Recently, I had a fascinating experience in one of my classes at St. John’s University. The class may have been the outstanding class of the fall semester. I had read that a contemporary Catholic philosopher wondered if poetry might be a good way for people in our very secular society to experience the transcendent, to discover a sense of the mystery of being human, a mystery often overlooked or even denied in contemporary society.
One of my closest friends, Alysoun Roach, who had already received a master’s degree in education, recently received a master’s degree in fine arts. Herself a poet, Alysoun is an exceptionally gifted teacher. She teaches poetry at a university other than St. John’s. I decided to invite her to give a lecture on the exceptional value that poetry might have in helping people in a secular society appreciate in a new way the transcendent mystery of the human person. I had no doubt that the lecture would be good, but it turned out to be an exceptionally wonderful experience for me, and I think for my students.
At the beginning of her lecture, Alysoun made a number of interesting and stimulating remarks about the importance of poetry in expressing mystery and beauty. I expected Alysoun to give a good lecture, but she outdid herself. The class and lecture were really extraordinary. I was amazed at how involved the students were during the class. At the end of the class, I told my students I was sorry I had invited Altsoun because she made me look bad.
As part of the lecture, Alysoun distributed 10 poems. The poems must have been very carefully chosen. As far as I could tell, my students were almost entranced as they read and reflected on the poems Alysoun had selected. I think I had a transcendent experience that the Catholic philosopher suggested could occur through the reading of poetry, and I think some of the students also experienced mystery. Observing their faces, I thought some of them almost looked as though they were praying. I am going to quote one of my favorite poems, which I have previously quoted in one of my columns, because I think it especially fits into this column. It is “Game Called on Account of Darkness” by Peter Viereck.
Once I had a friend.
He watched me from the sky.
Maybe he never lived at all.
Maybe too much friendship made him die.
When the gang played cops-and-robbers in the alley
It was my friend who told me which were which.
Now he doesn’t tell me any more.
(Which team am I playing for?)
My science teacher built a telescope
To show me every answer in the end.
I stared and stared at every star for hours.
I couldn’t find my friend.
At Sunday school they said I breathe too much.
When I hold my breath within the under
Side of earth, they said I’ll find my friend.
… I wonder.
He was like a kind of central-heating
In the big cold house, and that was good.
One by one I have to chop my toys now
As firewood.
Every time I stood upon a crossroads,
It made me mad to feel him watch me choose.
I’m glad there’s no more spying while I play.
Still, I’m sad he went away.
Obviously, the poem is about someone who has lost his faith, but I wonder whether his sadness over losing it is a sign that he hasn’t lost it completely. Perhaps the sorrow is a remnant of the faith he once had. Though I have read the poem countless times, this is the first time it has occurred to me that his sadness may indicate he has not lost his faith completely.
I have subscriptions to three monthly magazines, and each includes poems in every issue. I told Alysoun that I have made a resolution to read those poems aloud every month. Alysoun told me that poetry is meant to be read aloud.
I hope I keep my resolution. I think that in a secular society, those of us who identify ourselves as believers should take advantage of anything that is in our society that might nourish our faith. I have long thought that theater, film, and novels can nourish a believer’s faith, either directly or indirectly.
My own experience with these three art forms has enriched my world and, directly or indirectly, nourished my faith. I will now look at poetry. I am grateful to the Catholic philosopher who suggested that reading poetry might open readers to mystery, and to Alysoun, who opened my students and me to mystery.
The Catholic philosopher to me, me to Alysoun, Alysoun to my students. I find that kind of passing on a good message very encouraging.
Father Lauder is a philosophy professor at St. John’s University, Jamaica. His new book, “The Cosmic Love Story: God and Us,” is available on Amazon.com and at Barnes & Noble.