‘Sister Thérèse Scatters Flowers’ and Other Poetry by Brian Yapko The Society December 11, 2022 Beauty, Culture, Poetry 22 Comments . Sister Thérèse Scatters Flowers Soeur Madèleine has brought me this bouquet— Vermillion, scarlet, each rose bright and pretty. She’s kind to join me in my cell to pray, But I cannot accept her tearful pity. She’s frightened how consumption can erode A little nun like me. Her heartfelt sighs Forget that I am on a pilgrim road; That from these scattered flowers I shall rise. I begged to join this Convent in my youth Accepting I would too soon have to leave And go where none could follow, just like Ruth. In truth there’s nothing anyone need grieve For everything I am and do is God’s! Although infirm I seek Him from this bed. Mère Agnes joins me everyday for Lauds; Père Youf brings Christ, who gives Himself as bread. I’m just a simple person, no great saint, And far too small to mount the divine stair. My way to God is little, my voice faint; But faith burns hot inside me like a flare! My labored breath forbids me from great deeds But still I prove my meek and heartfelt love: In each small thing I do I sow the seeds Of glory for Our Father up above. I scatter to the left, then to the right! I throw my little birds the good Lord’s grain And trust His will. (O Lord, my lungs grow tight. A whispered Compline soothes the burning pain.) I’ve labored so, but soon it will be done. If I should be forgotten, it’s God’s will. I’m blest to live and die a faithful nun. My cup is full although I’m weak and ill. No punishment, this sickness is my fate And one I face with love and full accord. A little cough is not a price too great For sanctity, to sooner see my Lord! . Poet’s note: Saint Thérèse of Lisieux, popularly known as “the Little Flower,” died of tuberculosis on September 30, 1897 at the age of 24. She was canonized in 1925 only 28 years after her death. She is considered a highly influential model of sanctity because of the simplicity and practicality of her approach to the spiritual life, often called the Little Way. Pope Pius X called her “the greatest saint of modern times” Soeur Madèleine: Sister Madeleine . . Cassandra Within the Olive Grove These mighty walls protecting Ilium Shall prove no more invulnerable than I. No oracle exudes so grim a sigh As I when Hector chants the blooded hymn. I augur truth. He mocks me on a dare, Like Paris, Priam, Hecuba. They roll Their eyes when I speak words of grief and dole, Dismissing the dark warnings I must share. There shall be ravagement of eye and limb, As beardless boys cry honor, fight and die. When asked, not one of them can answer why. A prophecy: Troy’s splendid lights must dim. Our world shall end with pillaging and fire. But in the future there will be a birth To give rich worth to this defiled Earth— A destiny of grace which won’t expire. This newborn will give men all that they need; Not only when they thirst, despair or bleed. . . Brian Yapko is a lawyer who also writes poetry. He lives in Santa Fe, New Mexico. NOTE TO READERS: If you enjoyed this poem or other content, please consider making a donation to the Society of Classical Poets. The Society of Classical Poets does not endorse any views expressed in individual poems or commentary. 22 Responses Jeremiah Johnson December 11, 2022 Brian, I found the Sister Therese poem especially moving this morning. Was reading 2 Corinthians earlier this morning where Paul says that we “hold this treasure in earthen vessels” and struggling myself with a health issue that’s quite minor by comparison with tuberculosis but which still just had me thinking about how fragile our vessels are here and how great that which we’re called to look forward to is. On a stylistic note – I’ll just say that while I wasn’t overawed by any particular line, the overall sense was one of simple perfection, which seemed fitting to the subject matter. “Good Poem” – as Garrison Keillor would say! Reply Brian Yapko December 12, 2022 Thank you very much, Jeremiah. I hope your health issue resolves and am glad that St. Therese’s amazing example has helped put things in perspective — for both of us! Our vessels here are indeed fragile and she was very brave to look forward to seeing God. I find her very inspiring and am glad to be able to share that inspiration with others. Reply Joseph S. Salemi December 11, 2022 These are two very fine poems about two very different women. I’m wondering if their juxtaposition here was deliberate. St. Therese is a holy and devout nun, totally at peace with herself and with the will of God. And the smiling cheerfulness of a young French girl is also there — the girl who loved pastries, and who accepted her inevitable death with no more concern than she would have for the inevitable withering of a small flower. And Cassandra? She is the royal priestess of Apollo, cursed by the thwarted lust of her god to be an unheeded prophetess, and condemned by the Fates to experience the destruction of her city and family, to be enslaved to its conqueror, and to die ignobly at the hands of his vengeful and murderous wife. Could there be a more dramatic contrast between the hope and joy of the Christian dispensation, and the sheer and overarching desolation of the pagan world, where we were all the pawns of destiny, driven by the arbitrary wills of selfish gods, and condemned to the dreary afterlife of Hades? Sure, you could be happy in the ancient world of paganism. You could be rational, and intelligent, and well educated. You could do your best to live a decent and honorable life. There was art and culture and literature and pleasure and the love of family and friends. But there was nothing else. And please — don’t defend modern succedaneous religion to me, with its overtly insane compulsion to enforce moral imperatives on everyone. That’s a toxic mindlessness that comes from Kant and the other German Idealists. Unfortunately, most of the mainline churches have gone over to it, lock, stock, and barrel. Reply Jeremiah Johnson December 11, 2022 Joseph, Reading your comments on these two poems, I couldn’t help but think of this quote from Chesterton’s “Orthodoxy”: “. . . . if the question turn on the primary pivot of the cosmos, then there is more cosmic contentment in the narrow and bloody streets of Florence than there is in the theatre of Athens or the open garden of Epicurus. Giotto lived in a gloomier town than Euripedes, but he lived in a gayer universe. The mass of men have been forced to be gay about the little things, but sad about the big ones. Nevertheless it is not native to man to be so. Man is more himself when joy is the fundamental thing in him, and grief the superficial.” Reply Joseph S. Salemi December 12, 2022 Chesterton has rightly been called “the master of paradox,” and the passage you quote is a good example. Almost every human life is a mixed bag of joy and grief, but if one believes that the entire structure and essence of the cosmos are rooted in an eternal joy, then the grief is only a little bit of static. Brian Yapko December 12, 2022 I’m grateful, Jeremiah, for your mention of Chesterton, who has become a favorite of mine — and to you Joseph, for your further discussion of him. A favorite quote has great application to modern thinking: “The wild worship of lawlessness and the materialist worship of law end in the same void.” He had a formidable intellect and a great heart. Chesterton also happened to be an amazingly influential Christian apologist who had a profound impact on C.S. Lewis — one of my favorite authors. Brian Yapko December 12, 2022 Thank you very much, Joseph. I’m pleased that you feel I’ve captured some of Therese’s innocent character and her total inner peace despite being so very, painfully ill. Cassandra was easier to write because we have no real idea of what her personality was like. And, of course, I completely made up the prophecy — primarily because I wanted her story to have some relevance to the subsequent events of Western history and, as you’ve observed, I wanted to provide a frame of reference for her pagan world and why it needed to be superseded by Christianity. You bring up the question of the pairing of these poems. I never wrote them thinking they would go together and when I submitted them to Evan it never occurred to me that he would want them to go together. But now, in hindsight, I see the wisdom of his choice to do so. They are indeed two female voices at the opposite ends of a spiritual spectrum which makes a contrast between them quite fascinating to consider. Your bringing up succedaneous religion in this context is intriguing. St. Therese is as pious and submissive to doctrinal authority as one gets. Cassandra, in contrast, is a mere pawn of the Greek pantheon of gods — cursed rather than a voluntary instrument. That is a big difference which shines a spotlight on the shallowness of the Greek and Trojan religions. Where is the heart of a Therese in that world? As you point out, yes, pagans could lead a relatively happy life — but it was empty and shallow and life was cheap. St. Augustine goes far in his Confessions to reveal how unsatisfactory pagan beliefs were to the human heart and spirit. What I get from your comment is that succedaneous religion is in spirit much like the pagan belief systems — mostly material, intellectually proud but indifferent to love or charity or, in fact, any form of meaningful adult morality. In other words, modern woke culture. Reply Joseph S. Salemi December 12, 2022 Well Brian, I would add one important caveat. Pagan religions (unlike our modern succedaneous ones) do not go out of their way to impose moral imperatives on the whole world. All Graeco-Roman religion asked was that you avoid hubris, show respect for the gods, make the proper sacrifices and prayers, and keep the temples and shrines in good condition. They did not bug you about feminism and anti-racism and environmentalism and trannie rights and vaccinations and woke-ism and the globalist mega-agenda. There was nothing ideologically fanatical about pagan religion, the way there is with what’s is being spouted from mainline pulpits today. Monika Cooper December 11, 2022 It’s a joy to see this tribute to St. Therese this morning. Many things to love in it: the detail about the stair, for one, and the Ruth line. The “Good Lord’s grain” and “My cup is full.” So many subtle references to her writings. She suffered unthinkably before the end. With all her gifts of imagination, she never imagined such suffering was possible. She did love her fate though. She was such a conqueror. I don’t know anything about Cassandra’s connection to the olive grove but now I want to know. Did she have a prophecy about the Savior? The feminine voices of the two speakers are beautifully rendered. Reply Brian Yapko December 12, 2022 Thank you very much, Monika! I’m pleased that St. Therese brightened your day. It was a joy to write this poem even if it is sad because of her illness. It is yet triumphant because of her great faith and her ultimate sainthood. A “conqueror” is right! Cassandra did not, to my knowledge, prophecy regarding Christ. That was more wishful thinking on my part. But the olive grove was important to me because I wanted to place her in the same setting as the Garden of Gethsemane. Reply Joshua C. Frank December 11, 2022 Brian, these are both great! I think “Sister Thérèse Scatters Flowers” is my new favorite of yours. As a Catholic strongly devoted to St. Thérèse, and having read her autobiography, some biographies of her, her recorded thoughts, and her poetry, I can say that you wrote her very well, to the point where I felt as though she really were speaking to me—an even more impressive feat considering that you’re writing across the male-female divide. I also loved the pun (none/nun, line 11). Interesting fact: Pope Pius X was himself canonized as a Saint by Pope Pius XII 40 years after his death. “Cassandra Within the Olive Grove” was also well done. Again, you did a very good job of writing in character and writing a female voice. I’m not sure why these two poems were published together, though. Perhaps because both are first-person poems with female speakers? Or maybe because Christians these days are much like Cassandra in that the truer what we say is, the less people believe us—even fellow believers, for that matter. You have to publish a collection of your work! Reply Brian Yapko December 12, 2022 Thank you so much, Josh! You know a lot more about St. Therese than I do so I’m glad to know my work rang true to her life and character. She was really quite amazing in the fierce simplicity of her faith. I didn’t know that about Pope Pius X, so thank you for that bit of information. On the publication of Cassandra with Therese, I didn’t plan that but, as I mentioned to Dr. Salemi above, I now see why Evan did it and I’m grateful for the decision. Through two important women’s voices, it points out the immense contrast between Christianity and paganism. It is the contrast Christian empowerment — even in the face of suffering and death — versus sheer pagan helplessness in the face of utter annihilation. The concepts of power in both poems are very different and only in St. Therese is there real power and true immortality. But what you say about modern Cassandra is so true — Christians are not believed and mocked. Fortunately, in the end it won’t matter because Truth will always prevail. Also, thank you for noting the difficulty of a man assuming a female voice. But it’s really no different from writing plays. Shakespeare wrote some pretty great speeches for Portia, Lady Macbeth, Cleopatra, Ophelia and had to write dialogue for Juliet, Rosalind, Beatrice, Cordelia. Not that I’m Shakespeare! I’m just pointing out that it’s not all that uncommon for men to write words for a female character. In fact, I recall that Dr. Salemi did a dramatic monologue in a female voice in his recent (and stunning) “A Glass for My Father.” Reply C.B. Anderson December 11, 2022 Without getting into any details (of which there are a plentitude), what we have here is some fine art. Reply Brian Yapko December 12, 2022 Thank you very much, C.B.! Reply Margaret Coats December 11, 2022 The poem illustration fully identifies Therese whose face (recognized worldwide) is the modern face of holiness available to everyone in her Little Way. Much about her may have been “little,” as Brian repeats in the poem, but as brides of Christ, nuns at their profession take up a “title” of nobility. Therese’s title is “of the Child Jesus and of the Holy Face.” The Holy Face devotion was revealed to another French Carmelite nun just a few years before Therese was born. It focuses on the wounded face of the suffering Jesus, praying in reparation to Him for sins of Christians, especially of church leaders, which defile Christ’s actual face to the world, namely, the Church. The saint is often called “Therese of the Child Jesus,” but she herself insisted on the unusual double title. She faced “with love and full accord” the excruciating sufferings Brian describes, and I’m fascinated to see that he was inspired to use that word “face” near the end of the poem, a work that truly captures both sides of Therese, simple and heroic. Indeed, what is it to suffer “a little cough” in order to give the corrupted Church a more beautiful face! Reply Brian Yapko December 12, 2022 Thank you very much for commenting, Margaret, and for your sensitivity concerning the presentation of this poem. As you know, my Jewish/Lutheran/Episcopal background renders me rather unsophisticated when it comes to a deep knowledge of Catholic theology. Nonetheless, I find that I am deeply moved by the lives and teachings of many of the saints. I hope my shortcomings don’t detract from a heartfelt attempt to do honor to St. Therese of Lisieux, a woman I consider to be one of the greatest for her ability to touch and effect changes in the modern heart with her fierce faith in the face of terrible suffering. I am also grateful for the details you have given regarding Therese’s title and Holy Face devotion which I have not heard of before. My mentioning the word “face” towards the end of the poem was pure inspiration because I did not know of this significant fact which adds an unintended but most welcome layer of meaning to my poem. Reply Susan Jarvis Bryant December 12, 2022 Brian, as ever these poems are beautifully written. I especially like ‘Sister Thérèse Scatters Flowers.’ The mild, mellifluous words are soft and subtle, rolling smoothly along with a gentle certainty that belies the profound message they carry. For me, that message is, if we trust in God with our very being, death is not something to be feared but to be embraced. “My way to God is little, my voice faint; / But faith burns hot inside me like a flare!” are humble, powerful, and beautiful words – words that serve well in fearsome times. If only we would put our faith in God’s hands and not man’s, we too would feel the gift of serenity. This poem brings wisdom and wonder to the prospect of death. Brian – thank you for shining light on the Grim Reaper and revealing his scythe to be a welcome whisper on the wind when it is confronted with the iron will of faith. I too read the poems as a pair but took something very different away from ‘Cassandra Within the Olive Grove.’ Word of impending death is all powerful. It is a beast to be reckoned with – it is “… ravagement of eye and limb, /As beardless boys cry honor, fight and die.” Although Cassandra’s prophecies are ignored, the threat to life is in stark contrast to the first poem reminding me of where we stand today with all the fearmongering afoot. In the end, disaster or not, we are all destined to die… wouldn’t it be a lot easier if we listened to the words of God to assist us to our ends? Superb work! Reply Brian Yapko December 12, 2022 Thank you so much, Susan! I’m so pleased that you liked “Sister Therese” and found it inspiring. Her character is so unique — that “gentle certainty” you mention which understates “the profound message that they carry.” That may be one of the reasons she was/is such an influential saint — she never shouted — she whispered quietly and her faith and endurance spoke for themselves. I did not think as much about her courage in the face of death as her ability to withstand suffering, but your observation is true and she is indeed a model not just of sanctity but of the power of faith. Your phrase about the Grim Reaper “revealing his scythe to be a welcome whisper on the wind” is so beautiful — I hope you put that into a poem. I’m glad that you read some of modern times/events into the Cassandra poem because that was the original inspiration for my writing it. Not that I’m the greatest seer, but my voice has grown hoarse suggesting to people that the world is going to hell in a handbasket and yet it sometimes feels like it doesn’t make a difference. Cassandra embodies that frustration. Is anyone out there listening? So many of us on SCP have written work that tries to pull the covers off nefarious or idiotic social or political schemes. It sometimes feels like its whistling in the wind, but I, at least, have to keep doing it. In the end, this is not between me and people who read poetry. It’s between me and God. I want to be able to say I did what I could. I suspect that your feelings are much the same. Reply Margaret Coats December 13, 2022 Brian, I didn’t have time earlier to comment on “Cassandra Within the Olive Grove.” In my research on sibyls, I have seen Cassandra called a sibyl because of her prophetic power. She is not one of the 12 sibyls to whom a prophecy of Christ has been attributed. However, in the Middle Ages, the matter of Troy was of great interest to writers, and Cassandra for several reasons became a proto-Christian figure. One is her truth-telling (something you emphasize in “I augur truth”). Even though she knows the future, and knows that her prophecies will not be believed, she does not lie to influence events as she might wish. That is, she doesn’t tell lies so that people who don’t believe her will do the opposite of what her lies recommend. She acts responsibly in letting the truth be known. This is clear in Quintus Smyrnaeus, a 4th century writer who was most likely a Christian. He calls Cassandra the only steadfast heart and clear-eyed soul among Trojans. This happens as she warns them against the Greek gift of a horse while they are reveling at a sacrificial meal in honor of their gods. Thinking the horse a surrender gift, the Trojans attribute their unearned victory to the gods. Unlike Vergil, Quintus places Cassandra’s warning after Laocoon’s advice to be cautious. She distrusts Greeks and gods, even after everyone else thinks Laocoon’s death has proven the gods want the horse to be brought into the city. I hear that Cassandra earns special mention in a German epic written about 1200, but it has not been translated and I don’t read much German. Sissela Bok, who has tried to give an overarching view of human ethics in every culture, says that the deeds always deplored (at least in theory, for most of the population, most of the time) are violence, deception, and betrayal, along with the secrecy that makes offenses possible. From that point of view, we can understand Cassandra as an ethical figure who neither deceived others nor withheld truth when she could have. You add to this the prophecy, with which she does what pre-Christian individuals were required to do for salvation, namely, to believe in the savior God had promised to send. Indeed, you give Cassandra a prophecy that is more expansive than those attributed to the twelve messianic sibyls. In general, they each know a small piece of information about Christ (such as His birth of virgin, or some aspect of His sufferings). Your final lines, especially the couplet about His fulfilling all human needs, indicate a perception of far greater depth about His identity and purpose. It suits the speaker who is better known to readers by her association with Greek and Roman and later epic tradition. She is one who thirsts, despairs, and bleeds, showing the yearning of the defiled Earth for a savior, but also one who manifests wishes for a greater life than she could have had, even if a happier lot had been her fate on earth. You are contributing to current re-writing of the classic Cassandra character! There were three Cassandra novels by women in the 1980s and 1990s. Rayne Hall felt that none of these gave her an authentic feeling for a Bronze Age woman. They all used Cassandra to project modern attitudes. In 2013, Hall published her own attempt to be true to Cassandra as the short story “Prophetess” in her collection of Thirty Scary Tales. I’ll let you know how it reads! Reply Brian Yapko December 14, 2022 Thank you, Margaret, for this detailed description of Cassandra’s role in the Trojan War and how she has been perceived throughout history. Until your analysis, I could never quite articulate why she was the only Trojan that I actually liked in the Iliad. She speaks truth and she does not manipulate facts to try to change what must be. That makes her worthy of respect. To me she’s also a figure of great pathos because it is indeed a difficult and painful thing to speak the truth and not be believed. To be truthful but disbelieved is not an uncommon phenomenon. One of the reasons I was drawn to her in the first place was because I had heard of a psychological condition called the Cassandra Syndrome which, as I understand it, basically involves a person who suffers from speaking truth but is disbelieved, ignored or trivialized. I’m sure this takes its toll. In fact, it’s a powerful tool of gaslighting that leftists now seem to use: “What voter fraud?” “What suppressed news story?” Cassandra’s very existence has become a shorthand for an entire range of psycho-social and now political phenomena which involve being rendered unjustly invisible, untrusted or trivialized. You have mentioned the sibyls and I am reminded of your own wonderful series of poems on the messianic sibyls which I greatly admire, especially for their meticulous attention to literary and mythological detail. While the sibyls you have written about had authentic visions of Christ, the idea that Cassandra augurs the advent of Christ in my poem was mere wishful thinking on my part — the only historical revisionism I ever plan to engage in! But it was thematically important for me to contrast the despairing Trojan world with the promise of the Savior and the bringing of a new world. Of course, we know so little about the historical Cassandra — if she existed at all. Who’s to say that she didn’t prophecy such a thing? I’ll look forward to hearing about your views on “Prophetess.” And thank you again, Margaret, for your attention to both of these poems! Reply Margaret Coats January 5, 2023 Brian, I have forgotten all this time to comment on your title, “Sister Therese Scatters Flowers.” Therese said that she would spend her heaven doing good on earth, and the flower now associated with her is the rose. I cannot say how many persons have mysteriously received a rose to indicate Therese has heard their prayers! The number is great, and I will simply describe the most dramatic occurrence I know. A Catholic mother of a large family was walking around her house, and noticed a rose bush where there had never been one. She went inside and shouted, “Who’s been praying to Saint Therese?” The eldest daughter turned pale, because she had been praying to Therese to know whether she had a religious vocation. This was a strong answer: not just the rose often received by persons who have asked a favor, but a bush! I heard this from the mother herself while the daughter was preparing to make a visit to a Carmelite convent and further test her vocation. Indeed, Therese has become a scatterer of real flowers on earth, as signs of God’s heavenly goodness. Reply Brian Yapko January 5, 2023 Thank you for this delightful comment, Margaret! My heart is warmed by the devotion so many have to Therese and the story of your friend and her miracle rose bush is wonderful — indeed it would be a lovely subject for a poem! I chose this somewhat unusual title for the poem because it seemed fitting to highlight Therese’s association with flowers. I called her “Sister” rather than “Saint” because I wanted to highlight her identity as a nun first and to honor her extraordinary humility. Finally, I wanted the “scatter” reference because it was used by Therese herself to describe what she did, and also because I wanted to invoke the gospels and Christ’s Parable of the Sower. The seeds St. Therese sowed were particularly fruitful! Reply Leave a Reply Cancel ReplyYour email address will not be published.CommentName* Email* Website Δ This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.
Jeremiah Johnson December 11, 2022 Brian, I found the Sister Therese poem especially moving this morning. Was reading 2 Corinthians earlier this morning where Paul says that we “hold this treasure in earthen vessels” and struggling myself with a health issue that’s quite minor by comparison with tuberculosis but which still just had me thinking about how fragile our vessels are here and how great that which we’re called to look forward to is. On a stylistic note – I’ll just say that while I wasn’t overawed by any particular line, the overall sense was one of simple perfection, which seemed fitting to the subject matter. “Good Poem” – as Garrison Keillor would say! Reply
Brian Yapko December 12, 2022 Thank you very much, Jeremiah. I hope your health issue resolves and am glad that St. Therese’s amazing example has helped put things in perspective — for both of us! Our vessels here are indeed fragile and she was very brave to look forward to seeing God. I find her very inspiring and am glad to be able to share that inspiration with others. Reply
Joseph S. Salemi December 11, 2022 These are two very fine poems about two very different women. I’m wondering if their juxtaposition here was deliberate. St. Therese is a holy and devout nun, totally at peace with herself and with the will of God. And the smiling cheerfulness of a young French girl is also there — the girl who loved pastries, and who accepted her inevitable death with no more concern than she would have for the inevitable withering of a small flower. And Cassandra? She is the royal priestess of Apollo, cursed by the thwarted lust of her god to be an unheeded prophetess, and condemned by the Fates to experience the destruction of her city and family, to be enslaved to its conqueror, and to die ignobly at the hands of his vengeful and murderous wife. Could there be a more dramatic contrast between the hope and joy of the Christian dispensation, and the sheer and overarching desolation of the pagan world, where we were all the pawns of destiny, driven by the arbitrary wills of selfish gods, and condemned to the dreary afterlife of Hades? Sure, you could be happy in the ancient world of paganism. You could be rational, and intelligent, and well educated. You could do your best to live a decent and honorable life. There was art and culture and literature and pleasure and the love of family and friends. But there was nothing else. And please — don’t defend modern succedaneous religion to me, with its overtly insane compulsion to enforce moral imperatives on everyone. That’s a toxic mindlessness that comes from Kant and the other German Idealists. Unfortunately, most of the mainline churches have gone over to it, lock, stock, and barrel. Reply
Jeremiah Johnson December 11, 2022 Joseph, Reading your comments on these two poems, I couldn’t help but think of this quote from Chesterton’s “Orthodoxy”: “. . . . if the question turn on the primary pivot of the cosmos, then there is more cosmic contentment in the narrow and bloody streets of Florence than there is in the theatre of Athens or the open garden of Epicurus. Giotto lived in a gloomier town than Euripedes, but he lived in a gayer universe. The mass of men have been forced to be gay about the little things, but sad about the big ones. Nevertheless it is not native to man to be so. Man is more himself when joy is the fundamental thing in him, and grief the superficial.” Reply
Joseph S. Salemi December 12, 2022 Chesterton has rightly been called “the master of paradox,” and the passage you quote is a good example. Almost every human life is a mixed bag of joy and grief, but if one believes that the entire structure and essence of the cosmos are rooted in an eternal joy, then the grief is only a little bit of static.
Brian Yapko December 12, 2022 I’m grateful, Jeremiah, for your mention of Chesterton, who has become a favorite of mine — and to you Joseph, for your further discussion of him. A favorite quote has great application to modern thinking: “The wild worship of lawlessness and the materialist worship of law end in the same void.” He had a formidable intellect and a great heart. Chesterton also happened to be an amazingly influential Christian apologist who had a profound impact on C.S. Lewis — one of my favorite authors.
Brian Yapko December 12, 2022 Thank you very much, Joseph. I’m pleased that you feel I’ve captured some of Therese’s innocent character and her total inner peace despite being so very, painfully ill. Cassandra was easier to write because we have no real idea of what her personality was like. And, of course, I completely made up the prophecy — primarily because I wanted her story to have some relevance to the subsequent events of Western history and, as you’ve observed, I wanted to provide a frame of reference for her pagan world and why it needed to be superseded by Christianity. You bring up the question of the pairing of these poems. I never wrote them thinking they would go together and when I submitted them to Evan it never occurred to me that he would want them to go together. But now, in hindsight, I see the wisdom of his choice to do so. They are indeed two female voices at the opposite ends of a spiritual spectrum which makes a contrast between them quite fascinating to consider. Your bringing up succedaneous religion in this context is intriguing. St. Therese is as pious and submissive to doctrinal authority as one gets. Cassandra, in contrast, is a mere pawn of the Greek pantheon of gods — cursed rather than a voluntary instrument. That is a big difference which shines a spotlight on the shallowness of the Greek and Trojan religions. Where is the heart of a Therese in that world? As you point out, yes, pagans could lead a relatively happy life — but it was empty and shallow and life was cheap. St. Augustine goes far in his Confessions to reveal how unsatisfactory pagan beliefs were to the human heart and spirit. What I get from your comment is that succedaneous religion is in spirit much like the pagan belief systems — mostly material, intellectually proud but indifferent to love or charity or, in fact, any form of meaningful adult morality. In other words, modern woke culture. Reply
Joseph S. Salemi December 12, 2022 Well Brian, I would add one important caveat. Pagan religions (unlike our modern succedaneous ones) do not go out of their way to impose moral imperatives on the whole world. All Graeco-Roman religion asked was that you avoid hubris, show respect for the gods, make the proper sacrifices and prayers, and keep the temples and shrines in good condition. They did not bug you about feminism and anti-racism and environmentalism and trannie rights and vaccinations and woke-ism and the globalist mega-agenda. There was nothing ideologically fanatical about pagan religion, the way there is with what’s is being spouted from mainline pulpits today.
Monika Cooper December 11, 2022 It’s a joy to see this tribute to St. Therese this morning. Many things to love in it: the detail about the stair, for one, and the Ruth line. The “Good Lord’s grain” and “My cup is full.” So many subtle references to her writings. She suffered unthinkably before the end. With all her gifts of imagination, she never imagined such suffering was possible. She did love her fate though. She was such a conqueror. I don’t know anything about Cassandra’s connection to the olive grove but now I want to know. Did she have a prophecy about the Savior? The feminine voices of the two speakers are beautifully rendered. Reply
Brian Yapko December 12, 2022 Thank you very much, Monika! I’m pleased that St. Therese brightened your day. It was a joy to write this poem even if it is sad because of her illness. It is yet triumphant because of her great faith and her ultimate sainthood. A “conqueror” is right! Cassandra did not, to my knowledge, prophecy regarding Christ. That was more wishful thinking on my part. But the olive grove was important to me because I wanted to place her in the same setting as the Garden of Gethsemane. Reply
Joshua C. Frank December 11, 2022 Brian, these are both great! I think “Sister Thérèse Scatters Flowers” is my new favorite of yours. As a Catholic strongly devoted to St. Thérèse, and having read her autobiography, some biographies of her, her recorded thoughts, and her poetry, I can say that you wrote her very well, to the point where I felt as though she really were speaking to me—an even more impressive feat considering that you’re writing across the male-female divide. I also loved the pun (none/nun, line 11). Interesting fact: Pope Pius X was himself canonized as a Saint by Pope Pius XII 40 years after his death. “Cassandra Within the Olive Grove” was also well done. Again, you did a very good job of writing in character and writing a female voice. I’m not sure why these two poems were published together, though. Perhaps because both are first-person poems with female speakers? Or maybe because Christians these days are much like Cassandra in that the truer what we say is, the less people believe us—even fellow believers, for that matter. You have to publish a collection of your work! Reply
Brian Yapko December 12, 2022 Thank you so much, Josh! You know a lot more about St. Therese than I do so I’m glad to know my work rang true to her life and character. She was really quite amazing in the fierce simplicity of her faith. I didn’t know that about Pope Pius X, so thank you for that bit of information. On the publication of Cassandra with Therese, I didn’t plan that but, as I mentioned to Dr. Salemi above, I now see why Evan did it and I’m grateful for the decision. Through two important women’s voices, it points out the immense contrast between Christianity and paganism. It is the contrast Christian empowerment — even in the face of suffering and death — versus sheer pagan helplessness in the face of utter annihilation. The concepts of power in both poems are very different and only in St. Therese is there real power and true immortality. But what you say about modern Cassandra is so true — Christians are not believed and mocked. Fortunately, in the end it won’t matter because Truth will always prevail. Also, thank you for noting the difficulty of a man assuming a female voice. But it’s really no different from writing plays. Shakespeare wrote some pretty great speeches for Portia, Lady Macbeth, Cleopatra, Ophelia and had to write dialogue for Juliet, Rosalind, Beatrice, Cordelia. Not that I’m Shakespeare! I’m just pointing out that it’s not all that uncommon for men to write words for a female character. In fact, I recall that Dr. Salemi did a dramatic monologue in a female voice in his recent (and stunning) “A Glass for My Father.” Reply
C.B. Anderson December 11, 2022 Without getting into any details (of which there are a plentitude), what we have here is some fine art. Reply
Margaret Coats December 11, 2022 The poem illustration fully identifies Therese whose face (recognized worldwide) is the modern face of holiness available to everyone in her Little Way. Much about her may have been “little,” as Brian repeats in the poem, but as brides of Christ, nuns at their profession take up a “title” of nobility. Therese’s title is “of the Child Jesus and of the Holy Face.” The Holy Face devotion was revealed to another French Carmelite nun just a few years before Therese was born. It focuses on the wounded face of the suffering Jesus, praying in reparation to Him for sins of Christians, especially of church leaders, which defile Christ’s actual face to the world, namely, the Church. The saint is often called “Therese of the Child Jesus,” but she herself insisted on the unusual double title. She faced “with love and full accord” the excruciating sufferings Brian describes, and I’m fascinated to see that he was inspired to use that word “face” near the end of the poem, a work that truly captures both sides of Therese, simple and heroic. Indeed, what is it to suffer “a little cough” in order to give the corrupted Church a more beautiful face! Reply
Brian Yapko December 12, 2022 Thank you very much for commenting, Margaret, and for your sensitivity concerning the presentation of this poem. As you know, my Jewish/Lutheran/Episcopal background renders me rather unsophisticated when it comes to a deep knowledge of Catholic theology. Nonetheless, I find that I am deeply moved by the lives and teachings of many of the saints. I hope my shortcomings don’t detract from a heartfelt attempt to do honor to St. Therese of Lisieux, a woman I consider to be one of the greatest for her ability to touch and effect changes in the modern heart with her fierce faith in the face of terrible suffering. I am also grateful for the details you have given regarding Therese’s title and Holy Face devotion which I have not heard of before. My mentioning the word “face” towards the end of the poem was pure inspiration because I did not know of this significant fact which adds an unintended but most welcome layer of meaning to my poem. Reply
Susan Jarvis Bryant December 12, 2022 Brian, as ever these poems are beautifully written. I especially like ‘Sister Thérèse Scatters Flowers.’ The mild, mellifluous words are soft and subtle, rolling smoothly along with a gentle certainty that belies the profound message they carry. For me, that message is, if we trust in God with our very being, death is not something to be feared but to be embraced. “My way to God is little, my voice faint; / But faith burns hot inside me like a flare!” are humble, powerful, and beautiful words – words that serve well in fearsome times. If only we would put our faith in God’s hands and not man’s, we too would feel the gift of serenity. This poem brings wisdom and wonder to the prospect of death. Brian – thank you for shining light on the Grim Reaper and revealing his scythe to be a welcome whisper on the wind when it is confronted with the iron will of faith. I too read the poems as a pair but took something very different away from ‘Cassandra Within the Olive Grove.’ Word of impending death is all powerful. It is a beast to be reckoned with – it is “… ravagement of eye and limb, /As beardless boys cry honor, fight and die.” Although Cassandra’s prophecies are ignored, the threat to life is in stark contrast to the first poem reminding me of where we stand today with all the fearmongering afoot. In the end, disaster or not, we are all destined to die… wouldn’t it be a lot easier if we listened to the words of God to assist us to our ends? Superb work! Reply
Brian Yapko December 12, 2022 Thank you so much, Susan! I’m so pleased that you liked “Sister Therese” and found it inspiring. Her character is so unique — that “gentle certainty” you mention which understates “the profound message that they carry.” That may be one of the reasons she was/is such an influential saint — she never shouted — she whispered quietly and her faith and endurance spoke for themselves. I did not think as much about her courage in the face of death as her ability to withstand suffering, but your observation is true and she is indeed a model not just of sanctity but of the power of faith. Your phrase about the Grim Reaper “revealing his scythe to be a welcome whisper on the wind” is so beautiful — I hope you put that into a poem. I’m glad that you read some of modern times/events into the Cassandra poem because that was the original inspiration for my writing it. Not that I’m the greatest seer, but my voice has grown hoarse suggesting to people that the world is going to hell in a handbasket and yet it sometimes feels like it doesn’t make a difference. Cassandra embodies that frustration. Is anyone out there listening? So many of us on SCP have written work that tries to pull the covers off nefarious or idiotic social or political schemes. It sometimes feels like its whistling in the wind, but I, at least, have to keep doing it. In the end, this is not between me and people who read poetry. It’s between me and God. I want to be able to say I did what I could. I suspect that your feelings are much the same. Reply
Margaret Coats December 13, 2022 Brian, I didn’t have time earlier to comment on “Cassandra Within the Olive Grove.” In my research on sibyls, I have seen Cassandra called a sibyl because of her prophetic power. She is not one of the 12 sibyls to whom a prophecy of Christ has been attributed. However, in the Middle Ages, the matter of Troy was of great interest to writers, and Cassandra for several reasons became a proto-Christian figure. One is her truth-telling (something you emphasize in “I augur truth”). Even though she knows the future, and knows that her prophecies will not be believed, she does not lie to influence events as she might wish. That is, she doesn’t tell lies so that people who don’t believe her will do the opposite of what her lies recommend. She acts responsibly in letting the truth be known. This is clear in Quintus Smyrnaeus, a 4th century writer who was most likely a Christian. He calls Cassandra the only steadfast heart and clear-eyed soul among Trojans. This happens as she warns them against the Greek gift of a horse while they are reveling at a sacrificial meal in honor of their gods. Thinking the horse a surrender gift, the Trojans attribute their unearned victory to the gods. Unlike Vergil, Quintus places Cassandra’s warning after Laocoon’s advice to be cautious. She distrusts Greeks and gods, even after everyone else thinks Laocoon’s death has proven the gods want the horse to be brought into the city. I hear that Cassandra earns special mention in a German epic written about 1200, but it has not been translated and I don’t read much German. Sissela Bok, who has tried to give an overarching view of human ethics in every culture, says that the deeds always deplored (at least in theory, for most of the population, most of the time) are violence, deception, and betrayal, along with the secrecy that makes offenses possible. From that point of view, we can understand Cassandra as an ethical figure who neither deceived others nor withheld truth when she could have. You add to this the prophecy, with which she does what pre-Christian individuals were required to do for salvation, namely, to believe in the savior God had promised to send. Indeed, you give Cassandra a prophecy that is more expansive than those attributed to the twelve messianic sibyls. In general, they each know a small piece of information about Christ (such as His birth of virgin, or some aspect of His sufferings). Your final lines, especially the couplet about His fulfilling all human needs, indicate a perception of far greater depth about His identity and purpose. It suits the speaker who is better known to readers by her association with Greek and Roman and later epic tradition. She is one who thirsts, despairs, and bleeds, showing the yearning of the defiled Earth for a savior, but also one who manifests wishes for a greater life than she could have had, even if a happier lot had been her fate on earth. You are contributing to current re-writing of the classic Cassandra character! There were three Cassandra novels by women in the 1980s and 1990s. Rayne Hall felt that none of these gave her an authentic feeling for a Bronze Age woman. They all used Cassandra to project modern attitudes. In 2013, Hall published her own attempt to be true to Cassandra as the short story “Prophetess” in her collection of Thirty Scary Tales. I’ll let you know how it reads! Reply
Brian Yapko December 14, 2022 Thank you, Margaret, for this detailed description of Cassandra’s role in the Trojan War and how she has been perceived throughout history. Until your analysis, I could never quite articulate why she was the only Trojan that I actually liked in the Iliad. She speaks truth and she does not manipulate facts to try to change what must be. That makes her worthy of respect. To me she’s also a figure of great pathos because it is indeed a difficult and painful thing to speak the truth and not be believed. To be truthful but disbelieved is not an uncommon phenomenon. One of the reasons I was drawn to her in the first place was because I had heard of a psychological condition called the Cassandra Syndrome which, as I understand it, basically involves a person who suffers from speaking truth but is disbelieved, ignored or trivialized. I’m sure this takes its toll. In fact, it’s a powerful tool of gaslighting that leftists now seem to use: “What voter fraud?” “What suppressed news story?” Cassandra’s very existence has become a shorthand for an entire range of psycho-social and now political phenomena which involve being rendered unjustly invisible, untrusted or trivialized. You have mentioned the sibyls and I am reminded of your own wonderful series of poems on the messianic sibyls which I greatly admire, especially for their meticulous attention to literary and mythological detail. While the sibyls you have written about had authentic visions of Christ, the idea that Cassandra augurs the advent of Christ in my poem was mere wishful thinking on my part — the only historical revisionism I ever plan to engage in! But it was thematically important for me to contrast the despairing Trojan world with the promise of the Savior and the bringing of a new world. Of course, we know so little about the historical Cassandra — if she existed at all. Who’s to say that she didn’t prophecy such a thing? I’ll look forward to hearing about your views on “Prophetess.” And thank you again, Margaret, for your attention to both of these poems! Reply
Margaret Coats January 5, 2023 Brian, I have forgotten all this time to comment on your title, “Sister Therese Scatters Flowers.” Therese said that she would spend her heaven doing good on earth, and the flower now associated with her is the rose. I cannot say how many persons have mysteriously received a rose to indicate Therese has heard their prayers! The number is great, and I will simply describe the most dramatic occurrence I know. A Catholic mother of a large family was walking around her house, and noticed a rose bush where there had never been one. She went inside and shouted, “Who’s been praying to Saint Therese?” The eldest daughter turned pale, because she had been praying to Therese to know whether she had a religious vocation. This was a strong answer: not just the rose often received by persons who have asked a favor, but a bush! I heard this from the mother herself while the daughter was preparing to make a visit to a Carmelite convent and further test her vocation. Indeed, Therese has become a scatterer of real flowers on earth, as signs of God’s heavenly goodness. Reply
Brian Yapko January 5, 2023 Thank you for this delightful comment, Margaret! My heart is warmed by the devotion so many have to Therese and the story of your friend and her miracle rose bush is wonderful — indeed it would be a lovely subject for a poem! I chose this somewhat unusual title for the poem because it seemed fitting to highlight Therese’s association with flowers. I called her “Sister” rather than “Saint” because I wanted to highlight her identity as a nun first and to honor her extraordinary humility. Finally, I wanted the “scatter” reference because it was used by Therese herself to describe what she did, and also because I wanted to invoke the gospels and Christ’s Parable of the Sower. The seeds St. Therese sowed were particularly fruitful! Reply
