I recently read an article by Patricia Lefevere who speculated what a meeting between Martin Luther King, Jr. and Thomas Merton, the famous Trappist Monk in Kentucky might have been like. Since I have done a fair amount of work with both figures, I was particularly intrigued what she would say. I know some people who knew both King and Merton. Both died tragically in 1968---King in April and Merton in December. Although they never met, they had plans to meet---perhaps later that month of April when King was shot and killed.
King and Merton certainly knew each other’s work. They had exchanged letters and both looked forward to a face-to-face encounter. King would have had to travel to Kentucky, since it would have been unlikely the Abbot of Gethsemani would have given the ok for Merton to go somewhere to meet King. I personally knew June Yungblut and her husband, John, friends of the Kings in Atlanta and who also had visited with Merton. She was the one arranging the visit and we have correspondence from her a day or two before King’s tragic trip to Memphis.
I like the way Lefevere frames her account. “For this reporter, who was privileged to see King twice and who has twice had the pleasure of visiting Merton's hermitage in rural Kentucky, the anniversary opens a window on what might have occurred.” Her first comment is a bit humorous, as she suspects the two men would have enjoyed a smoke as they sat on the porch of Merton’s hermitage in the woods some mile or more from the monastery itself. But it surely would have been a more serious, engaged conversation on that porch.
Lefevere quotes another friend of mine, Michael Higgins, who has written books on both King and Merton. Higgins notes, "Both men understood the power of a vision electrified by words, a vision biblical and epic in its range and yet grounded in the real." I very much like Higgins’ emphasis on vision. I concur this would characterize both spiritual men and would, no doubt, have emerged in their conversation. Both were craftsmen of words. Everyone knows the ability of King to paint pictures with words. He had a dream and that speech of 1963 will resound through the ages. Merton, although less well-known, was an amazing writer.
Both Merton and King had friends in common. One such friend was the writer, John Howard Griffin, author of Black Like Me. Writing about the porch conversation reflecting their common friendship with Griffin enables Michael Higgins to be confident King and Merton are aware of "living in the shadow of an anger so fearful in its lethality that none are safe — especially prophets." In a very real way both King and Merton were prophets. They were speaking God’s word to their time. And many people did not like what they heard. King was killed. And Merton was frequently censored and silenced by his abbot and superiors.
I appreciate that Lefevere quotes my friend, Higgins. He is an astute critic of our own times and writes with the best of folks. But I also recognize the best line in Lefevere’s essay is the following sentence describing King and Merton. She says, “Both men knew they were living in a kairos moment at a providential time.” This simple sentence is so profound for me, I want to unpack it a little bit and briefly develop the ideas.
The first thing of note is her sense---appropriate---that both men knew they were living in a moment of kairos. If I were in the classroom, I would be absolutely confident no student would know that word, kairos. It is a Greek word for “time.” But it is a special kind of time---a special period of time. It is different than another Greek word for time, namely, chronos, which means ordinary, routine time. It should be obvious that most of our time is chronos. Occasionally, for ourselves or even on the larger world stage, time becomes somehow kairos. For Christians the time of the historical Jesus surely was a kairos time---the inbreaking of very special time. And Lefevere argues, so were the 1960s. I agree.
She adds to this that the two men also knew it was a providential time. In a way I like, I think the idea of God acting providentially in history is a good way to understand it. God does not jump into history and use humans like puppets. Instead, God enters history less dramatically through the lives, pens and typewriters of men like King and Merton. Their words are God’s words. Those words are meant to “provide” guidance, instruction and inspiration. They were part of God’s providential action in the world.
To be an instrument of God’s providential action does not guarantee safety. The tragic death of both men attest to this. But to be an instrument of providence does obedience and, perhaps, transparency to God’s will for humans. Both King and Merton had dreams that racism would disappear from the earth. Both worked for peace---at a time when war raged on. And both wanted economic justice for all.
Sadly, this dream has not yet come true. There is kairos work---providential work---to be done. We are now the instruments.
Those of us who have read theology or, perhaps, those who are people of faith and are old enough might well recognize this title as a reminder of the late Jewish philosopher and theologian, Martin Buber. I remember reading Buber’s book, I and Thou , when I was in college in the 1960s. It was already a famous book by then. I am not sure I fully understood it, but that would not be the last time I read it. It has been a while since I looked at the book. Buber came up in a conversation with a friend who asked if I had seen the recent article by David Brooks? I had not seen it, but when I was told about it, I knew I would quickly locate and read that piece. I very much like what Brooks decides to write about and what he contributes to societal conversation. I wish more people read him and took him seriously. Brooks’ article focused on the 2016 contentious election. He provocatively suggests, “Read Buber, Not the Polls!” I think Brooks puts
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