Some themes seem to recur in a lifetime of writing: in this case, sacramentality and Thomas Merton. The first means seeing the Creator’s imprint everywhere—not only some water and oil is holy; but all creation shines with divine presence. When everything is an icon of God, then as Carl McColman says, “life becomes a shimmering adventure.”
Reading When the Trees Say Nothing, a compilation of Thomas Merton’s writings on nature edited by Kathleen Deignan, I notice how he always starts with the concrete, then moves to the spiritual insight. For instance, “Crows swear pleasantly in the distance, and in the depths of my soul sits God.” A clunkier writer starts with the abstraction, giving us no basis to believe it: for instance, incessant yammering about “God loves you,” without solid proof. Despite years of fidelity to the Trappists, Merton could look larger than customary religious observance: “Watching birds was a food for meditation or a mystical reading. Perhaps better…”
Again, Merton first sets the stage in the specific: “seeing the multitude of stars above the bare branches of the wood, I was suddenly hit, as it were, with the whole package of meaning of everything: that the immense mercy of God was upon me, that the Lord in infinite kindness had looked down on me…” Human creatures who rely on our five senses, we are naturally sacramental: initially attracted by the scent of flowers or candles, the sound of a lovely hymn, the beauty of stained glass, the taste of bread and wine, the touch of hands at the exchange of a peace sign—all leading into the mysteries revealed in story and symbol.
Some may wonder what a monk living in a Kentucky hermitage, writing from the mid-40s ‘til the mid-60s might have to offer today. That’s where the imagination comes in, translating to our realities. Hearing quails whistling in a field after they’d been gone for weeks, Merton writes, “there they are! Signs of life, of gentleness, of helplessness, of providence, of love.”
It’s not too much of a stretch to see similar signs as parents drop off their children for the start of elementary school: adjusting backpacks, applying sunscreen to frail, exposed necks, checking “got your snack?,” turning trustingly to the teacher, giving the last goodbye hug. From the small and specific, we move to the vast wonders. No ego need intrude: observing deer, their “deerness” sacred and marvelous, Merton “saw again how perfect a situation this is, how real, how far beyond my need of comment or justification.”
“The deer reveals to me something essential in myself! Something beyond the trivialities of my everyday being and my individuality.” May we all see nature through such a broad, insightful, generous lens.
The Grace of Grandparenting
A Day of Prayer for those who Nurture
Led by Kathy Coffey
Let’s celebrate what grandparents do naturally—love the grandkids with God’s own free-from-judgment love, and mirror their beauty. We’ll explore the spirituality that underlies that miraculous process.
Oct. 21—9 to 3
$50 includes lunch
Villa Maria del Mar, Santa Cruz CA
To register: www.vmdm.retreatportal.com
More info: Sister Michelle, vmdm.retreats@snjmuson.org, 204-688-1785
Kathy Coffey 