Reviving the Lost Art of Letter Writing
By Emma Restuccia
Though I have not always made the best use of quarantine, I have sent and received a number of handwritten letters – at least, a decent number for these days. One study found that 64 percent of people would not write a single handwritten note in a year. But, if there’s a year to buck this stat, I’d say it is this one.
Letter writing is indeed an ancient practice; some historians believe the first handwritten letter was from a Persian queen in 500 BC. Before the 19th century, when the telegraph was invented, letter writing was the sole means of long-distance communication. Now, in our instant messaging age, letter writing is indeed a lost art, a rarity more than a necessity.
The Scriptures are filled with letters: the Epistles of St. Paul. St. Paul wrote 14 letters to the local churches of various cities, as well as to his friends and fellow disciples. His letters reveal similar emotions and scenarios many may now be experiencing: loneliness, strife, physical distance from the Christian community, and concern for the spiritual life and wellbeing of the Church. His soul-bearing epistles provide prudent wisdom on endurance during suffering and keeping the faith in times of trouble. He also used these correspondences to show his love and encourage the churches despite physical separation. Christianity and our faith would not be the same without these letters. Taking an example from Paul’s epistles, the qualities of intentionality, leisureliness, and tangibility of letter writing make this practice a remedy to combat the isolation of these times.
Intentionality
Letter writing asks for a certain mindset of silence, even meditation, to write a heartfelt note. It requires that intentionality of thinking singularly of the recipient, of meditating on what to write and how to connect with them. This gives so much purpose and importance to the recipient, even when separated by physical space. Like St. Paul, who wrote individual epistles to the churches based on their distinctive struggles and virtues, intentionality is built on deliberate consideration of the relationship.
Leisureliness
The leisureliness of letters – both in the writing and in the reading of one – is understood in the fullest sense of the word, of leisure as a virtue. This unhurried time of contemplative stillness one might set aside for writing is a gift in itself. Practicing leisure can foster the mindset of non-activity, of communicative silence that is conducive to the best writing. The receptivity of getting a note also mirrors the receptive attitude of the soul that leisure requires. Letter writing and reading may be a fruit of the practice of cultivating a habit toward true leisure. For St. Paul, letters were a means to connect souls within the Body of Christ. His writings were a product of his saintly and inspired life in which, undoubtedly, authentic leisure had a role.
Tangibility
The tangibility of a written note makes receiving one a gift; a beautiful card, a sprawling script, a stamped envelope is a physical token of love. St. Paul’s correspondences were an embodied substitute for his presence to the churches when he could not be there in the flesh. Now, those epistles are immortalized in the Scriptures and in the life of the Church. Much more than other modes of communication, a letter is a concrete bond and lasting memento in times of physical separation.
So, for friends far or near, old or new, I’d suggest taking a page from St. Paul and penning a letter. If there’s ever a time to revive this ancient practice, it is now.
