Category: Thomas Merton

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A pious monk

This came in today’s mail. I received this in another mailing just last week and I think it’s an appropriate response to all that surrounds us today.

I do not consider myself integrated in the war-making society in which I live, but the problem is that this society does consider me integrated in it. I notice that for nearly twenty years my society-or those in it who read my books-have decided upon an identity for me and insist that I continue to correspond perfectly to the idea of me which they found upon reading my first successful book [The Seven Storey Mountain, his autobiography published in 1948]. Yet the same people simultaneously prescribe for me a contrary identity. They demand that I remain forever the superficially pious, rather rigid and somewhat narrow-minded young monk I was twenty years ago, and at the same time they continually circulate the rumor that I have left my monastery. What has actually happened is that I have been simply living where I am and developing in my own way without consulting the public about it since it is none of the public’s business.

Thomas Merton. Raids on the Unspeakable. New York: New Directions Press, 1964: 172.

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A question of relevance

Are monks and hippies and poets relevant? No, we are deliberately irrelevant. We live with an ingrained irrelevance which is proper to every human being. The marginal [person] accepts the basic irrelevance of the human condition, an irrelevance which is manifested above all by the fact of death. The marginal person, the monk, the displaced person, the prisoner, all these people live in the presence of death, and the office of the monk or the marginal person, the meditative person or the poet is to go beyond death even in this life, to go beyond the dichotomy of life and death and to be, therefore, a witness to life.

Thomas Merton. The Asian Journal of Thomas Merton. Naomi Burton, Brother Patrick Hart and James Laughlin, editors. New York: New Directions Press, 1969: 306.

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Holy Peace


I took this picture as I was walking up the trail to Holy Peace Chapel at Mt. Irenaeus this morning. It was a beautiful morning and one of the nicest of the summer. Today’s readings were very meaningful for me. Psalm 63 was read after the first reading and it really embodied how I’ve been feeling lately. I almost walked out of Mass after I got there as I felt a bit low and troubled.

O God, you are my God– for you I long! For you my body yearns; for you my soul thirsts, Like a land parched, lifeless, and without water. So I look to you in the sanctuary to see your power and glory.
For your love is better than life; my lips offer you worship! I will bless you as long as I live; I will lift up my hands, calling on your name. My soul shall savor the rich banquet of praise, with joyous lips my mouth shall honor you! When I think of you upon my bed, through the night watches I will recall That you indeed are my help, and in the shadow of your wings I shout for joy. My soul clings fast to you; your right hand upholds me.
But those who seek my life will come to ruin; they shall go down to the depths of the earth! They shall be handed over to the sword and become the prey of jackals! But the king shall rejoice in God; all who swear by the Lord shall exult, for the mouths of liars will be shut!

I stayed at Mass and this Psalm along with the blog about Paradox of Peace that came from the Merton Institute a couple of weeks ago stayed with me. After Mass and brunch I stopped and visited some Franciscan friends and then I drove north to Abbey of the Genesee. I spent Vespers and Compline with the community. I visited the store and bought Thomas Merton’s, “The Way of Chuang Tzu,” along with fruit cake and some Monks brownies for my friends. Between Vespers and Compline I went to the chapel and sat in silence inviting the presence of the Holy Spirit and seeking answers. Just before Compline while looking at one of Merton’s books in the store Brother Jerome approached and asked if I’d like to talk. I came here seeking answers today and the improbable coincidence of an invitation to talk by a monk I’d never visited with before floored me. I’m going back tomorrow and sit with Brother Jerome. Maybe his counsel is that voice of God that I’ve been seeking.

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Waiting to hear

This is another good thought from Thomas Merton.

Contemplation is essentially a listening in silence, an expectancy… In other words, the true contemplative is not the one who prepares his mind for a particular message that he wants or expects to hear, but who remains empty because he knows that he can never expect or anticipate the world that will transform his darkness into light. He does not even anticipate a special kind of transformation. He does not demand light instead of darkness. He waits on the Word of God in silence, and when he is “answered,” it is not so much by a world that bursts into his silence. It is by his silence itself suddenly, inexplicably revealing itself to him as a word of great power, full of the voice of God.

Thomas Merton. Contemplative Prayer. Garden City, NY: Doubleday & Company, 1969: 90

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Paradox of peace

I got this quote in today’s mail from the Merton Institute and it really resonated for me. The second sentence here is right on target.

Paradoxically, I have found peace because I have always been dissatisfied. My moments of depression and despair turn out to be renewals, new beginnings. If I were once to settle down and be satisfied with the surface of life, with its divisions and its clichés, it would be time to call in the undertaker. …So, then, this dissatisfaction which sometimes used to worry me and has certainly, I know, worried others, has helped me in fact to move freely and even gaily with the stream of life. My unspoken (or spoken) protests have kept me from clinging to what was already done with. When a thought is done, let go of it. When something has been written, publish it, and go on to something else. You may say the same thing again someday, on a deeper level. No one needs to have a compulsion to be utterly and perfectly “original” in every word he writes.

Thomas Merton. A Thomas Merton Reader. Thomas P. McDonnel, editor. New York: Doubleday, Inc., 1962:16

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Merton and me

Last night I attended a talk given by Walt Chura, SFO at Mount Irenaeus. Walt’s topic was the “Transformations of Thomas Merton.” Walt talked about the similarities between the transformations of Francis of Assisi and Thomas Merton and helped me to more clearly see each man and their journey to God and my own journey too. Both Merton and Francis were profligate sinners. They knew excess and it is or was their excess that eventually drew them close to God.

I was thinking as I ran this morning and contemplating what it means to me and it occurred to me that it’s possible to know God without theology. In fact theology might actually come between us and God. In the west and particularly in Western Christianity we are totally absorbed in describing God and what God is and isn’t. It’s that obsession with description that actually stands in the way of our knowing God. In twelve step programs, old timers frequently say that if you can describe the higher power, you’ve just lost him or her. If that’s true, and I believe it is, then theology or theologies could actually be standing in the way of knowing God or following God. I think both Merton and Francis knew this. I was thinking too of the popular Christian view of a sin centered universe and how that shapes Western Civilization. The less popular theology is of Duns Scotus and the Theology of the Incarnation that says that Christ came not to save the world from its sins but to show how much God loved the world.

If you tell that to your average American Christian you’ll be in for the fight of your life, but it makes sense to me. I read a book a few years ago by an Irish theologian who said that spirituality had been around for 10,000 years and that religion for only the last four or five thousand of those years. Karl Rahner once said, “The Christian of the future will be a mystic or he will not exist at all.” The Buddhists speak of the various paths of truth as being fingers pointing to the moon. Drawing from all of this and Walt’s talk last night I believe its possible to get so caught up in the fingers as to miss the moon. Its possible that a profligate life is really the path of the true seeker and that it’s not a sin centered universe but a sartori centered universe in which each man and women is moving slowly, very slowly towards enlightenment which Christians in the west would call redemption.

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Paradox

I purchased a book from Amazon the other day and read it today not three hours after opening the package. It’s the first book I’ve read in awhile and I’d recommend it to anyone. It’s the “Promise of Paradox“and it’s more than timely. Too much of our packaged culture is set up as either/or when life is really about both/and. I read one of Parker Palmer’s other books, “Let Your Life Speak,” about three years ago. This is easy reading but full of insight. It’s actually the republication of a book originally published in 1980.

The book helped me to put some flesh on thoughts I’ve had lately about the paradoxes in my own life and my surrender to them.  The foreword is written by Henri Nouwen and Parker speaks often of Thomas Merton and St. Paul. I recommend it to you.

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Truth in silence

If there is no silence beyond and within the words of doctrine, there is no religion, only religious ideology. For religion goes beyond words and actions, and attains to the ultimate truth in silence. When this silence is lacking, where there are only the “many words” and not the One Word, then there is much bustle and activity, but no peace, no deep thought, no understanding, no inner quiet. Where there is no peace, there is no light. The mind that is hyper-active seems to itself to be awake and productive, but it is dreaming. Only in silence and solitude, in the quiet of worship, the reverent peace of prayer, the adoration in which the entire ego-self silences and abases itself in the presence of the Invisible God, only in these “activities” which are “non-actions” does the spirit truly awake from the dream of a multifarious and confused existence.

Thomas Merton. Honorable Reader: Reflections on My Work. Edited by Robert E. Daggy (New York: Crossroad, 1989): 115.]

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Meaningless

A friend wrote me about Merton’s quote about illusion and briefly stated that only noise could be measured and that because silence could not be measured it must be the illusion. I think silence can be measured. Have you ever had a disagreement with your spouse? How long before you spoke again? There is silence and it can be measured. Merton’s quote got me to thinking of another quote taken from the First book of Ecclesiastes which is very instructive and forces me to really look at what is important.

Everything is Meaningless

The words of the Teacher, son of David, king in Jerusalem:”Meaningless! Meaningless!”
says the Teacher.
“Utterly meaningless!
Everything is meaningless.”

What does man gain from all his labor
at which he toils under the sun?

Generations come and generations go,
but the earth remains forever.

The sun rises and the sun sets,
and hurries back to where it rises.

The wind blows to the south
and turns to the north;
round and round it goes,
ever returning on its course.

All streams flow into the sea,
yet the sea is never full.
To the place the streams come from,
there they return again.

All things are wearisome,
more than one can say.
The eye never has enough of seeing,
nor the ear its fill of hearing.

What has been will be again,
what has been done will be done again;
there is nothing new under the sun.

Is there anything of which one can say,
“Look! This is something new”?
It was here already, long ago;
it was here before our time.

There is no remembrance of men of old,
and even those who are yet to come
will not be remembered
by those who follow.

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Illusion

This came in today’s mail from the Merton Institute and there is a profound truth here. All we are with all our noise, war mongering, power struggles, ego drives are illusion.

Those who love their own noise are impatient of everything else. They constantly defile the silence of the forests and the mountains and the sea. They bore through silent nature in every direction with their machines, for fear that the calm world might accuse them of their own emptiness. The urgency of their swift movement seems to ignore the tranquility of nature by pretending to have a purpose. The loud plane seems for a moment to deny the reality of the clouds and of the sky, by its direction, its noise, and its pretended strength. The silence of the sky remains when the plane has gone. The tranquility of the clouds will remain when the plane has fallen apart. It is the silence of the world that is real. Our noise, our business, our purposes, and all our fatuous statements about our purposes, our business, and our noise: these are the illusion.

Thomas Merton. No Man Is An Island (New York: Harcourt Brace Jovanovich, 1955: 257.