One of the latest "challenges" being issued over the Internet is to name ten books that wielded a particular influence in your life. Most people just list them without any commentary, which is to be expected on Facebook. Until a few years ago a person's status wasn't allowed to exceed something like 420 characters. I suppose it is best to save the commentary for the blogs.
Therefore, in order of recollection, I present with exhausting commentary these ten books, along with an eleventh because I miscounted:
1. Existence and the Existent, by Jacques Maritain.
On our first day in the seminary, we had an ice-breaking exercise in which we were to obtain others' answers to various questions. I can remember only one question, to which I could give no answer: "Who is your favorite pre-Socratic philosopher?" (Today I can tell you without hesitation that my favorite pre-Socratic philosopher is Heraclitus of Ephesus.) Existence and the Existent is a rich treatise, addressing the "Problem of Evil" among other subjects. It demonstrates Maritain as a man of deep faith and reason. Around the same time, and in the same philosophical context, I encountered the second book.
2. I and Thou, by Martin Buber.
This work opened me up to the mystical relationship of philosophy and her mistress, theology. Before first reading this book, one of my seminary professors introduced us to the term "reification," from the Latin res, "thing." There is the perennial and pernicious temptation to treat our fellow human beings as things, means to an end. Engaging the other as a sacred experience, a "Thou" and not an "it," is the primary mode of human interaction, not to be ignored amid scientific, informational pursuits.
3. Light of the Word, by Hans Urs Von Balthasar
One seminary professor used a volume of Von Bathasar's Theodrama in class. Some seminarians wanted no part in his work—or maybe the prof's interpretation of it; others ate it up and hungered for more. I was closer to the latter, but wished for a "For Dummies" version. One day as a younger priest I visited a classmate in Philadelphia. At the now-closed Pauline Books and Media store on "the [Roosevelt] Boulevard," I came across this book. It is no "For Dummies" adaptation, but rather a reflection on the Sunday readings. Very handy, very Balthasarian. It's good to have around.
4 Lift Up Your Heart, by Fulton Sheen
My first church job outside of St. Clair was as an organist for the now-defunct St. Francis de Sales Church in Mount Carbon, a suburb of Pottsville. The pastor, Fr. Edward B. Connolly, became a mentor and friend. He is known for owning many books. Once I asked to borrow this book. I read it quickly and savored every word. (Whatever is happening right now with Archbishop Sheen's cause for canonization, I hope they just knock it the hell off.) I wanted a copy for my own. This was before the days of the Internet, so I called every bookstore from Dan to Beersheba, to no avail. Then, when I had just about given up, I went for a walk over town to the St. Clair Emporium (a.k.a., "Zerdy's"). Now the Emporium is a hole-in-the-wall purveyor of staple items, most notably Sunbeam bread, Guers products, cigarettes, lunch meats, penny candy, and Italian Water Ice. The foremost source of revenue, for as long as I can recall, has been the Pennsylvania Lottery. Mr. Zerdy is not known for selling reading material, except for outdated magazines (all clean). I think the most recent Sports Illustrated issue on the shelf--to this day--features Mary Lou Retton's gold medal. Anyhow, that day he had a few shelves full of books, from an estate, I think: mostly romance novels, cookbooks, and late-1800s readers that would put our third-grade textbooks to shame. The only religious book in the whole lot was...a hardcover copy of Lift Up Your Heart. Checkmate, Atheists!
5. Death In Literature (?; a textbook used in a high school elective)
Mr. George Repella taught at Natvitiy B.V.M. High School for just over 50 years. A number of parishioners from past assignments, as well as some of the hospitalized I currently visit—even if they graduated thirty years before me—all share with me the auspicious experience of Mr. Repella. He taught "Death in Literature" with the eponymous textbook, introducing us to the literary perspectives of Dorothy Parker ("Résumé"), E. A. Robinson ("Richard Cory"), Jessica Mitford ("The American Way of Death"), and others. I did my class project on the Scripture and oration options from the Church's Order of Christian Funerals.
6. Marathon, by Hal Higdon
Several blog posts have treated my love of running. Although I started running in 1999 as part of a four-square fitness frenzy, my recent return happened a decade later. Per custom, I bought many books on the subject to make sure I was doing it right. Joe Muldowney's Running Shorts would have qualified for this list--runner-ups come to mind for several entries--but Higdon's fourth edition has served as the Bible to my running devotion. When I barely thought that 26.2 miles would be possible, Hal Higdon showed me how to start, what kinds of problems I might encounter along the way, and something of what it would feel like to cross the finish line.
7. Joey Adams’ Speakers’ Bible of Humor, by Joey Adams
In fourth grade I took the bus each morning to the former Blythe Township High School, then the site of several grades of the Saint Clair Area School District. (The building now houses the Simon Kramer Cancer Institute and the county Coroner's Office.) While browsing in the library I came across this dated tome. I rented out that book for the rest of the school year. I don't think anybody missed it. If the school knew some of the jokes in that book, I think they'd have pulled it. "And the eyes of both of them were opened...and so they hid themselves" (Genesis 3:7). I carried it around as if it were a textbook and I were a nerd. The Speakers' Bible was a perfect complement to old Match Game and new Hollywood Squares episodes.
8. Complete Works of Gerard Manley Hopkins
I first found Hopkins in the appendix of the Liturgy of the Hours. The "standard" religious ones: "Pied Beauty," "Thou Art Indeed Just, Lord," "The May Magnificat." But then, thanks to this omnia opera, "The Wreck of the Deutschland" became my favorite. A line from it is the basis for this blog's very title: "Is the shipwrack then a harvest? Does tempest carry the grain for Thee?" I learned many things about Hopkins: It turns out that he was equally skilled in Welsh, Latin, and Greek. It further turns out that his family struggled with his embrace of Catholicism, and he himself struggled with same sex attraction. Here I can identify: His years as a teacher didn't go so well, at least from his perspective. Anyone who can retain a knowledge and love of God and the Engilsh language, yet be able to toy with both so adeptly, is my man.
9. People’s Mass Book (1970s), World Library Publications
In my earliest recollections of going to Mass, our parish used this hymnal. In the mid-1980s, we acquired a newer edition--though not the one specially commissioned for our diocese, the one that had "Here I Am, Lord" and several other Glory & Praise songs. As a little kid, I would sit upon my grandfather's knee and play the "Old PMB" hymns on my little Casio that didn't even let you play more than one note at once. Many of its tunes seem dated now, more suitable for a hootenanny than for the Sacred Liturgy, but I have a soft spot for them. While attending a retreat a few weeks ago I sat at the Hammond organ in the chapel and played these songs for about a half an hour. I count that time, and times like it, sitting at an organ bench and "letting my fingers (and feet) do the walking," as a spiritual experience.
In my earliest recollections of going to Mass, our parish used this hymnal. In the mid-1980s, we acquired a newer edition--though not the one specially commissioned for our diocese, the one that had "Here I Am, Lord" and several other Glory & Praise songs. As a little kid, I would sit upon my grandfather's knee and play the "Old PMB" hymns on my little Casio that didn't even let you play more than one note at once. Many of its tunes seem dated now, more suitable for a hootenanny than for the Sacred Liturgy, but I have a soft spot for them. While attending a retreat a few weeks ago I sat at the Hammond organ in the chapel and played these songs for about a half an hour. I count that time, and times like it, sitting at an organ bench and "letting my fingers (and feet) do the walking," as a spiritual experience.
10. The Ugly American, Eugene Burdick and William Lederer
Through this book I learned of the term "Ugly American" as embodied by certain disrespectful characters. Raised in a local culture that understandably and justifiably promoted love of country, and never having visited a foreign land until that point (either junior or senior year in high school, when American was a summer reading option), I did not consider the possibility that not everyone around the world adored Americans, or that Americans didn't deserve respect or deference simply because they were American. I felt bad that I couldn't fluently speak a modern foreign language. I still can't, but at least I see that as a deficit--especially when many visitors speak more than enough English to get by.
BONUS 11. Anguished English, Richard Lederer
One of my favorite pastimes as a kid was to sit on the floor in a bookstore and read a book until justice would demand I pay for it. (I'll bet the way they work that kind of thing out in purgatory will be interesting.) One of the first books I read in that fashion was this gem of Professor Richard Lederer, the first of a series. Replete with words, word origins, and wordplay, Anguished English increased my respect for my English teachers, and for anyone else whose command of the English language was such that they could fool around with it. That's the kind of person I wanted to be when I grew up. So far, so good!
One of my favorite pastimes as a kid was to sit on the floor in a bookstore and read a book until justice would demand I pay for it. (I'll bet the way they work that kind of thing out in purgatory will be interesting.) One of the first books I read in that fashion was this gem of Professor Richard Lederer, the first of a series. Replete with words, word origins, and wordplay, Anguished English increased my respect for my English teachers, and for anyone else whose command of the English language was such that they could fool around with it. That's the kind of person I wanted to be when I grew up. So far, so good!
