Book Review:
The Heroic Face of Innocence:
Three Stories by Georges Bernanos
November 1--The Feast of All Saints, November 2--The Feast of All Souls. What better writer is there to introduce us to the saints than Georges Bernanos? And, few are as sensitive to the relations between all saints and all souls. In The Heroic Face of Innocence: Three Stories by Georges Bernanos, the Ressourcement Series introduces us to three examples of saintliness from the works of Bernanos: with the focus on three holy young women.
Bernanos startles us in the first story, "Joan, Heretic and Saint," by defending Joan of Arc's inquisitors from charges that they were ignorant of their faith or that they were politically motivated. No, he points out how these were some of the very best theologians and church bureaucrats of the day, that if anyone would have been trained to recognize a saint it would be these. Bernanos has a very keen satirical eye and his prey are not modernist heretics or worldly sinners but the mediocre who treat the spiritual treasury of the church as their personal bank account, writing off their own sins and magnifying those of others. Skillfully interweaving excerpts from Joan's trial--from her accusers and from Joan herself--with his own acute commentary, Bernanos reminds us that we must become like children to enter the Kingdom of Heaven, and that nothing less is worthy of the followers of Christ.
The second selection, a new translation selected from Bernanos's The Great Cemeteries under the Moon, gives us Bernanos at his satirical peak, "The Sermon of an Agnostic on the Feast of St. Therese." In this bold fiction, Bernanos allows an agnostic, a worldly humanist, to mount the pulpit and deliver one of the more stinging rebukes of the century in the spirit of St. Therese of Lisieux. This agnostic takes the churchgoers to task not for believing in God, but for believing in God half-heartedly. As a representative of the nations, the agnostic has come to ask why the light to the nations is so dim. Christianity is supposed to offer an alternative to the despair and cynicism of the world, but the practice of Christians leads him to see the Christian claim as a deception. He notes that ". . . you hold an advantageous place in this society because, by calling it materialistic, it allows you at small cost the immense privilege of criticizing it in the name of Spirit. Unfortunately for you, beyond a certain degree of guile and deception, the most insolent of phraseologies cannot mask the void of systems" (31). For the agnostic, the Christian is someone who takes pleasure in elevating himself above the world while engaging in an economic and social life indistinguishable from that of his unbelieving brothers.
What does the agnostic expect from Christians? That, believing in the possibility of hell for themselves, they should expend some effort in remedying the probability of hell for non-believers. Instead, ". . . the most pious among you are even very anxious to avoid all discussion with infidels, in case they were to ‘lose their faith,' as they put it" (24). Is this not the same kind of spiritual smugness decried in "Joan, Heretic and Saint"? Jesus calls us to die in order to live-- should we be surprised if the world expects us to take this vocation seriously? In a prophetic moment, the agnostic warns us about conditions in the world: "for the hour shall strike when questions hurled at you from all points on the earth shall be so urgent and so direct that you will not be able to answer except by yes or no" (31). The world has plenty of provisional answers in medicine, economics, and even in ethics. And Bernanos's agnostic suggests that the desperate world will not always remain pacified in receiving its own answers back with a Christian patina.
The most significant of the works in this collection is the "Dialogues of the Carmelites," a screenplay based on the martyrdom of a community of Carmelite nuns by the French Revolution. This work follows Gertrud von le Fort's novel, Song from the Scaffold, but takes its own approach to the story, selecting some elements from von le Fort and others from the historical record. Dialogue is the key word in the title because dialogue is the mode in which Bernanos expresses the fullness of his vision. "Joan" and "Sermon" of this volume are only partial dialogues: Joan is overwhelmed by the Court of the Inquisition and the agnostic speaks uninterrupted to the uneasy churchgoers. In "Dialogues of the Carmelites," the debate between experienced bourgeoisie and innocent heroism is renewed, but with a few differences. Bernanos is able to give his heroism a voice: two voices, in fact--that of Blanche de la Force and that of Constance de St. Denis, two very young postulants to the Carmelite order. Constance has a light, childlike way of looking at everything, and in many ways is reminiscent of St. Therese Lisieux. Blanche (who becomes Sister Blanche of the Agony of Christ) is considered by most to be fearful (in a way beneath her class) and unsuited to the heroic vocation of a nun. When we first read this work, we are tempted to question the judgement of Hans Urs von Balthasar, who considers it to be greater than Bernanos's Diary of a Country Priest. After all, the Diary is a satirical masterpiece which leaves few unscathed in its vision of the Church. And the figure of a poor priest triumphing over the Devil in a backwater parish is too marvelous for us to forget. In the "Dialogues of the Carmelites," however, we have only a timid nun, a fearful, sheltered daughter of aristocracy. And this nun is surrounded by sisters who fear the shame her fear will bring upon them. And all of this is set within a world of bourgeoisie characters who daily talk as if they will be able to retain position and pride as the French revolution draws ever closer to their necks. In the end, Bernanos (and Balthasar) would have us understand that in God's economy it is not the great sacrifices that count-- the great shows of courage in the face of danger-- but rather the faithfulness of those whom he has called, even when every human strength is stripped from them.
Our introduction to the saints, then, is something other than the traditional hagiographies have taught us to expect. After all, aren't saints supposed to be wise and well-versed in theology? And yet Joan of Arc is easily confused and trapped into imprudent statements. Saints are supposed to be peaceful lovers of all people, and yet Joan rides into battle like a common soldier. We know Therese Lisieux and her little way of everyday sacrifices. Did she really offer her prayers for the salvation of a man condemned to death for terrible crimes? If so, how could her life become a judgement against us, who have avoided even the appearance of sin? What price do we pay for not daring holiness, and for considering sainthood the province of superhuman heroes? And if we truly consider sainthood too much for us, do we really believe that the Son of God shared our weakness and humanity?
The Heroic Face of Innocence: Three Stories by Georges Bernanos.
Paperback - 150 pages (September 1999)
Wm. B. Eerdmans Publishing Co.
ISBN: 0802845657
Originally published at Aqua et Ignis
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