Catholicism, holiness and spirituality

Fulfillment

Merton's 'Springs of Contemplation' is essentially the transcript of a retreat conference  that brought together groups of contemplative nuns at the Abbey of Gethsemani. There were two sessions - December 1967 and May 1968. One of the last topics was celibacy, and how it was a gift, and also a challenge. Apparently, a lot of priests were leaving the priesthood to marry. Merton states that he found a lot of personal fulfillment in celibacy, and in return one of the nuns said, of the people she had dealt with:

(From the nun): But you can't tell people this (that celibacy is fulfilling). And sometimes priests' training is purely on the intellectual level and nothing on the emotional.

(Merton's response): Nobody has told them what celibacy is all about. The other part of this, which I think is perfectly true, is that celibacy should be optional for the secular clergy. Because there is just no reason why not. If a priest wants to stay celibate, fine, but if not, there's no reason why he shouldn't be married, except for the historical reason that in the Latin Church it's always been connected with a state of good discipline and ecumenicity. So many priests have a drinking problem now. Of course, you don't know what they would do if they were married, either. There are no easy solutions to these problems. But there's a lot of hogwash in glorifying marriage. I think celibacy will have to become optional. Once it's optional, people will see more clearly. I think some priests marry to prove that they can. If they have the option, they won't need to do that. But if they don't have the option, many will probably marry.

Merton's words appeal to me. But, 27 years later, optional celibacy doesn't seem to be in sight. We have some married priests in the Latin rite who are converts from other denominations, but no optional celibacy. I wonder, will this still be true 27 years from now?

No reward

I thought this story that Thomas Merton tells in Springs of Contemplation was worth retelling here:

An old [Zen] master went from India to China to see the emporer, who was already a Buddhist. The emporer said to the Zen master: "I have built temples, put up pagodas, and started monasteries. What is my reward?" And the master replied: "You don't get any. There's no reward for you." The emporer was all shook up, thought about it, and after a while realized what was meant: If you need something else as a reward, your giving is a fiction.

Thomas Merton, from Springs of Contemplation

One Spirit

As a body is one though it has many parts, and all the parts of the body, though many, are one body, so also Christ. For in one Spirit we were all baptized into one body, whether Jews or Greeks, slaves or free persons, and we were all given to drink of one Spirit.

1 Cor 12:12-13

This part of today's scripture readings reminds me of the unifying aspect of the Holy Spirit. There is only one Spirit that dwells within us all. It's One, indivisible but omnipresent and personal to each of us.

Thomas Merton's essay 'Body of Broken Bones' brings to mind this unifying force of love brought forth by the Holy Spirit. At a very basic level of understanding, inside our deepest selves, there is a desire to be one with God. As we see God's presence - the Holy Spirit - in others, we want to be one with them too. Like magnets, I suppose. The Spirit of God draws us together, it doesn't drive us apart.

This scripture also fits in with what I read this morning from Pierre Teilhard de Chardin's essay 'My Universe' which was part of 'Science and Christ.' His concept of creative union, in which 'all consistence comes from spirit,' is profound. While I don't quite understand it all (yet) I can see his argument that God's Spirit is what holds everything together in the world. It's the continuous unifying force that we live in.

Perhaps the notion of the one Spirit can help us with discernment? If we are to all 'drink of one Spirit' could that be a guide to how we understand God's actions in our world, and in our lives?

Clean windows

The humble man receives praise the way a clean window takes the light of the sun. The truer and more intense the light is, the less you see of the glass.

Thomas Merton, New Seeds of Contemplation Chapter 25

Our own personal Christ

Every one of us forms an idea of Christ that is limited and incomplete. It is cut according to our own measure. We tend to create for ourselves a Christ in our own image, a projection of our own aspirations, desires and ideals. We find in him what we want to find. We make him not only the incarnation of God but also the incarnation of the things we, and our society and our part of society, happen to live for.

Thomas Merton, New Seeds of Contemplation, Chapter 21

Well, I think Merton is on to something here. It's difficult not to project our own 'aspirations, desires and ideals' on to those we have intimate relationships with. It seems to be a natural thing to do - it's the norm, but it's not ideal and it's not what we ought to aim for.

We have to be aware of when we are putting Christ in a box, putting boundaries on him. When I hear people putting so much emphasis on one particular aspect of Jesus, I find myself becoming wary of their motives.

Peace

In The New Seeds of Contemplation, Thomas Merton writes that the root of war is fear, and then goes on to explain his argument in more detail. The way he puts it does make sense – in being too afraid to address our own sinfulness, we minimize our sins and transfer the guilt of doing so on to others by exaggerating their sins. Everyone else becomes the bad guy, and pretty soon, everything would be OK simply if others would clean up their acts. After a bit of escalation, this leads to discord, hate and war. The antidote is to focus on our own sinfulness, not the sins we may see in others: “If you love peace, then hate injustice, hate tyranny, hate greed – but hate these things in yourself, not in another.” Good advice, easier said than done.

So we can work on our own sinfulness and pray for others. We can’t fix other people, but we can pray for them, we can support and encourage them. Indeed, I think Christ calls on us to support those in need. No matter what some people say or how some people live it, Christianity is not a selfish religion. Nor is it a religion of discord and hate.

Doubt leads to faith

You cannot be a man of faith unless you know how to doubt. You cannot believe in God unless you are capable of questioning the authority of prejudice, even though that prejudice may seem to be religious. Faith is not blind conformity to a prejudice - a "pre-judgment." It is a decision, a judgement that is fully and deliberately taken in light of a truth that cannot be proven. It is not merely the acceptance of a decision that has been made by somebody else.

Thomas Merton, New Seeds of Contemplation, Chapter 15

When I read this, it seemed clear to me that doubt leads to faith. To know what faith is, I must know what doubt is, at some level.

As children we may learn the faith of our parents, our family, our church. But is that a genuine faith if it has never been challenged by doubt? This makes me a bit nervous, as a parent. We do our best to raise our kids 'in the faith' - but until that faith is tested, perhaps by their own doubts - then it is not really their faith.

We're not worthy ... so just accept it

In the true Christian vision of God's love, the idea of worthiness loses its significance. Revelation of the mercy of God makes the whole problem of unworthiness almost laughable: the discovery that worthiness is of no special consequence (since no one could ever, by himself, be strictly worthy to be loved with such a love) is a true liberation of the spirit. And until this discovery is made, until this liberation has been brought about by the divine mercy, man is imprisoned in hate.

Thomas Merton, from New Seeds of Contemplation, chapter 10

Merton put into words what I have thought for a long time now. We're not worthy, but God's mercy liberates us to accept his love.

Lord I am not worthy, but only say the word and I shall be healed.

That's one of my favorite responses at mass, because I find so much truth in it. It is a compact, meaningful faith statement that gets at the heart of my relationship with God. I'm not worthy, but God loves me anyway and has blessed me beyond all I have ever deserved. It's all a gift, and good manners guide me to accept the gift and be thankful for it.

A big spiritual journey

I just finished reading Seven Story Mountain. People who read this book surely see reflections of themselves in parts of Merton’s journey. He had an incredible journey, in many ways it was probably much more colorful than most of ours. And more extreme. It’s a book that I wish I would have read years ago.

Looking back over my 38 years, I see some restlessness, smugness, intellectual pride and self-doubt similar to Merton’s. I also see how God has continued to chip away at all that, though there is still much more work to do. Are we ever a ‘finished work?’ – I don’t think so. But our goal is perfection anyway.

One part of the book that stood out to me was when Merton made a sort of half-dazed confession to a priest, and that priest told him he had no business seeking a vocation to the priesthood. It was a bad situation, and bad advice. There are probably more than a few of us who have had similar encounters, to greater or lesser degrees. But that one encounter put him off-course for quite a while. How sad it is when one of these encounters derails someone’s spiritual journey!

So anyway – it’s a great book; if you haven’t read it then I encourage you to consider it.

The fear of suffering

From Thomas Merton's Seven Story Mountain, a few thoughts about how fear and suffering are related:

Indeed, the truth that many people never understand, until it is too late, is that the more you try to avoid suffering, the more you suffer, because smaller and more insignificant things begin to torture you, in proportion to your fear of being hurt. The one who does most to avoid suffering is, in the end, the one who suffers the most: and his suffering comes to him from things so little and so trivial that one can say that it is no longer objective at all. It is his own existence, his own being, that is at once the subject and the source of his pain, and his very existence and consciousness is his greatest torture. This is another of the great perversions by which the devil uses our philosophies to turn our whole nature inside out, and eviscerate all our capacities for good, turning them against ourselves.

I had never linked fear and suffering, but from Merton's analysis it sure does make sense. Fear has always seemed like a protective emotion to me - we're afraid for a good reason: to protect ourselves from harm. Fear of suffering, of getting hurt, is also a reason we don't want to give control over our lives to God. If I give God control then I don't know what might happen and I'm afraid that I might suffer; if I retain the control then I'll make decisions to protect myself and avoid harm.

If we accept suffering, surely God will give us the strength to persevere. If we trust God to care for us, then what reason do we have to fear?