Friday, July 31, 2009
Dangerous Meditation
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Toward the end of Thomas Merton's "Contemplative Prayer," there is a short and incredibly convicting chapter. Merton describes an approach to meditation that is merely a device for putting off true change, and is actually works to "confirm us in delusions and harden us against that fundamental awareness of our real condition, against the truth for which our hearts cry out in desperation."
How often does religion and "faith" work in this manner of a placebo pill, a feel-good effect to prevent me from true transformation? The work of the Spirit is uncomfortable, challenging and often painful, but brings about Christ-like change. Too often I try to mimic and copy what I think that should look like, producing my own preconceived effects that are not genuine, but close enough replicas that they can pass for the time being.
More from Merton:
"What we need is not a false peace which enables us to evade the implacable light of judgment, but the grace courageously to accept the bitter truth that is revealed to us; to abandon our inertia, our egoism and submit entirely to the demands of the Spirit, praying earnestly for help, and giving ourselves generously to every effort asked of us by God." (italics in original)
It is easy for me to forget that true discipleship is a hell-of-a-lotta work! I want it to be easy, to be simple and be finished with one prayer or one brief glance at a Psalm. But the work of the contemplative is work, and it is continuous. When the burning coal of desire is placed within our hearts, we can never be satisfied until we drink from the water of life. But if our desire is inauthentic and self-imposed, we will be satisfied with our own devices of religious satiation. Only an authentic and close-up encounter with God will create in our hearts the unending desire for God himself.
Otherwise, as Merton says, we will be "confirmed in the arrogance, the impenetrable self-assurance of the Pharisee. We will be come impervious to the deepest truths. We will be closed to all who do not particpate in our illusion. We will live 'good lives' that are basically inauthentic, 'good' only as long as they permit us to remain established in our respectable and impermeable identities. The 'goodness' of such lives depends on the security afforded by relative wealth, recreation, spiritual comfort, and a solid reputation for piety. Such 'goodness' is preserved by routine and the habitual avoidance of serious risk- indeed of serious challenge. In order to avoid apparaent evil, this pseudo-goodness will ignor the summons of genuine good. It will prefer routine duty to courage and creativity. in the end it will be content with established procedures and safe formulas, while turning a blind eye to the greatest enormities of injustice and uncharity."
I have rarely read a more convicting description than that. The challenge of true faith is one that calls me to abandon the safe, publicly sanctioned, religious life; and instead follow with unabated passion the call of Jesus Christ.
The final line of the chapter is a poignant challenge to those who are unwilling to reconsider the implications of the ancient faith in a new and changing world. Merton states, "Such are the routines of piety that sacrifice everything else in order to preserve the comforts of the past, however inadequate and however shameful they may be in the present...If necessary, it also fabricates condemnations and denunciations of those who risk new ideas and new solutions."
I resonate with the truth of Merton's words, and I marvel that they were written decades ago. And I'm left to consider my own inauthenticity, my own manipulation of God and faith for the purposes of my own self comfort and assurance, repenting of times when I have "misused the name of God." And I also read words that finally put clear language on the discomfort I feel with so much of the American church, and I am further convinced of the need to break out into new frontiers of courageous Christian faith, discovering new ideas and solutions.
Toward the end of Thomas Merton's "Contemplative Prayer," there is a short and incredibly convicting chapter. Merton describes an approach to meditation that is merely a device for putting off true change, and is actually works to "confirm us in delusions and harden us against that fundamental awareness of our real condition, against the truth for which our hearts cry out in desperation."
How often does religion and "faith" work in this manner of a placebo pill, a feel-good effect to prevent me from true transformation? The work of the Spirit is uncomfortable, challenging and often painful, but brings about Christ-like change. Too often I try to mimic and copy what I think that should look like, producing my own preconceived effects that are not genuine, but close enough replicas that they can pass for the time being.
More from Merton:
"What we need is not a false peace which enables us to evade the implacable light of judgment, but the grace courageously to accept the bitter truth that is revealed to us; to abandon our inertia, our egoism and submit entirely to the demands of the Spirit, praying earnestly for help, and giving ourselves generously to every effort asked of us by God." (italics in original)
It is easy for me to forget that true discipleship is a hell-of-a-lotta work! I want it to be easy, to be simple and be finished with one prayer or one brief glance at a Psalm. But the work of the contemplative is work, and it is continuous. When the burning coal of desire is placed within our hearts, we can never be satisfied until we drink from the water of life. But if our desire is inauthentic and self-imposed, we will be satisfied with our own devices of religious satiation. Only an authentic and close-up encounter with God will create in our hearts the unending desire for God himself.
Otherwise, as Merton says, we will be "confirmed in the arrogance, the impenetrable self-assurance of the Pharisee. We will be come impervious to the deepest truths. We will be closed to all who do not particpate in our illusion. We will live 'good lives' that are basically inauthentic, 'good' only as long as they permit us to remain established in our respectable and impermeable identities. The 'goodness' of such lives depends on the security afforded by relative wealth, recreation, spiritual comfort, and a solid reputation for piety. Such 'goodness' is preserved by routine and the habitual avoidance of serious risk- indeed of serious challenge. In order to avoid apparaent evil, this pseudo-goodness will ignor the summons of genuine good. It will prefer routine duty to courage and creativity. in the end it will be content with established procedures and safe formulas, while turning a blind eye to the greatest enormities of injustice and uncharity."
I have rarely read a more convicting description than that. The challenge of true faith is one that calls me to abandon the safe, publicly sanctioned, religious life; and instead follow with unabated passion the call of Jesus Christ.
The final line of the chapter is a poignant challenge to those who are unwilling to reconsider the implications of the ancient faith in a new and changing world. Merton states, "Such are the routines of piety that sacrifice everything else in order to preserve the comforts of the past, however inadequate and however shameful they may be in the present...If necessary, it also fabricates condemnations and denunciations of those who risk new ideas and new solutions."
I resonate with the truth of Merton's words, and I marvel that they were written decades ago. And I'm left to consider my own inauthenticity, my own manipulation of God and faith for the purposes of my own self comfort and assurance, repenting of times when I have "misused the name of God." And I also read words that finally put clear language on the discomfort I feel with so much of the American church, and I am further convinced of the need to break out into new frontiers of courageous Christian faith, discovering new ideas and solutions.
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