, the poorest and the most disfigured, as for example, lepers; he even recognized the divine likeness in sinners.
"There is not a brother in the world who, having sinned as much as he could, and having looked into your eyes, went without your mercy if he asked for it. And if he did not ask for mercy, you would ask him if he wanted it. And if after that he sinned a thousand times in your presence, love him more than me, in order to bring him to the Lord." (Life of St. Francis of Assisi).
Numerous examples of both divine and human brotherhood adorn the life of the Poverello. The same strand of charity runs through Hasidism.
“A learned but ungenerous man said to Rabbi Abraham of Stretyn: 'They say that you give people mysterious drugs and that your drugs are effective. Give me one that I may attain to the fear of God.' 'I don't know any drug for the fear of God' said Rabbi Abraham, 'but if you like I can give you one for the love of God.' 'That's even better' cried the other, 'just give it to me.' `It is the love of one's fellowmen', answered the zaddik." 6
Kindness and respect for the vilest of men stem from this desire to emulate God which is rooted in Judaism.
"One midnight when Rabbi Moshe Leib was absorbed in the mystic teachings, he heard a knock at his window. A drunken peasant stood outside and asked to be let in and given a bed for the night. For a moment the zaddik's heart was full of anger and he said to himself: 'How can a drunk have the insolence to ask to be let in, and what business has he in this house!' But then he said silently in his heart: 'And what business has he in God's world? But if God gets along with him, can I reject him?' He opened the door at once and prepared a bed."7
"The Rabbi of Sasov once gave the last money he had in his pocket to a man of ill repute. His disciples threw it up at him. He answered them: 'Shall I be more finicky than God, who gave it to me?'8
The Love of Lady Poverty
One of the conditions essential for amazement at the wonders of the Lord is the lightness, the absence of being weighed down by possessions which is the hallmark of poverty. The marriage between Francis and his Lady Poverty is too well known to detain us here. Do we also find this detachment from created things in the poor Polish Hasidim? Their Life was very often a beggar's life, that of wandering pedlars. Under the influence of the Spirit they did not hesitate to leave everything behind them in order to go great distances to consult their Zaddik, their spiritual guide.
"Rabbi Nahum of Tchernobel led a humble and austere life. I love poverty' he said humourously;
'it is God's gift to man, a treasure which does not cost much.'" 9
"Rabbi Mikhal of Zlotchev was asked an embarrassing question: 'You are poor, Rebbe. And yet every day you thank God for taking care of your needs. Isn't that a lie?' 'Not at all. You see, for me, poverty is a need.'"10
It is because they were light as a feather in the wind, with nothing weighing down either purse or spirit, that the Hasidim, like the first disciples of Francis, could give full expression to a vibrant happiness. Their amazement was changed into joy and exultation.
Rabbi Pinhas said: "All joys hail from paradise, and jests too, provided they are uttered in true joy"11
And They Sang... And They Danced...
The soul of Francis was ravished by a heavenly melody. An angel appeared to him with a violin and bow, and when he drew the bow across the strings, the sweetness of the harmony intoxicated the soul of Francis and made him faint. He heard within himself a wellspring of song and he invited the whole of creation to praise the Lord with him: even when blind he celebrated in song his brother the sun.
"May thou be praised my Lord by all creatures, especially by messire Brother Sun,
who is the day, and by whom thou sheddest light on us all.
He is beautiful and shines with great splendor, He is the sign of thyself, most High.
(Canticle of the Sun)
Singing is a call to dance. Even if we are not told it expressly, most surely Francis loved to dance as a young man, and his companions in prayer are also his companions in joy.
"What love of life is to be found in the brotherhood? When a number of them were together, or still more when they met by chance on the road, what an outburst of spiritual love, the only love on which a genuine fraternity can be built. They embraced each other, talking and laughing together, expansive, kind, gentle and peaceful, united in their ideal, swift and untiring in serving one another." (Thomas of Celano 38).
The Hasidim danced some joyful rounds when they met their Zaddik. On one occasion:
"when their holy delight mounted higher and higher, they invaded the Bad Shem's chamber, still dancing. Overwhelmed by their own frenzy of happiness, they took him by the hands as he sat there sunk in gloom, and drew him into the round." 12
And the Lord sent him a sign which restored his serenity.
This sacred dance seemed to them to have a power of its own. Rabbi Moshe Lieb of Sassov lamented not having any money to help the good works of his friend, the Rabbi of Strelisk:
"I would love to do something for you, but I don't know what. Wait, I have it! I know what to do, I know how to help you; yes, my friend, I will dance for you!" 13
Even today one should see the Hasidim of Meah Shearim dance exultantly with the scrolls of the Torah clasped in their arms when the festive/ of Simhat Torah (the joy of the Torah) comes round.
Rejoice in Good Times and In Bad
Nevertheless, neither one nor the other is satisfied with a joy which, though certainly an expression of interior freedom, only belongs to the good times. They hold on to it, seek for it even in times of trial, because there they find its perfection. Listen to Francis:
"If we arrive at St. Mary of the Angels... and the porter refuses to open to us; if with weeping we beseech him for the love of God to open up and let us in, and he, still more incensed, says: 'These are importunate good-for-nothings, and I will pay them out as they deserve!'; if he comes out with a knotted bludgeon and seizes us by the cowl, and throws us to the ground and rolls us in the snow and beats us with every knot on his stick; if we put up with all this patiently, and with joy, mindful of the sufferings of the blessed Christ . . . Brother Leo, write that in that is to be found perfect joy." (Fioretti 8).
Do we not find an echo, equally Franciscan, in this behaviour on the part of a Hasid?
"Rabbi Zusya came to an inn and noticed birds in a cage. Naturally he freed them. Birds are meant to fly. And naturally the innkeeper thought otherwise — and gave him a lesson without words. No matter, here was Zusya, back on the road, his body aching but his spirits high, carefree and deliriously happy. Man is made to be happy, even when his tormented flesh cries out in pain." 14
The amazement both of Francis and the Hasidim returns to God through the struggles of life. Francis knew from experience
"it is by the cross that joy came into the world."
* Sr. Marie Madeleine Yung of Jerusalem is a Sister of Bethany. She founded the "Association Occumenique de la Jerusalem Invisible" which prays for peace and reconciliation in Jerusalem.
1. Armand Abecassis, "L'Arbre" No. 96.
2. Martin Buber: Tales of the Hasidim: The Early Masters, Schocken, New York 1970, p. 74.
3. Ibid., p. 267
4. Elie Wiesel: Souls on Fire, Random House, New York 1972, p. 116.
5. Buber, op. cit., pp. 266f.
6. Ibid., The Later Masters, pp. 151f.
7. Ibid., The Later Masters, p. 85.
8. Ibid.
9. Elie Wieser, op. cit., p. 49.
10. Ibid.
11. Buber, The Early Masters, p. 135.
12. Ibid., p. 54.
13. Buber, The Later Masters, p. 91.
14. Wiesel, op. cit., p. 119.
