May 28: Multiply My Wounds, Bloodhounds, Bags of Gold

Merton is unsettled by reading the Bible . . . 

I did not yet have the art of reading that way, but nevertheless these words had a dark fire in them with which I began to feel myself burned and seared. 

If He come to me, I shall not see Him: if He depart, I shall not understand.... If He examine me on a sudden who shall answer Him? Or who can say: why dost Thou so?

 

There was something in the words that seemed to threaten all the peace that I had been tasting for months past, a kind of forewarning of an accusation that would unveil forgotten realities. I had fallen asleep in my sweet security. I was living as if God only existed to do me temporal favors... 

God whose wrath no man can resist, and under Whom they stoop that bear up the world.

What am I then, that I should answer Him and have words with Him?

And if He should hear me when I call, I should not believe that He had heard my voice.

For He shall crush me in a whirlwind and multiply my wounds even without cause....

“Even without cause!” And my uneasy spirit was already beginning to defend itself against this unfair God Who could not be unjust, could not be unfair. 

If I would justify myself, my own mouth shall condemn me: if I would shew myself innocent He shall prove me wicked. 

...and multiply my wounds even without cause.

I closed the book. The words struck deep. They were more than I would ever be able to understand. But the impression they made should have been a kind of warning that I was about to find out something about their meaning. 

Merton is about to have a literal come-to-Jesus moment.  The complacency and self-satisfaction he's been wrapping around his shoulders is about to be torn away.  By entering the monastery, he thinks he's going to escape all of his worries and troubles.  He's trying to run away, but he just doesn't know it.  Yet.  He has some vague notion, a sense of being burned and seared by the "dark fire" of the Book of Job.

If there is one thing that I've learned in my life, it's that you cannot escape problems.  No matter how far you run or long you wait, problems have a way of tracking you down like a pack of bloodhounds.  And when they finally tree you, they stand around the trunk, baying and snarling.  

These last couple days, if you haven't noticed, I've been treed, and the hounds have been so loud that sleep has eluded me.  Of course, I know that worry does nothing but make you tired and sick.  It certainly doesn't solve anything.  Therefore, tonight, I am going to celebrate.  Yes, the hounds of truth are still slobbering below me, but, sometimes, in a starless night, moon breaks through the clouds.  For an instant, everything is gilded with filaments of silver.  A spiderweb of light.  And you are caught.

This afternoon, I received a phone call from a colleague and friend, giving me some unexpected good news.  I've been been selected to receive the honor of Arts Advocate of the Year from the City of Marquette.  Now, I know that awards are not a measure of your goodness or worth as a human being, and they don't guarantee lifelong happiness.  I'm not that shallow.  This recognition means something different to me.

I was nominated anonymously.  A panel of people weighed my contributions to the promotion of arts and culture in my neck of the woods and beyond.  And I was found worthy of being signaled for my work.  I'm reminded of the parable from the Bible of the master who entrusts bags of gold to three servants.  When the master returns home, he settles accounts with the servants, and he rewards the ones who have put their master's money to work and created more wealth.  They are entrusted with more, and the master says to each, "Well done, good and faithful servant!"

God has given me many gifts.  Health.  Beautiful kids.  Jobs that pay my bills (for the most part).  People who love me.  And a gift for words and art.  These are my bags of gold.  Now, I could bury those bags in the sand to protect them, make sure that I never lose them.  Or I could share that gold.  Do some good with it.  Put it to work and increase its worth.

In my life, the choice has been pretty clear.  In a society that seems to value individuals who simply hoard their treasures like Smaug the dragon, I choose generosity.  In a world that seems to beat down the less fortunate, I choose to lift them up.  In a universe that sometimes seems selfish and ugly, I choose beauty.

So, the news I received sort of feels like an affirmation of this philosophy.  Generosity over greed.  Love over brutality.  Grace over neglect.

Today, God said to me, "Well done, good and faithful servant."

For that, Saint Marty gives thanks.