Monastic Word

I remember reading something by Trappist monk, Thomas Merton, where he responded to critics of monasticism  who claimed that the monastic life represented a kind of escapism. It was absurd, they argued, for a monk like him to write so much by way of social criticism. After all, what could someone like him know about living in the world when his own experience was so removed from that of ordinary people–or even most 20th century people?  

Merton’s response was, basically, that to live on the outside, the periphery, of “the world” in fact had the potential to give one a clearer sense of reality, a broader and deeper view of things (I would say, a historical view). A view that is impossible when one exists within the world, particularly in a fast paced, unstable, confused, hyperactive modern world like our own.

I think he was right. In terms of social criticism, at least, Merton’s insights were astute and often had a lasting value lost on many social critics living in the thick of it.

Writers of fiction are at their best also social critics, and more. And when it comes to writing fiction there is an argument that says to write one must live and even somehow live more than others. Where, ‘live,’ apparently means running with the bulls or fighting in the Spanish Civil War, or going on a doped up cross country road trip. Far be it from me to dismiss this kind of living and the kind of writing it can inspire. But … I also agree with Merton, that there are those of us who write best, who serve best, by standing outside of the fray. This is what I want to do, because it is my nature.

And I’m bold enough to predict–however often I doubt myself as a writer–that when all is said and done, I will have accomplished more authentic living, and given more to life, with a single novel or even a discarded pile of pages than a million other people whose turbulent lives are lived without deliberation, thought, inward-seeking, and careful observing. I don’t say this to be arrogant by any means, but rather by way of defense. Defense of the solitary writer sitting in his room commenting on and reinventing the world beyond the window.

John Locke on Reason

While I don’t care for John Locke’s notion of Tabula Rosa, I think the following quote is pretty interesting:

“Reason is natural revelation, whereby the eternal Father of light, the Foundation of all knowledge, communicates to mankind that portion of truth which he has laid within the reach of their natural faculties; Revelation is natural reason enlarged by a new set of discoveries communicated by God immediately, which reason vouches the truth of, by the testimony and proofs it gives that they come from God.”

Also … God as “Foundation of all knowledge” = Logos underlying/from which derive all logoi

Jamie O’Neill

Just thought I would share this. Back in 2006 I read a book called ‘At Swim Two Boys,’ by Jamie O’Neill. It changed everything for me, including the direction of my life (for better or worse remains to be seen). I emailed the author. He was kind enough to respond, which itself I took as a sign because I consider the novel perfect, and because the success of ‘At Swim’ was one of those rare things: Mr. O’Neill spent 10 years writing it and got a few million dollars for it upfront. I simply didn’t expect him to respond at all. It is now posted on my wall next to my desk. He writes:

“So I’d like to give you some words of hope. Persist, is the first. Be true, is the next sentiment. Revise, revise, revise, comes third. And in each revision learn more about your characters. And remember, fourth, that tragedy is at least as prevalent as comedy. My good luck to you, because it will take good luck to achieve anything in the world of letters, as nowadays that word applies. Oh, and a little talent.

-Jamie”

Jamie O’Neill’s website: www.jamieoneill.com

On Internal Transformation

“The road to a Yea lies through a Nay, we must separate in order again to unite, and must depart from our ordinary state in order again to return to it. There enters thus a negative element into the work of life; all definite departure on the new road follows through toil and struggle, doubt and pain.”

- Evelyn Underhill

http://www.pbs.org/wgbh/questionofgod/voices/underhill.html

From ‘Death in Venice’ by Thomas Mann

“Now day after day the god with the burning cheeks soared naked, driving his four fire-breathing steeds through the spaces of heaven, and now, too, his yellow-gold locks fluttered wide in the outstorming east wind.”

“… and often elsewhere from time to time, in alleys and byways, when chance had played a part.”

“Three hours or four were then his, hours in which the sun would rise to its zenith and to terrible power, hours in which the sea would turn a deeper and deeper blue, hours in which he would be able to watch Tadzio.”

“…it was liquid melody to his ears.”

“Nature trembles with rapture when the spirit bows in homage before Beauty.”

“With the splendor of the god irradiating him, the lone watcher sat; he closed his eyes and let the glory kiss his eyelids.”

“His head and his heart were drunk, and his steps followed the dictates of that dark god whose pleasure it is to trample man’s reason and dignity underfoot.”

“darkly mingled”

“cadaverous in the face”

“carbolic”

“…to one who is beside himself, no prospect is so distasteful than that of self-recovery.”

Progress from the Fall

I’m struck by a line from C.S. Lewis’ ‘Miracles.’ While discussing Nature he writes, ” … he [God] created her such as to reach her perfection by a process in time.” He continues, “In that sense a certain degree of ‘evolutionism’ or ‘developmentalism’ is inherent in Christianity.

Curiously, I only just sent an email to a friend discussing my sense of the fallness of nature. That is, my feeling that the Universe/Creation (Κóσμς) is somehow off kilter. But what I think so amazing about Lewis’ thought here is that it changes the focus from life-as-it-is being a consequences of The Fall to life-as-it-is being a process of perfecting.

One may still believe that somehow, at some point, something went wrong; that there was a Fall from some ideal/intended state of things to this somewhat fucked up state of things. I do believe this. My tendency, though, was to imagine the process of history as a progress towards full restitution of our natural state. And while this may be the case in a way, there is another way of viewing it. Specifically, we may view that primordial natural state of Eden as itself incomplete. Eden was not an end in itself, but rather the beginning of an evolutionary process, at the end of which man would fully realize his nature.

So sure, when we wonder why life was created such that it could go so far off kilter we may indeed conclude, “Because for God to create beings with any real dignity they had to be free to make choices, even those against their best interest. Adam (“Mankind”) made that choice in some way we don’t understand, and now we are working towards, and waiting for, the fix.”

At the same time we may stop to consider the possibility that God–even in allowing humans to have the agency to screw things up–is quite above being thrown off track by his own creation. He is no bumbling Demiurgos. His action in the process of history, that reached its climax in the Resurrection and shall conclude at some point in the future, is not some divine game of catch-up, or hole-plugging. Rather, it is an ongoing divine affirmation of our agency, our will, our freedom. It is a radical expression of patience and permissiveness characterized by divine adaptation. Adaptation on our behalf. But the process of Creation–even if slower than ideal–remains.

Similarly, that deep recognition that all of us at one point or another have that things ought to be otherwise, ought to be better … this recognition is our slow, uncomfortable, digestion of the fruit of the Tree of Knowledge. If we would have eaten our meal before rushing for a bite of over-rich desert, then maybe we wouldn’t be so painfully gassy right now. But either way, we were meant to have the desert, and we shall have our fill.