Reflections On Thomas Merton On The 25th Anniversary of His Death

Cardozo School of Law
Reflections on Thomas Merton on the 25th Anniversary of His Death

Author(s): Frank J. Macchiarola
Source: Cardozo Studies in Law and Literature, Vol. 5, No. 2 (Autumn, 1993), pp. 265-280
Published by: Taylor & Francis, Ltd. on behalf of Cardozo School of Law
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Reflectionson
on
the
Thomas Merton
25th
Anniversaryof
Death
His
Frank
J. Macchiarola
It was almost 25 years ago, and I was in graduate school at

Columbia University when the news of Thomas Merton's death
came. It was December during Advent; I was living on campus, and
the event caused me to reflect in a special and particular way. For
while I had no direct connection to Merton, the relationship of each
of us to Columbia was a significant one. His words in The Seven
Storey Mountain about the University which we both appreciated had
always struck me as so accurate. "Poor Columbia! It was founded by
sincere Protestants as a college predominately religious. The only
thing that remains of that is the University motto: In lumine tuo
videbimus lumen - one of the deepest and most beautiful lines of
the psalms: 'In Thy light, we shall see light.' It is, precisely, about
grace. It is a line that might serve as the foundation stone of all
Christian and Scholastic learning, and which simply has nothing
whatever to do with the standards of education at modern Columbia."'
I had come to Columbia with an undergraduate degree from
St. Francis College in Brooklyn in 1962 and remained as a student
until 1970, earning both a law degree and a doctorate. I later joined
both its faculty and its administration in an off and on relationship
of almost 30 years. And I always could sum up Columbia University
and my relationship to it in a simple way: You can give Columbia
your head, you can never give it your heart. I owe a debt to Columbia
University that I will never be able to repay, but I can only owe it
for a part of the light that I came to see. Columbia could properly
extol its academic excellence, but it could not in any general way
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claim care, compassion, or indeed, love as a university virtue.

Thomas Merton, in words written before I arrived, had warned me
of what to expect at Columbia University.
Again in The Seven Storey Mountain, Merton placed into a
true perspective aspects of my learning that I would never acquire in
the university course of study. He says: "The life of the soul is not
knowledge, it is love, since love is the act of the supreme faculty, the
will, by which man is formally united to the final end of all his
strivings - by which man becomes one with God." 2 There was
none of this at Columbia and so I had to learn almost from the very
beginning that my learning at the University would have to be
complemented by another set of understandings. For if I became
totally consumed with my academic studies, I would not learn what
I needed to lead a fully learned life.
I have strong remembrances of my days as a Resident Assistant for Columbia College undergraduates in Carman (then New)
Hall. Columbia College had recently begun to enroll undergraduates
from Catholic prep schools in significant numbers, and many of the
freshmen had felt assaulted by their course of study in Contemporary
Civilization - the college's first year core course - and by Teaching Assistants who often held their religious beliefs up to rational
analysis. My fellow Resident Assistants sent the students to me. My
recourse was a simple one. I reminded them that Columbia College
could only give part of the story of reality, and that in the scholarly
world that was theirs, there would be a void that could not be filled
by the University. I suggested that, while they could preserve their
beliefs, their faith itself would change over time, and that change was
not such a bad thing. I told them that the relationship between what
they would learn and what they would become was not in Columbia
University's hands. Finally, if that famous Trappist monk Thomas
Merton could find his faith at Columbia, I saw no reason why they
should lose theirs at the same place.
I am a product of the early 60's, shaped before the Vietnam
War and the campus outbursts. With President Kennedy's election,
which I worked for in my first political activity, Catholics came of
age in America, and with President Johnson's election, it seemed that
we would - in political terms - address virtually all of the nation's
needs. But Vietnam intervened, and the war protests and campus
riots assaulted our national political and educational authority in
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ways from which they have yet to emerge. The success of the political
system which we expected in triumphal books like Daniel Bell's End
of Ideology was on the brink of arriving but never came. And in the
search for meaning in life, which began to intensify in the 70's and
beyond, the course of study at Columbia University has become even
less important to addressing the needs of the world and of its
students.
As time has passed since Merton's death it seems more and
more understood that universities are less and less effective in giving
students a sense of real meaning for their lives. Tragically, studies
have become so diluted that it is probably more usual for university
students to speculate about the future than to study about the past.
There is even less that feeds the soul, for the practical arts have
displaced liberal arts in so many ways. We seem hard pressed to
explain to young people that a job is less important than doing the
job well. A line in that wonderful movie Mame seems to sum it up
best. While extolling life in terms I am sure would amuse Merton,
Auntie Mame tells her nephew, "Life is a banquet, and most poor
suckers are starving to death."4
As we approach this 25th anniversary of Thomas Merton's
I
death, am writing from a Trappist Monastery at Spencer, Massachusetts where, in a week of reflection, I have tried to relate the
monk's world to the world in which I live. And as the University and
its message seems to fade, Merton's message remains even louder
today, and I know that he has much to offer to the modern soul. In
this essay, I will try to explain Thomas Merton's influence on me as
I have traveled along my own path, participating often in public life,
and retreating just as often to life in the University. At the same time
I have tried to define myself not by the positions I have held, but
rather by the work I have done and the beliefs by which I have tried
to live. In helping me to understand and to be reconciled with that,
I have relied on Thomas Merton's advice. I say this knowing fully
that I could never hope to grasp what Thomas Merton says. I have
only the capacity to talk and write about what I have heard him say.
And indeed, very often, one hears a much more friendly word than
that which is spoken, particularly when there is such a fondness for
the speaker, and the desire for his approval. In this way, Merton's
words are deeply personal and also particular.
The first lesson has been one that has influenced my ap-
proach to the formal fields of study within the University, where

many of my colleagues seem to escape more and more within their
particular specialties. We seem to have forgotten that the Doctor of
Philosophy degree is a common one and that subject matter expertise
is meant to inform a larger reality. But the language of academic
specialization is inwardly focused and what should be a usual practice
within scholarship - of relating particular knowledge to larger
importances - does not occur. Instead of seeing common themes or
values as essential, or common questions as critical, our academic
institutions address these larger issues through well established and
traditional academic disciplines and departments. For students, it
means that literary meaning is taught only by English professors, not
by other scholars. Art and music are fine arts specialties although the
influence of these subjects on modern society would suggest a significant role for more than the expert. When one looks only to
academic experts in a particular field to inform us as to the power of
words or the value of beauty, we have unduly restricted our own
capacity to give fuller appreciation to many important aspects of life.
By leaving the important common questions to the specialists we
create a more barren life for our students. In the students' own
environment they see little role for aesthetics, they excuse a lack of
historical perspective because they have not taken a history course,
and the value of intelligent understanding of some basic issues is left
only to the academic specialist. This circumstance has some important effects on things like law review articles which are judged by
strictly "legal" standards. Thus, it does not really matter that they
are unreadable. And it means that some very important issues to the
world at large can be ignored by the University.
The academy has recognized this problem in some important ways. It has noticed huge gaps between academic specialties in
different and related areas and a lack of attention to more important
questions. Its solution has been "interdisciplinary studies." Interdisciplinary studies suggest that scholarly work has a secondary level of
importance as well. Its primary level is for those few colleagues
engaged in the specialty. Almost as an afterthought there is a secondary relationship, one to outsiders as well. But while interdisciplinary work is spoken of in positive terms, it is really only done so as
a courtesy. When a scholar's work is understood and appreciated by
experts from other disciplines, there is frequently a high cost paid by
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the scholar. The work is seen as less important than the work of the
"expert." The more a work is appreciated by many, the greater the
risk that it is seen as "not serious." In the academic world we rarely,
if ever, speak with one another, and so the interdisciplinarian is given
less prominence than deserved. As a result of this, important questions are relegated to places behind trivial questions. Students within
the University community are taught not to question the circumstance and as a result see the University as the place where esoteric
or abstract matters predominate.
I remember that during my tenure as President of the Acadof
Political
Science, a scholarly organization consisting of about
emy
9,000 members which publishes the Political Science Quarterly, I had
a difficult time with a professor of economics who was editing an
edition of the Proceedings of the Academy of Political Science for us.
Economic models, which often prize efficiency as the ultimate value,
are tilted toward privatization of most production of goods and
services. Experience with public sector delivery systems has convinced them that - in the main - private enterprise works more
efficiently. While economists might be prone to one camp, political
scientists are hardly in agreement. To them efficiency values are not
all that persuasive. It took a great deal of effort to convince our editor
that a more inclusive approach, one which challenged his reality, was
a responsibility of the Academy. It was a revealing exchange for me,
since it brought home the incompleteness of any discipline to lay
claim to the truth. Indeed, it is impossible to surrender truth to the
training and education in a particular academic discipline. An aspect
of truth - sometimes a most important aspect - rests in the one
person who lives with the consequence of anyone else's understanding of what that truth means. It is so very clear to one who has
a vision of the importance of a person's soul - something critical to
Merton. It is so hidden to one who feels that the importance rests in
the hands of those who claim care for that soul.
In terms of theology, an academic discipline important to
him, many of Merton's insights were not drawn from his formal
study of theology in the seminary. He found seminary training
boring and it apparently did not significantly influence the theological system that Merton developed. In his "Introduction" to Thomas
Merton: SpiritualMaster,5 Lawrence Cunningham sees Merton as an
important theologian, notwithstanding the fact that his works reflect
S269
a theology different than the kind he was formally taught. He says:

"When we describe Thomas Merton as a theologian we must retrieve
an older and somewhat parallel tradition of theology which derives
from the monastic milieu: theology as discourse about the experience
of God's presence, love, and right to praise. That understanding of
theology might be summed up in a phrase made famous by an early
monastic writer, Evagrius of Pontus (346-399), which Merton frequently cited: "The theologian is the person who prays; the person
who prays is truly a theologian."6
Even in his choice of a teacher, Evagrius Ponticus, Merton
chose a scholar who was very much like himself. During his lifetime,
Evagrius's "very popularity made him vulnerable to criticism." His
disciples were persecuted by the ecclesiastical authority, and Evagrius
himself was condemned in 553 at the Council of Chalcedon. His
importance has only lately been recognized by those whose sense of
religious meaning draws heavily upon the existential. He stands as
an important sign that authority in the early Church resisted experience as a source of theological insight.
Merton's view of theology is threatening to those who are
"in charge," for Merton gives to the person experiencing God a claim
to define God as well. It is something better understood in the era
of Post Vatican II, but Merton gave it a meaning in ideas that
emerged in his work before, and more explicitly after, the Council.
In the development of his own sense of the spiritual, Merton exhorts
the Christian believer to be more explicit about what faith in one's
life actually means, not in static terms, but in terms of living life.
There is no need to surrender to others the task of describing the role
that God plays in one's life - it is experienced. For a Christian who
understands that message, people sent into one's life who require
assistance are, in many ways, gifts from God. They are not to be
judged. Rather they challenge one's capacity to give love by their
willingness to receive it, and not by the giver's ability to define it and
limit it. Thus, the teacher acquires the capacity to teach both by the
student's need as well as by the subject matter that the teacher has
learned.
I have come to believe that students who come to my classes
have reason to believe that I am in a position of teaching authority
only in part on account of my formal preparation. My position as
Professor is also a matter of my choice, arrived at only in part because
I know the subject matter. I also have a disposition to teach and have
acted on that disposition to assume a professorship. My role is not
just to teach. I am obliged to help students acquire learning, and that
learning is not bound by subject matter. And when I teach my
students the law, I do not simply instruct in the science of law. I
teach them that they must develop their own sense of law - that the
law must live in them. The power of the law is beautifully expressed
in Psalm 118. A portion of it, relevant for this precise point, reads:
Lord, how I love your law!
It is ever in my mind.
Your command makes me wiser than my foes;
for it is mine for ever.
I have more insight than all who teach me
for I ponder your will
I have more understanding than the old
for I keep your precepts.
I turn my feet from evil paths
to obey your word
I have not turned from your decrees;
you yourself have taught me8
And the discovery of what that law is all about requires that
we live our life by experiencing and by heeding that experience. As
Merton tells us in Thoughts in Solitude: "The solution of the problem
of life is life itself. Life is not attained by reasoning and analysis, but
first of all by living. For until we have begun to live our prudence
has no material to work on. And until we have begun to fail we have
no way of working out our success."' This is an enormously human
and basically spiritual exercise that Merton challenges us to undertake. In his own life, as he grew in his understanding of himself and
of his faith, Merton exhausted possibilities in seeking to enjoy and perhaps overcome - life. His autobiographical works are powerful expositions of a man in search and the reader is drawn into the
exercise with all senses involved. His writing displays enormous
courage as he explains himself in the tradition of St. Augustine.
Indeed, he joins Cardinal Newman as an important Catholic thinker
engaged with his reader, trying to grasp meaning in life. No one can
read him seriously without wishing to share him with others. And if
=271
it cannot be done directly, it can be done indirectly.

I try to get my students to understand themselves, and the
is theirs. I start with a premise that is for me virtually
that
power
self-evident, and for many others a seemingly impenetrable mystery.
I start with the belief that they are loved by God. I think that if the
notion of God were understood, it would be impossible to get anyone
to bet against the Creator's love. And so I must admit, I start out
with a faith in students that is often beyond their ken. Preaching to
them will not do it. God is for them to discover, not for me to deliver.
College students who worry about their "loss of faith" are told by me
that we cannot reason to belief. I tell them to let God find them.
After all, the chances of God's discovery of them are much greater
than their own chance of discovering God. And the discovery of God
will come to those open to it.
At the same time, there are many ways that students can be
helped, regardless of what they come to believe. I try to get them to
understand the good that is in their lives. There is such a tremendous
sense of unhappiness with oneself that is so often experienced by
students and colleagues who know every one of their faults and
overlook so many of their virtues. For all their sophistication and
academic achievement, it is incredible to me that so many students
of mine fail to understand how beautiful they are and the power that
they have to do good in their lives. I have often said, and truly
believe, that through the doors of my office and classroom come
wonderful women and men who face as their most threatening
adversary the unreal and incomplete understanding of who they are.
It is a great joy to witness their understanding of how good they truly
are. It is always a greater joy for me to see them develop under our
care as competent lawyers and to feel the power that their knowledge
gained with us brings. But it is sad to see how many simply do not
accept the challenge of discovering themselves and working on what
that discovery challenges them to be. It is sad to see so many accept
less than is theirs to have. It is the optimism of Merton, in the face
of discouragement, and the capacity to prosper in so much adversity
and torment, that inspires - that is a source of encouragement even
in the face of disappointment. I believe that in many respects we
suffer from a fear which stops us from pursuing that which is within
us. The consequence of discovering one's self is that we are faced
with a further challenge: What do we do about it? Too often we are
unsure of what that means for us.

I am struck by how often students are content to have goals
defined for them by others. While I understand ceding to experts the
choice of a course in which to enroll, I find it incredible that experts
are relied upon to define "the right job" after graduation. Many
graduates compete for "choice" jobs that are only "choice" to them
because others are in pursuit of the same job. This is not a trait of
students alone. Indeed, many of my colleagues live their lives seeking
an approval from others - senior colleagues from more distinguished institutions - as a way of being certain of their own
academic capacity. In the drive for success they are willing to put the
determination of their worth in the hands of others - but by doing
so, they create false gods. If they succeed, too many become arrogant,
and if they fail, too many become despondent. It is incredible to see
it among experienced colleagues, and it is easy for me to see why
students are also easy prey for the false god of "the right job."
In my conversations with students at every institution in
which I have taught, I have found almost all with whom I have
discussed the matter of "the right job" grateful to have had the
conversation about the meaning of success and the role they must
play in defining and discovering their own. Merton's observation of
the importance of courage in life, which is a constant theme in his
work, is a guide to press forward to have students confront the beliefs
that have been proposed to them; the values that have been offered
as solutions to their needs. The "best" thing about "the right job" is
often the obtaining of it. Not because it is good for us, but because
others want it. This notion, so prevalent in our society today, is seen
by Merton as an act of selfish greed. False gods, offered to us by
others, should not be accepted. They must be examined critically to
see if they offer a way of sustaining us in a life of fulfillment. Students
need to know that "the right job" is the right job for them. And the
task of finding out what that job is cannot be delegated to others.
The subject of deflating false gods is not an easy one to
undertake. And in this regard I must confess that I have been drawn
reluctantly to it. For many years, I was hesitant to go beyond the
subject matter of the course syllabus. In fact, I rarely deviate from
that practice in the classroom. But I have come to appreciate that my
students respect me, not only for how I teach my subject, but for
how I live its meaning as well. They respect me further when I
challenge them to consider what they themselves are about. After all,
the course of study we offer is more than the sum total of all of the
courses a student takes.
This has been especially important for me at Cardozo, where
the mission of the University really invites this kind of perspective.
Here, we offer students the community sense of our faculty and our
University, which while officially sponsoring a non-sectarian law
school, is also deeply committed to the traditions of Jewish Orthodoxy. Their degrees attest to the knowledge common to the law
degree, and we are joined to them forever in the process of our
educating new lawyers, and their practice of law with our degree.
We have a right to expect that our graduates will continue
to practice law with us in mind. For Merton, and I must confess for
myself as well, there is the expectation that graduates and students
will be virtuous women and men. In The Seven Storey Mountain,
Merton says that: "Everybody makes fun of virtue, which now has,
as its primary meaning, an affectation of prudery practiced by hypocrites and the impotent."'o
We seem to expect our civic leaders to mislead us, and to
practice the kind of politics that has them principled in whimsy
alone. We expect our lawyers to win, not just to represent us capably.
But Merton refuses to concede on the necessity of virtue, "without
which there can be no happiness, because virtues are precisely the
powers by which we can come to acquire happiness: without them
there can be no joy, because they are the habits which coordinate and
canalize our natural energies and direct them to the harmony and
perfection and balance, the unity of our nature with itself and with
God, which must, in the end, constitute our everlasting peace.""
The order of the universe, through which so many see the
basis for their belief in God, is given a personal meaning by Merton.
He sees the individual as needing the virtue and the harmony that
come with the order of the universe. Further, man must live a life of
virtue and harmony within the confines of the community. Again,
in The Seven Storey Mountain, Merton speaks of a community theme
that he will later define in more political terms: "God has willed that
we should all depend on one another for our salvation, and all strive
together for our own mutual good and our own common salvation."12
In later years, he would develop the beliefs so that his message would
make him a more controversial figure. In Lawrence Cunningham's
-274m
"Introduction" to Thomas Merton: Spiritual Master, he describes the

themes that would characterize Merton's message. He declares that,
"Against that trend (of a Catholic church 'brimming with that
self-confidence that was part of the "American century" so confidently trumpeted by the publications of Henry Luce'), Merton
preached a quite different gospel of prophetic resistance to worldly
values, an affirmation of ascetisicm, the necessity of contemplation,
and a disdain for the consumerism of the booming middle class
culture of the post-war period."'3
It is this counter-cultural role that Merton plays that makes
him so valuable in the present day world of the University. Here
again, students hear messages that are directed to them about their
happiness. In more political terms, Merton turned his wrath upon
racism, nuclear weapons, and cultural superiority. But his answers
were not such easy ones, for in his own action in each of the
movements with which he was involved, Merton was basically a
thinker. He was someone whose action was slow - if ever - in
coming. He was reluctant to give answers that were too simple. In
Contemplation in a World ofAction, he says: "What is the relation of
this [meditation] to action? Simply this: He who attempts to act and
do things for others or for the world without deepening his own
self-understanding, freedom, integrity and capacity to love, will not
have anything to give others. He will communicate to them nothing
but the contagion of his own obsessions, his aggressiveness, his
ego-centered ambitions, his delusions about ends and means, his
doctrinaire prejudices and ideas. There is nothing more tragic in the
modern world than the misuse of power and action to which men are
driven by their own Faustian misunderstandings and misapprehensions. We have more power at our disposal today than we have ever
had, and yet we are more alienated and estranged from the inner
ground of meaning and of love than we have ever been. The result
of this is evident. We are living through the greatest crisis in the
history of man; and this crisis is centered precisely in the country
that has made a fetish out of action and has lost (or perhaps never
had) the sense of contemplation. Far from being irrelevant, prayer,
meditation and contemplation are of the utmost importance in
America today."'4
But even in the framing of the question, Merton emphasizes
the need for a basic harmony in approach. In "The Inner Experience"
-275
Merton writes: "The first thing that you have to do, before you start
thinking about such a thing as contemplation, is to try to recover
your basic natural unity, to reintegrate your compartmentalized
being into a coordinated and simple whole, and learn to live as a
unified human person.""
The challenge of deciding who you are, before setting down
a path, is to see the way in which your life can continue in harmony,
so that your actions are consistent and proceed around your own
sense of things. Merton offers a very important approach, that of
thinking hard about what you are about, and using that understanding to inform your action; the lessons for teachers and students
are clear from that. Such an understanding of self prepares others for
what you are about. Values then proceed from action, values can be
appreciated and understood by those who are attentive. In any
situation involving the interaction of students and teachers, predictable behavior is a treasured commodity. The way the teacher prepares
lessons, engages students, respects their work and deals with both
success and failure in the classroom should be predictable. Students
should know what to expect from their teachers. And the exchange
is often reciprocal - students know how to trust teachers who deal
forthrightly with them. The matter is not accidental, and in classes
where harmony is at work, the class as an entity has a life of its own.
It is more than the sum total of the enrolled members of the class.
But the process is not just one of interaction. For the
products of the lessons are better ones because they reflect the
creative force and power of many. The most powerful aspect of all
of this is that there is a process at work that leads beyond consideration of the subject matter. In the teaching of law, if an understanding
of justice permeates the way in which the subject is taught, it must
affect the analysis as well. If students know not just from reading law,
but from learning in a setting that respects the subject and the
participants, the product of that enterprise is a better one. Simply
put, if all students are respected - and issues of race or gender, for
example, do not diminish total respect - then the study of law will
be respectful of the subjects of law as well. If students acquire that
sense of respect by being encouraged to think about who they are to reflect and meditate not as a project, but as an essential aspect of
their own development - the results will be better justice in the law.
This is not the place to discuss in depth the structure of legal
education and how the kind of teaching found in law schools has
helped foster the low esteem within which the law is held in modern
society. Suffice to say, a great deal of our difficulty stems from how
we teach, and what we encourage students to seek from the law. The
product of so much of what we produce under the current system is
a large number of very wealthy, but very unhappy, lawyers.
There is a selection from Merton that reminds me of how
much we are away from values that we ought to better respect. In
Seeds of Contemplation he says: "the ritual that surrounds money
transactions, the whole liturgy of marketing and of profit is basically
void of reality and meaning. Yet we treat it as the final reality, the
absolute meaning, in the light of which everything else is to be
judged."'6
There is one further aspect of Merton that continues to
intrigue me. It is the matter of how effectively he contained himself
even after coming to certain understandings. In the matters of both
state and church he held himself in check, notwithstanding some
strong feelings. In terms of the state and the citizenship role of the
religious person, Merton is quite emphatic in urging political activity. In his work on Mahatma Gandhi, whom he admired greatly,
Merton wrote: "I could not be leading a religious life unless I
identified myself with the whole of mankind, and that I could not
do unless I took part in politics. The whole gamut of man's activities
today constitutes an indivisible whole. You cannot divide social,
economic, political and purely religious work into watertight compartments."17
It is a view with which I am in painful agreement - painful

as a participant in a political process that was, for me, when I engaged
in it, entirely too mean spirited. As a candidate for public office,'" I
saw how frustrating it was to get citizen attention to the important
issues. Instead, the public - thanks in large part to the media and
the limited availability of campaign financing - was treated to an
election based on non-issues and personalities. Although discouraged
by the process, I continue an involvement with political matters,
trying to do what is right - struggling first to define it and then to
implement it. Ever at risk is my reputation - to say nothing of my
sanity. And yet it is a duty I continue to have, a duty strongly
encouraged by Merton.
Finally, for me there is the matter of the Church that I love,
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and which so often has the capacity to inflict pain at almost every
level of its activity. Anthony Padovano's beautiful treatment of
Merton's life, The Human Journey," shows how a man who loved his
faith could be so understanding of its faults in the face of personal
agony, and still remain so committed to its work. He cites Merton's
interview with Thomas P. McDowell in which Merton says, "There
can be no question that the great crisis in the Church today is the
crisis of authority brought on by the fact that the Church, as institution and organization, has in fact usurped the place of the Church
as a community of persons united in love and in Christ... Love is
equated with obedience and conformity within the framework of an
impersonal corporation. The Church is preached as a communion,
but is seen in fact as a collectivity, and even as a totalitarian
collectivity. "20
The crisis Merton refers to in 1967 continues as the crisis
of 1993, and 25 years after Merton's death the issue remains for the
many faithful bearing the cross that is Church. And yet, to focus on
this is also a distraction. For those who desire to exert control from
positions of authority are not just common to Church. As Padovano
noted: "In parenting, or political life, in academic or ecclesiastical
circles, there emerges a personality that identifies truth with discomfort, grace with suffering, loyalty with submission. Such personalities
are threatened by people who live life with relative ease and a degree
of freedom, with success won not from effort, but from a serenity
and creativity that transcend all systems."21
At first blush, it should seem ironic that with the fall of the
Soviet Union and the Communist Party, so many political operatives
have reemerged to occupy leadership positions in the new governments that followed the overthrow. But it is not really so ironic. For
as Merton reminds us, the human being remains a critical unit of
society, not only with political alliances or social attachments but
with a soul that informs action. And all too often it is an incomplete
soul who rises to power, one who needs to exert force upon others,
and who is unwilling to trust in the basic decency of others to manage
their own important affairs. They are there whether the nation is
called the Soviet Union or Russia. They are there with respected
titles. And in the hierarchy of the Church, there are still too many
in positions of authority who are unable to manifest faith in the
people to define Church - to be Church - in ways that satisfy
them.
It is fitting that 25 years after Merton's death, a struggle goes
on so that change will come by seeking truth with questions of larger
meaning, by seeking faith in searching one's soul, and by being
hopeful in the face of so much evidence for despair. It is a struggle
that many wage in Merton's way. It is reassuring to know that on the
25th Anniversary we can commemorate his death with an affirmation
of life.
Thomas Merton (1915-1968), a convert to Catholicism, was a Trappist monk from 1941
until his accidental death in Asia in 1968. A prolific writer and self-described Christian
existentialist, his work continues to have aprofound effect upon thoseseekingprophetic insight
into worldly values. His contemplative life in the monastery would seem to have taken him
out of the world,yet his writings show a deep understanding of the world and of the difficulties
faced by those who live in it. His writings have become increasinglypopular since his death
25 years ago.
1. Thomas Merton, The Seven Storey Mountain (New York: Harcourt Brace, 1948), p.
177.
2. Id., at 191.
3. Daniel Bell, The End of deology (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1988).
4. Jerome Lawrence & Robert E. Lee, Auntie Mame, Acting Edition (New York: Dramatists Play Service, 1990).
5. Thomas Merton, Thomas Merton: The Spiritual Master: The Essential Writings,
Lawrence Cunningham, ed. (New York: Paulist Press, 1992), p. 30.
6. Id.
7. Abbot John Eudes Bamberger, "Desert Calm: Evagrius Ponticus, The Theologian as
Spritual Guide," 27 Cistercian Studies Quarterly 185, 187 (1992).
8. See Psalm 118:97-102, in The Psalms:A New Translationfrom the Hebrew Arrangedfor
Singing to the Psalmody ofJoseph Gelineau (New York: Paulist Press, 1966), p. 213.
9. Thomas Merton, Thoughts in Solitude (New York: Noonday Press, 1956), p. 78.
10. See Merton, Mountain, supra note 1 at 204.
11. Id., at 204.
12. Id., at 177-178
13. See Cunningham, "Introduction" to SpiritualMaster, supra note 5 at 19-20.
14. Thomas Merton, Contemplation in A World ofAction (New York: Doubleday, 1971),
p.164.
279m
15. Thomas Merton, "The Inner Experience," as found in Spiritual Master, supra note 5
at 295.
16. See Thomas Merton, Seeds of Contemplation (New York: New Directions, 1949), p.
24, as found in Anthony T. Padovano, The Human Journey: ThomasMerton: Symbol of a
Century (New York: Doubleday, 1984), p. 126.
17. Thomas Merton, ed., Gandhi on Non Violence (New York: New Directions, 1965),
p. 64.
18. The 1989 Democratic Party primary for New York City Comptroller.
19. See Padovano, supra note 16.
20. SeeThomas P. McDowell, "An Interview with Thomas Merton," 28 Motive41 (1967),
cited in Padovano, supra note 16 at 48.
21. Padovano, supra note 16 at 89.
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Reflections On Thomas Merton On The 25th Anniversary of His Death

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Cardozo School of Law

Reflections on Thomas Merton on the 25th Anniversary of His Death

It was almost 25 years ago, and I was in graduate school at

claim care, compassion, or indeed, love as a university virtue.

proach to the formal fields of study within the University, where

a theology different than the kind he was formally taught. He says:

it cannot be done directly, it can be done indirectly.

unsure of what that means for us.

"Introduction" to Thomas Merton: Spiritual Master, he describes the

It is a view with which I am in painful agreement - painful

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