Charles de Foucauld on witnessing without witnessing
Even when he wanted to pray
A modern day desert father, Charles de Foucauld “wanted to be among those who were — ‘the furthest removed, the most abandoned’,” in the words of the biography on the Vatican website. “He wanted all who drew close to him to find in him a brother, — ‘a universal brother.’ In a great respect for the culture and faith of those among whom he lived, his desire was to ‘shout the Gospel with his life.’ ‘I would like to be sufficiently good that people would say, If such is the servant, what must the Master be like?’” This is taken from Rene Bazin’s biography Charles de Foucauld: Hermit and Explorer.
The passage begins quoting Charles’ diary.
“At midnight I get up (when I hear the alarum), and sing the Veni Creator, recite Matins and Lauds : this is also a very sweet moment : alone with the Spouse, in the profound silence of the Sahara, under the vast sky, this hour of tete-a-tete is a supreme comfort. I go back to bed at one.” Thus he had six hours' sleep, divided by an hour's vigil, and prayer held the first place.
The work of charity alone upset the Rule. This was a most acute trial for Brother Charles, whose contemplative soul thirsted for meditation. He accepted it, however.
He was one who gave a fraternal welcome to the poorest and most unknown and undeserving of neighbours, who never let it be suspected that he was put out, and was willing to waste his time for talking with God upon unreliable nomads, corrupt slaves, beggars and bores.
Every minute somebody would come and open the door, and Brother Charles appeared with his beautiful eyes full of serenity, his head bent forward a little, and his hand already held out.
He wore a white gandourah, fastened with a girdle on which there was worked a heart surmounted by a cross in red cloth; he had sandals on his feet. As to the headgear, it was his own invention — it was made of a cap which he had stripped of its peak and covered with a white pugaree to shield the back of his neck.
The picture of the Cross and the Sacred Heart told from a distance what this white man's Faith was. Nobody could fail to see it.
That is why, on some desert post, many years after the time of Beni-Abbes, when General Laperrine read an article representing Charles de Foucauld as a priest who never spoke of his beliefs or did much preaching of the Faith, he seized his pen and angrily scribbled in his notebook: “What of his conversations? and his dress?” He wrote the truth: his habit was a sermon and, besides, Brother Charles's whole life proclaimed the Gospel. The natives were never mistaken about it.
This is strongly encouraging to me.