THOMAS MERTON – SELECTED ESSAYS

Thomas Merton (1915-1968) was undoubtedly one of the great Christian writers of the 20th century, and this new selection of essays introduces him to another generation of readers, as well as providing specialists with further gems from his collection. The range of subjects is vast, including social issues such as racial justice and nuclear warfare, which set in motion the censorship process of the Cistercian order. The abbot general was particularly unhappy about his essays on war and peace and Merton himself joked that if he quoted Our Father, the censors would demand a footnote. The editor provides an excellent introduction as well as detailed introductions to each piece, setting it in the context of Merton's work as a whole. Among the principal themes of this collection are the significance of renewal within the mystical body of Christ, the dialogue with oriental religions, peace, contemplative solitude and the monastic calling, modern alienation and the nature of wisdom. The writers he treats include St John of the Cross, Boris Pasternak, DZ Suzuki, Albert Camus, John Muir and William Faulkner.

It would be impossible to comment on all the essays, so I will restrict my treatment to a few selections. Merton compares Pasternak with Gandhi, commenting that his protest was essentially the same: 'the protest of life itself, of humanity itself, of love, speaking not with theories and programmes but simply affirming itself and asking to be judged on its own merits.' One could say the same about Merton himself. He adds revealingly that the accolades that Pasternak received in the West were because we admired in him the courage and integrity we lack in ourselves. It is a sobering and challenging thought. His tribute to Gandhi is equally penetrating in affirming that his politics were informed by principles of religious and philosophical wisdom. Gandhi spoke often of Jesus, whom he had learned to know through Tolstoy. He made 'this unconditional devotion to truth the mainspring of his social action', remaining true to the inner law of his being. He said that Jesus died in vain if he did not teach us to regulate the whole of life by the eternal law of love and said of himself that 'if love is not the law of our being, the whole of my argument falls to pieces.' Gandhi embodied the change that he wanted to see, becoming a living symbol of integrity.

Two essays contribute to interfaith dialogue, one on Taoism and the other on Zen. Merton shows an extraordinary grasp of this different mentality, seeing both traditions as inviting a spiritual change of one's whole being rather than a mere intellectual quest. He understands that wu wei does not mean inactivity but rather acting at rest and without effort. With respect to filial piety he comments that our personality is a gift from our parents and explains the five basic family relationships based on justice, compassion, filial love, friendship and respect. Wisdom is oriented not only to contemplation but also to wise action. He urges the Catholic Church to enter into dialogue with all that is pure, wise, profound and humane in every kind of culture. In an essay about Christianity and Zen, he once again encapsulates the essential. Zen is not about explaining, but rather about paying attention, becoming aware, being mindful. Suzuki was particularly interested in Eckhart as an example of ontological mysticism with its emphasis on experience rather than doctrine. Merton remarks that we quickly forget how to see things and we substitute formulas for the things themselves. Everything is supposed to point to something else, whereas Zen urges us to look than try to understand. It is a reminder to stop thinking and start looking, to wake up: 'Zen explains nothing. It just sees. Sees what? Not an Absolute Object, but Absolute Seeing.' This represents spiritual rather than dialectical wisdom and a process of emptying or kenosis; in Christian terms, Christ living in me.

One of the most profound essays is Learning to Live. For Merton, this means 'learning who one is, and learning what one has to offer to the contemporary world, and then learning how to make that offering valid.' Our freedom consists in choosing our own lives at the deepest level, and the function of both a university and a monastery is 'first of all to help the student to discover himself: to recognise himself, and to identify who it is that chooses.' This is 'the very self that finds' and eventually is what it has become. At a deeper level, the process involves learning to die in order to live, the emergence of a radical self with uninhibited freedom, a self no longer clothed with an ego. This entails more than scientia or intellectual knowledge but rather sapientia or mystical contemplation drawing on the deep silence within.

His essay on wild places is prophetic in highlighting not only the work of Thoreau and Muir but also that of Aldo Leopold, who coined the term ecological conscience. He quotes an objector to the creation of Yellowstone Park in 1872 as saying that he could not understand the sentiment that favours the retention of a few buffaloes to the development of mining interests amounting to millions of dollars. We see similar arguments today, as well as the importance of a fundamental respect for all life, as also advocated by Albert Schweitzer. Merton observes a connection between an ecological and a peace-making conscience, which has become all the more evident since he wrote. He excoriated the US use of napalm in Vietnam used for the poisoning of crops, the defoliation of forests and the incineration of villages - crimes not only against humanity but also against nature. The radical spirit of Merton comes alive in these pages and encourages readers to make a similar statement and difference with their own lives.