A few months ago, I received a phone call from a friend who is pursuing a master’s degree at a local university. An assignment was given in one of her classes, and each student had to interview someone about the process of aging. My friend asked me to be the subject of her interview.
The great Russian novelist Fyodor Dostoyevsky claimed that beauty will save the world. When I first heard that idea expressed many years ago, it fascinated me. It still does. I wondered what it meant (and still do). I decided that writing a column about it might help me understand it more deeply.
As soon as I read Angela Alaimo O’Donnell’s excellent essay in “America” (January 2025) entitled “Jesus, Mary, and Satan at the Met,” I knew that I would have to visit the Metropolitan Museum of Art in Manhattan so that I could experience this almost incredible exhibit: “Siena: the Rise of Painting, 1300-1350.”
Writing this series of columns about beauty has made me a little more sensitive to the beauty of God’s creation and a little more sensitive to how some talented artists have captured some of that beauty in their art. Jesuit poet Gerard Manley Hopkins proclaimed a profound truth when he wrote, “The world is charged with the grandeur of God.”
In November, I concelebrated the funeral Mass for Lou Carnesecca, the former basketball coach at St. John’s University. The liturgy was beautiful, and the St. Thomas More Church on the St. John’s campus was filled to capacity. Father Richard Rock gave a beautiful homily. The liturgy was one of the most moving I have ever attended. I had the impression that everyone in the church, not just former players who had “Louie” as a coach, had a special relationship with Coach Carneseccca. Hundreds of people felt that they wanted to attend because of their relationship with him.
Writing this series of columns about beauty has led me to think about the marvelous way that great poetry captures and expresses beauty. I confess that I do not read a great deal of poetry. I am not proud of that. I am making a confession.
When I started writing this series of columns on the mystery of beauty, I had no plan to include columns on the Fellowship for Performing Arts (FPA). The FPA was not present in my planning, but once I thought of it, I knew I had to include two columns about it. FPA is an excellent example of almost everything I have been promoting in this series of columns.
I regularly look for cultural events that might be a positive source for personal growth, my own and the growth of others. Frequently I write about those events in this column. Max McLean is an exceptionally talented actor. Back in the 1990’s McLean’s apostolate was to dramatically present Mark’s Gospel. Someone suggested that he expand his apostolate by starting a theatre group whose purpose was to present theatrical productions featuring a Christian theme.
During the many years that I have been teaching philosophy, I have discovered a special blessing. I am not referring to the axiom that if you become a teacher by your students, you will be taught, though I have found that axiom to be profoundly true. I am referring to the opportunity that, in challenging students to read great books, I am blessed to have the opportunity to read or re-read some great books. One gem that I strongly recommend to all readers of this column is Viktor Frankl’s “Man’s Search for Meaning.”
Only recently have I noticed how often I use the word “awesome.” I use the word often in philosophy classes at St. John’s University and I use it often in Sunday homilies. In both classes and homilies, I am trying to help others appreciate in some new or special way what is part of their experience.
