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.