Jesse A. Schroeder

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From the weekly reflection from the Thomas Merton Institute: 

There is no true solitude except interior solitude. And interior solitude is not possible for anyone who does not accept his right place in relation to other men. There is no true peace possible for the man who still imagines that some accident of talent or grace or virtue segregates him from other men and places him above them. Solitude is not segregation...God does not give us graces or talents or virtues for ourselves alone. We are members one of another and everything that is given to one member is given for the whole body. (Thomas Merton. New Seeds of Contemplation)

Finding myself in solitude leads to finding myself amongst other people, amongst community, within experiences of service and leadership. Solitude leads me to ministry, of the truest sense. Ministry that is not self-serving and self-aggrandizing, but ministry that is for the betterment of the Other, whomever the other might be.

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I receive a quote from Thomas Merton periodically in emails. I felt that today's quote was profound and challenging. 

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Taking advantage of the relatively warm evening, I went for a walk with Sobe tonight. We went through the neighborhood and over to Gantz Park which has recently been renovated with a beautiful new labyrinth (pic on the left is from earlier this year). 

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I struggle with making big decisions. I am plagued by a desire to do it all. So I dream big, but I dream different every day, and I usually end up not doing anything. I forget my day-to-day dreams, and I simply continue with life as commonplace.

One reason I hesitate to follow any one particular dream is because to do so would mean that I could not follow my other dreams. This is one reason why I struggled to decide upon a Master's program for several years. If I chose theology, I couldn't also do international studies or social work, and vice versa. You can quickly see how silly this logic is. Wouldn't it be better to do at lay one thing you want, rather than nothing?

But in reality, I go around in circles in my head, and end up just where I started. I want to do it all, but I feel like I end up doing nothing.

Right now I'm thinking about choices I have to make for the summer, for potential trips, choices about what classes to take, what field placement I would like, and what I want my professional career to look like. I feel burdened by these choices. I want to do it all!

In times like these, I try to remember what my special director reminded me, that every yes is a no to everything else. Every decision to do one thing is necessarily a decision not to do everything else.

I want to choose a path. I want to feel confident about out, to be excited and energized and passionate about my future. I don't want to feel haunted by the "no's" - instead I want to believe in my "yes."

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Based on the recommendation of a friend, I picked up the book "Without Buddha I would not be a Christian" by Paul Knitter. I started reading it this morning while I waited for an oil change on my car. In the preface, he makes a bold statement:

"I have realized that these two sources..." meaning Christian theology and human experience "haven't sufficiently equipped me to grapple with the kinds of disconcerting and destabilizing questions...about the nature of God, the role of Jesus, the meaning of salvation...I have come to realize that I have to look beyond the traditional borderlines of Christianity to find something that is vitally, maybe even essentially, important for the job of understanding and living the Christian faith: other religions"

In other words, what Knitter is saying (at least for himself), is that to really understand Christian faith and live in the way of Jesus in the contemporary world, Christians need to engage with other religions in a personal and intimate way. This means more than just a cursory study, or an apologetic overview highlighting the differences between religions (and superiority of Christianity). We have to live our Christian lives "dialogically," in conversation with, engaging, practicing, and seeking to understand the religions of the world.

In an article entitled, "What does the Buddha have to do with Jesus?" John Thatamanil says,

"The time has come for religious communities to demand a new kind of clerical leadership. Every religious leader -- Rabbi, Imam, or Priest -- must be required to know a second religious language....And all of us, lay and clergy, must demand a new civic culture marked by interreligious hospitality and by a deep desire to learn not just about but from the faith of our neighbors. We must rise to one of the great spiritual challenges of our time: the hard work of integrating multiple religious wisdoms into our personal lives and public vocations."

For me, these are challenging, but also exciting ideas. I appreciate and practice contemplation, which has many connections to Buddhism. I have been reading more of the Koran and have been amazed by the wisdom of Mulsim Sufis. The challenge of religious pluralism is one that will not go away, and perhaps the best way to move forward is to learn as much as possible from the great religions of the world. The goal is not to be converted, or to create some new syncretism, but rather to be come the best follower of Jesus I can be, even with the help of those who don't claim to follow Jesus.

What do you think? Is this giving up an important Christian distinctive? Is this a "dangerous" approach to religion? What might it mean to admit as a Christian that our faith requires and needs other faiths as well?

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This simple turn of words reminds me of the concept that God is more of an event and interaction than a final destination at which to arrive. It also challenges the common assumption that those with the religious answers are "further along" spiritually than those who are questioning God and faith.

When we engage God, we find more questions. If we aren't being challenged with questions, maybe we aren't engaging with God. Like Thomas Merton said, "If you find God with great ease, perhaps it is not God that you have found."

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In the present moment, I cannot know the future, and I cannot do anything about the past. In the present is where I live and act at this point, and I can only be who I am right now. There is no regret for what I wish I had done, and no anxiety or desire about what I want to do in the future. There is only who I am and what I am doing right now.

Competition and comparison are taken away, because I am not looking back to see how I measure up with others achievements, and I am not planning for my success in the future. I can't flip through the catalog in my mind that keeps track of all my past accomplishments and failures. And my "to do" list for the future is nowhere to be found either. Instead, I am simply experiencing the fullness of the present moment.

When I rest in the present, the immediate emotion is gratitude. Disappointment, frustration, fear, embarrassment, and pride don't exist when I focus on the present. Rather, there is a singular enjoyment and a corresponding sense of being deeply thankful for that present moment.

Perhaps there is some hint of eternity in the present moment. No regrets about the "past," and no concern or anxiety about the "future" because it will never end.

There is only life in the present.

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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.

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I read through the first epistle to Timothy this morning, and a few lines caught my attention. Here they are:

"This is a trustworthy saying: Jesus Christ came into the world to save sinners, of whom I am the worst."

"God's unlimited patience"

"Hold onto the deep truth of the faith"

"We have put our hope in the living God, who is the Savior of all men, and especially of those who believe"

"Do not neglect your gift"

"Pursue gentleness - fight the good fight of the faith."

"God...who lives in unapproachable light, whom no one has seen or can see."

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I've had a few conversations this past week with folks about "spiritual disciplines," and questions like "What did you read today?" or "How do you practice the disciplines?" have come up. I absolutely love the spiritual disciplines - fasting, meditation, prayer, solitude, etc.- and I have taught a freshmen class about them for four years. But while thinking about these questions and reading a few different books, something really struck me.

First a quote from a book that came highly recommended, but I have found to be rather disappointing:

"We must come to see ourselves as living in two very different worlds. Out outer, or public, word is easier to deal with....consists of work, play, possessions....But our inner world is more spiritual in nature. Here is a center in which choices and values can be determined, where soliutde and reflection might be pursued. It is a place for conducting worship and confession, a spot where the moral and spiritual pollution of the times need not penetrate."(pg 12)

I have not read the rest of the book, but I would guess that the author will continue by explaining if individuals will practice discipline in their "inner" "spiritual" world then things will be properly aligned in their "outer" "public" world. And there is some truth to that approach. However, it misses a significant and profound truth of human life: We are physical and spiritual beings, together. There can be no division, and in fact to create one does more damage than good. Our spiritual life is informed by our daily "public" life, and vice versa. We cannot think that we can create "a spot where...the times need not penetrate," but rather the very opposite - the times of our daily life must penetrate our inner life if we are to be genuine, whole spiritual creatures.

Thomas Merton speaks of this brilliantly in Contemplative Prayer over the course of several chapters, and he concludes by stating the following:

"The unhappy result of this exaggerated division has been a great deal of confusion on both sides. But at the present time it is once again becoming clear that the problem is a false one and that the true vocation of the monks...is not to fight for contemplation against action, but to restore the ancient, harmonious and organic balance between the two. Both are necessary. Martha and Mary are sisters...neither can approach the throne of God without the other."

It is easy to approach the spiritual disciplines like we approach physical exercise, as just one activity to accomplish and then move on with the rest of the day. But, as Oswald Chambers says, "Prayer is not an exercise, it is the life." To make a division between our spiritual and our public life only leads to frustration, then separation from "the world," and further isolation within our "safe" and "spiritual" circles.

Every moment of the day, whether in prayer, reading, worship, work, conversation, driving, or watching television is a spiritual exercise, drawing the believer closer to God and dwelling in his Presence. Thus spiritual discipline is not a "once-in-a-while" activity, but it is a disciplined and balanced life.

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The more I dive into God
his Presence, his Word, his Life
The more I am driven outward
into the World, into the lives of Others
And I heard him say, "I am here too."

I think that the Divine must be named
He must be robed, and sung, and preached
But the Divine is everywhere
from the great cathedrals to the tiniest stone
from the sun, moon and stars to the reflecting pond
God is truly everywhere and is found in all things

When will I awake?
When will my ears open?
And my mind, my heart, my soul, become aware?

Jesus - reconcile me to yourself

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Another quote from Merton, one that I remember from his book New Seeds of Contemplation, which really got me thinking and trying to live contemplatively. And then it was also the quote that was put inside our booklets on the retreat. (I added the emphasis in bold)

"Contemplation is the highest expression of man's intellectual and spiritual life. It is that life itself, fully awake, fully active, fully aware that it is alive. It is spiritual wonder. It is spontaneous awe at the sacredness of life, of being. It is gratitude for life, for awareness, and for being. It is a vivid realization of the fact that life and being in us proceed from an invisible, transcendent, and infinitely abundant Source. Contemplation is, above all, awareness of the reality of that Source."

Throughout the retreat, I continued to hear God say, "I am here. I am here." I feel like that is one of the core messages that I came away with from those four days spent in reflection and seeking. God is here. S/he is everywhere! Even when I don't expect it, look for it, anticipate or even believe it - God is here. Even now. Even here. Praise God!

So I'll just mention it here briefly, (for the very few who read this blog :) This retreat was a real blessing for me, a great opportunity to wonder, to seek, to become awake and aware of the reality of God's Presence. And I suspect that there are others (perhaps many others) who are seeking God, or desire to seek God, but aren't sure they know where or how to look. I'd like to tell you more about contemplation, more about Merton, more about Jesus' barrier-breaking presence that invades us every moment of the day.

And perhaps we could take a retreat together to Gethsemani in KY - to sit, think, wonder, and find God together.