Dr. Bennett’s Top
Undoubtably the most memorable character I met while an undergrad
at St Norbert College was Dr. Bennett. Dr.
Bennett was a cannon ball of a man with fierce eyebrows. He constantly puffed at little imported cigarettes
as he paced back and forth as he lectured.
He was an award-winning poet and a man I deeply admired, and I was just
a bit afraid of. He refused to apologize
for using a vocabulary that had many students scribble notes furiously with a
pen in one hand and a dictionary in the other.
It was both a surprise and honor when, as an English major in my junior year, I had already exhausted my course options, so he agreed to teach me poetry
writing 1:1.
That first day of the semester I nervously met him at the service
elevator on the ground floor of Boyle Hall.
He took the service elevator because with his age, weight and smoking
habit the stairs were too much for him to reach his 4th floor
office. We got in and he slid the door
shut and the elevator began creaking and ratting upwards. “I call it my double indemnity,” he grinned
as he sensed my apprehension.
To my relief, we did make it to his office floor. He slid the door open and we stepped
out. Within steps he held his hand up
and motioned for me to stop. “Wait
here. I have something to show
you.” A few minutes later he came back;
he had a top in the palm of his hand and he was busy winding the cord around
it. When the cord was completely wrapped,
he snapped his wrist and the top began to spin on the linoleum floor. We watched.
And we watched. Minutes went
by. He suddenly bent down, snatched it
up and pronounced, “Well, we’re not trying to set any records today.”
He motioned me into his office. It was just what I expected. Books lined the shelves. Books were piled up on the floor. Books were stacked on his desk. He motioned for me to have a seat in the
little visitor’s chair. “Just think,” he
said, and he closed his eyes and was quiet. After
several minutes he asked me to tell him everything I had observed. I can’t recall my exact list after 40 plus years,
but if you picture that top spinning in your own mind, I bet we could come up
with a good list right now: stillness, hand, action, cord peeling off, motion,
axis, speed, balance . . . well, we’re not trying to set any record today. You get the point.
Dr. Bennett and I spent the entire semester working on
that top. We discussed observations,
thoughts, metaphors, symbols, verbs, nouns – all the marvels of language. It is amazing the complexity your mind is
capable of if you release it. It is a
powerful skill to train your mind to really observe. We don’t observe with our senses, our senses are
simply the tools that all feed the world and beyond into the mind.
It is in the mind where truth is uncovered and where imagination is inspired. This is why St. Paul urges us, “Do not
conform yourselves to this age, but be transformed by the renewal of your mind,
that you may discern what is the will of God, what is good and pleasing and
perfect.” (Romans 12:2)
As humans, especially my male counterparts and I, we
want to act, to do, to be busy and to get on with it. That can be good. But much more can be accomplished, perhaps
even a greater good may be accomplished, if we first stop, observe, listen, and
seek to discern God’s will before we act.
Dr. Bennett also taught me that all great literature
comes back around to God. He stated it
as fact; he didn’t tell me why. But after mulling on it for years, I
think it is because all great literature leads you to contemplate a deeper meaning,
the purpose of life, the reality of death, the possibilities in eternity, and the glory of the transcendent. When we contemplate truth in the ultimate
realities it always leads us to God, who is the ultimate reality, the ultimate truth. And,
it is when we enter into the act of contemplation that we are most like God,
because it is how God acts. God
contemplates us into existence. “All
were created through him, all were created for him, He is before all else that
is, in Him everything continues in being.” (Colossians 1:17)
His Peace,
Deacon Dan
Photo by Ash from Modern Afflatus on Unsplash
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