As with many of the quaint practices of bygone eras that have been left behind for something faster, easier, and “better,” it is not hard to see why people have mostly ceased to write letters to one another. With a myriad of instantly delivered methods of communication, why would anyone choose one that requires you to sit down, get a hand cramp, find an envelope, buy stamps, ask for the address, and remember to put it in the mailbox with the flag up? You’re already on your phone texting them for their address, so you might as well just say what you wanted to say in a text! Or, if you’re older, send an email. 

Quick and easy communication abounds in our day—and this is a great gift! The ability to shoot off a quick text to check in on a friend, make a phone call while completing chores, or send a video to long-distance grandparents can bring us closer to those we love and strengthen our relationships. But have you ever received a handwritten letter? If you have, then you already know how different it feels to receive a letter than an email or a text or an Instagram message (no matter how funny that video is!). Cora Evans did not have these more modern communicatory methods at her disposal to wrestle with, but she did understand deeply the value of sending letters, writing a staggering amount of letters and even referring to letter writing as an apostolate she had undertaken: “Cora admits to writing seventeen letters today, making for a total of three hundred since Christmas. She is devoted to the apostolate of letter writing. Oftentimes she inserts with her letters well-chosen cartoons clipped from papers or magazines, adding the names of friends so as to provide local color and humor. (From visit, January 9, 1952)”*

What makes a letter so different from communicating via text or email? Of course, a letter is going to be longer than most of our instant communications, although most people could certainly write a long email more quickly and with more ease than even a short letter. But I would propose that it is not the length, but the tangible nature of a letter, both in its physicality in the receiver’s hands and the physical connection to the writer in the handwriting, that makes the letter ideal for connective communications, especially in our age of virtual communications, perhaps even more so than in Cora Evan’s time. If she saw letter writing as a worthy apostolate before household telephones were widespread, how much more so is it today when so much of our lives have been bereft of any physical, personal connection? After all, we have been created as a body and soul. Our bodies, our ability to connect tangibly to the people and world around us, are important and cannot be done away with. As C.S. Lewis said in Mere Christianity, “God never meant man to be a purely spiritual creature. That is why He uses material things like bread and wine to put the new life into us. We may think this rather crude and unspiritual. God does not…He likes matter. He invented it” (from Book II, Chapter 5). 

Not only is a letter a physical connection, it also serves as a reminder of the time and effort your correspondent has given to you, particularly in our day when this art has largely been lost to the annals of history. Of course, there are many examples across the span of great literature, perhaps most notably from Captain Wentworth to Anne in Jane Austen’s Persuasion. But if you are not an Austenian character writing literature’s most famous love letter, what are you actually supposed to say? Regrettably, not yet being an avid correspondent myself, I have a shortage of personal advice in this realm. However, since there is an argument for letter writing as an art form, the three hallmarks of beauty may provide some outlining guidance on the road to writing a beautiful and interesting letter. Remember that your goal is to bring a moment of joy, connection, and the feeling of being loved to your recipient, not to wow them with your literary prowess. The time and love that you put into a letter will shine through. These three hallmarks are fairly simple and so should your letters be, should you decide to begin to take up this apostolate and your pen!

The first of these hallmarks is due proportion. This is typically understood as the parts of the whole being in proper relation to one another. In letter writing, this could be applied to the proper use of grammar, punctuation, sentence structure, and so on. 

The second is the integrity or wholeness of the thing. This seems fairly straightforward in regards to letter writing—simply write a complete letter, without leaving off in the middle of a story or point you are making. 

Finally, the last and most important hallmark is its radiance.  John Saward in his book, The Beauty of Holiness and the Holiness of Beauty, defines radiance as that quality that shows what the essence of the thing truly is, which brings insight to the viewer. In a letter, perhaps this is how much of the writer’s love, joy, humor, and personality come through. As a perfectly delightful example of this, we will close with this excerpt from one of Cora Evan’s letters. Her humorous letters are continuing to bring joy to others even now!

“Wouldn't you know it—I took Laddy for a walk and went around the church block just to be closer to the Master, and while I walked, I said a Rosary. I was simply dressed in my dusty garden shoes, faded house dress, and my hose which looked like they had been in the hose of a vacuum cleaner, full of snags and a few minor runs. I was a sorry looking moon-face without my bowed lips in red and Indian war paint. No, I did not meet the bishop. Just as we were in front of the church, a wedding was dismissed. I held Laddy back on the leash, and even though we were thirty feet from the procession, we were taken in the shower of rice. Laddy could stand none of this. Before I could stop him, he had wrestled his head through his neck band as easily as if I had him greased. Then he chased the people who were throwing the rice. Was I embarrassed... I took up the chase, and Laddy did not hear me in the least-he was the big protector! I chased him around the bride and groom who were snuggled together and around the pillars of pastel skirts until the rice throwers burst into hilarious laughter and forgot the rice throwing. And while I was running around and accomplishing nothing but stepping on toes and running head long into someone's back, I was being taken. No fooling—taken with flash pictures. Who should see that??? Then Laddy tired and dashed into the church and routed out the few holy ones who had remained to pray. His bark was fierce, and his hair was on end. I ran into the church and brother if I could have only gotten my hands on him, there would not have been a Laddy. After the people had fled, Laddy decided to walk down the white carpet strip whereon only brides dare to walk. He actually strutted and held his chin and tail high. He walked to the communion rail, looked around and then, almost... I prayed not. At that moment, a black pigeon flew in the front doors and sent Laddy all off again. He chased the bird over and down the pews and barking all the time. Poor pigeon didn't dare leave the ceiling. Finally, Laddy tired and crawled to me, ears down. He was defeated that he did not get the pigeon. I was in a wrestling mood myself and only kept my thoughts to myself because I was in church. Will I ever live this down?”*

*Both quotations in this blog post were taken from Br. Edward Behan’s book Introduction to the Life and Writings of Cora Evans. Brother Edward was a dear friend to Cora and her family in the final years of her life. The letter excerpt was addressed to Br. Edward and included in the book.