Merton discusses his imperfections . . .
God calls men—not only religious, but all Christians—to be the “salt of the earth.” But the savor of the salt, says St. Augustine, is a supernatural life, and we lose our savor if, ceasing to rely on God alone, we are guided, in our actions, by the mere desire of temporal goods or the fear of their loss: “Be ye not solicitous, therefore, saying what shall we eat, or what shall we drink or wherewith shall we be clothed? For after all these things do the heathens seek. For your Father knoweth that you have need of all these things.” “And he said to all: If any man will come after me, let him deny himself and take up his cross daily, and follow me. For whosoever will save his life shall lose it; for he that shall lose his life, for my sake, shall save it.”
No matter what religious Order a man enters, whether its Rule be easy or strict in itself does not much matter; if his vocation is to be really fruitful it must cost him something, and must be a real sacrifice. It must be a cross, a true renunciation of natural goods, even of the highest natural goods.
Since I was the person that I happened to be, and since I was so strongly attached to material goods, and so immersed in my own self, and so far from God, and so independent of Him, and so dependent on myself and my own imaginary powers, it was necessary that I should not enter a monastery feeling the way I did about the Franciscans.
The truth of the matter is simply this: becoming a Franciscan, especially at that precise moment of history, meant absolutely no sacrifice at all, as far as I was concerned. Even the renunciation of legitimate pleasures of the flesh did not cost me as much as it might seem. I had suffered so much tribulation and unrest on their account that I rejoiced in the prospect of peace, in a life protected from the heat and anguish of passion by the vow of chastity. So even this was a boon rather than a matter of pain—all the more so because I imagined, in my stupid inexperience, that the fight against concupiscence had already been won, and that my soul was free, and that I had little or nothing to worry about any more.
No, all I would have to do would be to enter the novitiate, and undergo one year of inconveniences so slight that they would hardly be noticeable, and after that everything would be full of fine and easy delights—plenty of freedom, plenty of time to read and study and meditate, and ample liberty to follow my own tastes and desires in all things of the mind and spirit. Indeed, I was entering upon a life of the highest possible natural pleasures: for even prayer, in a certain sense, can be a natural pleasure.
What Merton confesses here is that he really isn't ready to be a monk. He's too attached to the world still. His vision of a monkly life isn't about giving everything thing up and following God to the ends of the planet. Nope. For Merton, the monastic existence is simply an extension of his current life--reading and writing and publishing and teaching--without the distraction of the "anguish of passion." Oh, and he'll pray, too. After he's done with his reading and writing and publishing and teaching. He'll squeeze God in somewhere.
Here's are some things about God that I'm fairly confident in stating:
1. God isn't an afterthought.
2. If you try to squeeze God in somewhere, you'll probably find out that God is bigger than the space you've created.
3. You have a plan for your life. God has a plan for your life. God's plan is better.
4. God can transform broken things, lives, people into poems.
5. God isn't a fan of mean people.
6. You may take a vacation from God. God never takes a vacation from you.
7. God has many names. Yahweh. Allah. Jesus. Creator. Lord. The Universe. The Holy Spirit. Bob. Alice.
8. God doesn't care what name you use. God just wants to you to call.
9. God isn't male or female. So don't force that shit on God.
10. God doesn't let bad things happen. That's humans. We fuck things up all the time.
11. God fixes things that humans fuck up.
12. God is an equal opportunity lover. God loves everyone, regardless of race, color, religion, sex (including pregnancy, gender identity, and sexual orientation), national origin, age, disability, or genetic information.
I've learned these truths throughout my life, by trial and error, just like Merton. I'm sure that, in six months time, I'll add to this list, or subtract from it. The spiritual life isn't something static and fixed. It's fluid. Dynamic. Constantly changing. Because human beings are flawed, complex creatures with a seemingly infinite capacity to make mistakes.
Being a saint isn't about being perfect. It's about striving to love God through all of our imperfections.
Saint Marty does that every day. Imperfectly.
No comments:
Post a Comment