In June of 1968, six months before his death, Thomas Merton - Trappist monk, poet and one of the best-known spiritual writers of his time - sat in the woods on a steamy afternoon near his hermitage at the Gethsemani Abbey and jotted in his journal. "What a fool I have been, in the literal and biblical sense of the word: thoughtless, impulsive, lazy, self-interested, yet alien to myself, untrue to myself, following the most stupid fantasies, guided by the most idiotic emotions and needs," he wrote.
Merton had been a monk and spiritual seeker for more than a quarter century. Perhaps because of the approach of the end of the millennium, there is a flurry of books dealing with the inner life. Much of what passes for spiritual writing these days is New Age nonsense; homespun wisdom, like the cottage industry revolving around the "Chicken Soup for the Soul" books; or pious sentimentality such as seen in the popular writing and ornament peddling of angels.
But contrary to any notion that discourse on spirituality is simply bubbleheaded blathering, there is much religious writing that is rational, literate and meets every standard of intellectual integrity. It just doesn't get as much notice as the volumes that get prominent display in the corporate chain bookstores.
Some of the best of those books deal with the inner struggle, the frustrations and distractions that mark an authentic life of faith. Others go straight to the ostensible conflicts between belief and science.
One is the last of the seven volumes of Merton's journals, "The Other Side of the Mountain" (HarperSanFrancisco, 329 pages, $30). Here are the musings of a holy man who is human, who embodies the notion that faith is a commitment that must be made and wrestled with constantly.
After all, that is the way most of us experience the journey of faith, isn't it?
Merton is author of perhaps the most widely read spiritual autobiography of the 20th century, "The Seven Storey Mountain," published in 1948, which chronicled his Bohemian intellectual life as a student and budding literary talent, his conversion to Catholicism and his entry into the Trappist order.
This volume of Merton's journals covers the period from October 1967 until December 1968. Three years earlier, Merton, who was dissatisfied in his life of solitude and prayer, had been allowed to move into a hermitage on the grounds of Gethsemani Abbey, near Louisville.
In his writings, despite his longing for solitude, which is constantly interrupted, he reflects a restlessness as he prepares for a sojourn to Asia, where he will share contemplative wisdom with Buddhist monks, meet with the Dalai Lama and attend a conference of religious contemplatives in Bangkok.
Merton's writings also show a man who, although he had "left the world" for life in a monastery in the extremely ascetic Trappist order, was thoroughly engaged with the world. His journal shows his preoccupation with the Vietnam War, the 1968 presidential election and the race riots following the assassination of Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. as well as his on-going literary work, both sacred and secular (mostly poetry).
Merton left for Asia with a sense of destiny that he would find something in the wisdom of the East that would feed the spiritual hunger pangs he felt. After consulting lamas and monks, after seeing the shocking poverty of Calcutta and the beauty of the Himalayas, he seemed to come to some sense of peace, even as he was contemplating moving his hermitage to California, Alaska or a desert in New Mexico. "I do not think I ought to separate myself completely from Gethsemani, even while maintaining an official residence there, legally only. I suppose I ought eventually to end my days there. I do, in many ways, miss it."
Less than a month after writing that, he delivered a paper on "Marxism and Monastic Perspectives" to the gathering of Christian and Buddhist monks in Bangkok. After retiring to his cottage for a short nap, he was electrocuted when he grasped a fan with an electrical short.
Merton would recognize as fellow travelers the scientists who discuss their beliefs in God and religion in "Spiritual Evolution" (Templeton Foundation Press, 134 pages, $18.95). In this book, 10 international scientists in the areas of astronomy, biology, chemistry, genetics, medicine, physics and zoology relate how they reconcile their vocations that rely on empirical evidence with their belief in a supreme being.
No mere emotionalism here, these are people whose faith has been thoroughly examined, because, as many relate, their disciplines and colleagues were openly dismissive of and hostile to religion.
Larry Dossey, a physician who grew up in "the buckle of the Bible belt" of central Texas, relates how his childhood faith was shaken as he entered the University of Austin to pursue studies in science. As he saw it then, there were two choices: "One could choose, on the one hand, to be rational, analytical, logical, and scientific. Or one could choose to be intuitive, religious, spiritual, and intellectually reckless."
Thirty years later, Dossey sees this as a false dichotomy. "I overlooked the obvious fact - and was not told - that science does not have a God meter; that everything that counts cannot be counted; that some areas of existence lie, in principle, beyond science and are off limits to the dissections of the intellect."
For some writers, the truly spiritual realm is something few of us ever experience, a discouraging notion that could dissuade anyone from even engaging in the contemplative enterprise. Author Kathleen Dowling Singh believes that, with the exception of the rare contempletive master, humans only truly reach their spiritual depths in the process of death, which she calls the Nearing Death Experience.
In "The Grace in Dying: How We Are Transformed Spiritually As We Die" (HarperSanFrancisco, 320 pages, $22), Singh holds that the experience of dying causes a psycho-spiritual transformation that dissolves the ego, the human's sense of separation, identity and independence, and reconnects the person with the Ground of Being, the presence of God that lies in the inner depths.
"The Nearing Depth Experience seems to telescope or radically accelerate the normal process of movement into transcendent dimensions," Singh writes. This process, she says, is universal: in some, it takes place only in the moments before actual physical death, in others, who are more open to it or prepared for it, it can last for some time. In what she sees as a description that goes beyond Dr. Elisabeth Kubler-Ross' five stages of dying, Singh describes this process of the dying entering a transcendent dimension based on patients she has observed through her work in hospices.
The experience of God, of the transcendent dimension, has often been compared to artistic expression. The authors of "Inspired: The Breath of God" (Doubleday, 240 pages, $23.95), recorded conversations with writers, artists, musicians, theologians and other "gifted" people about their faith and the inspiration that helps them produce their work.
Its laudable goal to be all-inclusive is also its weakness, as it attempts to shoehorn the musings of such diverse personalities as opera singer Leontyne Price, attorney Alan Dershowitz, visionary artist Howard Finster, and NBA star Hakeem Olajuwon into its framework.
For example, jazz trumpeter Wynton Marsalis describes his music as his spirituality. "Sometimes I wake up in the morning and I can just hear melodies and little themes, and I know that it's directly from God because it's pure, it's good, it just came through me." Later, he says: "I pray when I play. Giving thanks to God can come in any form. You don't have to get on your knees and give thanks."
Thomas Merton might one day like to discuss that point with Mr. Marsalis.
John Rivera has been the religion reporter for The Sun since Apri 1997. He covered Pope John Paul II during his visit to Baltimore in 1995 and on his trip to Cuba in January. He studied theology at the Washington Theological Union in Washington, D.C., where he completed a master's degree.
Pub Date: 8/30/98