Reflections on Faith in Poetry and in Prose

What is “spiritual writing”?

Is it like obscenity--a thing you can’t define, but know when you see it, in the memorable words of the late Supreme Court Justice Potter Stewart? Is it an exercise in futility--trying to express the inexpressible, capture in our linear language that which is boundless and uncontainable?

Philip Zaleski, editor of “The Best Spiritual Writing 1999,” defines it simply: prose or poetry that expresses the workings of the soul. He also says, candidly, that finding people who can speak with authority on the inner life and express it with flair is akin to finding “a horse that dances ballet.”

Nevertheless, Zaleski has managed to find several such creatures in his latest anthology, a follow-up to his best-selling collection of spiritual writings last year. The 1999 anthology of 39 poems, essays and articles can’t help but move, surprise, delight and inspire.

There is something for everyone, with spiritual reflections on subjects ranging from dirt to toilet cleaning to the Internet, touching traditions of Christianity, Judaism, Taoism and Buddhism. Zaleski’s careful mining of countless journals to extract this treasury of gems is a particular gift to those of us with the curiosity but not the time to do the job ourselves. The pieces are short enough to partake of a bit at a time, and, in the main, more savory and deeply satisfying than the wildly successful “Chicken Soup for the Soul” series of inspirational stories.

The best pieces are grounded in real-life figures and anecdotes. One of the most captivating is Tom Junod’s “Can You Say . . . ‘Hero’?” The profile of “Mister” Fred Rogers, his deep, simple humanity and his transformative impact on all he meets--including Junod--lingers in the mind and heart long after you put the piece down.

“Stigmata” by Ron Hansen arouses spiritual wonder in his examination of the Italian Franciscan priest Padre Pio and others said to have borne the blessing of Christ’s wounds. (Hansen notes that women are seven times more likely than men to get stigmata. This, he ventures, “may be God’s way of illustrating the importance of women in Christ’s ministry and of correcting the imbalance in holy Scripture where a far higher proportion of men have their voices heard.”)

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Many of the writings startle us with fresh insights into mundane topics. Jonathan Rosen ruminates on the similarities between the Talmud and the Internet. “Eating Dirt” by Brian Doyle is a charming essay on the blizzard of blessings of brown clod. His odd, arresting images of himself and his daughter as “grizzled dirt” and “lovely dirt” remind us that our bodies are, ultimately, dust, and bring to mind the gentle urgings of Zen master Thich Nhat Hanh to look mindfully at what we’ve often lost our ability to see.

Children and death are two notable themes in the collection, and fittingly so. “We move between two darknesses,” E.M. Forster wrote. “The two entities who might enlighten us, the baby and the corpse, cannot do so.”

But the anthology offers several pieces featuring those nearer the mystery--those starting life and those nearing its end--that provoke our thoughts and stir our souls. Annie Dillard’s “Acts of God” ponders humanity and holiness with vivid portraits from an obstetrical ward. Douglas Burton-Christie, a professor at Loyola Marymount University in Los Angeles, shares a final journey with a dear friend dying of cancer and “Living on the Edge of Eternity.”

The least satisfying essays are those written on the Eastern traditions by seekers who seem to lack a deep comprehension of them. Two essays on spiritual practices in Japan, for instance, suffer from the authors’ unfamiliarity with the Japanese language, history and culture.

A “Yen for Cleaning,” by Louise Rafkin, is a brightly written look at the unlikely spiritual path of cleaning toilets, but never penetrates the essence of the tradition or the people who follow it. Janwillem van de Wetering’s essay on life at the Daitoku-ji monastery is filled with facile observations--residents of the great temple town of Kyoto gossip in their daily conversations rather than discuss enlightenment--and the usual complaints that Japanese hate foreigners.

The beauty of an anthology, however, is the freedom to pick and choose. In this diverse and at times profound collection, readers are certain to find something that speaks to them of the soul radiantly at work.