|
Reading journal entries from Thomas Merton (1915-1968), I feel within, again, my love for solitude. I often think that there would have been a very good chance that I would have been a monk, had I been born into a Catholic family. Rather, I was born into a Southern Baptist family. Later, I became a United Methodist, and am serving in that communion as a member of the clergy.
I have become, as much by fate as by choice, it seems, a monk in the world. Personality helped dictate this journey of solitude. Early in life, I evidenced marked shyness—which my calling to ordained ministry helped me largely overcome later—, and this became accompanied later by mild depression. Likewise, I was born into a small rural, farming community, and lived largely isolated from more populated areas. And, working on the farm entailed many hours of being alone or working only with family.
As a single, divorced man, I still struggle between desire to experience marriage again and desire to devote myself to this oddity of a Protestant, celebite monk in the world life. Even in this, I find solitude somewhat a fate. After all, there are few clergy persons who live a contemplative life, and few Christians, as well as persons, who live this life. Therefore, to live as a monk in the world in this culture heightens the sense of aloneness and feeling different vocationally and personally. To live such a life in our culture takes perseverance and courage. And, yes, the contemplative grows to integrate the outer, or active, life into a more mature embrace. However, the solitude is essential, even an inner solitude which the contemplative takes into the active life.
Merton writes, in February 17, 1966, of the tension of the contemplative living a life of solitude:
There are moments of great loneliness and lostness in this solitude, but often then come other, deeper moments of hope and understanding, and I realize that these would not be possible in their purity, their simple, secret directions anywhere but in solitude. I hope to be worthy of them. (A Year with Thomas Merton, Ed. Jonathan Montaldo)
At this point in my life, I can verify the witness of Merton. There is a marked experience of kenosis, or self-emptying, in the life of solitude. This is because solitude is the manifestation of a disowning of all things, even oneself. The life of the monk in the world, or the monk in the monastery, is a prophetic statement for kenosis, and it is a denouncement of the grasping life that characterizes modern Western culture: and much of the church, too.
|
|
However, as Merton observes, the felt emptiness, even aloneness, is the kenosis which makes possible pleroma, or fullness. All great mystical paths teach this. Such universality indicates the truth of this movement from emptying to being filled, from lostness to being found, and from self to God.
Rumi invites us to this solitude of lovemaking with the Divine. From the solitude of lovemaking, we love the world, and we take into the world an inner solitude that offers peace and reconciliation to others, and healing for all creation:
At night, I open the window and ask
The moon to come and press its
Face against mine.
Breathe into me. Close
The language-door and open the love-window.
The moon won’t use the door,
Only the window.
(Rumi: The Book of Love, Trans. Coleman Barks)
Reflections
How do you practice the spiritual exercise of solitude?
What is the relationship between silence and solitude?
What reasonable changes could you make in your life to enjoy more solitude for spiritual devotion?
Spiritual Exercise
Make sure you have a sacred space in your home for time alone in prayer and spiritual reading.
Make sure you are in a covenant group. For more information on covenant groups, write me at the address below.
Consider, if you are not already, sponsoring a child through Compassion International. You can find out more about Compassion International by going to www.compassion.net to read about sponsoring, in the name of Jesus, children living in poverty. Thanks! Brian K. Wilcox
Brian’s book An Ache For Union can be purchased at major book dealers.
To contact Brian, write briankwilcox@comcast.net .
|
