Summary of The Wisdom of the Poor One of Assisi by Eloi Leclerc

What is this book about?

“The Wisdom of the Poor One of Assisi,” translated from French, explores St. Francis of Assisi’s darkest period. When his vision for the Friars’ community is rejected, he retreats to a hermitage for winter, facing heartache and despondency. Emerging in spring, St. Francis realizes the fundamental truth: “God is God.” He understands that the importance of God’s presence surpasses his own hopes and ideas. Leclerc’s beautifully written narrative provides comfort to those dealing with failure or loss, emphasizing that true peace comes from surrendering to God’s will. It’s a timeless reflection on faith, particularly resonant for those experiencing disappointment. Here are my favourite quotes from the book:

On holiness, sanctity, and true freedom

“What about me?” challenged the farmer jokingly. “Could I become a saint?” “Of course, Paolo,” said Francis. “You, too, are loved by God just as I am. To believe in this love is enough for you to see your heart change” (32).

“[S]anctity is not developing oneself to the utmost, nor is it an achievement of one’s own doing. It is at first a void which one discovers in oneself and accepts and which God then comes to fill in proportion to how much one makes oneself receptive to God’s bounty. Our nothingness, you see, if it is accepted, becomes a free space where God can create again” (53).

“We must simply lose ourselves completely, sweep away everything, even the sharp perception of our distress. We must make room for God. We must accept poverty. We must renounce all that weighs us down, even the weight of our own faults. We must see nothing but the glory of God and bask in it. God is. That suffices. The heart then becomes buoyant. It no longer feels its own weight, but is like the lark, inebriated by space and sky. Then a person has abandoned all care, all worry. One’s desire for perfection has changed into a simple and pure will for God” (53).

The hermitage bell tolled; it was time to say the Office. Francis and Rufino arose and made their way toward the oratory. They went tranquilly, as do free people. Suddenly Francis seized Rufino’s arm and stopped him. “Listen, Brother; I must tell you something.” He paused an instant, gazing down at the ground. He seemed to hesitate. Then looking Rufino directly in the eye, he said to him gravely, “With the aid of the Lord, you have overcome your desire for power and prestige. But you will have to do it not just once, but ten, twenty, a hundred times.” “You frighten me, Father,” said Rufino. “I am not cut out to withstand such a struggle.” “It is not in struggling you succeed,” replied Francis gently, “but in adoring. The person who adores God knows that there is only one All-Powerful One. Such a person acknowledges it and accepts it deeply, heartily, and rejoices that God is God. God is. That is enough and that makes a person free. Do you understand?” “Yes, Father, I understand,” answered Rufino. They had resumed their walk while still speaking and now were just a few steps from the oratory. “If we knew how to adore, then nothing could truly disturb our peace,” said Francis. “We would travel through the world with the tranquility of the great rivers” (44-45).

On real wisdom, knowledge, and speaking from experience

“Someone only knows for certain what one has experienced” (63).

“Francis was silent. The sorrow of this mother was not foreign to him. He understood it better than anyone because for months, he himself had been tormented by the very same sorrow. He, too, knew what it was to love his children and to see them fade away day after day. That was why this woman’s grief touched him and stirred him so deeply. “Poor mother,” he said, after a few moments of silence. “It is hard, very hard, but you must not lose your confidence. Lose everything else, but not confidence.” He was not speaking just with his lips, without believing, or simply because he had to say something. No, he spoke from the very depths of his being and this woman felt it keenly. No doubt she had already been told these same things, but not in this way. She had never been impressed as she was now. Here, the words sprang forth from a different depth. He must have suffered grievously himself and perhaps lost all in order to speak with such sincerity and such gravity. He must have passed beyond despair and rediscovered solid ground, the deep reality that does not crumble” (48).

On living in God’s time and finding God in nature

“There is a time for all beings but time is not the same for all. The time for in-animate things is not the time of the animals, and that of the animals is not that of humans. Above all and different from all, there is God’s time, which encompasses all others and surpasses them. The heart of God does not beat at the same rate as ours. It has its own rhythm, that of God’s eternal mercy which extends from age to age and never grows old. It is very difficult for us to enter into the divine tempo – and yet only there are we able to find peace… To learn to live in God’s time, there, without doubt, is the secret of wisdom.” “And the source of very great peace,” added Clare” (28).

“The All-Powerful One is at the same time the meekest of beings and the most patient. In God there is no trace of resentment. When we creatures rebel and offend God, we remain God’s creatures still. God, of course, could destroy us, but what pleasure could God find in destroying something which was made with so much love? The roots of all God’s creatures are ever deep within the Lord. God is the most disarmed of all beings when faced by those creatures loved into being, as a mother is before her child. There, my brother, is the secret of that stupendous patience which sometimes scandalizes us” (70).

“Those who merely follow their own ideas remain locked within themselves. They do not truly commune with creation. They never become acquainted with the universe. They lack silence, depth and peace. The depth of anyone is in proportion to their receptive capacity. The greater part of humanity remains isolated within themselves, despite all appearances. They are like insects unable to shed their cocoons. They are desperately agitated in the dark reaches of their limitations. At the end of it all, they find themselves as they were when they started. They think they have changed something, but they die without ever having seen the day. They have never awakened to reality; they have lived in a dream” (68).

“Francis had resumed his solitary meditations. On the small paths under the pines, the vivid light of spring was gently filtered and became extremely soft. He loved to reflect and pray there. He said nothing, or almost nothing, for his prayers were not of a set formula at all. He listened more than anything else and was content to be there and to pay attention. It might be said that he kept the watch like a hunter. He persevered through long hours of waiting, attentive to the least movement of every creature and every natural thing which surrounded him, ever ready to discover the least sign of the omnipresence, the song of a bird, the rustle of the leaves, the antics of a squirrel and even the slow, silent thrust of growing life. Was it not all speaking a language mysterious and divine? One must know how to listen and to understand without rejecting anything or disturbing anything, but humbly and with the greatest respect establish silence within oneself. Through the pines, the breeze whispered gently. It hummed a lovely tune and Francis listened to the breeze speaking to him. Truly, the wind had become a fast friend. Was it not, as he was, a pilgrim and a stranger in this world, without a roof, ever wandering–always vanishing? The poorest among the poor, was it not carrying in its nakedness the priceless seeds of creation? It kept nothing for itself; it would sow and then move on without worrying where the seed would fall, without knowing anything about the fruit of its labor. It was content merely to sow and did it lavishly. Attached to nothing, it was as free as space itself. Wherever it wished, it whispered to the image of the Holy Spirit, as it is written in Scripture” (46-47).

On evangelization, love, and sharing in Christ’s Passion

“The Lord has sent us to evangelize the world. But have you already thought about what it means to evangelize people? Can’t you see, Brother, that to evangelize a person is to say to that one: ‘You–yes, you too are loved by God in the Lord Jesus.’ “And you must not only tell that person so, but you must really believe it, and not only believe it, but conduct yourself with this person in such a way that this person can feel and discover there is something within that is being redeemed, something more majestic and noble than had ever been dreamed. Thus will this person be aroused to a new awareness of self. Thus will you have proclaimed to that one ‘the good tidings of great joy’” (70).

“Oh, You who have deigned to die for love of my love,” he groaned, “let me know the sweet violence of your love that I may die for love of your love.” Leo was certain that at that moment Francis was seeing his Lord hanging from the ignominious cross. He was watching him after the long hours of agony, writhing still, struggling between life and death, a horribly tortured form. By one bound, his joy had transported him to a contemplation of the Crucified.”

“On the following day, Good Friday, Francis wished the spend the entire day in solitude, meditating on the Passion of Jesus. For this, he had chosen a desolate place where austerity was in harmony with the great thoughts which filled his soul. Anxious to participate in the feelings of the Lord, he began to recite slowly the Psalm that Jesus had uttered on the cross. He stopped at each verse for as long as it took the Word to reach to the depths of his being. Before the Word he was, as always, defenseless. He let it come to him and bear down on him with all its weight. But at last, it was the Word which supported him each time and uplifted him. Now, while he was saying the words, “My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me?” he was seized as never before by the feeling of extreme abandonment wrung from the Saviour Himself. All of a sudden, Francis felt as one with Christ, painfully one. Never before had he understood these words as he did now. They were no longer foreign. For months he had searched for the face of God. For months he had lived with the impression that God was gone from him and from his order. The agony of the Son – now he knew something of what it was. Why, it was the absence of the Father, a feeling of failure, an inevitable and absurd unfolding of events when those with a will for good are swept away and crushed by an interplay of inexorable forces. The words of the Psalm slowly penetrated his soul. It did not hurl Francis back on himself, nor did it encompass him in his suffering. On the contrary, it made him receptive in the very depths of his being to the suffering of Christ. He felt that he had never contemplated this suffering except from the outside. Now he was seeing it from within. He was participating in it, testing it for himself as a personal experience until it nauseated him. This time at least, he was fully assimilated into Christ” (36).

Q. What was your favourite quote or insight? Share in the comments below 🙂