off the shelf old books reviewed anew

The Little Flowers Of Saint Francis, A Paraphrase, by Donadl E Demarray, published by Alba House, New York, 1992.

As a member of the Methodist branch of what we might call the modern Christian family of churches, Donald E Demarray has a paradoxically wise and warm appreciation for Saint Francis whom some might consider in a sectional way to be a most quintessentially Catholic of holy men. But of course Saint Francis isn't a Catholic possession. Like the Lord himself he seems to belong to all humanity. And anyway like some of us would be Catholics in the ancient church like to point out, the word Catholic actually means universal. Mr Demarray tells a good story in this paraphrase of the age old Little Flowers book which orginally dates from the 1300s and was purportedly set down by a Franciscan monk called Brother Ugolino Di Monte Santa Maria. Mr Demarray has a nice feel for the ancient ways. His use of language contemporises effectively what is on the face of it a kooky enough snapshot of purported kooky events in the life of an almost mythic Catholic and certainly kooky enough saint.
The Christian writer Catherine De Hueck Doherty once remarked that if Saint Francis was alive today, they'd probably put him in a mental home.
The image of Saint Francis, the idea of him, and perhaps the lingering traces of his mystical reality, even today have the capacity to speak powerfully to people of many nations, generations, cultures and indeed religious persuasions.
There is something genuine about him that shines down the centuries and touches hearts.
In the literary sense the reasons for his enduring appeal are the Canticle Of The Creatures where he gushes praisingly about the glory of the creation and the fellowship of everything in it, "brother sun and sister moon" and all that jazz,. Then of course there's his prayer that runs "make me an instrument of your peace... where there is doubt let me sow faith... where there is hatred let me bring your love."
Neither of these two greatest hits is in the Little Flowers.
This book is nonetheless like balm for the heart and mind and spirit.
The layout is simple and accessible. Each chapter consists of just a few pages of anecdotal evocations in melliflous poetic style.
It is best reviewed by an extract.
In the following snippet, Saint Francis is waxing poetical about true joy to his fellow monk Brother Leo:

"The spirit's best gift,
His highest grace,
Christ gives to his friends.
To conquer self
for Jesus' sake:
this makes us willing to go through
sufferings,
hurts,
rejections,
troubles of all sorts.
We cannot glory in other gifts,
because they come from God,
not us.
So why compliment yourself
for what God does?
But we can glory
in troubles and sufferings
        they are ours.
That's why Saint Paul says,
'I glory only in the cross of the Lord
Jesus Christ.'
To him belong respect,
also reverence,
until the world's end. Amen."