Peter Jones: Thank You Seamus Heaney

There are several books I read every year. The topics range from marriage and child rearing to education and the Lord’s Supper. There is only one fiction book on this yearly reading list: Beowulf. I have read Beowulf at least once a year for the past seven years. I never tire of it. I give it to my friends. I read it to my boys. We memorize portions of it. I pull off the shelf and randomly read portions when my soul needs to be stirred.

There are more complex and perhaps more important stories than Beowulf. I read Crime and Punishment while my wife was bringing our seventh child into the world (Don’t worry. I only read while she was resting.) and had to keep reminding myself where I was and what I was doing. It is a stunning novel. Still Beowulf resonates with who I want to be and who I want my sons to be. Beowulf is a savior, a deliverer, a hero. He slays the great monsters and ultimately gives his life for his people. He weaves speeches of grand, but not pompous, words. He does not fear death, but he is not a fool who risks for no reason. He fights for someone, the good king Hrothgar and finally for his people. He resists the temptations that come with being a wealthy king. I am not sure that I have read a more masculine book. There are swords and torn arms and heads on the tops of spears. There is beer and feasting and song. There is dread and terror, followed by gladness, followed by more dread and terror. Beowulf gets in your bones. You read it and it stays with you.

There are several good versions out there. There is a kid’s version by Serrailer that is worth reading to get an introduction to the text. I own three poetic versions. I own versions by Rebsamen and Chickering. Both of them are excellent. But I love Seamus Heaney’s version. Sometimes I just pull it off the shelf and look at it and remember the joy and awe that came when I first read it. Maybe I like his best because he was my introduction to the world of Beowulf. Or maybe it is because when I first read his book it was on a snowy, winter’s night in late January. That is how Beowulf is meant to read. It is a winter story. So I have Seamus Heaney to thank for my love of Beowulf and my love of poetry. I was not classically schooled. I never read poetry in high school or college. Would I have ever picked up Paradise Lost or Hamlet or Inferno if Heaney had not first given me Beowulf? That is a heavy debt to repay. Today Seamus Heaney died. When I think of great poets, I mostly think of dead men. The only living poet I really admired was Heaney. And now he is gone. I wish I could write a poem in honor of him. But alas, thanks to Heaney I can read poety, but I cannot yet write it. Maybe my sons can pay back my debt to Heaney. Either way, my life was greatly enriched by the work he did. Thanks, Seamus Heaney.

“They extolled his heroic nature and exploits

and gave thanks for his greatness; which was the proper thing,

for a man should praise a prince whom he holds dear

and cherish his memory when that moment comes

when he has to be conveyed from his bodily home.” (Beowulf, 3173-3177)

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