The Answer is Blowin' in the Wind

Lately we've been twirling the dance floor of spring severe weather with a dance partner that won't let us take a break and sit one out. It seems that the outbreaks have occurred either to disrupt the school day or to disrupt a night's sleep. Being a mild weather geek who lives in a garden home with no basement, this has given me no shortage of anxiety. I'm almost ready to call an end to spring and let's just get on with the heat wave.

Last night was no exception. Moderate severe weather category from the SPC (whose terminology is somewhat confusing: "Slight" risk is not really so slight and "Moderate" risk is not really so moderate.), midnight dew point in the 70s, and a peek at radars to my west added up to a big "Oh, crap," as I waited from wall-to-wall severe weather coverage from the battling meteorologists. My NOAA weather radio went off a dozen times for various warnings. When things got cranked up it was a doozy. The squall line was almost due west to east and the whole thing seemed to be rotating. We got the kids up and went to our safe place, lightning bounced them out of bed another time, and I got whiny with Joan, who wouldn't let me go out in a lull to check my rain gauge. It was a fun night.

But the party ended a little after three and we all got up a few hours later to clear skies but ferocious wind. We got ready for worship and as the service began I was reminded what today is in the church year: The Feast of Pentecost, of course.

As I lay down to rest after lunch, to try to make up for some of the rest I lost last night in the storm, I heard the wind screaming through the trees in my backyard. I captured a brief moment, and in celebration of Pentecost, and the Spirit, and rest, I give you, "The Wind:"



"The wind blows where it wishes, and you hear its sound, but you do not know where it comes from or where it goes. So it is with everyone who is born of the Spirit."

"When the day of Pentecost arrived, they were all together in one place. And suddenly there came from heaven a sound like a mighty rushing wind, and it filled the entire house where they were sitting. And divided tongues as of fire appeared to them and rested on each one of them. And they were all filled with the Holy Spirit and began to speak in other tongues as the Spirit gave them utterance."

Come, Holy Spirit, come. Amen.

Million, Billion, What's the Diff?

These days, it doesn't take long for numerically-themed discussions to reach the stratosphere: the thousand-thousand, or million, and beyond.





Consider these numbers:

1. Birmingham's mayor wants to spend almost one million dollars to provide [irony]free[/irony] bus rides for the summer.
2. Jefferson County's sewer system is over three billion dollars in debt, threatening to bankrupt the county.
3. President Bush has asked Congress for seventy billion dollars for the war on terror, bringing total expenditures since September 11, 2001, to more than eight hundred billion dollars.

John Archibald had an interesting column in the paper this week. He says that numbers like million and billion are tossed about with little regard because we don't have a meaningful standard to compare them with. Given a recognizable scale, such as time, puts the differences in stark perspective.

Consider:

• One million seconds: 11 1/2 days
• One billion seconds: 32 (are you ready for this?) years
• One trillion seconds: 317 (hang on) centuries

Pretty soon, we're talking about serious money...

With this ring...

If you are going to invite people to your wedding you ought to make the thing memorable. I've been to several weddings where this advice was not heeded. I would tell you some things about them, but I don't remember.

I went to a wedding one New Year's eve. The pastor pronounced the couple man and wife at the stroke of midnight. They are now divorced, but I still remember.

I went to an engagement party that turned into a surprise wedding. That was memorable.

One memorable couple provided washtubs filled with iced Dr. Peppers at their reception. They divorced, but you can't beat a cold Dr. Pepper.

One December I went to three straight Saturday weddings. I only remember one. They served shrimp at the reception.

One couple held their reception in one of those big antebellum houses and served some killer sweet tea. I remember the tea. I also remember the bride's father on the sidewalk yelling, "I paid for this wedding and I can't get a damn parking space in front of the building!" after a considerable hike to said antebellum home from somewhere up the street.

I've been to a couple of weddings where the bride and groom faced the audience. One of the couples, alas, is divorced.

My grandmother went to a wedding once and I sat in the truck and listened to the radio. I was about ten. I don't remember why I wasn't wedding-worthy.

I wore a leisure suit to a wedding when I was twelve. Yes, I have photos. No, you can't see them.

When Joan and I were dating, she was in a wedding. On a Saturday morning. At 10:00 a.m. Lewis Grizzard once quipped that you should never get married in the morning because it ruins the whole day. This couple should have listened to Lewis. Divorced.

I went to a Jehovah's Witness wedding where the pastor preached a sermon before the ceremony and everyone stood up the whole time.

I went to a Catholic wedding with full Mass. I needed to shave again before it finished.

I went to a wedding with a sit-down dinner for about one hundred. Counting Joan, the kids, and me, there were four white people.

I was in a wedding once. It was my only experience in a tuxedo. I would tell you how it turned out, but you can probably guess.

One of these days I'm going to tally up the weddings I've attended and see how many stuck. Or maybe not. I'm sure the count would exceed the number of times I've typed "weedings" while composing this post, and that would be sad.

I went to a wedding today. Another reception at an older home (I started to say antebellum but 1880 doesn't qualify). What I will remember?

• The bride's shoulder tattoo peeking through the back of her veil.
• Bride and groom pouring different colored sand into a glass tube.
• Young ladies are doing very expressive things with cleavage nowadays.
• A huge salad completely topped with rings of fried green tomatoes. Yes, you read that right.
  

My wedding? There were three people there. One of them is dead. The other two of us are still married.

I'm Sorry

I embarked on a journey through The Chronicles of Narnia this week, and I thought I'd read them in chronological order rather than in published order.

Apparently that is wrong. Very, very wrong. So I'll just pretend that I don't know where the wood for the wardrobe came from or how the lamp post got there or who Digory Kirke grows up to be.

Please accept my apologies if I've offended anyone. I'm sorry. I didn't know.

O, the shame...

INTJ

I'm taking a six-week course on spiritual formation. The text for the class is Robert Mulholland's Invitation to a Journey: A Roadmap for Spiritual Formation. Mulholland's definition of spiritual formation is "the process of being conformed to the likeness of Christ for the sake of others." Part of his approach to spiritual formation is the idea that we all tend to "do" spiritual formation according to our strengths. We miss out on opportunities to grow because we ignore those spiritual disciplines that are associated with our weaknesses. For example, an introverted person would normally jump at the chance for a silent, solitary retreat, and benefit greatly from it. On the other hand, the introvert might be prone to pass up a small group setting, thereby missing out on wisdom, experience, and insight of others.

To that end, Mulholland writes in-depth about personality types as defined by Carl Jung, the pioneer psychologist. To Mulholland, knowing our personality types helps us define our areas of weakness so we can compensate from them, experiencing a well-rounded spiritually formed life.

Corresponding to that portion of the book, our class took the Myers-Briggs personality type instrument. I had mixed feelings about my test. Some of the questions dealing with schedules and calendars sounded appealing to me and I marked them so. Some, however, sounded appalling to me, and I marked them so. I felt like I was all over the map on some of the questions, but apparently not, for my result couldn't have been clearer.

I am an INTJ. In a nutshell that means:

• My energy comes from Introversion (the inner world of thoughts and ideas), as opposed to Extroversion (the outer world of people and things).
• I perceive things through Intuition (gain insight through understanding and theory), as opposed to Sensing (gaining insight through hands-on experience).
• I make decisions by Thinking (giving weight to impartial principles and impersonal facts), as opposed to Feeling (giving weight to personal and human concerns).
• I live my outer life by Judging (a lifestyle that is more structured and geared toward closure), as opposed to Perceiving (a lifestyle that is more flexible, adaptable, and open).

As the results were being explained to the class, the only section I felt fuzzy on was Intuition/Sensing. I felt I could go either way with them at the time, but the results said Intuition and as I read more about it I see that as clearly correct.

Read more about INTJ here. It is eerie how dead-on me it reads, at least from my side of the fence.

NSoC 39: The General Dance

See Notes on this series...

Merton suggests that God made the world so that he could become man and commune with his creation.

The earth is not some penal colony for those he has rejected, but the jewel of his creation. Merton cites the first verses of Genesis as a poem of God's garden where God would fellowship with his creatures as creator and dwell among them as brother. He did this because he wanted more than to be adored from afar. For when that happens, men tend to imitate the far-off God, becoming god-like themselves (as in the Babel story). But no, he came to us, as friend, counselor, servant, brother. It was for us he said, "Kill me, it doesn't matter."

He took on our weaknesses, our sufferings, our insignificances. In return, he gives us his "power, immortality, glory, and happiness." Evil and death affect our outer selves, but they cannot touch our inner selves if we are one in him.

Merton declares that God's presence in the world as creator is at his own whim; his presence as man is up to us. The incarnation is set as fact, but we decide in large part how his incarnation affects our part of the world. Do we wear the mask of the external, or take up the internal self?

The external self is not evil in itself, Merton says. It is just poor, and deserves mercy. If we believe in the incarnation, then "there should be no one on earth in whom we are not prepared to see, in mystery, the presence of Christ."

God invites us to a "cosmic dance" but often we misunderstand his intentions. What we see as important he sees as trivial, and vice-versa. If we weren't so sold on our idea of the meaning of it all, we would see him in the migration of birds or in children at play, or in the poetry of nature.

The music is all around us. "[W]e are invited to forget ourselves on purpose, cast our awful solemnity to the winds and join in the general dance."

Quaff:
What a wonderful final chapter. And so appropriate on this final day of Lent. The incarnation's purpose is revealed in the resurrection. What a savior! He is risen! Hallelujah! Let's dance!

NSoC 38: Pure Love

See Notes on this series...

Penultimate chapter, long, and one last one over my head.

Merton begins by outlining three modes or beginnings of contemplation: the rare "sudden emptying of the soul," the "desert of aridity," and the "quietud sabrosa," or "savor, rest, and unction."

He goes on to describe the idea of "presence" in these modes, and how the feeling of God's presence is not really his presence as long as we are are somehow still aware of ourselves. Or something like that. Then he talks about the inner self and the outer self, their differences and conflicts, and their role in the whole reality of contemplation.

Part of the problem is pride, and it remains as long as we remain in the mix. Where there is only God, there is no pride. Where there is no pride, there is pure love, and then we can begin to exercise the first commandment: Love God with all our being.

NSoC 37: Sharing the Fruits of Contemplation

See Notes on this series...

The title of this chapter is sort of misleading, because the point Merton makes is that contemplation really can't be effectively shared.

As the things of this world fade away, we experience God in contemplation, but this not for ourselves but for others. However, there is a paradox for the contemplative: as much as he desires that others know the joy he's experienced in God, it loses some of it's effectiveness if he tries to talk about it. The possibility of "mistake and error" are almost as great as the benefit of testimony, Merton says. The problem lies in those who feel the need to teach contemplation. Big mistake. Only God can do that. All the contemplative can do is express to others what is available in God.

A big risk in sharing the contemplative experience is that other people might not be receptive to the contemplative's experience or point of view. The contemplative must be careful that he doesn't overstep his bounds and get in the way of God leading someone else into contemplation. He must be a willing vessel but sensitive to God's timing and direction.

Quaff:
What an interesting point of view, as seen by one who's done time in evangelical circles where the entire vocation of man is to open wide and broadcast "what God has done in his life." I've always felt I was to be a disciple first and a witness second, and Merton seems to support this view. I know a few people with the gift of evangelism who would beg to differ, though I'm not sure they or Merton are speaking about the same things.

Naturally Kneeling or Stubbornly Standing?

Holy Week and Spring Break coincide for us this year. I took today off to spend with Joan and the kids. We ate at our favorite Mexican place for lunch and then bowled a couple of games. (If you ever get a chance, watch old people bowl. They may barely be able to walk but they can flat out fling that ball and pick up spares like a road gang picks up litter.) We went to the library while Evan took his drum lesson and then we headed to church for Maundy Thursday worship.

This is our first Maundy Thursday as Anglicans so we didn't know what to expect, but I kept answering the kid's queries with, "Pastor John will preach about the upper room, we'll observe communion, and that'll be that." Pretty safe bet, I thought, right along the lines of every other Maundy Thursday service I'd ever attended. But when we entered the worship room I saw that wasn't the case.

Situated in front of the altar was a chair and a big wooden basin, three glass pitchers of water, and a stack of towels. My spirit sank. Of all things to emphasize from the Upper Room Discourse: the foot washing.

I get the symbolism of the foot washing. I get the idea of the savior who was servant and who seeks followers to do the same. And I believe I could wash feet with the best of them. I'm very flawed but I believe I regularly wash the feet of my family, though not always in ways they desire or understand. I know the story backwards and forwards, but still, like Peter, in my heart I said, "No, you'll not wash my feet." Unfortunately, I don't have to think too hard to know why I felt that way. Having someone wash your feet requires an intimacy and a humility that I'm afraid I don't have much of. As John expounded the scriptures, contrasting Jesus who naturally knelt versus Peter who stubbornly stood, that lack of humility scared me. Pride is a very dangerous thing, and mine screamed at me from that empty chair in front of the altar.

John explained that the invitation to have our feet washed was voluntary, which cracked the door just enough for me to talk myself out of it, but I felt like I'd take a tremendous step backward if I did. So somewhere in the midst of the observance, I slipped off my shoes and socks and walked to the chair.

I understand there to be two scripturally recognized sacraments: baptism and the Lord's supper. But tonight, I experienced a third as Zeb poured out the water of God's grace on my feet.

NSoC 36: Inward Destitution

See Notes on this series...

Alrighty. I think Merton is talking about the poverty of our beings here. I think. He begins by describing the sad realization our inadequacy provides when compared with our lofty God. We are powerless, even without our sin natures, but factor those into the equation and we are pretty miserable creatures indeed. But there is a certain peace to be found when we hit rock bottom and acknowledge our poverty before God and rely on him to do something about it. For his love "like a river springing up" and flowing with "life and goodness and strength." Peace is found by riding the current of his will; refusal drowns us in the flood. All our hardships, difficulties, and pains are caused by our rebellion against God's love for us.

Quaff:
At least I think so. Short chapter but one of those my mind didn't click with.

Speaking of water, listen to Tal Prince's Lenten Sermon from Cathedral Church of the Advent for today, March 19. "I thirst."

Holy Week kicks into high gear now. Tomorrow is Maundy Thursday. Then Good Friday. But Sunday's coming!

NSoC 35: Renunciation

See Notes on this series...

Merton champions the routines of "work, poverty, hardship and monotony" that ties together the vast majority of the world's population. He reminds us that Jesus did not surround himself with mystics who sat on mountaintops and chanted the day away, but with working men who were the antithesis of the "professional holy."

He says that love of the poor and of poverty are necessary elements of contemplation, and that we would all do well to relate to the poor as best we can. We do all we can to avoid poverty, discomfort, and hardship rather than looking for God in poverty.

We don't have to be miserable and disgusted to enjoy the benefits of thrifty living and depending on God. Thin patched clothes and the haphazard harvest of the field is a good place for anyone to live, but "destitution" is taking things too far, for it is hard to contemplate amidst illness, hunger, and other physical struggles.

Merton further defines humility as "a dedicated acceptance of one's duty in life." If that means being learned in order to instruct others, then so be it. There is no humility, he says, in feigned unlearnedness, or "intellectual snobbery turned inside out."

A true contemplative, Merton says, knows how to mind his own business. He should fight the urge to reform those around him. "Pay as little attention as you can to the faults of other people and none at all to their natural defects and eccentricities."

All sanctity depends on renunciation but not just avoidance of sin or obvious faults. True renunciation goes to the core of our faults which are not obvious to us. We must rely on God for this for after we've dealt with our obvious faults we tend to blindness toward our "secret" faults. Our tendency is to stop the process when we reach the limit of what we ourselves can fix, and it is here we need God to help us continue. We must renounce "pleasures and possessions," and "even your own self," and let God "do some work."

Quaff:
Wow, what a chapter! This is the most practical chapter so far and one of the clearest in quite a while. I love Merton's attempt to balance the knowledge of poverty while advocating the debilitating potential of destitution. What a hard lesson. I've experienced it trying to teach my children about poverty and how most of the world has to live. I've experienced it in reentry mode from mission trips.

But what is harder still is dealing with the blind spots of my fallen nature. I know well my faults, but how much of what I think I'm doing well is really a blind spot?

NSoC 34: The Wrong Flame

See Notes on this series...

Merton warns against misguided emotion, or what he calls "sensible intoxication," here. These "indifferent" emotions can be used for good or bad, he says, but they are a hindrance to contemplation until they can be ignored.

The problem is that these "burst[s] of spiritual exuberance" are no better than other physical stimuli for long-term effect, but spiritually and psychologically they are dangerous because of our tendency to legitimize the religious experiences that we feel them attached to. First comes a spiritual sentimentality, then a hunger for visions, and ultimately the stigmata.

This desire for experience, states Merton, has shipwrecked many a would-be contemplative. This rocky coastline exists even within the cloistered communities.

What to do? Realize the fruitlessness of these emotional episodes, knowing that they do not provide worthwhile information about God or one's self. They do not nourish or provide holiness but deceive and lead astray. Passions are not to be avoided outright, but they must be "pure, clean, gentle, quiet, nonviolent, forgetful of themselves, detached, and above all when they are humble and obedient to reason and to grace."

Quaff:
Wow. How many evangelical pastors would be out of work if they had to rely on methods other than stirring up emotions? How many people have "walked the aisle" while "sensibly intoxicated," and what happened to them when the buzz wore off? I've heard pastors preach that the church shouldn't be out of control but it should be out of coma. Where is the middle ground? I suspect Merton is on to something, simply by the truth that the passions of eros are not able to sustain a marriage relationship long-term. Until a relationship is governed by will instead of emotion it is on shaky ground. I know that any religious experience of mine that is dependent on emotion for fuel is doomed. But that's just me.

Quibble:
I've known some evangelicals who strove for emotionalism in their spiritual life but I've never known one to desire a stigmata. Must be a Catholic thing.

NSoC 33: Journey through the Wilderness

See Notes on this series...

The promised land waits for those who allow God to lead them through the wilderness without letting the hardships turn them aside.

Merton reiterates here that contemplation is not merely the absence of activity. Rest, passivity, and emptiness lead to a hunger and thirst for God but they are more than a dead mind and a petrified will or lazy prayer that "degenerate into torpor and sleep."

Merton points to the helpfulness of scripture and books to start the mind, as well as pictures, trees, "fields and hills."

Merton says there is no such thing as prayer "in which you do absolutely nothing." True prayer is a concentration on God, intent, absorbed. It may look inactive, but it is anything but. It is a journey, full of the risk of trust, for Merton says we must be willing to lay aside all in order to achieve joy.

Tomorrow, the last feast day of Lent. Palm Sunday. Hosanna! Holy Week and the last six chapters await. Til Monday.

NSoC 32: The Night of the Senses

See Notes on this series...

Merton cautions that the contemplative life rarely begins with a vivid, light-bathed experience with God. More often it is a gradual build-up over time. Those who wait for the flash of lightning will likely be disappointed and waste a lot of time. In those cases when the flash does come, that does not guarantee contemplation; contemplation is acquired essentially by habit, not sudden enlightenment.

Contemplation, he goes on, is found "through a desert," harsh, dry, and barren. A wilderness seemingly absent of a path or of even the presence of God sometimes, against our expectations of joy and comfort. Many turn back to the marked path where their travels seem to be making progress. Prayers, sacrifices, readings, and devotions substitute for the suffering of the wilderness.

Merton says that when God does shine the light of knowledge into our spirits, often the feeling is one of defeat rather than triumph, darkness rather than light, filled with eerie shadows and silence. God seems distant, and the darkness frightens us. Others, though are drawn further into this darkness, as something draws them to trust and be still. Merton says as perplexing as this seems, here is where the will of God, or even God himself, is found.

Quaff:
I'm not particularly fond of the dark. Some of my most fearful and depressed times are triggered by darkness. Huddled beneath the covers of my childhood bed, the shrill siren of an ambulance pierces the air, utterly terrifying me. In the evenings in late fall, after the time changes and darkness comes before I leave work, hopelessness surrounds me. Deep in the woods, miles from the trailhead, as the sun slips behind the bluffs above and darkness descends on the camp, a deep longing for morning invades my soul. It is hard to be still in the dark. It is hard to think clearly in the dark. It is hard to concentrate in the dark. Send your light, Lord, lest the darkness swallow me up.

NSoC 31: The Gift of Understanding

See Notes on this series...

God created us, says Merton, for contemplation, that is, knowing and loving him through supernatural means. There ought to be a familiarity to it, since we were designed for it.

Merton says that the clearest experience of natural awareness is like being asleep compared to the supernatural awareness as we see God in his reality and we begin to live in the reality of who we are.

God has a gift for us: himself. We can't do anything to conjure up this gift, speed it along, deserve it, or procure it. We must wait until he reveals himself to us, and Merton advises that we must take that as it comes, freely, with thankfulness and gratitude, not interrupting God or compelling him further, but in silent acceptance rather than hollow words. "Blessed are the pure in heart, for they shall see God." When we enter that "joy of emptiness," Merton declares, where there is only God's limitless truth and the light of Christ, there true understanding is found.

Quaff:
Long chapter, a little beyond me, I think. I like his opening definition of contemplation: knowing God as he is, and as only he can reveal himself. That has been my understanding of revelation. I never thought of it as contemplation, though.

NSoC 30: Distractions

See Notes on this series...

"Prayer and love are really learned in the hour when prayer becomes impossible and your heart turns to stone."

Merton says the person who is never distracted doesn't know how to pray. Distractions are necessary trials in the contemplative life. We need to learn to work through them rather than avoid them.

The danger is not in the distraction from desiring God, but in the giving in to our will instead of his. Merton says it is better to desire God but be distracted from him than it is to have beautiful, uninterrupted thoughts of him but no desire to enter into his will.

Quaff:
Sometime when you have forty minutes to spare, download Dr. Robert Smith's sermon The Glory of the Groan from a Beeson chapel service. Awesome.

NSoC 29: Mental Prayer

See Notes on this series...

Merton states here that techniques of meditation and mental prayer are fine as long as we set them aside once in a while in order to let our mind do its job. He says the purpose of meditation books is to teach us to think instead of doing our thinking for us. Simply reading these books is wasteful, he says, because we aren't allowing them to stimulate our thinking. Rather, we should set the books aside when our mind keys in on a particular image or phrase, following the image or phrase to its conclusion for us rather than the conclusion reached by the author. We need that freedom of the mind, especially to keep us from only thinking of God during "fixed periods of the day."

Merton touts the arts as a method for meditation. Writing, drawing, viewing art, and using the liturgy of the church are all aids to meditation.

People meditate for the wrong reasons, says Merton. Meditation for ideas about God, or for courage to practice virtue, or to work up a greater love for God all fall short of the meditative purpose. The real purpose of it, he says, is to teach us to free ourselves from the temporal and come into contact with God. There is a darkness there, he warns, when we realize the "cloud" that surrounds God, but he says we should continue the meditative practice in spite of the obstacles, because there is a reward for suffering through the darkness. We aren't to strain ourselves in order to work up some feeling or emotion, but to stay the course. The idea isn't to think about God but to get past that by reaching "out for Him by blind faith and hope and love."

Quaff:
The AMiA has come out with a revised prayer book. I asked for one for my birthday; we'll see if it comes through. I now feel I have a little more insight as to how to use it, thanks to Merton and this chapter.

NSoC 28: Detachment

See Notes on this series...

Loving things for the sake of those things cripples judgment and discernment, says Merton. Even those who have forsaken the world for "pious practices" can fall into this trap over prayer, fasting, books, and even contemplation itself. Merton says that attachment to spiritual things can be just as strong as attachment to material things and may even be harder to recognize.

Some people never achieve contemplation because they get burdened by "important" activities and desires. Merton likens this to putting too much wood on a fire before the spark is well lit. Their attachments smother their spirits.

So the answer then is "detachment." All desire must be forsaken except for the desire of God's will. He's not speaking against mere "abnegation" of the five senses but the "work of a love that transcends all satisfaction and all experience to rest in the night of pure and naked faith."

Quaff:
Merton said a lot more than this in the chapter but I don't think I got it all. I understand the concept of detachment, but when he says thinks like pure prayer is unattainable until the pleasure of prayer is forsaken, I'm afraid I'm not tuned in enough to discern the distinction. Do I get parting gifts for trying?

NSoC 27: What Is Liberty?

See Notes on this series...

Blessedly short chapter today. Merton declares that the simple choice between good and evil does not represent true freedom. The only notable thing about this choice is the option of good. Evil as an option, though, negates freedom, because, Merton says, when we choose evil under those circumstances we do so believing the choice is good for us when in fact it isn't.

True spiritual freedom is found in the inability to choose evil. Merton states that only total rejection of the desire of evil makes one free. God, for example, who not only doesn't sin but cannot sin, is perfectly free. Only perfect submission to his will guarantees freedom for us. As long as "our will travels with his" we can be free through him.

Merton boils down freedom as simply to be able to do the will of God. To reject his will is to renounce freedom. There is no freedom in sin, nor is there happiness. The things we do in the flesh are not necessarily sinful, but when their use is contrary to God's will then the problems begin. God has given us perfectly good pleasurable things but there are consequences to their misuse. Merton says we ate "the rind and threw away the orange."

Feast day tomorrow. Back on Monday.

NSoC 26: Freedom under Obedience

See Notes on this series...

Merton declares here that sanctification is rarely achieved outside of community. Living out our weaknesses among others who are living out their weaknesses diminishes our egos and enables God's spirit to work. He points to the potential eccentricities of hermits to back up his claim. He asks a series of rhetorical questions sarcastically describing the protected isolation that some seek, wrapping up in the admonition that God will not live in someone who cannot find him in others.

He says that activity and contemplation are not at odds with each other so long as the activity is grounded in the same pursuit of God as the contemplation.

Merton characterizes the "most dangerous man in the world" as an unguided contemplative who listens to no one but his own ideas and inner voices. The will of God is to him a feeling, and the warmer the feeling the more convinced of it he becomes. These self-confident people can destroy whole communities with their misguided arrogance.

Merton closes the chapter by exploring the difference between what he calls self-will and genuine liberty. He says that we often equate liberty as opposition to authority, but he defines this action as license. But we are prone to rebel against the call to "religious obedience" because we see it as a requirement to give up our personalities. But someone who has learned to obey has learned to discern the intelligence of the commands given.

Contemplation and obedience do not come by abandoning one's intellect or freedom, but learning to use them at the right times and in the right circumstances. It is a sign of maturity.

NSoC 25: Humility against Despair

See Notes on this series...

Long chapter with some timely points.

Merton describes despair as a matter of pride so deep that it is willing to accept eternal condemnation rather than acknowledging the person and power of God and accepting his joy. Truly humble men cannot despair because they don't possess the self-pity that is required.

Merton again declares the absolute necessity for humility in the spiritual life. Perfect humility is found only by union with God, but there is a danger in the concept of "desiring God" when it reduces God to a commodity that we must purchase. He speaks of some of the many people who've entered the monastery only to leave because they misunderstood this principle.

Merton then declares that "a humble man is not disturbed by praise," but a man who is not humble cannot accept praise properly. He is disturbed by it, tripped up by his own clumsiness with it, tormented with it. He is not like the man opposite who is consumed by desire of praise and that everyone can see through. Truly humble men receive praise light through a clean window: the cleaner the window the clearer the light. They do this because there is not hint of self-consciousness within them and they are able to properly focus on the one who truly deserves the praise.

Merton closes by stating that humble men aren't afraid to fail, because he has perfect confidence in his God. "Humility is the surest sign of strength."

Quaff:
This chapter really hit home with me because of some recent events in my life that have challenged my humility. I fear I have fallen in the trap that Merton lays out. Unfortunately, I am outside my normal sphere of operations, so I didn't get to read the chapter as closely as I'd like. I commit to read it again soon. Some blog posts may result. Stay tuned.

NSoC 24: He Who Is Not with Me Is against Me

See Notes on this series...

(Weird capitalization in the chapter title, but I just typed it as I saw it.)

This whole short chapter needs to be quoted here, for it is full of challenging wisdom.

First, Merton declares that a dead soldier is just as dead if killed by one enemy or many, and he compares that the affect that one sinful habit has in a life seemingly filled with virtues.

Then, he condemns the idea that hating God's "enemies" is a way to show love for Christ. He says that if we don't love those who Jesus loved then we are against him, and since he loves all people and died for all people, that doesn't leave a lot of room for hate.

Besides, he says, just because you consider your enemy a philistine doesn't make him one. He might think the same of you. Also, just because you consider someone an enemy doesn't mean that he's an enemy of God. Merton warns against hatred of one who no longer believes because it could have been your inconsistency that destroyed his faith.

Finally, he says that a person must be a communist in order to be a perfect Christian. A perfect Christian's needs should be based on the depths of other's needs. Right teaching about possessions in the Church might have prevented Marxist communism, which is based on "denying other men the right to own property." (emphasis Merton) First-century church practice of making sure that everyone's needs were met should be the true doctrine of the church.

Merton ends by challenging those who might constrain the poor to their station of poverty all the while enjoying their own roofs, blankets, and beans to sharing some of that poverty to see how easy it is to accept that as God's will in their own lives.

Quaff:
I wonder how Merton's call for communism was received when it was written? Either in the first edition of the late forties or the second edition of the early sixties would have been published during various stages of the Cold War. He obviously didn't mean that kind of communism, but it had to be a bold move to even throw out the c-word.

NSoC 23: The Woman Clothed with the Sun

See Notes on this series...

Merton's most Catholic chapter thus far is a tribute to the Blessed Virgin.

He states that most non-Catholics misunderstand devotion to Mary, almost like it is our fault. He states that Mary's appeal is in her "nothingness," and that nothing she did was done on her own, outside of the work of God. He says the son and the mother cannot be separated because she, above all humanity, was closest to the mystery. All generations must bless her because without her obedience they would not have received the "supernatural life and joy...granted to them."

Quibble:
As I said in the series notes, I won't spend much time and energy on apologetics. But I don't see where scripture teaches that Mary was "free from all sin" as Merton does. She's not even mentioned outside the gospels; you'd think that Peter, James, or John would have said something as notable as that. Mary was a special vessel, yes, even to be considered blessed by all generations. But God opened Sarai's womb, too. (This example is not in any way meant to compare the fruit of Sarai's womb with the fruit of Mary's. See why I said I'd rarely dabble in apologetics?)

Quip:
"That's all I have to say about that." - Forrest Gump

NSoC 22: Life in Christ

See Notes on this series...

From the mystery of Christ to the mystery of life in Christ goes Merton in this chapter.

Christ brings together the natures of God and man through the Holy Spirit into what the New Testament calls the "new man." This life in Christ is a two-way street: that which we receive from God by the Spirit we give back to God as we love our brothers through the Spirit.

This life provides an assurance against the temporal things as Merton lists in a litany against fear, loss, and vain striving for pleasure. He says that sin has a crippling contradictory effect on us: we have to war against ourselves to keep away from the things that would do us most harm and we have to make ourselves take the easy and free gifts offered us as though they would do us harm.

Then Merton gives a beautiful metaphor of the soul as "wax waiting for a seal." If the wax is allowed to be softened by the heat of God's will, then God's stamp will be easily received. However, if the wax is not allowed to soften, it will not accept the stamp; indeed it will be crushed "into powder."

He then speaks of the mystery of the cross and the idea of sacrifice, a mystery he says is perpetuated by the Mass, and the nature of the bread and the wine.

Quaff:
I love the wax metaphor. Consider it filed away for future reference.

Merton presents a Catholic view of the Eucharist, as one would expect. I've had to deal with what the sacrament of the Lord's Supper means to me in the switch from SBC to AMiA. Baptists deemphasize the supper, in my opinion, for fear of appearing "Catholic." I've never belonged to a Baptist church that observed the supper more than two or three times a year, and now I belong to a church that observes it weekly. I like that much better. I need it. Though I may not attach the same "presence" to it that Merton did, I revere it just as much, in my Anglican-"via media" way.

Query:

• Am I soft wax awaiting imprint or hard wax prone to crumble?
• How can "life in Christ" alleviate my fears and strivings?
• How can I make sure the weekly observance of the bread and wine remain a revolutionary tradition in my life?

NSoC 21: The Mystery of Christ

See Notes on this series...

Merton tackles the incarnation in this fine chapter.

All experience of God comes to us through Christ, Merton writes. God's truth and love are concentrated through his birth, death, resurrection, and ascension like sunlight through a magnifying glass. God and man become inseparable, and access to the supernatural becomes available to all, through him. Faith in him is "the foundation of the Christian life and the source of all contemplation..."

Merton describes the platform of the Nestorian heresy and his disagreement with it. Merton declares that Christ's two natures cannot be separated, and states the Nestorian error as concentrating on the natures of Jesus, not the person of Jesus. Contemplatives aren't content with mere natures. "We do not love Christ for what He has but for Who He is." (emphasis Merton's)

This Christ is of faith, not imagination. We all project ourselves onto our images of Christ, personally and culturally. And since we are called to imitate him we must take care not to imitate the imaginary version. We must study the gospels and let the spirit teach us and transform us. And we must hope that others are doing the same, for as Merton says, there is only one Christ. He is not divided.

Quibble:
Can you imagine some of the cultural Christs that have been developed throughout the ages? A lot of people are going to be shocked one day to discover that Jesus is not a 6-foot 4-inch white guy with blue eyes and a British accent.

Feast day tomorrow. Back on Monday!

NSoC 20: Tradition and Revolution

See Notes on this series...

Wow! Over halfway through the book...

Merton says here that the Church is framed by both tradition and revolution in apparent contradiction. As he writes of the "living Tradition of Catholicism" (yes, with capital letters), I feel somewhat left out, but I have no pangs of guilt by broadening his scope of Tradition to include the rest of us, and by doing so I found enough meat to keep me going.

When one thinks of human tradition one usually thinks stale and stodgy, robbed by time of value and influence and out of fashion. However, Merton says, the traditions of the Church are its life breath, the very spirit of God exhaling the truth of God. This tradition is revolutionary, he continues, because the truth never changes in the face of the societal constants of greed, power, and pleasure. There has never been a more satisfactory revolution. Other revolutions require the deaths of others to succeed; this one requires only one man's death - mine.

When one thinks of human revolution one usually thinks of complete change, charting a new course, with new blood and new vitality. Actually, Merton counters, just the opposite is true. Human revolutions are nothing more than status quo: swapping one set of minority overlords for another. The vices and lusts are the same, only the faces and names change. Only the revolution of change from within can be successful.

Men despise the authority of the Church, which they see as stony, dead, unbending. They would rather have "authority" that is capricious, misty, and nebulous. However, right doctrine is crucial. Merton says that every believer ought to have a strong understanding of what he believes, yet not get bogged down with the theologian's details to such extent as to lose the focus of what the doctrines point to. Theology is not "a body of distractions" but a "Living Reality Who is God Himself." (Merton likes the shift key). However, we must return to the theology to explain that relationship to the world.

Quaff:
One of the liturgical traditions I enjoy is reciting the Apostles' Creed or the Nicene Creed each Sunday. Thanks to Merton I can now feel revolutionary in doing so.

I also appreciate the use of the lectionary. I am in an ecumenical Bible study at work, and at our meeting after Ash Wednesday we were discussing the services in our various churches. The Catholic's priest used the same scripture as the Methodist's pastor and my pastor did. That gave me joy, and hope for the church and the world.

Quibble:
Merton's idea of the futility of revolution has legs in the current presidential campaign. Has anyone ever run for the presidency without "change" as their foundational plank? Reagan was elected for change. Clinton was elected for change. Bush was elected for change. Has anything changed?

Quip:
Somebody smarter than me said, "If you are wed to this age you will find yourself widowed in the next." I'll tell you who as soon as I remember.

NSoC 19: From Faith to Wisdom

See Notes on this series...

A long, muddy chapter that my brain struggled to process nevertheless yielded some gems.

God lies infinitely beyond our reach, Merton writes, and therefore any conception we may entertain of him is infinitely beneath him. We can't see him, so to find him we must pass the seen into darkness. We can't hear him, so to find him we must pass the heard into the silence. We cannot imagine him, so we must pass all likenesses into obscurity. We can't understand him, only he can, so we must pass beyond ourselves into completeness in him. I think. I didn't really understand this last part.

Regardless, faith, again, is that key that recognizes that we know him apart from likenesses and forms, in other words, intangibly.

He then addresses faith as more than mere submission to will, that deeper faith produces deeper doubt because of the anxiety that comes with heightened awareness, that deeper faith resides in deeper darkness because the light of the created images fades away until "...God Himself becomes the Light of the darkened soul..."

Communion begins with faith, continues Merton, and deepens with it. Known and unknown merge beyond what mere rationalization can provide, revealing the unknown mysteries of our selves. Yeah, I'm pretty sure that's what he means. After that, he begins to deal with the conscious and sub-conscious mind, explaining the Greek Fathers' concept of anima (psyche), animus (nous), and spiritus (pneuma), as sort of an image of the Trinity.

Then he ties all that somehow into the sophia (wisdom), but I think I missed a step somewhere. I love his closing sentence, though. "The darkness of faith bears fruit in the light of wisdom."

Quaff:
This chapter reminded me of the recent revelations about Mother Teresa's "dark night of the soul." Read about that here, here, and here. Then watch Lyle Dorsett here.

NSoC 18: Faith

See Notes on this series...

A wrong idea about faith will hinder your quest to be a contemplative.

So declares Merton, and to back that up he lists a variety of things that faith is not. When he gets around to saying what faith is, he defines it foundationally as an "intellectual assent," namely possessing truth that could not be obtained by mere natural means. In other words, there is no natural reason the things we have faith in are either true or false. Something else drives our acceptance of them. Our reason alone can't tell us anything about God. In the matter at hand, our intellectual assent to the truth that God has revealed himself is based on the authority we believe him to have to do so (if I've read Merton correctly).

Faith is more than just intellectual assent, Merton continues. It has substance, also. We don't assent to just an idea about God, but to God himself. Faith is not just beliefs about God, but trust in God. Arguments, controversies, hatreds and divisions result when our faith goes no farther than the idea. The ideas are important, of course, for we are seeking truth, and that truth is revealed to us through the ideas by the ultimate object of our faith, God himself. We must strive for the right ideas and defend them to the death, but we must not forget that they are to transform us, not transfix us.

Finally, Merton says, faith is "the only key to the universe." None of the critical questions we have about the meaning of life can be answered without it.

Quaff:
I recently heard a very brief synopsis of post-Enlightenment thought that bifurcated theology into branches: systematics and ethics. In other words, the study of theology and the practice of theology were separated. I see parallels in this definition and Merton's admonition not to divorce the idea of God from the person of God, or to keep climbing upwards once the idea is reached, for we aren't to the top yet.

Any time I speak, teach, or write I do so with fear of speaking, teaching, or writing something wrong. Sometimes that fear prods me to deeper study. Sometimes it paralyzes me from taking too great a stand. Most times, if I would just climb a little higher, and rest in who God is rather than what I think I know about him, these things might sort themselves out.

Query:

• How do I take the ideas I have about God and turn them into true faith in God?
• When I talk to others about God, do I direct them to him as an idea or as a person?
• How does the Church keep from majoring on the ideas it differs on and minoring on the relationships it shares in Christ?

NSoC 17: Hell as Hatred

See Notes on this series...

Short, short chapter, but powerful. Merton pictures hell as a place filled with people who share only this: they hate one another yet cannot rid themselves of one another.

The fire of their hatred is fueled the detestable things they see in others but identify with themselves.

He contrasts that with the consuming fire of God, a fire of eternal joy for those who allow God to transform them, but a mortal enemy to those who won't. God's love, to them become "our torment and our destruction."

Merton explains this formula:
Love God more than self = finding him and his joy in all things
Love self more than God = find enemies in all things

Merton sees evil as "the absence of a perfection that ought to be there." He says that men are attracted to whatever good there is in evil acts, and there is just enough good there to act as bait in a trap. Sinners, therefore, hate everything because of all the deceit they've been ensnared by. He equates sin with boredom, and sinners with boring scourges who subject the world to their uselessness, citing especially H_tler, Stalin, and Napoleon.

(UPDATE: "H_tler" is typed that way because if I spell it normally my internet filter marks my blog as "Hate/Violence" and won't let me read it.)

Quiz:
Merton died in 1968. If he were alive today, who might he add to his list of "boring" sinners?

NSoC 16: The Root of War Is Fear

See Notes on this series...

Fear and hatred lie at the source of all war, but not as conventional wisdom would suggest. It is not only the external hatred of others that fuels war but the internal hatred that we all have for ourselves. More serious is the self-hatred that is buried so deep it is not acknowledged. We see evil in others that we deny in ourselves, and we try to destroy them while justifying ourselves. Others "sin", we make "mistakes." We blame others to ease our guilt. We build ourselves up and tear others down. We become obsessed with eradicating evil by naming scapegoats for our guilt.

Merton suggests our "ethical and political problems" might be solved if we realized that all of us are wrong, in deed, intent, and response to evil. We stagnate because we fail to acknowledge that not all intentions of others are bad and not all of our own intentions are good. Our political system fails when we put all our eggs in the basket of one party or system.

Neither should we lean toward the everything-is-wrong camp, says Merton. We should accept the scriptural notion that we are of two natures and we should not emphasize one over the other.

How to deal with each other? Merton says we shouldn't force trust where none is trustworthy but we should commonly trust God, for only through him can we learn to love those who do evil. The fear at the root of war can only be repelled by love (humility, as he defined in an earlier chapter). He then rants against a nation which postmarks its stamps with "Pray for Peace" and then spends billions on armaments that could destroy the world. He says it is perfectly reasonable to pray for health while taking medicine, but to pray for peace while arming for war is akin to praying for health and then drinking poison.

He says he prays not only for change for "the Russians and the Chinese" but for himself and his nation to change as well. He says God doesn't answer our prayers for peace in the way we expect because we don't know what we are praying for. He says often God gives us the kinds of peace we ask for: peace to treat others as we wish without retribution, peace to consume at will without thought of the poor, peace from violence that might interfere with our standard of living.

He exhorts us to hate the attitude of the warmonger, not the warmonger himself. He says if we love peace we are to hate the injustice, tyranny, and greed that lives in us.

Quaff:
Clarence Darrow, the celebrated attorney of the early twentieth century, provided a defense of the infamous "perfect crime" murderers Leopold and Loeb by suggesting that they were products of their environments, not their own choices (see part of his argument here). This seems to support Merton's stance that "...we naturally tend to interpret our immoral act as an involuntary mistake..."

The Hebrew word for peace is shalom, and it means much more than the absence of war, as "peace" often contemporarily does. Shalom means wholeness, completeness, soundness. In our worship services on Sundays, we share the peace, exclaiming, "Peace be with you," or as Jesus would have said "shalom aliechem" (except he would have said it in Aramaic, but you get the idea). The Greek word for peace is eirene, and it is used in the New Testament to express that Jesus came into the world to bring spiritual peace with God.

Query:

• How do I keep from projecting my self-hatred upon others?
• How do I guard against their self-hatred aimed at me?
• How do I refrain from totally supporting or totally vilifying one political party when solutions are more than likely to be found in compromise with others? Is it too much to expect my fellow citizens and the politicians to do the same?
• Do I pray for God to change me as often as I ask him to change my enemies?

NSoC 15: Sentences

See Notes on this series...

This is a chapter of seemingly unrelated thoughts, a sort of Merton's Proverbs. Upon first reading I thought the title meant sentences, as in lines of words. He addresses writers a few times, which supports that thought. Subsequent readings, however, opened my eyes to the play on words (or in this case word) of the title, since he also addresses liberty, servility, and autonomy.

Some observations:

• Don't let the risk of failure keep you from trying.
• Modern men aren't interested in virtue unless it appeals to their intellect.
• "Our minds are like crows. They pick up everything that glitters, no matter how uncomfortable our nests get with all that metal in them."
• Merton admits that he doesn't know a much about the outside world but what he does know makes him believe that those living in it live "in ash cans."
• Writers afraid of criticism will never write anything worth reading.
• Faith requires doubt. Faith: "a judgment that is fully and deliberately taken in the light of a truth that cannot be proven."
• Faith is not just spiritual comfort. Before peace, there must be struggle.
• Memory of only the past is amnesia if not brought into the present.
• Men don't risk new life because they are afraid of new evils. They'd rather stick with the evils they know.
• Men who hang "Prepare to meet God!" signs make Merton think more about them than about Jesus. Are they forcing their version of Jesus on the rest of us?
• A difficult renunciation: resentment. It makes us live as slaves, when really the only person that keeps us from "living happily" is ourselves.
• Pretending to live in freedom from the gods is in itself slavery. Freedom from slavery is found only by serving God.
• "God did not invite the Children of Israel to leave the slavery of Egypt: He commanded them to do so."
• "The poet enters into himself in order to create. The contemplative enters into God in order to be created."
• Writing for God will bring joy to many. Writing for men will bring a little money and make a little noise. Writing for oneself will disgust you and make you wish you were dead.

Preach it, Fr. Louis.

Enjoy tomorrow's feast day. Back on Monday.

NSoC 14: Integrity

See Notes on this series...

Merton titles this chapter "Integrity" but spends most of his words on humility.

He regrets that the artist and the religious man alike waste their lives and talents trying to be other artists or other saints, writing other's stories, painting other's pictures, expressing other's spirituality. People want to "magnify themselves by imitating what is popular" because they are "too lazy" to think of alternatives, too rushed to be themselves.

Merton equates integrity and humility by explaining that the saint's humility is what separates him from everyone else. He defines humility as "being precisely the person you actually are before God," and since there is none other like you, to have humility means to be unique. But this uniqueness is not manifest in the external, for it has nothing to do with mere appearance or tastes. The truly humble man doesn't worry whether or not he is in conformity with others relative to what he wears or what other preferences he may have. His interests are only those things that help him find God. The rest is rubbish.

His peace comes from the knowledge that what edifies him might be a curse to someone else, and vice versa. But he has peace in this: "...[i]t takes heroic humility to be yourself and to be nobody but the man, or the artist, that God intended you to be."

This takes time. The reward for shortcutting the process is to be admired for the "spiritual disguise" that is crafted from the emulated externals of others. In fact, Merton says, the presence of a saint might be signified by the difficulty other have in knowing what to make of him. His life doesn't fit the patterns or the standards that others try to set for him. As an example, Merton briefly references Benedict Joseph Labre, who was dismissed by both the Trappists and the Carthusians as unfit for their orders, and who died as a wanderer in the streets of Rome, later to be canonized a saint.

Quaff:
This chapter hits really close to home. I've done a lot of work in recent years to peel away the layers of who I'm not, trying to get to who I am. I still have a lot of work ahead. How I long to be precisely the person I actually am before God.

NSoC 13: The Moral Theology of the Devil

See Notes on this series...

Merton gives the devil his due in this chapter, and I had a devil of a time keeping up with him.

He begins by defining the devil's systematic theology: everything is evil, God enjoys evil, God set man up to suffer evil, God was pleased to turn his son over to the murderers, all so that God could exercise his justice.

The devil, according to Merton, teaches that punishment was the fulfillment of the law, and that God is obsessed with the law, to the exclusion of mercy.

Merton says the devil actually preaches against sin in the sense that all pleasure is sin and pleasure cannot be avoided, so neither can sin, and since sin cannot be avoided then one can't be accountable for it, therefore, there really isn't such a thing. As sin. I think.

After more of that sort, Merton characterizes the devil's moral theology as contrary to the contemplative notion of compassion for everyone's unworthiness (as he explained in an earlier chapter) by placing a premium on being "absolutely right" in the face of everyone else being "absolutely wrong," which promotes the need to eliminate those who are wrong (but who obviously think they are right) and starts a vicious cycle of war and disunity.

Quibble:
I felt dumb reading this chapter. I'm still not sure what Merton means by most of it. I was pressed for time today, so maybe I didn't chew on it enough. Oh, well, tomorrow is another day.

Quaff:
My pastor's first Lenten sermon was on the devil. He stressed the importance of acknowledging the reality that we have an enemy in Satan.

1. Satan is attractive. He was not repellent to Eve in the garden. He is winsome and warm, an angel of light, not a grim reaper, a wolf in sheep's clothing, "The Devil Wears Prada."
2. Satan is an engaging conversationalist. Silver-tongued, twists scripture, speaks Eve's language, sells her a bill of goods, and other such cliches.
3. Satan divides and conquers. Why Eve? She was alone, outside of community. He isolates and tempts. This tactic explains how horrors like Jonestown and Waco occur.
4. Satan's message is deceptive. Satan misquoted scripture to Eve, twisted God's word. Cast doubt in her mind.

How to deal with Satan? Call him what he is and tell him to go away.

Query:

• How can I make sure the devil doesn't have a foothold in my life? In my home?
• Do I know where I am vulnerable to attack?
• Does Satan know God's word better than I do?

NSoC 12: The Pure Heart

See Notes on this series...

The previous few chapters seem ethereal and mystical to me, but Merton cracks the whip in this practical chapter as he deals with barriers to the pure heart.

The desires and cares of this world interfere with interior solitude. Merton implores us to "avoid the noise and the business of men" and their grab-assing, as my father would say. We must be on guard against their salesmanship and advertising and the draw to be consumers, without mere self-righteous condemnation against these activities. Merton stresses that he is not against the "legitimate" pleasures of life but he does question what is now considered legitimate.

Merton calls for "ascetic self-discipline" among those who would be contemplatives. He says that one of the foundational moral truths that we have lost is that men and women should be able to occasionally say "no" to their appetites rather than being controlled or enslaved by them. He mentions smoking and alcohol directly, and then he hits the passivity of television pretty hard, though he admits to never watching it. He recommends the bucolic life but doesn't condemn those who dwell in cities, exhorting them to shun the noise and nurture their appetites for the "healing silence of recollection."

Merton kicks it up a notch when he drops the c-bomb: "chastity." He says that sex is the most difficult natural appetite to control and therefore more attention should be paid to it. Sex is not evil, but undue attention to it outside of the "ordinate norms" within marriage is. He says that placing guilt on people about it does nothing to help control it, but he stresses that its control is possible, desirable, and essential to the contemplative life. He says that discipline, properly exercised, fosters interior prayer as the contemplative relies on the strength of a higher power greater than himself and his nature.

Quaff:
I know too well some of the pitfalls Merton warns against in this chapter. For a long time the passivity of television was my drug of choice, my coping mechanism. I wish I had some of those hours back.

In the lives of my children I see the draw of the advertiser and the quest for instant gratification. I try very hard to point out to them the goals and methods of a consumer society, but $60 jeans and Hannah Montana beach towels pose a formidable enemy.

About all I should say concerning chastity is that I'm fortunate to be married. I had a temporary experience with what Merton talked about a few summers ago when my wife spent two months in China. What a struggle. We vowed never to put each other through that again. I try not to think about what circumstances may be one day in the future.

I've also witnessed a little too personally the effects of undisciplined chastity (if that's not an oxymoron). I've seen examples of carelessness, addiction, and brazen boldness in flaunting the bounds of chastity, and just those examples from church leaders. We must all be ever vigilant and discerning, keeping our eyes clear, our minds pure, and our egos in check. Piece of cake, no?

Overall, this was a very practical and thought-provoking chapter. Spank you very much, Fr. Louis.

Quip:
I'll never forget being on a mission trip with two other men whose wives were with mine in China. A newlywed couple were on the trip with us, quartered together in less than private accommodations. The new husband bemoaned the lack of privacy with his bride and the restraint the situation demanded of him. We three China-widowers trumped his restraint as we refrained from beating the crap out of him.

Quiz:
If Merton thought television was an affront to contemplation in the late 1960s, what would he think about it today? What would he think about the internet's contribution to chastity?

Query:

• What natural appetites should I say "no" to more often?
• What societal noises should I work on tuning out?
• How can I condition my children to be skeptical about the ways of the consumer world without being a raving fundamentalist?
• How can I maintain my chastity when circumstances make it difficult?
• How can I pass on chaste traits to my children?

NSoC 11: Learn To Be Alone

See Notes on this series...

Merton reiterates that solitude is not a means to escape people's presence or dealings but a pulling away in order to find people and learn to relate to them. He also restates that true solitude is internal, and though it is possible to experience internal solitude amidst a crowd, it is also important to find a physical space for solitude.

He suggests finding some corner of a room where others won't disturb or notice. He evokes Jesus' suggestion of the prayer closet from the Sermon on the Mount. He also mentions dark, quiet city churches where men and women can slip in and take advantage of the quiet and the secrecy and the anonymity.

Merton ends the brief chapter with a sarcastic example of the abuse of internal solitude in the midst of the world. He speaks of Godly men who have no desire to be alone because they fear it. They make busy work of conferences and meetings filled with noise and they leave their gatherings celebrating their "furthering" of the Kingdom.

Quaff:
Solitude. Retreat. Examen. Intimacy. Whatever it is called, it is scary. I avoid it. It isn't difficult to generate enough noise to cancel silence. That is shameful, because as Merton says, there is "no contemplation where there is no secret."

Query:

• Have I chosen and guarded my place of solitude?
• What can I do to embrace silence?
• How can I practice internal solitude within the crowds of my world?
• How can I maintain a proper focus during times of physical solitude?

NSoC 10: A Body of Broken Bones

See Notes on this series...

Merton declares that the remains of "slag and dross" as God refines our gold in his fire keep us from being pure and keep us separated from one another in him. He defines this separation as Christ's dismemberment, graphically reminding us that Jesus was physically crucified once by Pilate, et. al., but he is "drawn and quartered" by every successive generation since. Even saints, he says, are not exempt from the pain of disunion.

There are two responses to this pain: love or hate.

Hate stems from the refusal to deal with sacrifice needed to reunite. Merton says that hate sprouts from our loneliness, our unworthiness, or our inadequacy. Some people aren't aware of their self-hatred and they turn it outward, projecting unworthiness on others, often with feelings that they are justified by God in doing so. He calls this "strong hate." Some people are aware of their self-hatred and they turn it inward, including themselves with others who they see as unworthy. He calls this "weak hate" that is really "weak love," because it at least contains some degree of compassion.

He says that the Christian response to hate is not the will to love, but belief that one is loved, by God, regardless of one's worth. Hatred seeks to destroy everyone deemed unworthy. Love embraces all, for all are unworthy.

He returns to an earlier theme of God's will by evoking the Golden Rule (what he calls the Natural Law). He states again that contemplation cannot exist without compassion for others and a desire for reunion with our brothers and sisters in Christ. He says there is no flight from the suffering of the world, only flight from the disunity of other men. He says that to leave society in search of solitude is to take society with you into solitude, there is no freedom outside of God. He closes by warning of the danger of seeking solitude simply to be alone.

Quaff:
A couple of years after New Seeds of Contemplation was published, eight clergymen from Birmingham placed a newspaper ad (PDF document) questioning some of the demonstrations staged by the African-American community in protest of segregation. This document prompted Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.'s Letter from Birmingham Jail (PDF document). This letter should be required reading for professing Christians, for in it Dr. King challenges the white church's lack of response to the issues the African-American community faced. I couldn't help think of the letter while reading this chapter.

Merton is on to something, I believe, for resistance to union seems to be a root of a lot of hatred. I wonder what we could do as a nation with our immigration issues if we looked on illegal immigrants with compassion as fellow "unworthies" rather than projecting our unworthiness on them? They are a mission field that has come to us, but they are unlike us, so our desire is to eliminate them rather than facing the hardship that unity with them would entail. Folks, this is not a political issue. This is a moral issue.

Query:

• Do I project my unworthiness on others as strong hate, or lump them in with myself in weak love? How can I turn that into strong love?
• Merton says the response to hate is not the will to love but the belief that I am loved. Do I really believe I am loved? Do I treat others like I believe I am loved? Do I treat others like I believe they are loved?
• What is my motivation for solitude?
• What are my barriers to contemplation?
• Is God refining less slag and dross from me this year than he did last?