Both natural and artificial things bear a parabolic or symbolic quality to them. Autumn as a season, for example, is evocative of many things: the darkness of decay, to be sure, alongside bold beauty. Continue Reading »
In his recent op-ed (“The Hypocrisy of Masks,” August/September) exploring the theme of hypocrisy in C. S. Lewis’s works, Gilbert Meilaender presents a careless reading of Lewis’s last novel, Till We Have Faces. This inattention to the details of Orual’s story compromises his argument, . . . . Continue Reading »
Longtime fans of the Irish poet Derek Mahon had to laugh when, in the spring of 2020, he unexpectedly went viral. As part of an Instagram series organized by the Game of Thrones actress Emilia Clarke to provide “poetry for the heart and soul” during the pandemic, another superstar, . . . . Continue Reading »
You arrive at enough certainty to be able to make your way, but it is making it in darkness. Don’t expect faith to clear things up for you. It is trust, not certainty. —Flannery O’Connor And did you really think there would ever come a timewhen things would go as you’d dreamed they . . . . Continue Reading »
Busy with many things, I know you are,And watch you turn away and close the door.I see it in the way you drive your car,In how things clutter on your kitchen floor.Someone will advertise new ways to mend it,To find a method and a discipline,But you and they both know you’ll never end it,Just fall . . . . Continue Reading »
It’s not that I don’t know it when I’m in it,searching for a spot to park my liquidassets or, faster than a New York minute,remit them into gritty circulation,while heels and tires haul their various freightaround for public estimated valuation. It’s just that, as the plane gains height and . . . . Continue Reading »
On this episode, Micah Mattix joins the podcast to discuss his new book, Christian Poetry in America Since 1940: An Anthology. Continue Reading »
At the confluence of the Delawareand the Little Delaware I fishedwithout result. I cast my lure timeafter time into thetumult. My friend threw flies. Ithrew a Phoebe, untilevening called a halt. We talked about Nothing:Zen and Gorgias.The darkness dwelt. The bats fluttered. Thestars poked thru a . . . . Continue Reading »
The decision not to have a third child,made so soon after the birth of our second,launched us out into a dark abyss. We were two hostages surprised by sudden liberty,two divers strangling on twisted air lines;the death awaiting us was not our own. From that imagined loss appeared a small ghostwho . . . . Continue Reading »
The fourth Catholic Imagination Conference will be held at the University of Dallas, from September 30 until October 1. Continue Reading »
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