One week from today, January 31st will mark the 106th anniversary of Thomas Merton’s birth. Some readers may be familiar with him. Older readers may literally remember him (this writer was born in the year after his death). Merton was a Trappist monk and priest, prolific writer, religious scholar, a proponent of interfaith dialogue and a strong voice for non-violence, racial civil rights and social justice. He spent most of his adult life in cloister at Our Lady of Gethsemani Abbey in Kentucky where he was known as Father Louis.
During childhood, Merton lost his mother. He was moved frequently throughout childhood, living in England, France, Italy, the US and Bermuda. His father died shortly before Merton reached adulthood, and Merton’s younger brother perished in World War II. Throughout his early adulthood, Merton wrestled with his own demons, drinking and womanizing, allegedly fathering an “illegitimate” child. A lover of the written word, he entertained ideas of becoming a professional writer, eventually abandoning this notion as vain and ego-centric as he gradually felt the pull of the spiritual contemplative life.
He became interested in Eastern traditions while also being increasingly drawn to Christianity and specifically to Catholicism. He explored possibilities within the Catholic tradition before finding his way to Gethsemani and acceptance in the Cistercian order. Much to the benefit of legions of readers, Merton found his way back to writing, being allowed and encouraged by his Abbot. He came to see writing need not be in service of becoming a “great”, adored writer but rather could be in service of Christian love for humanity. Writing became a (the?) central component of Merton’s spiritual practice. His published legacy includes dozens of books, essays, poetry and reviews covering a broad range of topics. For much more (and much better written) biographical detail, see here, here, or read Merton’s own account of his early life The Seven Storey Mountain.
Merton may be the most important 20th century figure in terms of pointing to the mystical, non-dualistic aspects of the Christian tradition. He was never content to simply robotically imitate his spiritual teachers. His practice was one of inquiry, dialogue, dynamism and at times challenge. The authors of the Gospels, Francis of Assisi, Dante, St. John of the Cross, William Blake and Gerald Manley Hopkins and countless others lived and breathed through Merton’s 20th century American life rather than gathering dust on book shelves. He brought earlier texts and teachings into his own time and place. He studied lives, not just writing.
His study of Eastern traditions and dialogue with Asian contemporaries such as Thich Nhat Hanh, D.T. Suzuki and the Dalai Lama helped point him to a direct, non-conceptual experience of Christ. He was as devout a Catholic as one could find, uninterested in the formal practices of his Asian contemporaries, but rather saw them as his extended spiritual family, colleagues in the work of wisdom and compassion, mutually validating one another. He saw parallels between the Zen masters and the Desert Fathers of his own tradition. He was of course a strong influence on modern Christian contemplatives. Here is a brief comment from Franciscan Richard Rohr.
It is this writers opinion that the twin practices of energetic, ethical social justice action and contemplative prayer could prove to be what (if anything does) helps carry the American Christian tradition through this century. Lest it calcify into irrelevance, offering a rigid, authoritarian monolith corrupted by right wing politics and jingoism on one hand or muddling along in a superficial, do-gooder, feel-good fashion on the other. It is also of this writers opinion that the secular social justice movement could benefit from regular practice of self-inquiry. This could create greater efficacy, more focused energy and certainly improve health. Merton understood that the contemplative cannot just hide out in meditation but must at times look outward, lest they use meditation as a tool of avoidance. He also understood that the activist must at times be still and look inward, lest they burn out, give in to hatred or despair, or perhaps worst of all, allow their ego to take the action rather than their selfless love. Merton’s life is a case study in searching for the sweet spot between raising his voice and keeping his silence, the balance point between action and being.
Merton seemed to see no separation between the political and spiritual. He took a radical, non-violent stance during the civil rights and Vietnam war era, and did not hesitate to call out his supposedly Christian (and secular, white American) brethren for their complicity with the sin (as he calls it) of white supremacy. Like Dr. King, Merton did not settle for the facile acceptance of simply passing laws everyone knew wouldn’t be enforced. He also did not shirk from questioning Christians who would rationalize atrocity with conceptual cop-outs like “just war” or for that matter, peace, if peace meant to simply maintain an unequal, unjust order. For Merton, racism, violence and injustice were not merely “problems” to fix with “policy solutions." They were manifest in lives broken and lost.
Merton wanted Christians to experience Christ, not merely think about the idea of Christ. For him, blood was blood, whether from Christ’s wounds, or from those of a man in Vietnam or a little black girl in Alabama. He wanted white Americans to understand that merely “allowing” black people into white society was not the half of it, and that furthermore black people knew things white Americans didn’t (and needed to) know about themselves. He wanted people to see that the violence in their own hearts was as real and as dangerous as the violence in the streets or on the battlefield. At his best (which he wasn’t always, much by his own opinion) Merton managed the remarkable magic of using abstraction (words) to point to profoundly real, relevant human experiences. He inspired countless people to look at the world and to look inside themselves in ways they may otherwise have not.
Merton seems continually unsatisfied with his own writing. It is as though he recognized that by the time it was on the page (let alone published) the target (his subject) had already moved. In a revision of an essay written ten years previous, he speaks of his previous “wrongheaded propositions” and then goes on to say he is not even satisfied with the revision! In reading Merton from a contemplative place, one can feel his struggle to let his own thinking be and to let God/Christ/the Holy Spirit do the writing. The tension between contemplation and action, silence and engagement with the world, ripples throughout Merton’s life and work. In the last decade of his life, he was increasingly turning into the problems of the world, while paradoxically becoming even more cloistered, living in hermitage on the monastery grounds. Not allowed to attend demonstrations, he heard, read and wrote about them from a distance. At life’s end he was allowed to travel in Asia (he died in Thailand). His journals cryptically record his romantic love for a nurse he had met while in medical care. One can safely assume the thought of giving up vows may have crossed his mind! And yet he did not.
For progressive readers who are unfamiliar and would like to sample his “political” work, one might start with the 1963 essay Letters to a White Liberal or anything from Seeds of Destruction. For any readers new to Merton, be encouraged to notice and then look past the container of a flawed, white, hetero, male, monastic Catholic who died in 1968. The essay mentioned above for instance, uses the term “the Negro.” Also be advised that Merton’s writing had to get past the censors in the hierarchy of his order. Imagine what his writing may have been like had it been free of this! If you read Merton, be encouraged to dialogue or even argue with him. One imagines he would greatly appreciate this. For those interested in sampling Merton’s poetry, perhaps start here. That link also includes more fine writing about his life. Or check out his famous prayer. For further exploration, search around the net, your local library system or local bookstore.
For non-Catholics or non-religious readers, especially be encouraged to see that underneath the specifics of Merton’s religious language there is a wisdom and love as great as you might find anywhere throughout the spacetime of human life. Above all, when you read the words of one such as Merton, be encouraged to let the words wrap around your own life, as he clearly did with his own inspirations. May the words infuse and nourish all the wonderful social justice action in which you are likely already engaged. And if you are religious, perhaps next Sunday light a candle, stick of incense, say a prayer or dedicate your meditation to our dear departed brother Thomas.
Thank you reading. May you be well.
