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

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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

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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

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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

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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

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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

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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

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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

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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

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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

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"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

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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

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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?

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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

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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

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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

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(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

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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

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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

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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!