Recently, I have been reading some of the last words the late Trappist monk, Thomas Merton, wrote. Merton died tragically in Bangkok, Thailand in December 1968. He had gone to that Asian country from his home monastery, Gethsemani, located in the hills of Kentucky. He looked forward to participating in an interfaith monastic conference on the renewal of monasticism. The conference would include Christian and Buddhist monks. Merton did make it to the conference and spoke there. It was during a break that Merton suffered an accidental death in his hotel room.
His book, The Asian Journal of Thomas Merton, was edited from his original notebooks in which he was journaling as he traveled from mid-October to his fateful death on December 10. Because it is a journal, the reader feels like he or she is accompanying Merton on the trip. He describes nature scenes in such a way I felt like I could see it. He talks about meeting people and you sense that you were in the meeting. One such meeting was with the Dalai Lama (indeed the same Dalai Lama who just met with our president Obama!).
After that meeting, Merton reflects on the nature of the contemplative life. In certain traditions of monasteries, like Merton’s Trappist monastery, the monastic call was to be contemplative. Often this is contrasted with the “active life.” The active life is what most of us are living: in the world, trying to do good by helping other people in direct ways, along with prayer, etc. The contemplative life tends in the other direction: non-involvement in the world in an active way. Most of life is given up to prayer, meditation, etc.
As I read along in the journal, I was captivated by Merton’s words written on November 7, 1968. He says, “The contemplative life must provide an area, a space of liberty, of silence, in which possibilities are allowed to surface and new choices---beyond routine choice---become manifest.” (117) I felt myself drawn to these words, although I am aware Merton is talking about the contemplative life. I know I am not going to travel to Kentucky to join his monastery (although I have been there). But I also know that I can practice some of the elements of a contemplative life while in my normal daily routine.
First, I like Merton’s recognition that the contemplative life must provide an area to allow possibilities to emerge. It is obvious to me that Merton does not literally mean an area such as a space outside of my building. But he probably does mean it literally in the sense that we have to take some time. If I only work, eat, and sleep, then there is little available area for any new possibility to surface. It is like the old hymn says, “take time to be holy.”
Merton offers more detail. The contemplative life has to provide a space of liberty, of silence in order for those new choices to emerge. In some ways it is probably easier to understand silence than to know for sure what he means by liberty. Silence is easy. This means we must take some time away from the “noise” of our everyday lives in order for the new possibilities and choices to surface.
Often the noises of our lives are not shrill and obnoxious. More likely, they are softer, quieter, and more devilish. Some of it comes as incessant phone conversations made possible by the ever-present cell phone and “cheap” or even “free” minutes! Some of the noise is the television in the background or the iPod cord hanging from our ears. My most devilish noise is all the cluttering sounds in my head---ideas, thoughts, etc. crashing into each other in my brain.
Merton says that we need an area, a freedom, and a silence to rid ourselves of that kind of noise in order to welcome new possibilities and choices into our lives. I am confident that Merton feels like these new possibilities and choices will surface with the Spirit. It is an area into which God’s Word can be spoken and God’s Desire for us revealed.
When this happens to me, it is never with a booming sound or lightening in the air. It is always subtle. It usually emerges faintly, which is why I must practice this contemplative life in order to have a chance to catch it. Almost never does the Divine Desire come fully revealed; it begins more like a hint. It comes like a new day---with dawn approaching so sublimely that it is hard to catch.
I am not tired of the life I am living. But I also want to be open to the new possibilities and new choices that God might have in store for me. I accept that I have the best chance of knowing that if I practice the contemplative life…and so I will.
His book, The Asian Journal of Thomas Merton, was edited from his original notebooks in which he was journaling as he traveled from mid-October to his fateful death on December 10. Because it is a journal, the reader feels like he or she is accompanying Merton on the trip. He describes nature scenes in such a way I felt like I could see it. He talks about meeting people and you sense that you were in the meeting. One such meeting was with the Dalai Lama (indeed the same Dalai Lama who just met with our president Obama!).
After that meeting, Merton reflects on the nature of the contemplative life. In certain traditions of monasteries, like Merton’s Trappist monastery, the monastic call was to be contemplative. Often this is contrasted with the “active life.” The active life is what most of us are living: in the world, trying to do good by helping other people in direct ways, along with prayer, etc. The contemplative life tends in the other direction: non-involvement in the world in an active way. Most of life is given up to prayer, meditation, etc.
As I read along in the journal, I was captivated by Merton’s words written on November 7, 1968. He says, “The contemplative life must provide an area, a space of liberty, of silence, in which possibilities are allowed to surface and new choices---beyond routine choice---become manifest.” (117) I felt myself drawn to these words, although I am aware Merton is talking about the contemplative life. I know I am not going to travel to Kentucky to join his monastery (although I have been there). But I also know that I can practice some of the elements of a contemplative life while in my normal daily routine.
First, I like Merton’s recognition that the contemplative life must provide an area to allow possibilities to emerge. It is obvious to me that Merton does not literally mean an area such as a space outside of my building. But he probably does mean it literally in the sense that we have to take some time. If I only work, eat, and sleep, then there is little available area for any new possibility to surface. It is like the old hymn says, “take time to be holy.”
Merton offers more detail. The contemplative life has to provide a space of liberty, of silence in order for those new choices to emerge. In some ways it is probably easier to understand silence than to know for sure what he means by liberty. Silence is easy. This means we must take some time away from the “noise” of our everyday lives in order for the new possibilities and choices to surface.
Often the noises of our lives are not shrill and obnoxious. More likely, they are softer, quieter, and more devilish. Some of it comes as incessant phone conversations made possible by the ever-present cell phone and “cheap” or even “free” minutes! Some of the noise is the television in the background or the iPod cord hanging from our ears. My most devilish noise is all the cluttering sounds in my head---ideas, thoughts, etc. crashing into each other in my brain.
Merton says that we need an area, a freedom, and a silence to rid ourselves of that kind of noise in order to welcome new possibilities and choices into our lives. I am confident that Merton feels like these new possibilities and choices will surface with the Spirit. It is an area into which God’s Word can be spoken and God’s Desire for us revealed.
When this happens to me, it is never with a booming sound or lightening in the air. It is always subtle. It usually emerges faintly, which is why I must practice this contemplative life in order to have a chance to catch it. Almost never does the Divine Desire come fully revealed; it begins more like a hint. It comes like a new day---with dawn approaching so sublimely that it is hard to catch.
I am not tired of the life I am living. But I also want to be open to the new possibilities and new choices that God might have in store for me. I accept that I have the best chance of knowing that if I practice the contemplative life…and so I will.
We cannot live a contemplative life all day, every day. Even monks must contribute to work at their monastery. We can and should, however, set aside some time each day to contemplate our life and life itself. We then learn more about our self and those around us. As Albert Einstein once said "when you stop learning you start dying."
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