The Sweetness of Nothing – Br. Robert L’Esperance


Matthew 18:1-6

Recently, I’ve been reading Le très-bas or in its English translation, The Very Lowly by Christian Bobin.  This is the first time I’ve ever read anything by this French Catholic author.  It’s the first time I’ve ever heard of Christian Bobin for that matter.  The Very Lowly is a biography of St. Francis of Assisi.  But it isn’t like any biography I’ve ever read before.  Les très bas reads more like poetry even though it’s written in prose.  Honestly, it isn’t like any book I’ve ever read before.

Le très-bas is described on the book’s back cover as “exquisite and moving.”  It is very much both of those things and I have found myself reading it as lectio divina.  Savoring the depths of its insights as a meditative exercise while basking in its strikingly beautiful language.

In a chapter entitled “The Sweetness of Nothing,” Bobin spends a good deal of time reflecting on Francis’ childhood of which we know practically nothing.  It’s in this “nothingness” which forms a deep thematic thread in the book, that Bobin is able to mine so much rich material.

About one hundred years after Francis’ death, the Dominican and future archbishop of Genoa, Jacques de Voragine, wrote the Golden Legend, a sort of mediaeval precursor to Butler’s Lives of the Saints.  Bobin draws a comparison between the Golden Legend and a child’s drawing.  He puts it this way, “A child’s drawing goes right to the essential.  If life feels blocked the child draws a house with no door.  If life is lilting along, he puts in lots of windows, flowers, sun.  The same is true of the miniatures of the Middles Ages, where the dress of the great lady is bigger than her castle, where a horse’s eye rivals the oval of the moon.  It is not that we are dealing here with some sort of juvenile stage in art or a childish incapacity of the hand.  Rather, the painter is expressing a perspective different from reasons’ indifferent geometrical one.  He is following the perspective of the heart, which depicts what is not, so that what is can be seen better.”1

“The Golden Legend is a collection of saints caught in midflight of a word or a gesture.  As many saints as there are ways of fluttering like a butterfly in light.  Saints with wings rich like velvet, saints with dragonfly wings, saints with long antennae, saints with fine insects feet.  And nothing, ever, about childhood.  As though childhood had no role to play in the grace of taking flight.  As though butterflies did not come from caterpillars.  For Francis of Assisi, there is just a pen stroke, a wrinkle in the paper:  ‘Francis, the servant of the Most High, lived in vanity until the age of nearly twenty years.’”

Voragine was a man of the Church and of his age.  “For this kind of man, vanity means nothingness.”  All of what we kindly admire as childhood’s milestones amount to nothing.  “The chirping of the first words:  vanity, nothingness.  The fragile dance of the first steps:  vanity, nothingness.  The wonder at the first snowflakes, at the profound softness of summer evenings; the mad laughter and the tears in the eyes, the sores on the knees and the carefreeness in the soul:  vanity.  Nothingness.”2  For Voragine, a man of his time, “childhood is a passing disease.  If any heed at all is paid to it, it was to see in it nothing but a mortifying testimony to human weakness…The child at this time is at the lowest point in creation, not far from madmen or animals.  The only complete reception it gets is in the word of Christ.  Jacques de Voragine was a theologian.  He comments on this word, and the ruckus he makes with his commentaries prevents him from hearing it.  He is an organization man, and he names his God following the model of the military hierarchy of the clergy:  the Most High.  This is forgetting that nothing can be known about the Most High except through the Most Low, through this God the height of childhood, this god on the ground level of one’s first falls, with one’s nose in the grass.”3  And Jesus’ words, “…unless you change and become like children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven,”4 echo in my head.  Unless you become like one of these nothings you will never enter the kingdom of heaven.

We tend to forget that our contemporary notions about childhood are largely the product of the Victorian era.  Through much of human history, children have been largely discounted.  Childhood has appeared as an unfortunate inconvenience, a passage from infancy to adulthood with everything in between seen for nothing.  And yet Jesus says this is what we are to become if we are to enter the kingdom of heaven.

Not much had changed between how the Middle Ages and the ancient world saw children.  Then as in the Middle Ages, they had no social or legal standing.  Fathers were endowed with the law of paterfamilias and fathers’ rights always trumped children’s rights, because they had none.  Children ranked in the same category as women and slaves; even if Roman law gave some women of certain social standing some rights under the law.  Children had none.  Children were in a sense throw-away people.  As children, they didn’t figure much into adult worlds.  They were largely non-entities except in terms of their future potential; what they would eventually bring to the group at some future date.  But for now, not much good for anything.  They were powerless in the true sense of the word.  Powerlessness is one of the biggest words in our spiritual vocabulary.  It lies at the center of the best spiritual thinking.  It can be one of the scariest too.

Jesus taught that “unless [we] change and become like children, [we] will never enter the kingdom of heaven.  Whoever becomes humble like this child is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven.  Whoever welcomes one such child in my name welcomes me.”5  We see Jesus upending and reversing a God-image at odds with the God that he knows first-hand.  Jesus again deftly abolishing another idol unthinkingly created by human beings.

This is all very strange, certainly illogical, because we worship the God who stands behind the very existence of time and space; on whom our very being, all being, depends for its existence.  And yet, and yet, to find this omnipotent divine, we must change and become like nothing; we must live into our powerlessness.  We must search where there is nothingness and lowliness to discover the All-Powerful One who identifies with our world’s throw-away people.

What does it mean to change and become like children?  How do we become like what is not in order to see better what is?

I’m not sure what this means for me let alone what it might mean for you.  What I think I know is that God somehow rests divine favor among those who are most vulnerable, least able to fend for themselves, most at-risk in this life.  That somehow we are commanded to embrace this life, this existence, with all its joys and sorrows, all of its light and darkness, all of its truth and uncertainty.  That we have to risk being alive.  That somehow we have to find ourselves embracing the lowliness and powerlessness of our own lives if we are to enter the kingdom.

Francis of Assisi lived out this truth in his own life in his own particular way.  Maybe you are already living this way?  Or maybe you would like to try and find out what this might mean for you.  Maybe it’s time to re-consider what is often so easily discounted in life as worthless and insignificant.  Because, if we do, Jesus tells us, we will find the kingdom of heaven.

  1. Bobin, Christian.  The Very Lowly: a Meditation on Francis of Assisi.  Boston & London:  New Seeds, 2006, p. 24.
  2. Bobin, p. 26.
  3. Bobin, p. 27.
  4. Matthew 18:3
  5. Ibid.

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  1. marta engdahl on October 31, 2018 at 00:07

    Absolutely Beautiful! For us as adults to adapt the persona of the children, that delightful (hopefully) time of life when we were open and vulnerable. Reading “Wisdom Jesus” now, and focusing on Kenosis which also deeply relates to the role of children as well as to our own emptying.

  2. Elizabeth Hardy on October 29, 2018 at 09:51

    What fascinating and intricate sermon. It was like having dessert with my breakfast. Thank you Br. Robert. You always have such intriguing ideas.

  3. Joseph Roquebecil on January 26, 2014 at 12:22

    Thanks brother because you make it clearer what the Lord had in mind when he said that we are to be as little children. That is, all our hopes and well being are in a trusting faith which we take Jesus Christ at his word when we are most vulnerable, when we are nothing but emptied vessels.

  4. barbara frazer lowe on January 24, 2014 at 16:01

    Br. L’Esperance, thankyou for your your stimulating, educational and inspiring ‘Word’, following along the pathway you presented.

  5. Selinafrom Maine on January 24, 2014 at 00:02

    Meanwhile , give my regards to Sophie.

  6. Selinafrom Maine on January 23, 2014 at 23:59

    Amazing sermon Brother Robert . .I am struck dumb for now. Must get the book . If it is not translated into English , I’ll have to find my French dictionary. Meanwhile I will ponder and ponder:: power and powerlessness , being and nothingness, embracing powerlessness and encountering God..

  7. Nicki Bourne on January 23, 2014 at 14:51

    Thank you for your beautiful sermon. I’ve only read it once, and plan to read it many times more, but my first reaction is important in that my inner child, (I’m 78 currently), jumped for joy at the sight of this, because during the time that I was really beginning to develop my faith, between age 40 and 50, I heard Matthew 18:1-6, for the first time to notice, in church one day, and it gave me great courage to stand up in my tracks and feel worthy and as though I had a future with spirituality and the Holy Trinity. It honestly gave me a sharp stick in the arm to get going and not let anything hold me back. Needless to say, I had survived some demeaning abuse and was struggling for enough self-esteem to approach God and say, “What about me? Am I acceptable?” And, here was my answer. In my healing I could start again from the beginning, emotionally, and it would work. Any time I see these verses, I get a little reminder of that joy. And today, I’m cheering for this sermon! Thank you so much.

  8. Barbara Harris on January 23, 2014 at 14:27

    Thank you so much for this sermon. I enjoyed the discussion of “nothingness” such a different view of childhood than now when we record for prosperity all that a child does and says. Every moment is documented and them somewhere along the way, we stop and they once again become like those children of so long ago.
    I have trouble reading and it was wonderful to be able to hear it. I hope in the future more of the sermons will be available as audio files.

  9. Ruth West on January 23, 2014 at 09:27

    Br. Robert, this is a powerful sermon. I reread it to get the full message.
    How true it is in this world where children are so devalued! In a world where
    millions of the unborn have been thrown in the trashcan. When my children were young, they knew many of the popular little songs such as “Puff, the Magic Dragon” and “Davy Crockett,” but they also knew “Jesus Loves Me This I Know,” and “Jesus Loves the Little Children.” In the seminaries and places of the teaching of theology, I wonder how much emphasis is placed on this valuable truth of our Lord’s emphasis that we must become like the little children in order to enter the Kingdom. This is food for thought today.

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