Pope Francis, on Literature in Formation

with "Jacob's Well," by Stephen Harrigan

Hello, Poetry Friend

“I read so few novels!”

A friend, who reads a lot of poetry, wrote the words above in an email. Another friend recommends a nonfiction bestseller on how to improve your life. Another screenshots and sends what I’m sure is an excellent spiritual tome.

No thanks, y’all. I’m with the late Pope Francis: Gimme story.

2. Often during periods of boredom on holiday, in the heat and quiet of some deserted neighbourhood, finding a good book to read can provide an oasis that keeps us from other choices that are less wholesome. Likewise, in moments of weariness, anger, disappointment or failure, when prayer itself does not help us find inner serenity, a good book can help us weather the storm until we find peace of mind. Time spent reading may well open up new interior spaces that help us to avoid becoming trapped by a few obsessive thoughts that can stand in the way of our personal growth. Indeed, before our present unremitting exposure to social media, mobile phones and other devices, reading was a common experience, and those who went through it know what I mean. It is not something completely outdated. – Pope Francis

(A note: Papal writings contain numbered paragraphs. When I cite a number, it’s referencing the specific paragraph in LETTER OF HIS HOLINESS POPE FRANCIS
ON THE ROLE OF LITERATURE IN FORMATION. This letter about the role of literature in spiritual formation. Although I read novels almost exclusively, I can never predict when a book will change me. It often comes from the most unlikely stories.

So thank you, Stephen Harrigan, for your second novel, Jacob’s Well. It’s a love triangle involving scuba-diveing scientists. It’s set in freshwater caves in my neck of the Texas Hill Country. It captivated me throughout Lent, causing me to, in some sense “rewrite a text.” [3]

It got to my “very heart.” [4]

It set my “deepest desires” in a cave I did not know existed. [5]

My weeping for the characters was “essentialy weeping” for myself. [7]

Unlike these characters, I have never been a scientist, done drugs, or scuba dived. But they helped “lay bare the drama” of my own life. [9]

“the polyphony of divine revelation” chooses unusual outlets. Goodreads has no photo for this book. [10]

You see, I had an “abyss,” and this work of literature brought that abyss to light and showed “how Christ enters these depths and illumines them.” [13]

The story has “passions,” “hospitality,” “forgiveness, indignation, courage, fearlessness,” and “love.” [14] So it has Jesus even if he’s not on the page.

If you’re not convinced, the Pope even quotes C.S. Lewis on what happens when we read. [18] C’mon now!

But this reading was about more than me. The abyss is about separation from loved ones. Though reading this novel, I became closer to them, more “sensitive to the mystery of other persons, […] their hearts.” [21]

So many words drawing me, uniquely, to the Word. [24]

Jacob’s Well read me. [29]

It digested something in me causing blockage. [33]

I realized I had judged — issued a death sentence. My scope was too limited. [39]

I was entirely too “self-referential.” [42]

Literature moved me to "naming” [43], that element real but “unseen” virtue [44]: HOPE.

The Miracle of the Axe Head

Where did it fall?

     down Jacob's Well
     the one not too far (as the crow flies)
     passed where the amateur scuba divers swim
     booted past the pros' deeper cave
     and, at last,
     bounced into the harrowing one,
     with a locked gate guarded by bread aflame

I have your head,
     Jesus says.
It's no good here.

–Megan Willome
in response to a poem by Anna A. Friedrich, "Elijah asks, 'Where did it fall?'"

Happy poeming! And happy lit-reading!

Megan