Sep 01 2008
Monday Morning With Merton: Wordless
Thank you, Pia, for last week’s poignant Merton quote; I would like to pick up on the same theme here today, specifically with regard to contemplative prayer:
“Hence monastic prayer, especially meditation and contemplative prayer, is not so much a way to find God as a way of resting in him whom we have found, who loves us, who is near to us, who comes to us to draw us to himself. Dominus enim prope est. Prayer, reading, meditation and contemplation fill the apparent “void” of monastic solitude and silence with the reality of God’s presence, and thus we learn the true value of silence, and come to experience the emptiness and futility of those forms of distraction and useless communication which contribute nothing to the seriousness and simplicity of a life of prayer.
Whatever one may think of the value of communal celebration with all kinds of song and self-expression – and these certainly have their place – the kind of prayer we here speak of as properly “monastic” (though it may also fit into the life of any lay person who is attracted to it) is a prayer of silence, simplicity, contemplative and meditative unity, a deep personal integration in an attentive, watchful listening of “the heart.” The response such prayer calls forth is not usually one of jubilation or audible witness: it is a wordless and total surrender of the heart in silence.”
[Thomas Merton: Contemplative Prayer, pgs. 29-30]
I guess we can say Merton was an Ikebana kind of monk…
I have a quote in mind that is pertinent to this and the previous post, but I just can’t remember where I saw it, dang nabbit!
One thing that came to mind about filling the void is what C.H. says in Reed of God, that the reed is empty and lives and desires to be filled with music, just as Mary lived and desired to be filled with the Holy Spirit and the Word Incarnate.
Monkagain on 01 Sep 2008 at 5:15 am
Thanks for the Merton quote re resting in God, or the presence of God -that sums it up.
We have an interdenominational list of about 410 members at Yahoo for monastic subjects , spirituality, contemplation, Jesus prayer, vocations, etc at http://groups.yahoo.com/group/monasterion
monk
MikeF on 01 Sep 2008 at 5:20 am
Thank you, Gabrielle – this is beautiful, one of my favourite bits of Merton. Thank you so much for reminding me!
C on 01 Sep 2008 at 9:37 am
A “resting in Him” or perhaps if we’re doin’ it right, His resting in us as well, because why else would the Desert Fathers and Mothers take off for lie (and perhaps even the Apostles and some on the hillsides wanted a way for Him to rest in them in their midst). The monastics perhaps didn’t exclusively seek the resting in Him, but rather, the Mutual –His also His resting in them.
I think this potential mutuality is why, tho’ they surely c/wouldn’t put it this way, the old ladies have no problem with praying their rosaries a quarter into the Mass, and it’s why we many have begged for silence or at least only instrumental music during and after Communion for a while — He loves to be so intimate with those He loves, and how can we become aware of it if we’re hearing/shouting Hosannas and hallelujahs? There at that moment of His made Ours, that may be the only quiet both we and He can arrange in this din of the world.
Wordless total surrender.. it’s Mutual, isn’t it? The wordless total surrender to love. We laypeople simply by virtue of love, owe Him the quiet that Our life together needs, so really, contemplation and even a monasticism that doesn’t set out to be intercessory (but can’t help but be that, eventually) can never be thought frivolous. Maybe I’m really fanciful, but in a way, His Eucharist — along with all else it accomplishes — means He won’t have had to wait 85 years to open and close doors where He Himself has lived since our baptism.
C on 01 Sep 2008 at 9:42 am
Sorry, that should be “take off for life” — I hate those typos that drastically alter a meaning; almost seems diabolical interference.
Pia on 01 Sep 2008 at 11:24 am
I don’t know why I never focussed on this, but at the beginning of the chapter in Conjectures, in which Merton describes it :”again, that expression “le point vierge”, there is the first mention of that concept, and it is of exceptional beauty and poetry. This is going to be a long comment, but please do, sit back and let it sink in!
“How the valley awakes. At 2:15 in the morning there are no sounds except in the monastery: the bells ring, the office begins. Outside, nothing, except perhaps a bullfrog saying “Om” in the creek…
The first chirps of the waking day birds mark the “point vierge” of the dawn under a sky as yet without real light, a moment of awe and inexpressible innocence, when the Father in perfect silence opens their eyes. They begin to speak to Him, not with fluent song, but with an awakening question that is their dawn state, their state at the “point vierge”. Their condition asks if it is time for them to “be”. He answers “yes”. Then, they one by one wake up and become birds. They manifest themselves, beginning to sing. Presently they will be fully themselves, and will even fly.
Meanwhile the most wonderful moment of the day is that when creation in its innocence asks permission to “be” once again, as it did on the first morning that ever was.
All wisdom seeks to collect and manifest itself at that blind sweet point. Man’s wisdom does not succeed, for we are fallen into self-mastery and cannot ask permission of anyone. We face our mornings as men of undaunted purpose. We know the time and we dictate terms. We are in a position to dictate terms, we suppose: we have a clock that proves we are right from the very start. We know what time is. We are in touch with the hidden inner laws. We will say in advance what kind of day it has to be. Then if necessary we will take steps to make it meet our requirements.
For the birds there is not a time that they tell, but the virgin point between darkness and light, between non being and being. (…)
So they wake: first the catbirds and cardinals and some that I do not know. Later the song sparrows and wrens. Last of all the doves and crows. The waking of crows is most like the waking of men: querelous, noisy, raw.
Here is an unspeakable secret: paradise is all around us and we do not understand. It is wide open. The sword is taken away, but we do not know it: we are off “one to his farm and another to his merchandise”. Lights on. Clocks ticking. Thermostats working. Stoves cooking. Electric shavers filling radios with static. “Wisdom” cries the dawn deacon, but we do not attend. “
CO on 01 Sep 2008 at 11:39 am
Beautiful, Pia. Being free to be..to be in Him.. is precisely why we must put lie to time and shoulds and expectations (at least inwardly). Love is all. So, to know that and yet to live in time and shoulds and expectations, is just more humble love. And even CO can think so, on a non-crabby day. : – ) It is also the means by which we are allowed to be tried–just as Christ’s humanity was.
Owen on 01 Sep 2008 at 4:23 pm
“It is also the means by which we are allowed to be tried–just as Christ’s humanity was.” An excellent thought CO. And with you and others I wish for silence or very quiet instrumental music at those junctures in the Mass also.
Owen on 01 Sep 2008 at 4:50 pm
Wanted to add that when I am drawing it not infrequently becomes a kind of silent meditation with thoughts and marvelling turning to Christ. Interestingly this happens whether I am drawing a quote unquote spiritual piece or not. It doesn’t always happen but I suspect that is something, a treasure, that could be developed with attentiveness and discipline.
Cathy on 01 Sep 2008 at 5:41 pm
Oh! to be silent…Not an easy task and for me “the babbling brook” even in prayer, I cannot seem to be quiet. I need to practice with discipline just as Owen says. But where to begin. I’m still not a good listener as the Good Lord can attest. I’m constantly adding my “two cents worth.” My deepest admiration for those who can…Thanks be to God.
CO on 02 Sep 2008 at 3:24 am
Owen, you’re right — a treasure; a drawing/painting/sculpting/etc is, after all, a Co-creation. I believe icon-writers are in a deep sense of meditation as they “write,” and I know that a friend prays for the person for whom she is creating a sculpture– things I really had never thought to do while creating something.
Perhaps that’s why He gives some folks gifts –because that is the verdant pasture He leads them to, a work in which they must ask others for and receive from them quiet– maybe He arranges for your resting in Him in a way He knows you’ll love, a work which will also benefit the recipient/customer.
Pia on 02 Sep 2008 at 4:20 am
I love cross stitch and I made a beautiful Our Lady of Lourdes for our pastor years ago (I also did it for my mom and for a couple of other people). The thought that occured most often to me was “let every stitch be a prayer for this person”.
Ann on 02 Sep 2008 at 10:38 am
Whether it’s Merton describing a listening of the heart as in Gabrielle’s choice, or birds waiting for the Master’s Yes that stirs them into song in Pia’s, it’s just so wonderful to contemplate the silence, to appreciate how deep it is, how rich, how it can be mined and yet it remains something no less attractive – in fact it becomes something much sought, and most treasured whenever and wherever we are fortunate enough to find it. And often it can indeed be when we are being creative, mind and heart united, gift and Giver in a ‘wordless surrender.’
Gabrielle on 03 Sep 2008 at 12:44 am
Pia, “an Ikebana kind of monk”! I love it!
That’s an insightful comparison you’ve drawn re the void and the reed; I don’t have the book nearby, but I think she spoke of other empty spaces, such as birds’ nests, and we often hear the analogy of being empty vessels, and of course I am recalling Ann’s last line in her poem “Sacred Silence”. It’s like the “shape” of a monk’s day, a monk’s life, is a particular kind of space waiting to be filled, as you and Merton have said.
Re the longer quote you have shared here, it is indeed a beautiful piece of writing and contemplative thought; I have read it many times before but still struggle with it. Perhaps the struggle is purely my own (and I couldn’t even begin to explain what I mean in the combox here), but I sense in it a bit of a struggle, or confusion, or a sorting out of something, on Merton’s part as well, because it seems to me in it he might also be still trying to come to terms with the soul versus the spirit, the pointe vierge in the soul and its relationship to “time”, the Divine Spark (eternal) versus “being” in time. In this passage he seems to equate the pointe vierge as a moment in time, but elsewhere it is described as the eternal, is it not. Anyway, I’m so glad you shared it here. It’s just so beautifully written. (and re your comment further down: “let every stitch be a prayer” – that is so lovely; it reminds me of Therese’s little way).
monk, thank you for dropping by and for sharing about your group; I was only able to take a quick look so far, but there appears to be many interesting links. I will be back!
Mike, you’re very welcome. I just picked up this book last year and have not read all of it yet, but have thoroughly enjoyed what I’ve read so far.
C, Yes, I’m sure the mutuality is always there, for in union how could it be otherwise? And maybe it’s also sometimes for one more than the other – our need to rest more in Him and His delighting in this, and sometimes His resting in us if we give Him comfort. The reasons, the particular exchanges, the graces given/received may vary, but surely it is always mutual…
Owen, I’m sure many of our priests would appreciate the quiet moments after Communion as well; I think it may be our Liturgy Committees and choirs we have to convince… Re your art time becoming periods of awareness and meditation, I understand completely, and CO summed it up very nicely; I was thinking of icon writers as well, but it can be just about any activity as we know so well from contemplative writers, whether it be knitting or peeling potatoes or gardening, etc. But I do believe there is an extra special pull/gift when there is something being created – or when we are meditating on another’s creation, or His creation…
Cathy, if you think the Lord may be calling you in this direction perhaps you could start with ten or fifteen minutes in the morning and again in the evening when you simply sit and allow yourself to be in His presence. Don’t be disturbed by your thoughts – just acknowledge their existence and let them go. Just give this time to the Lord on a daily basis without any mental or verbal prayer. You will likely find that the duration of time you give to this every day will increase, because you want it to increase… Another good way to begin a contemplative practice is with Lectio Divina, and there are many excellent resources for this online.
Ann, your comment reminds us that silence is not empty, is it; you say it can be mined, that it is rich – and do you know, St. Faustina said that silence is the language of God. Another spiritual paradox? Silence is the language of God. And if silence is mysteriously related to our creativity, no wonder, for what was begotten of the Father? The Word.
Carol on 03 Sep 2008 at 1:36 am
Looking back, I can’t imagine I’d do anything differently while creating a ladybug costume for one of the girls..the closest I came to praying while working was in making/painting artsy-craftsty things for sale at the Christmas bazaar. I knew that all the old ladies in town.. er, ALL of them.. would go to the Bazaar with little money but great hopes and easily pleased faces. It wasn’t Michelangelo they’d be elbowing anyone over.. and if there was enough of it, there’d be little to no elbowing. They all just wanted some treasure for the grandchildren. They were so delighted with the wares, they came back the next day in droves. It all sold out. I think I did pray over the items I’d helped to make. Thanks for reminding me of sweet times in the past.
Lately, silence has been even more at a premium than usual–it’s been weeks since it came and hung around for a bit except after 1:38 am, and right now, I can’t take neighbours who rat-a-tat-tat. It’s like turning on an old Gene Autrey movie at best, or Dirty Dozen or something at worst. Gossip, politics, way of the world, the past, the horrible future, rat-a-tat-tat. About a half hour after her host went to bed, I felt my genuine goodwill after dinner with the recluse whom my husband invited, melting away like a witch who stole some great red shoes. On one hand, I was delighted to be able to delight her. It’s a rare opportunity not granted to just anyone. I understood that the Lord had put us together tonight for some reason; I’ve noticed her aging.. But delight lasts a total of 2.5 hrs, then it becomes a nurse listening and trying to think of a remedy for life while fighting off dive-bombers carrying irritation ordnance, and then, it becomes the plastic smile of one who, no matter how good her intentions, has lost her good intentions. “Yes, it certainly IS getting late.. may I walk you home?” :-p I think this is why I like little critters so much; they have no machine-guns. (I know–I’m wordy here, but in your front room, you’d trip over me and ask your husband who the heck brought in the blond ottoman.)