Sam Rahberg

08/08/03

Merton #2

Need for the Spirit

For months prior to September of 1968, Thomas Merton's spiritual life was stirred by his upcoming travels that would eventually take him to Bangkok, the city of his death. He could not have known that he would die, although he very much anticipated that the Eastern experience would change his life. It had been three years since Merton entered the hermitage permanently and his journals continued to reflect a man in search of ongoing personal transformation. On 21 March he wrote, "I, for one, realize that now I need more. Not simply to be quiet, somewhat productive, to pray, to read, to cultivate leisure--otium sanctum! There is a need of effort, deepening, change, and transformation." The monk of twenty-seven years heard the call of God to deepen his walk toward maturity in Christ. In those brief months before his departure, he prepared to intentionally submit to the journey that lay before him.

Merton's growing awareness of God's transforming presence lead him to desire more, but released him from a need to force the process. He noted a true need in himself for more effort, deepening, change, and transformation. Even the hermitage had not allowed him to fully realize the potential of his spiritual life. However, it was not the fault of the hermitage, nor was maturity a matter of sheer will power: "Not that I must undertake a special project of self-transformation or that I must 'work on myself.' In that regard, it would be better to forget it." The contemplative life, according to Merton's maturing understanding, is fed and deepened by an awareness of God's movement behind all the illusions and rush of daily life. Adding regimen at this stage would have only contributed to the distractions. Instead Merton prescribed himself, "Just go for walks, live in peace, let change come quietly and invisibly on the inside." After all, this was the work and grace of God.

Paradoxically, Merton felt called to genuine practice, right effort, and embrace of the mystery. The conditions of his travels to the East--including dialogues, challenges, and stretches of stability--provided the context for working out this paradox. He was aware of his deep need for change and the way it would be fostered:

A "return to genuine practice" calls on the deep well of monastic values. Merton sensed himself called to stability and simplicity for the sake of other people. As he reflected on his vocation as a writer, it became clear to him that there was no better way for him to communicate the graces of God. His own life was to be the laboratory of transformation and the ink for his pen that would open the door to the contemplative life for others. He wrote, "The best thing I can give to others is to liberate myself from the common delusions and be, for myself and for them, free. Then grace can work in and through me for everyone." As he journeyed to the East he carried with him the potential to expose any reader to the beauty and mystery he found. The "return to genuine practice" was a call to be an authentic monk on that journey, ready to be transformed for the sake of others. He referred to the discipline this required as "right effort." The task before him required great focus and centeredness: "need to live a life of prayer, need to liberate myself from my own 'cares' and 'unique' need for an authentic monastic solitude (not mere privacy), and need for a real understanding and use of Asian insights in religion." These were not the needs of a man desperate to advance a personalized quest. Merton recognized the potential his journey carried for many and saw "right effort" as a gesture of submission to his vocation. There was a degree of mystery to his vocation--the paradox of solitude and world travel. The need to push on to the "great doubt" was no less than embracing the mystery of his present experience along every step of his Asian journey. Instead of making great plans and fretting every detail, Merton journaled, "I go with a completely open mind. I hope without special illusions. My hope is simply to enjoy the long journey, profit by it, learn, change, perhaps find something or someone who will help me advance in my own spiritual quest." He was submitting to the process and readying himself to receive what God would accomplish. "Pushing on to the great doubt" was Merton's walk as a contemplative into unknown lands, confident of the ongoing presence of God. That walk invited a return to genuine practice, right effort, and embrace of the mystery.

Lest one think that Merton's contemplation was over-saturated with Eastern spirituality in the months before his departure, note final words following his entry about the need for deepening and transformation: "Need for the Spirit. Hang on to the clear light!" On the threshold of what would be his last leg of spiritual pilgrimage on earth, Thomas Merton sensed God's call to hang on to the clear light of the Spirit, walking the contemplative path with its need for ongoing effort, deepening, change, and transformation.