Very few American children are unfamiliar with the Shel Silverstein poem “Where the Sidewalk Ends.” Without fanfare and unnoticed by much of the adult world, the humor and profundity of Silverstein’s works have become a magnet to the young. Perhaps best known for his book “The Giving Tree,” Shel Silverstein was a poet, a cartoonist and musician. He died in 1999. Some two decades earlier, he penned the lines’

There is a place where the sidewalk ends

and before the street begins,

and there the grass grows soft and white…

The poetry of Shel Silverstein is not explicitly religious. Some adults, in fact, take issue with his work, finding it disturbing, even subversive. The fact that “Where the Sidewalk Ends” brings a sense of calm and completion to multitudes of children, they argue, does not make it true – and certainly not Christian.

But there is another side to this conversation. The life of a human being is not a book in which once a chapter has been read it is forgotten, as we turn ahead to the next set of pages. Rather each phase of life has its own value. As we grow in maturity, an irreplaceable part of us is always a child. And at the core of the child that is in each of us is openness to that mystery we call God. It is precisely such openness that “Where the Sidewalk Ends” evokes. In a another verse he writes:

Let us leave this place where the smoke blows black

and the dark street winds and bends

past the pits where the asphalt flowers grow….

There is a type of subversiveness here to be sure. Silverstein sets aside the yardstick by which the adult world measures accomplishment. In its place, the poet urges the child to move “past the pits where the asphalt flowers grow” to reach a deeper, truer part of his or her nature.

Our faith tells us that within every human heart there is a place of encounter with infinite Mystery. Here we meet God in prayer, experience the demands of conscience, and exercise the option of belief. It is a place of stillness, at times forgotten by adults busy with the traffic of life. Not so with children. Their vulnerability keeps them profoundly aware of their inner selves. With a candor that grown ups find embarrassing, children talk with God in a natural way.“Where the Sidewalk Ends” depicts a world in which the young, following signposts from earlier generations, advance in a calm and purposeful manner. “We’ll walk with a walk that is measured and slow,…for the children, they mark, and the children, they know….” There is no loneliness or insecurity. It is life not as it is, but as each of us, deep down, would like it to be. Silverstein is not the first, however, to describe this plane of existence.

In a much earlier time, St. Augustine wrote: “Thou has made us for thyself, O Lord, and our hearts are restless until they rest in thee.” As Christians we believe that there is uneasiness in the human spirit, that only God’s peace can satisfy. We pray that the dead “may rest in peace.” In doing so we ask that the blessed calmness of Christ’s love be visited upon them. From a faith perspective, the place between the sidewalk and the street is always present within us even if it is only made explicit in the life hereafter.

The Catholic theologian Karl Rahner tells of once having asked a well-known philosopher if he believed in God. “I do not know,” he replied. “But that we are children of God, that I do believe.” Setting aside the intellectualism of a lifetime, the philosopher was acknowledging that there could be truth in the primal sentiments of childhood. Because the simplest truths can be the most profound, Jesus tells us that we must become like little children. By doing so we are promised eternal repose in the garden of our heavenly Father, a place where “the grass grows soft and white…and the moon bird rests from his flight to cool in the peppermint wind.”

Literature in the Spirituality of Pope Francis

The evocative children’s poetry of Shel Silverstein, is a reminder of the powerful  literature and poetry have played in Christian spirituality. In a letter to written  young priests by Pope Francis in July, 2024, the Holy Father encouraged his readers to allow a place in their lives for literature.  The ten-page document speaks in practical terms “Time spent reading,” he writes, ‘may well open-up new interior spaces that help us to avoid becoming trapped by a few obsessive thoughts that can stand in the way of our personal growth. Indeed, before our present unremitting exposure to social media, mobile phones and other devices, reading was a common experience.” 

But the written word, the Pope explains, has value far beyond entertainment. : “Literature ,” he explains, “deals …with our deepest desires in this life, for on a profound level literature engages our concrete existence, with its innate tensions, desires and meaningful experiences.”   The best in writing helps us understand ourselves. He cites Paul VI 1964 plea to artists and writers:  “We need you. Our ministry needs your cooperation….Our ministry is to preach, and to ensure that the world of the spirit, of the invisible, of the ineffable, of God, is accessible and intelligible, indeed moving. And you are masters in this work of rendering the invisible world in accessible and intelligible ways”

In closing,Pope Francis reminds young clergy that the ministry of the Divine Word that they are called to serve is also comprised of human words. “The affinity between priest and poet,” Francis explains, “shines forth in the mysterious and indissoluble sacramental union between the divine Word and our human words, giving rise to a ministry that becomes a service born of listening and compassion, a charisma that becomes responsibility, a vision of the true and the good that discloses itself as beauty.”