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| Playfully smiling in the shade is how we should all think of contemplative prayer. |
In a way, I suppose it had those moments. The first 2/3rds of the book are spent on Merton’s childhood and as a young adult going to college in New York City. It’s overly descriptive and focuses on factual happenings. Merton’s lack of depth either speaks to his own unawareness at the time or his current disinterest in reflecting on past events. This time in his life feels hollow to him as a writer and comes off as shallow to the reader. Brief moments within the shallows, however, find Merton pondering if something greater is out in the world, reminding us of the spiritual depth he’ll soon discover in himself.
The rapid movement from self-centered intellectual to trappist monk feels a little abrupt, but no more than it did for Merton. I reread whole chapters in the last third of the book just to keep up with his quickly evolving spirituality and life.
Three things stuck out for me while reading this last section:
1. Merton’s astonishing sense of self-sacrifice associated with his faith. Faith through sacrifice isn’t something we hear very often in today’s world. For Merton, a lack of sacrifice meant a lack of meaning. He became Catholic and sought the priesthood not because he loved everything in his life but because he felt unfulfilled with his life. He originally contemplated joining the Franciscans because his personality naturally fit with with their order, but would putting a square peg in a square hole bring him the spiritual satisfaction he craved?
Somehow, sacrificing sex and money didn’t carve enough of him out to make room for God. Without sacrifice, there could be no spiritual gain for Merton. Joining the trappists and embracing worldly sacrifice gave Merton the focus he needed to embrace God entirely.
2. Merton’s writing style changes in the book from factual to meaningful, which is a line I struggle to straddle most days. I’m a linear thinker (A leads to B leads to C...) and I easily fall into a linear trap when approaching my days. Seriously, sometimes Kelly comes home, asks me about my day and I relay the order of my day (I went to work, I answered the phone, I wrote some emails) instead of telling her about my day (I’m kind of tired, this conversation really made me think, I’ve been craving breakfast for dinner all day). Factual vs. emotive isn’t the right phrasing, but it’s pretty close.
When Merton hits the last third of his book, his writing goes from relaying information to really wading into heavy topics. He recognizes his vocation called him to the sudden depth he found himself. When I’m rooted and healthy, my mind moves to places beyond the daily happenings around me. I write more. I exercise more. I have conversations more often. A lot of my early life centered on moving linearly from place to place, recognizing an unfulfillment in me but not knowing what to make of it. I’m not about to join a trappist order (sacrificing sex sounds awful) but I love the path Merton laid out and his ability to express the depth he discovered within his sacrifice.
3. Most of us, when we imagine trappist monks, we think of priests sitting silently in a room praying endlessly. In reality, Merton became a farm hand on a functional farm cut off from most of the world. He learned how to actively pray in order to accomplish his daily chores while remaining in constant contact with God through prayer. Not at all what he was expecting.
Side Note: All three of these things happened in the last third of the book. Seriously, just skim the first 2/3rds. You won’t miss much.
Kelly knew me for a year before we dated. Was she waiting and hoping I’d notice her during that year? Nope. She actively hated me. This is a woman who values kindness above all else, and yet managed to tell everyone she knew how much she disliked me. A little full of my own nebulous abilities and an overall belief that I had an internet fueled witty answer to everything kept her at arms reach. I loved the celebrity that came with being a leader on a small college campus and she hated the ego that came with it.
Fast forward a lot, and now I’m a leader in a small school as a guidance counselor. I came to understand my own pitfalls associated with professional titles and pushed them aside to embrace contemplative simplicity and a career focused on helping others. Lately, I’ve found myself in situations where a leader is needed and I see the path the leader needs to take. I’m intimidated not by the challenges this represents but by the possibility of slipping into a linear thinking stratagem that accomplishes a lot but leaves me unfulfilled at the end of the day.
The key, and I think Merton would agree, is to take the path in front of you while embracing the sacrifices needed to maintain a contemplative prayer life. Contemplative prayer may not make me a great leader, but it’ll help me be a great ‘me’ as I lead.
