“A good book is a good friend you engage again and again.”
“Even the desert blooms.”
“Distraction is drinking coffee as you pray. Praying while you drink coffee is devotion.”
Monday, December 14, 2020
Reading Saint John of the Cross by Susan Kelly-Dewitt – Analysis and Commentary
READING SAINT JOHN OF THE CROSS BY SUSAN KELLY-DEWITT –
ANALYSIS AND COMMENTARY
There
are many ways to interpret a poem. Analysis of several poems of Susan
Kelly-Dewitt indicates that the following approaches would be most helpful in interpreting
her work:
Historical-biographical: The poem describes the
personal experience of the author.
Psychological: The poem expresses her deep
psychological sentiments.
Archetypal: The poem employs
metaphors and images fraught with cultural meanings.
Formalist: The poem uses an underlying narrative
structure.
See:
—Skylar
Hamilton Burris, “A Toolbox for Understanding Literature: Seven Critical Approaches,” September 26, 2018, Skylar Hamilton Burris: Author, Editor, Publisher
Because
“Reading Saint John of the Cross” centers on a well-known Roman Catholic
religious motif, namely, the holy man himself, clues to a meaningful
interpretation of the poem may be found found in the author’s similarly religious
poetry.
Before
moving on to “Reading Saint John of the Cross,” let’s look at the following
poems:
I-80 Catechism
Cold Sweat
Francis in Ecstasy
I-80
CATECHISM by Susan Kelly-Dewitt
The
hills with their bright gold
scapulars.
The sun's dry chalice
over
Vacaville. Cattle plush
as
Bathsheba’s rugs.
Teach
me that.
Flesh,
stone
and
star.
Fur,
bone
and
grass.
Let
me memorize
that:
Vetch, Brome
Poppy,
Hawk.
The
speaker in the poem, plausibly, the author herself, describes what she sees—hills,
sun, cattle—as she travels down I-80. The poem ends by listing several roadside
plant species—Vetch, Brome, Poppy, Hawk.
Midway
through the poem, she cites a series of images—flesh, stone, star, fur, bone,
grass—what are we to make of this? They appear to be items that are associated with
sights along the way or they are actual visual features of the landscape.
We
could read any number of meanings into the series, but I won’t attempt it because
they’re obscure.
Notably,
the poet uses religious metaphors—gold scapulars, chalice, Bathsheba’s rugs. Her
journey along I-80 is a “catechism,” that is, she derives religious meaning
from the experience.
Invoking a slice of her personal experience, she sees religious significance in the
imagery.
COLD
SWEAT by Susan Kelly-Dewitt
Last
night
I
woke up
cold,
in bed
next
to you.
The
hair
at
the nape
of
my neck
was
wet.
Perhaps
my
spirit
was
weeping
into
my pillow.
Perhaps
my
father,
dead
now
twenty
years,
came
sailing
down
the river
one
last time
and
I ran
to
greet him
through
the wet
grasses.
Key
images in this poem are the wet hair at the nape of the speaker and the wet
grasses, which occur at the beginning and the end of the poem, connecting
together the entire narrative.
Water
joins the moment of waking to the visionary encounter with a dead father—a dream,
ostensibly—which is a joyful experience (“I ran to greet him”) that elicits
tears (“my spirit was weeping into my pillow”).
The
image of water occurs four times in the poem, five times if we count “cold
sweat,” the title.
The
moment of waking is the occasion for the speaker to imagine or recall an
encounter with her father, “dead now twenty years.” It is a poignant, deeply
meaningful, dreamlike experience.
All
told, the poem is a psychological narrative particularly marked by the symbolism
of water.
FRANCIS
IN ECSTASY by Susan Kelly-Dewitt
Francis
lifts his arms and the swallows
return
to Capistrano, their brown heads
nodding
haloes of feathery song.
He
is standing outside himself
in
an Italian version of ekstasis,
the
bloody eyes of the stigmata
winking
from his feet and callused palms.
Seeing
him there, like a canticle of the sun,
who
can tell the Inquisition is preparing
its
medieval fresco, smoothing its wet lime
plaster
walls; grinding up its artists’
bones
into the pigments from which Bosch’s
Garden
of Earthly Delights will be born.
The
poem contrasts two images principally. The first image is that of Saint Francis
of Assisi as ecstatic stigmatic, a Roman Catholic image of holiness. The second
image is that of the Inquisition personified as a fresco painter, and it is an
image of violence: the painter grinds artists’ bones into pigments and uses
them to render Bosch’s lurid oeuvre.
The
principal meaning of the poem plausibly lies in the contrast of images—Roman Catholicism,
the religion which produced Saint Francis of Assisi, also gave rise to the
Inquisition, which resorted to some of the most violent methods of political
and religious repression known in history.
I
suggest that the poems preceding furnish us with a template for interpreting “Reading
Saint John of the Cross.” Apparently, a typical pattern of composition for the
poet is to take up some aspect of her personal experience and then by drawing on the expressive power of metaphor and symbol principally, expound her compelling sentiments about or deep
interpretation of the experience.
READING
SAINT JOHN OF THE CROSS by Susan Kelly-DeWitt
How
many miles to the border
where
all the sky there is
exists
for the soul alone?
Where
the only breathers
breathing
are constructed
from
some new electricity
and
the flowers are made
indestructible,
and messages
from
the dead arrive like calm
white
birds with a gift?
One
more night of spiritual
ice
and we might all become
birds,
green birds frozen
on
a black winter branch.
There
is a drumming in the shadows
under
leaves: a million eight-eyed
spiders
on the march.
The
buckeyes beat themselves
half
to death against
some
lit-from-within screen.
“Reading Saint John of the Cross” is presumably exactly about what it says, the personal encounter of the poet with the printed texts
of the saint.
The
poet puts together a series of very unusual and rather original metaphors, most of which
do not correspond to any of the symbols familiar to us.
That
is why the most productive approach to interpretation in my opinion would be to
investigate the emotional attributes of the images and then to connect this
understanding to corresponding features in the works of Saint John of the
Cross.
The
poem begins by exclaiming about the ordeal of a long journey (“How many miles
to the border”) culminating in some vastly expansive and forbiddingly solitary destination
(“all the sky there is exists for the soul alone”). Compactly wrought, the metaphors
point to the daunting challenge of the journey of the soul to union with
God—the sky being a symbol for God—about which the spiritual theology of Saint
John of the Cross is basically occupied.
Next
stanza, the poet collates a series of surreal images, exquisitely and touchingly beautiful—“breathers…constructed
from some new electricity,” “flowers are made indestructible,” “messages from
the dead arrive like calm white birds with a gift.” They connote the
otherworldly, the supernatural world of Saint John.
The
necessity of undergoing arduous trials in order to attain the rarefied holiness exhorted by Saint John is evoked
by the desolate images in the stanza following—“green birds frozen on a black winter
branch,” nights of “spiritual ice.”
The
close caps the poem with a compelling apparition that may have originated in the
poet’s own personal experience. Millions of spiders, “buckeyes,” beat
themselves “half to death” against some impenetrable luminous screen. It’s a
picture of insistence and desperation—a metaphor, possibly, for the soul who is
drawn to God, the light beyond the screen standing for the attraction emanating
from the Godhead.
It’s
a startlingly vivid, highly evocative poem.
Curious
that after more than 500 years a postmodern could be found publishing a poem
about the writings of Saint John of the Cross…
 |
| How many miles to the border... |
Thursday, December 10, 2020
Another Fake Quote Attributed to the Pope
ANOTHER FAKE QUOTE ATTRIBUTED TO THE POPE
The rivers don’t drink their own water,
Trees don’t eat their own fruits,
And flowers do not spread their fragrance for themselves.
Living for others is a rule of nature.
Life is good when you’re happy,
But it is much better when others are happy because of you.
A beautiful saying, but it doesn’t come from Papa Francesco.
Principal Findings
1. The alleged quote predates the election of Papa Francesco.
The appearance of the quote on the Internet predates Pope Francis’ election as pope on March 13, 2013.
See this information dated September 21, 2009:
begin
Sabemos que los àrboles no comen sus propias frutas
Las vacas no bebeen su propia leche
Los rios no beben su propia agua
Tenemos que aprender el servicio hacia nuestros hermanos y hermanas
Y todos los objectos de la naturaleza
Para asugurar el presente y el porvenir de la humanidad
end
The source attributes the text to the Vedas.
—“Seva,” meditation-relaxation-sans-stress
2. The original source of the quote is probably a Sanskrit proverb.
This information dated November 9, 2013 identifies the quote as a Sanskrit proverb (subhashitam) and also supplies the original Sanskrit text:
begin
pibanti nadyaḥ svayameva nāmbhaḥ
svayaṁ na khādanti phalāni vṛkṣāḥ
nādanti sasyaṁ khalu vārivāhāḥ
paropakārāya satāṁ vibhūtayaḥ
Just as the rivers do not drink their own water but flow for others’ benefit, just as fruit-bearing trees do not eat their own fruit but bear it for others, and just as clouds do not drink their own rain but shower it down for others, so saintly devotees live simply for others.
end
—“The Best Mode of Worship - Part 5,” H H Mahavishnu Goswami Amrtavani
Other sources identify the original source of the text as a Sanskrit or Hindu proverb.
—“The Art of Giving - Sanskriti - Indian Culture,” Sanskritimagazine.com
—“What great ones have, is always for the benefit of others,” Hindu Proverb Poster, Redbubble
Note – Definition of subhashitam:
—“Subhashita,” Wikipedia
3. The attribution of the quote in Spanish to Papa Francesco dates from the beginning of 2017.
Attribution of the Spanish version of the quote to the pope appears to date from the first half of 2017.
This webpage dated June 5, 2017 is a major culprit:
“Nada en la naturaleza vive para sí mismo. Los ríos no beben de su propia agua; los árboles no comen su propia fruta. El sol no brilla para sí mismo; y las flores no extienden su fragancia para sí mismas. Jesús no se sacrifica para sí mismo, sino para nosotros. Vivir para los demás es una regla de la naturaleza. Todos hemos nacido para ayudarnos mutuamente.”
—Pbro. Abelardo Aviña Reyes, “Con El Santo Padre, En La Audiencia General,” June 5, 2017, Pontificio Colegio Mexicano Roma
The source is very reputable, Pontificio Colegio Romano, Roma. Yet if you search the Vatican website for a General Audience dated June 5, 2017, it does not exist.
Moreover, the text does not exist in any of the General Audiences proximate to the above date. For your information, I checked the following General Audience 2017 dates:
May 24
May 31
June 7
June 14
—“Audiences 2017,” The Holy See
Soon after the June 5, 2017 post by Pontificio Colegio Romano, Roma, the alleged papal quote begins to proliferate in Spanish language sites.
See, for example, the following:
July 30, 2017: http://juanraetxebarria.blogspot.com/2017/07/los-rios-no-beben-su-propia-agua-desde.html
—Juanra Etxebarria Borobia, “Los Ríos No Beben Su Propia Agua - Desde Anda,” July 30, 2017, El Blog de JuanRa Etxebarria
September 12, 2017: https://www.eleconomista.com.mx/opinion/La-naturaleza-nos-une-20170913-0154.html
—Armando Regil Velasco, “La Naturaleza Nos Une,” September 12, 2017, El Economista
September 29, 2017:
—“Palabras de la Dra. Stella Bolaños Varela al Recibir el Premio Ops a la Gestión y al Literazgo en los Servicios de Salud (2017),” September 29, 2017, Organización Panamericana de la Salud
The above source, an international conference, looks very convincing.
This May 26-28, 2017 source predates the Pontificio Colegio Romano, Roma source:
—“Los Mandalas Florecen en Primavera,” May 26-28, 2017, Fraternidades de la Encarnacion
Look at the June 16, 2020 visitor comment at the link below:
“How are we sure that this was really written by Pope Francis? Did he send the message to you by himself? Where was his signature? People used his name to write something before. That’s why we can’t tell if it is really from him or not. Thank you for your reply.”
—Alfred de Zayas, “Pope Francis,” June 12, 2017, Alfred de Zayas’ Human Rights Corner
You get the idea.
4. The attribution of the quote in English to Papa Francesco follows upon the attribution of the quote in Spanish in 2017.
English versions of the alleged papal quote begin to appear around March 2017. This source dates the quote to March 25, 2017:
25-Mar-2017, Pope Francis said: “Rivers do not drink their own water; trees do not eat their own fruit; the sun does not shine on itself and flowers do not spread their fragrance for themselves. Living for others is a rule of nature. We are all born to help each other. No matter how difficult it is… Life is good when you are happy; but much better when others are happy because of you.”
—Gerard Conlan, OMI, “It Is the Law of Nature, That Creation Does Not Live for Itself, but for Other Creatures,” OMI Lacombe Canada
Another example – March 19, 2017: https://www.facebook.com/CBNSG/posts/a-beautiful-message-from-holy-father-pope-francis-he-says-rivers-do-not-drink-th/10163089375905177/
—Catholic Business Network Singapore, Facebook Post, March 19, 2017
Principal Conclusions
There’s very strong evidence Pope Francis did not say it, at least not when he was pope, because the quote predates his election in 2013 by about four years.
The original source of the quote appears to be a Sanskrit proverb.
When the Spanish version of the quote appears in the Internet in 2009, it is not attributed to the pope.
Attribution of the quote to the pope appears to start in the first half of 2017, first in Spanish and then in English.
The quote should not be attributed to Pope Francis because it cannot be traced to him as a source and the available evidence indicates that he isn’t the source.
Based on the available information, the most accurate attribution of the quote is that it is adapted from a Sanskrit proverb.
 |
| Papa Francesco |
Saturday, November 28, 2020
Contrasting Silence, Noise
SILENCE
I’ve begun to realize that you can listen to silence and learn from it. It has a quality and a dimension all its own.—Chaim Potok, The Chosen
Two o’clock in the morning.
How silent is the room…
Just before a motorcycle roars,
Chopping the air into jagged chips of din
Thrown round and round a flywheel,
Spiraling into the orifice of the outer ear,
Noisy swirling water inside a gurgling drain,
Bowling ball rolling heavily down wooden planks…
Then it fades...
Sawdust bursting in air,
Settling, a fine layer of manna,
Powdery film on the workshop floor.
You cannot hear anything again.
Silence is thick bread—
It lies on a plate and makes a crusty whisper
Only if perturbed by buttering.
Solid door of heavy beams tightly riveted by iron knobs,
Slammed shut and bolted,
Sealed even in its tiniest crevices,
Stands guard at the portal to the strange habitation of another world.
 |
| White door—a symbol of silence |
NOISE
Soon silence will have passed into legend. Man has turned his back on silence. Day after day he invents machines and devices that increase noise and distract humanity from the essence of life, contemplation, meditation.
—Jean Arp, Arp on Arp
Construction is ongoing, banging away next door.
Metal clangs on metal, a pump machine loudly whirs.
Chop saws, screaming spirits, slice steel bars.
Sledgehammers thud solidly, breaking apart concrete.
Gravel fills apertures, ears, shuffling downward inside.
Dust and cement puffs, dry, burning in the sun,
Waft by, gray fumes at the volcano’s edge.
Mixers pour concrete, molten dough, into wooden molds.
Workers, perched birds, fashion steel bars into cages.
Walls grow layer by layer like a multistory cake.
Doors and windows appear as rectangular frames.
Jutting into the light, the first steps of a staircase ascend.
Drying walls glisten, soon to be lacquered with smooth finishes.
Day by day a building rises out of rubble, transforming—
A lady fastening a glittery brooch, a gentleman adjusting a silk tie.
 |
| Convergence (1952) by Jackson Pollock |
Friday, September 4, 2020
Aphorisms
Aphorisms
An aphorism is an ekphrasis about the
portrait of life.
The sound of one hand clapping is very
loud against the side of your head.
Don’t crow until the sun has fully
risen.
You can’t teach an old dog.
Speech is golden when silence is
gilded.
Wit is the soul of irony.
An eye for an eye is the gaze between
two lovers. A tooth for a tooth is a dental implant.
No evil is unmixed with good.
Proportion makes all the difference.
Humanity is not a zero-sum game.
The most destructive alienation is not
from a particular community or from society but from oneself.
Be moderate in all things, including
moderation itself.
Witness does not require words.
The virtue of silence involves the
exercise of good judgment.
Technology is tyranny.
Mercy presupposes an unequal
relationship between those who give mercy and those who receive it, because to
be merciful is to give what we possess, sometimes in abundance, to our
neighbor, so that we ourselves in some way experience deprivation and want.
Distraction is drinking coffee as you
pray. Praying while you drink coffee is devotion.
We should not be so occupied with death
that we forget to live.
 |
| Senecio (1922) by Paul Klee |
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