The Canticle of Brother Sun and Sister Moon

I am the light of the world. Whoever follows me will not walk in darkness, but will have the light of life.   --John 8:12

 Saint Francis of Assisi: He is the saint who sings, the saint who laughs, the saint who kisses, who plays the violin by bowing a stick on his arm, a dancing angel. He is the saint who joyfully sings to nature, who joyfully loves the nature God has created. He does so not as a pantheist, but clearly in all things, as a gardener loves each flower in his garden for itself. Joy! Joy! It is nothing other than music. He hangs from God on a golden thread, swaying back and forth with life's joy - the troubadour of God. He is inebriated with music and joyful love. Of all the saints, he is the poet; all his deeds are spontaneous rhymes, his words music! And even more than a poetic saint, one would prefer to call him a holy poet.

The Canticle (song) of Brother Sun and Sister Moon

Most High, all powerful, good Lord,
Yours are the praises, the glory, the honor,
and all blessing.

To You alone, Most High, do they belong,
and no man is worthy to mention Your name.

Be praised, my Lord, through all your creatures,
especially through my lord Brother Sun,
who brings the day; and you give light through him.
And he is beautiful and radiant in all his splendor!
Of you, Most High, he bears the likeness.

Praise be You, my Lord, through Sister Moon
and the stars, in heaven you formed them
clear and precious and beautiful.

Praised be You, my Lord, through Brother Wind,
and through the air, cloudy and serene,
and every kind of weather through which
You give sustenance to Your creatures.

Praised be You, my Lord, through Sister Water,
which is very useful and humble and precious and chaste.

Praised be You, my Lord, through Brother Fire,
through whom you light the night and he is beautiful
and playful and robust and strong.

Praised be You, my Lord, through Sister Mother Earth,
who sustains us and governs us and who produces
varied fruits with colored flowers and herbs.

Praised be You, my Lord,
through those who give pardon for Your love,
and bear infirmity and tribulation.

Blessed are those who endure in peace
for by You, Most High, they shall be crowned.

Praised be You, my Lord,
through our Sister Bodily Death,
from whom no living man can escape.

Woe to those who die in mortal sin.
Blessed are those whom death will find
in Your most holy will,
for the second death shall do them no harm.

Praise and bless my Lord,
and give Him thanks
and serve Him with great humility.

Despite the origin of this work, one is struck by its apparent universality; the piece mentions many threads present in many spiritual traditions. Indeed it has endured for nearly a thousand years, captivating those who make study of it. The personification of the elements in the "Canticle of the Sun" attributed to Saint Francis of Assisi, is something more than a mere literary device.
Francis' love of all the creatures of the earth was not simply the result of a tender or sentimental disposition; it arose rather from that deep and abiding sense of the presence of God, which under girded all that the mystic said and did. Even so, Francis' habitual cheerfulness was not that of a careless nature, or of one untouched by sorrow.

While it remains to us today unrecorded, Francis' hidden struggles, his wrestling with the Divine in prayer is surely a given. He freely acknowledged his wanderlust ways and transgressions.
And he must have thought that they made him more compassionate and more loving to all.

Elder Son, Beloved Child

You have to keep searching for your body's deeper need, the need for genuine love. Every time you are able to go beyond the body's superficial desires for love, you are bringing your body home and moving toward integration and unity.”--Henri Nouwen, The Return of the Prodigal Son

"Often I have asked friends to give me their first impression of Rembrandt's [Dutch painter 1606-1669] Prodigal Son. Henri Nouwen continues, "Inevitably, they point to the wise old man who forgives his son: the benevolent patriarch."
In his book, Return of the Prodigal Son, Nouwen describes love and forgiveness as unconditional. Though this is not a new idea, Nouwen's thought is arguably unique as he approaches this theme from the view of the younger son, the elder son, and the father. Each captures the unconditional quality of love and forgiveness in their own way. The younger son's life shows how the Beloved lives a life of misery by thinking he can be loved only by meeting certain qualifications of the lover which he fails to meet. The elder son's actions shows how the beloved can be depressed because he thinks he should receive greater love because he has done all the right things, or that he has met these qualifications.

The father alone understands how to love and forgive, and is able to do so and be happy. Nouwen explains that we are the younger son at times, when we think we don't deserve the love or the forgiveness; and the elder son at times when we think we deserve love, or that another doesn't deserve it more than us-- that we are all called to be like the father; that by being like the father, we can come closer to being loved as the Beloved.

"The longer I look at 'the patriarch', the clearer it becomes to me that Rembrandt has done something quite different from letting God pose as the wise old head of a family. It all began with the hands. The two are quite different. The father's left hand touching the son's shoulder is strong and muscular. The fingers are spread out and cover a large part of the prodigal son's shoulder and back. I can see a certain pressure, especially in the thumb. That hand seems not only to touch, but, with its strength, also to hold. Even though there is a gentleness in the way the father's left hand touches his son, it is not without a firm grip."

"How different is the father's right hand! This hand does not hold or grasp. It is refined, soft, and very tender. The fingers are close to each other and they have an elegant quality. It lies gently upon the son's shoulder. It wants to caress, to stroke, and to offer consolation and comfort. It is a mother's hand...."

"As soon as I recognized the difference between the two hands of the father, a new world of meaning opened up for me. The Father is not simply a great patriarch. He is mother as well as father. He touches the son with [both] a masculine hand and a feminine hand. He holds, and she caresses. He confirms and she consoles. He is, indeed, God, in whom both manhood and womanhood, fatherhood and motherhood, are fully present," writes Nouwen of the painting.

"That gentle and caressing right hand echoes for me the words of the biblical prophet Isaiah, "Can a woman forget her baby at the breast, feel no pity for the child she has borne? Even if these I were to forget, I shall not forget you. Look, I have engraved you on the palms of my hands."
Also, Nouwen writes: “Your body needs to be held and to hold, to be touched and to touch. None of these needs is to be despised, denied, or repressed. But you have to keep searching for your body's deeper need, the need for genuine love. Every time you are able to go beyond the body's superficial desires for love, you are bringing your body home and moving toward integration and unity.”
--Henri Nouwen, The Return of the Prodigal Son

Henri Nouwen (1932-1996) is a 20th century Catholic Christian writer, poet, teacher and mystic. He lived both in the Netherlands and in the United States. His books are now available in many languages around the world.