Tag: Trappist

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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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Under His wings

About 5:15 pm I decided I’d drive the 52 miles north from my home to Abbey of the Genesee for Compline and a chance for some goodies from the bake shop. I climbed in the car and sped along the roadways until I arrived about ten minutes early for the final prayer of the Monk’s day. Compline is my favorite prayer time and it always features Psalms 4, 91 and 134.

You shall not fear the terror of the night nor the arrow that flies by day, Nor the pestilence that roams in darkness, nor the plague that ravages at noon. Though a thousand fall at your side, ten thousand at your right hand, near you it shall not come.You need simply watch; the punishment of the wicked you will see. You have the Lord for your refuge; you have made the Most High your stronghold.
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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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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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Frappucino’s rock!

Today I found myself in a Starbucks and I decided to follow the suggestion of my nephew’s Navy chaplain. I ordered a double chocolate chip frappucino. The chaplain’s metaphor of God’s love and double chocolate frappucino’s is right on the money. I have to take my wife and daughter one of these soon. On the way home from the mall I stopped at Abbey of the Genesee. I arrived just in time to be a part of Compline. I also stopped in the bread store for a loaf of multi-grain bread and a Monks Chocolate Brownie. I think Monks Bread is another way to know that God loves you.

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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.

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On the road

I’ve been on the road for four days and four nights. Each day has found me somewhere between Western New York and Southwestern Georgia. Each night I’ve retired in a different motel. I’ve seen some lovely sights. Lots of beautiful spring flowers. I’ve seen lovely azaleas, rhododendrons, dogwoods, apple blossoms, and flowers I can’t even name. I’ve seen hundreds of people, thousands of cars and trucks as I’ve motored on over two thousand miles of roads. I’ve been to Allbany, GA; Plains, GA; Clemson, SC and tonight I’m in Winchester, VA. Tomorrow I plan to visit Holy Cross Abbey. Continue reading “On the road”

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Website of Unknowing

Last night following a search for more contemplative reading material I came across a truly lovely site that I’d like to draw your attention to. It’s author works in the bookstore at Our Lady of the Holy Spirit Monastery in Conyers, GA. It’s title, Website of  Unknowning, invited me to explore it in some detail. It’s author, Carl McColman has authored a number of books. After visiting the site and reading his insights I’d like to travel to Conyers, GA and visit the monastery.

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Silence is the only voice of God

It’s 7 degrees Fahrenheit here right now and it’s been very wintry all day. I didn’t try to make it to Mt. Irenaeus this morning. I figured the weather might make it impossible to drive up Roberts Road. I opted instead for a challenging winter drive to Piffard, New York and the Abbey of the Genesee. I stayed on the main roads as I didn’t want to slide into any ditches or get stuck in a snow bank. My journey took me through Rushford, Canadea, Houghton, Fillmore, Portageville and Nunda. From Nunda to Mt. Morris the weather was especially nasty with visibility at times less than a tenth of a mile. I finally made to Geneseo and then to the Abbey, but not without seeing a less fortunate driver who was parked in a corn field.

When I finally arrived at the Abbey I decided to sit quietly by the window overlooking the Genesee River valley. I just soaked up the silence and the delightful smell of Monks Bread coming from the bookstore/breadstore in the next room. After stopping to read a passage from Genesis I made my way to the chapel. I love this chapel. It’s a second home to me. The smell of incense, the sight of the Madonna and child, the empty stalls for the monks, the vigil light. It’s like visiting God’s home. Herman Melville once said, “silence is the only voice of God,” and I couldn’t agree more. The silence of this chapel speaks volumes to me.