On February 22, 1964, Trappist monk, Thomas Merton, wrote in his journal:
“Today is the twenty-second anniversary of my reception of the habit. In all sobriety and honesty I must admit that the twenty-two years have not been well spent, at least as far as my part in them has been concerned, although from God there has been nothing but grace and mercy. Rather, twenty-two years of relative confusion, often coming close to doubt and infidelity, agonized aspirations for ‘something better’, criticism of what I have, inexplicable inner suffering that is largely my own fault, insufficient efforts to overcome myself, inability to find my way, perhaps culpably straying off into things that do not concern me.”
From a man so many admired, there is such a captivating honesty, a refreshing sense of humility, especially given the success that Merton had obviously had to that point.
Is it a low point or a pity party? No. Almost a case of wanting more from himself for the days ahead of him. What may we learn from our tiny corners of the world about such a salient reflection?
Merton is human and given not only to times of honest assessment, but like most of us I suspect, he was also given to times of harsh introspection. I know I’m guilty of this, and at times it shocks me, especially when, like for Merton, it happens as an unimpressed flatness when there might otherwise be cause for reflective celebration.
Read through that large list again:
§ relative confusion – are there any of us who feel we understand exactly where we are and what our purpose is? There isn’t a month goes past that I’m not feeling overwhelmed on one day or more.
§ often coming close to doubt and infidelity – none of us have ever doubted, right? And infidelity is not just a sexual thing, though it very much is that too! Oh this hits very close to home if only we’re quite brutally honest with ourselves — that’s the point isn’t it?
§ agonized aspirations for ‘something better’ – we’ve never complained, have we? Sorry, I have! Sorry, I’m not sorry. I’m human. How many biblical complaints are there? With all of what God has poured into my life — our lives — I still wonder why I got what I got.
§ criticism of what I have – envy at whatever someone might have that is more than we have or less than what we have. Ever done this? Yes, I know.
§ inexplicable inner suffering that is largely my own fault – how many of us privately loath parts of ourselves, our experience, our regretful responses, how we feel, etc?
§ insufficient efforts to overcome myself – God knows we all have limits — limits that we even choose not to engage with, because we want an out. It’s okay. It’s fine if we feel overcome and every now and then we bail on life.
§ inability to find my way – for each of us, just how resonate with this? How many of us have felt lost this year, for a case in point?
§ perhaps culpably straying off into things that do not concern me – this seems such a human thing to do; to find ourselves in some situation we felt sure God drew us too, only later to find out, it really was none of our concern, and we weren’t listening.
If a person like Merton, who is someone heralded as an icon, can suffer the ignoble craft of self-loathing and self-consternation then perhaps we’re in good company.
Isn’t it a great comfort as we wrestle with what might be uncomfortable to what might be for us tormenting that we have a human being of such wisdom and spiritual stature experiencing what we might?
There is a paradox buried in these words: the encounter we need is facing our crisis of self with God. Funnily enough, as we face our crises there in the midst of them is God.
No comments:
Post a Comment