My father would often tell us a story when we were older about his Irish Catholic mother's dream - for her son to become a priest. She thought he was a shoe-in. The only boy in the family, it was to him that they turned for most of the unpleasant jobs, and he always responded without complaint. He was unerringly polite to his elders, a good student and athlete, and a regular attendant to the mandatory masses. Or so she thought, but I believe it; and it would have been a tremendous feather in the family's cap to finally have a priest arise from among them.
The only problem was, my father was appalled at the idea. He wanted an active life, dating, the adventure of making it in the world on his own and so on. Still his mother would look at him knowingly, knowing that God would certainly choose this wonderful son for His service, and she would often tell him so: just wait, my son, and you will get the Calling.
And so my father anxiously spent his time in church or any such ecclesiastic endeavor trying his best NOT to hear God. It was my theory that it was this that kept my father from having spiritual experiences, and helped turn him from religion to agnosticism in his later years, but that is just a theory. The hard reality is, that he didn't want the Calling, as most do not. The life of a Catholic priest is one of denial and obedience, not something that a good American boy, with prospects abounding all around him, would choose, as fewer and fewer do.
So in reading Thomas Merton's journal of life in a monastery, "The Sign of Jonas," I found myself wondering time and again: how could he do it? This, a man born into a fairly well-off family, well educated and talented with prospects through the sky; why would he choose such a life? For it was not just to the priesthood that he aspired, but a life as a contemplative in a Trappist monastery (Gethsemane) in Kentucky.
His diary tells the story: rise and shine at 3AM to go to mass (vespers?) in an unheated church; hours more prayer, hours more writing (which he resented), 7 or 8 hours more in physical labor on the communal farm; minimal food, no vices, no parties, no conversation except with the spiritual advisers, no entertainment of any sort. And to this, his complaint was that it wasn't hard enough! That he had wanted complete isolation for contemplation, and the Trappists kept him too busy with other things and people! It was only through his training in obedience, he claimed, that he did not run off to an austere hermitage, for his spiritual advisers claimed that he had another calling, with writing, although he did not want it.
The world is grateful that Merton's superiors saw it that way, for he has left us with inspiring and very human accounts of struggles with the ego and will that prevented him, and by extension, prevents all of us, from union with God. More than anything else, though, this shows the power of the Calling. My father needn't have worried; if God had wanted him, he would have wanted God. Merton makes it very clear that it is, at least in the end, that simple.
In reading the first 60 pages last night, I marveled at his convictions, but also was able to see a little of myself in him, as if I were, spiritually, Merton's Mini-Me. I, too, have had moments when I have seen that being with God, that spiritual presence that goes far beyond the images made of IT, is all that matters; I, too, have had times when I have wished to get rid of everything and lead an absolutely simple life; and I, too, have wanted only peace and quiet at times, which I often get in the cabin up north, where I am left alone with only myself and the Presence. But those moments quickly pass. For many young men, the monastic life is most appalling because it denies sexual intimacy. At age 60, I can now see past that, although it would still be a trial. But because I can see past that most obvious omission in life now, I can also see that such a life is difficult for reasons that reach far beyond abstinence. To give one's life to Spirit as Merton did is to give over all desires, possessions, distractions and entertainment, and even external will, for the spiritual directors decide all, in the end.
And yet Merton sought that and more. In those moments of spiritual understanding, I understand; otherwise I look at his life as a waste (I know it wasn't, but it is an emotional thing. No family, children, exciting vacations, and so on - doesn't it seem a waste from our normal perspective?) But that is what most of us are up against: spirit or the world. We cannot, as Jesus said, serve two masters, and yet we try. The monks are called to try much more than the rest of us, and yet most would tell us in the end that they have mostly failed - that they were never able to blend perfectly their own will with the will of Divinity. We are told that once we did, in the perfect world of Eden. Now, it seems next to impossible.
It was said by one man that I read that someone who was truly in tune with God was worth hundreds of aid workers in the help done for humanity. It is this that Merton, given his desire and need for humility, would not admit. But for every physical charity given, how many more people have been helped by the words of Merton? For in the end, we come to see that life is not about anything beyond the most basic of necessary things; rather, it is about reuniting with God, and it is through such people as the Trappists that we learn it is possible, and wise. And we learn this most through the strength of the Calling. All should likely fear it, as my father did, for it is stronger than any worldly desire; but it also shows that there is something greater than the desires of the physical and social man - and also that something lies ahead for us that is far greater than anything we can want or posses in our daily lives. FK
The only problem was, my father was appalled at the idea. He wanted an active life, dating, the adventure of making it in the world on his own and so on. Still his mother would look at him knowingly, knowing that God would certainly choose this wonderful son for His service, and she would often tell him so: just wait, my son, and you will get the Calling.
And so my father anxiously spent his time in church or any such ecclesiastic endeavor trying his best NOT to hear God. It was my theory that it was this that kept my father from having spiritual experiences, and helped turn him from religion to agnosticism in his later years, but that is just a theory. The hard reality is, that he didn't want the Calling, as most do not. The life of a Catholic priest is one of denial and obedience, not something that a good American boy, with prospects abounding all around him, would choose, as fewer and fewer do.
So in reading Thomas Merton's journal of life in a monastery, "The Sign of Jonas," I found myself wondering time and again: how could he do it? This, a man born into a fairly well-off family, well educated and talented with prospects through the sky; why would he choose such a life? For it was not just to the priesthood that he aspired, but a life as a contemplative in a Trappist monastery (Gethsemane) in Kentucky.
His diary tells the story: rise and shine at 3AM to go to mass (vespers?) in an unheated church; hours more prayer, hours more writing (which he resented), 7 or 8 hours more in physical labor on the communal farm; minimal food, no vices, no parties, no conversation except with the spiritual advisers, no entertainment of any sort. And to this, his complaint was that it wasn't hard enough! That he had wanted complete isolation for contemplation, and the Trappists kept him too busy with other things and people! It was only through his training in obedience, he claimed, that he did not run off to an austere hermitage, for his spiritual advisers claimed that he had another calling, with writing, although he did not want it.
The world is grateful that Merton's superiors saw it that way, for he has left us with inspiring and very human accounts of struggles with the ego and will that prevented him, and by extension, prevents all of us, from union with God. More than anything else, though, this shows the power of the Calling. My father needn't have worried; if God had wanted him, he would have wanted God. Merton makes it very clear that it is, at least in the end, that simple.
In reading the first 60 pages last night, I marveled at his convictions, but also was able to see a little of myself in him, as if I were, spiritually, Merton's Mini-Me. I, too, have had moments when I have seen that being with God, that spiritual presence that goes far beyond the images made of IT, is all that matters; I, too, have had times when I have wished to get rid of everything and lead an absolutely simple life; and I, too, have wanted only peace and quiet at times, which I often get in the cabin up north, where I am left alone with only myself and the Presence. But those moments quickly pass. For many young men, the monastic life is most appalling because it denies sexual intimacy. At age 60, I can now see past that, although it would still be a trial. But because I can see past that most obvious omission in life now, I can also see that such a life is difficult for reasons that reach far beyond abstinence. To give one's life to Spirit as Merton did is to give over all desires, possessions, distractions and entertainment, and even external will, for the spiritual directors decide all, in the end.
And yet Merton sought that and more. In those moments of spiritual understanding, I understand; otherwise I look at his life as a waste (I know it wasn't, but it is an emotional thing. No family, children, exciting vacations, and so on - doesn't it seem a waste from our normal perspective?) But that is what most of us are up against: spirit or the world. We cannot, as Jesus said, serve two masters, and yet we try. The monks are called to try much more than the rest of us, and yet most would tell us in the end that they have mostly failed - that they were never able to blend perfectly their own will with the will of Divinity. We are told that once we did, in the perfect world of Eden. Now, it seems next to impossible.
It was said by one man that I read that someone who was truly in tune with God was worth hundreds of aid workers in the help done for humanity. It is this that Merton, given his desire and need for humility, would not admit. But for every physical charity given, how many more people have been helped by the words of Merton? For in the end, we come to see that life is not about anything beyond the most basic of necessary things; rather, it is about reuniting with God, and it is through such people as the Trappists that we learn it is possible, and wise. And we learn this most through the strength of the Calling. All should likely fear it, as my father did, for it is stronger than any worldly desire; but it also shows that there is something greater than the desires of the physical and social man - and also that something lies ahead for us that is far greater than anything we can want or posses in our daily lives. FK
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