Whoever you are, gentle reader, I recommend this book to you. It is one of those universal classics that powerfully, skillfully, and with thoroughgoing integrity, addresses a truly universal phenomenon: the encounter of mortal, corporeal, limited human beings with the numinous.
That's something we all share, no matter our language or religion. One day we are walking along, leading our workaday lives, and -- something happens. Something that just does not fit in what we can conceive of as real. We have a dream, we see, however fleetingly, a ghost, we know something we should not have known.
How do we respond? What is the proper response?
A related question: Human suffering. Why? What is God *thinking*? Or, isn't human suffering proof that there is no God?
Franz Werfel's "Song of Bernadette" takes up these questions, questions that every sentient creature must ponder at least once in his or her lifetime. And Werfel does a bang-up job.
Werfel himself was no stranger to either phenomenon. He knew suffering, and he knew the numinous. He had previously written of the Armenian genocide. He was a Jew escaping from Hitler when he, inspired by a trip to Lourdes in his escape, undertook to complete a vow and write something that would honor what he experienced there.
I was wary of this book. Mindful of the Jennifer Jones - Vincent Price movie (what a combo), I expected a spongy, pious, icky book. Boy, was I wrong.
From the start, the reader realizes that no matter what else he is, Werfel was an excellent writer. Born in Prague, he was a peer of Franz Kafka and had an established reputation before he began "Song," having been voted the most popular author in the German language in 1926, and having won the Grillparzer Prize, the Schiller Prize, and the Czechoslovakian State Prize, among others.
One of Werfel's great gifts is that he doesn't try to sell you anything that you don't want to buy. He uses his literary skill to recreate a humble peasant's life for you, to drag you into a grim dwelling where an ordinary peasant girl is doing her chores, and coughing asthmatically. Believe me; this is not a child you feel any temptation to worship. She could be anyone, anyone. From these particulars, Werfel creates a universal tale.
Now, the tough part. Werfel, of course, is writing about GOD. That topic that makes people get crazy with each other. And he's writing about a miracle, an event that, by its definition, defies human belief.
I'll be frank. I'm a lifelong Catholic. And *I* find Bernadette Soubirous' story hard to believe. Were I sick, I would not seek healing at Lourdes; I'd go to a medical doctor.
This is where Werfel's skill as a writer really shines. He does not even attempt to describe the miracles in a believable way. Rather, he describes the *reactions* of observers in a way that I found completely believable. I believe that average people, when confronted with the numinous, would react exactly as the characters in Werfel's book are described as reacting.
Werfel never converted to Catholicism. After reading his masterful book, I, a Catholic, have more questions than answers about what really happened - and about what really continues to happen - at Lourdes. Indeed, those not at all Catholic, but interested in the power of the mind to heal the body, have included Lourdes on their research itineraries.
It was Werfel who first gave me pause about Bernadette, and about Lourdes. Without having read his book, I think I would have dismissed Bernadette, had I given her any thought at all, as a hoaxer, or as someone with some mental disability. Isn't that how we usually respond when confronted with the numinous, but at a distance? Werfel provides us with portraits of people who respond exactly that way, and others who have to handle the numinous when confronted with it at first hand. The contrasts are wonderfully drawn, as are the occasional conversions.
As Werfel so wonderfully says, "for those who believe, no explanation is necessary; for those who do not believe, no explanation is possible."
We all, at some moment or another, wrestle with ourselves to discover on what side of that line we take our stand. At such moments, we could do worse than pick up Werfel's "Song of Bernadette."