NSoC 8: Solitude Is Not Separation

See Notes on this series...

Merton tackles the idea of sanctity in this long chapter. One element of sanctity is solitude, and he defines true solitude in great detail.

For starters, true solitude is not isolation in the physical sense. The notion that solitude is escaping the presence of others is foreign to the contemplative. Quite the opposite: the contemplative goes "to the desert" to find others, in God.

More dangerous and more common in our society is the practice of solitude amidst the crowd. Just as pulling away from others doesn't guarantee solitude, neither does congregating with others guarantee communion, or even communication. Merton names this person "mass-man," and warns that he mindlessly assimilates with others through cliches, noises and mindless slogans that feign community. Where the spiritually prideful person of chapter 7 lived for the idea that he was not like other men, the mass-man is convinced that being just like others somehow covers his deficiencies. Where the spiritually prideful basked in his excellence, the mass-man has no self-esteem because he isn't even a person, just a particle of the whole.

Merton states that true solitude is internal. It has nothing to do with the external state relative to others. In fact, he says, the talents and gifts we have been given are not for our own amusement but for the benefit of the body as a whole. Sanctity is not realized by pulling away and then above others but by the clarity of service to and commiseration with others, appreciating our fallenness with theirs and the universal need for God's mercy.

Merton stresses the freedom found in humility and the stumbling block that a virtuous man's piety can be if his happiness, consciously or not, depends on his maintaining that virtue above those around him. The free man, whose external self is of no consequence, doesn't wear this millstone around his neck.

Love, selflessness, and holiness round out the chapter. God's love is found in his sanctuary, and entry is granted by holiness. Merton says this is a mad thought if he thinks he can imitate this holiness on his own. It is a mystery, totally beyond our comprehension. It is a contradiction: how a holy God emptied himself by becoming a man who knew no sin but was considered a sinner, was the perfect word of God but was condemned as a blasphemer, a perfect witness of God who was accused as a God-denier. "So God Himself was put to death on the cross because He did not measure up to man's conception of His Holiness..."

So if we desire to be holy, Merton declares, we must forsake our idea of holiness and empty ourselves like he did. We must be transformed by him.

Quaff:
Certainly a lot to chew on in this chapter and a lot of it strikes close to home. I've had seasons in my life where the idea of running off to the desert to escape seemed like a good option. In some ways I still grasp at that as ideal. Foolishness, I know, but the desire is sometimes strong...

The concept of holiness has always been a difficult one for me. In my psyche, holiness tracks with legalism or fundamentalism (Don't _____, don't _____, don't _____). I'm afraid I haven't given proper thought to it because of that. I realize I'm called to it and that it is mine through Christ but I still struggle with wanting to make it an external action rather than an internal reality.

Quibble:
Getting lost in the crowd is very easy in our culture today. In the past I've entertained a metaphysical idea while in artificial community (an airplane, for example, or a movie theater or on a roller coaster or in a restaurant) that all the participants are a part of some mutual experience, kind of a sappy "we're all in this together" microcosmic metaphor for life in general until reality crashes in as I accept that the guy reading the Wall Street Journal is probably gleaning new ideas to cook the accounting books and the lady in the print dress and heels probably told her husband she's flying to Chicago to spend the weekend with her sister and the guy in the Northwestern sweatshirt has flunked out of school but hasn't told his parents and that they would all laugh at my crappy metaphor and throw peanuts at me for dragging them into my little diluted community experiment. But then, I've also been in real community (a megachurch, for example) where the idea was not so metaphysical and the microcosmic metaphor for life in general was hanging on posters in the foyer and the guy in the Dockers and tassel loafers was cooking the books and the perfect father with the perfect wife and perfect children... Well, let's just say that one of the best places in the world to get lost in the crowd is in an American megachurch.

Query:

• Is my desire for solitude fueled by a need to escape someone or something, or to find them?
• How do you distinguish real communion from false communion in a crowd? What buzzwords or cliches serve as warning signs?
• How do I live out the mystery of the holiness I'm called to? Where do I find the patience I need for the gradual transformation that it truly is?