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Books Another journal shows Merton still speaks to us
A SEARCH FOR
SOLITUDE: PURSUING THE MONK'S TRUE LIFE, THE JOURNALS OF THOMAS
MERTON, volume three, 1952-1960 Edited by Lawrence S.
Cunningham Harper San Francisco, 394 pages, $27.50
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By JOHN DEAR
"Out here in the woods," he wrote, "I can think of nothing except
God, and it is not so much that I think of God either. I am as aware of God as
of the sun and the clouds and the blue sky and the thin cedar trees. ...
Engulfed in the simple and lucid actuality which is the afternoon: I mean God's
afternoon, this sacramental moment of time when the shadows will get longer and
longer, and one small bird sings quietly in the cedars, and one car goes by in
the remote distance and the oak leaves move in the wind. High up in the late
summer sky I watch the silent flight of a vulture, and the day goes by in
prayer. This solitude confirms my call to solitude. The more I am in it, the
more I love it. One day it will possess me entirely and nobody will ever see me
again" (Sept. 15, 1952).
Merton's silent life still speaks to us. His third is the best of
his journals so far.
A Search for Solitude traces his frustrations with the
Abbey of Gethsemani and his dream of founding a new monastery in Mexico, Puerto
Rico, Nicaragua or Ecuador. By the early 1950s, his fame was well established.
Inside the monastery, Merton was an elder, first as master of scholastics and
later novice master. While he taught, prayed and studied, he also did his share
of manual labor, kept up his correspondence, wrote 10 books and many essays.
These pages record his exploration into Zen, existentialism, Latin
America, Marxism, Russian Orthodox theologians, literature, in particular Boris
Pasternak, Martin Buber, Czeslaw Milosz and Gandhi. He mentions in passing his
Portuguese and Russian lessons, visits from Mark Van Doren and his publisher,
J. Laughlin, the election of John XXIII, the editing of his manuscripts
Thoughts in Solitude and The Secular Journal and the spirituality
of Mary Lou Williams' jazz.
At the heart of these difficult years -- and this fascinating
journal -- is Merton's effort to find out what it means to be a monk, not only
at Gethsemani but in the 20th century.
New questions about monasticism and a deep longing for solitude
led to bitter clashes with his abbot, Dom James Fox, and a protracted
vocational crisis. For years he hoped to become a hermit in another order, then
to found a new monastery and finally to build the first hermitage at
Gethsemani. As his hopes came crashing down, he turned inward and reexamined
his own soul.
"There is one thing holding me at Gethsemani," Merton wrote Oct.
10, 1952, as the crisis unfolded. "And that is the cross. Some mystery of the
wisdom of God has taught me that perhaps, after all, Gethsemani is where I
belong because I do not fit in and because here my ideals are practically all
frustrated."
"I cannot escape the fact that the stagnation of my prayer life
here, especially in community exercises ... is due to deep involvement in the
collective sin of American society and American Catholicism, a sin of which we
all refuse to be aware," Merton reflected.
His vocational struggle climaxed Dec. 17, 1959, when a letter
arrived from the Vatican. On his knees before the Blessed Sacrament, Merton
read the Vatican's denial of exclaustration. After years of anguish, he felt
surprisingly at peace: "Actually, what it comes down to is that I shall
certainly have solitude but only by miracle and not at all by my own
contriving. Where? Here or there makes no difference. Somewhere, nowhere,
beyond all where. Solitude outside geography or in it. No matter. Coming back,
walked around a corner of the woods and the monastery swung in view. I was free
from it."
In these tormented years, Merton's greatest consolation came from
the surrounding woods. "My silence is part of the whole world's silence and
builds the temple of God without the noise of hammers," he pondered from a
woodshed in 1953.
The struggle to leave Gethsemani in search of solitude led to the
breakthrough immortalized in Conjectures of a Guilty Bystander:
"Yesterday, in Louisville, at the corner of 4th and Walnut, suddenly realized
that I loved all the people and that none of them were or could be totally
alien to me. As if waking from a dream -- the dream of my separateness, of the
special vocation to be different. I am still a member of the human race. Thank
God!"
This long prelude of silent suffering and inner anguish paved the
way for his prophetic witness in the 1960s. As all his dreams went out the
window, the journal closes with news of a small retreat center being built on
the edge of the monastery woods. Here at last, as he later shared in A Vow
of Conversation, Merton will settle into solitude and happiness -- and a
whole new set of struggles.
Lawrence Cunningham's fine introduction, editing and glossary of
monastic terms complete this spiritual search.
Jesuit Fr. John Dear is author, most recently, of Peace
Behind Bars: A Journal from Jail (Sheed & Ward), and Apostle of
Peace: Essays in Honor of Daniel Berrigan (Orbis).
National Catholic Reporter, November 22,
1996
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