Sophia: The Hidden Christ of Thomas Merton

Nowhere is Merton's integral relation to the Bible more sublimely expressed than in his study of the psalms, Bread in the Wilderness (1953).

SOPHIA: The Hidden Christ of Thomas Merton

Christopher Pramuk

A Michael Gl o z i er Book

LITURGICAL PRESS Collegeville, Minnesota

www.litpress.org

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Page 112 Sophia

Like "Fire from Heaven"

Nowhere is Merton's integral relation to the Bible more sublimely expressed than in his study of the psalms, Bread in the Wilderness (1953). Though a relatively early work, it opens an important window into Merton's thoroughly monastic approach to biblical and liturgical revelation, an approach that pulsed deeply in him to the end of his life. Of special significance is his discussion of "Poetry, Symbolism, and Typology;' where Merton distinguishes between "cosmic" and "typological" symbolism in the Bible. The former he describes as the revelation of God in nature, consummately expressed in David's wonder before the grandeur of the natural world: When I gaze at the heavens, the work of thy fingers, the moon and stars, which thou has made ... ¹⁴⁹ The corruption of cosmic symbolism occurs, Merton suggests, when human beings no longer relate to the world as sacramental or iconic, as transparent to the God of creation, but view the world rather as a mirror, reflecting back their own glory and mastery over things. Here sacramentality morphs into idolatry; nature becomes opaque, utilitarian, self-referential. Rather than seeing through creation like a clear windowpane to the sun and stars, human beings "had begun to forget the sky, and to light lamps of their own, and presently

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₁₄₉. Psalm 8, cited in BW, 61.

(In the Belly of a Paradox p. 113)

it seemed to them that the reflection of their own room in the window was the 'world beyond: They began to worship what they themselves were doing. And what they were doing was too often an abomination." ¹⁵⁰

Throughout Bread and the Wilderness Merton places considerable import on cosmic symbolism (nature as sacrament) in the Bible, just as a decade later he will describe theoria physike ("natural contemplation") as a crucial preparation for supernatural (historical, categorical) revelation. Still, "the most important symbolism in the Bible is not cosmic symbolism:' Merton suggests, "but typology:' that is, symbols in the Hebrew Scriptures that foreshadow "the Incarnation of the Word of God, and. . . man's Redemption by the Sacrifice of Christ on Calvary, for this is the central Mystery of Christian faith:' ¹⁵¹ Where cosmic symbolism easily lends itself to idolatrous worship of the world or humanity itself, typological symbols break through the tendency to perceive the world and its history in closed, Cartesian, or dangerously self-referential terms: "Cosmic symbols reflect the action of God like the light of the sun on the vast sea of creation. Typological symbols are meteors which divide the dark sky of history with a sudden, searing light, appearing and vanishing with a liberty that knows no law of man. Cosmic symbolism is like clouds and rain: but typology is like a storm of lightning wounding the earth unpredictably with fire from heaven."¹⁵²

A close study of Bread in the Wilderness, no less than much later, more outward-looking texts, suggests that one should not underestimate the hold that biblical symbols have on Merton's religious imagination. Throughout his corpus certain biblical images flash in repeatedly like "fire from heaven:' and where Merton employs such images, he does so with the conviction that their implicit power goes beyond the merely literary or psychological realm of consciousness. The symbols of Scripture "lead to contemplation precisely because their impact on us is theological rather than psychologicaI:'¹⁵³ Moreover, there are particular images and symbols of the Hebrew Scriptures that Merton "calls forth" to throw a brilliant and "unpredictable" light on the New Testament. One of these is the "Tree of Life:' which he often links, not without haunting paradox and irony, to the cross of Jesus. Another is Sophia.

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¹⁵⁰. BW, 61; cf. TTW, 123, an arresting passage that begins quite simply, "The great work of sunrise again today:'

^151.BW, 62.

^152.Ibid. 63; cf. Heschel: "Revelation is a cloudburst, a downpour, yet most of us are like moles, burrowing, and whatever stream we meet is underground" (God in Search of Man [New York: Farrar, Straus and Cudahy, 1955], 251).

¹⁵³. BW, 14; cf. OB, 25: "[These passages] are somehow claiming that there has been a breakthrough of the ultimate word into the sphere of the human, and that what the Bible is about is this breakthrough, recorded in events, happenings, which are decisive not only for the Jewish people or for the disciples of Christ but for mankind as a whole:'

(p. 114 Sophia)

Sophia: the feminine child of Proverbs 8, who delights before God at the dawn of creation, cannot help but reverberate (i.e., typologically) in the same sonorous landscape as St. Paul's hymn to Jesus in Colossians: He is the image of the invisible God, the firstborn of all creation. For in him were cre­ated all things in heaven and on earth. It is a connection Merton will make explicit in his most formal christological writings, as we shall see in chapter 4. And just as he finds her "unpredictable light" flashing in Russian icons of Christ, the Pantokrator, so too does she "appear and vanish" before him in the humblest of everyday guises-in the silent woods of Gethsemani, in the faces of passersby on a crowded street corner-breaking in "with a liberty that knows no law of man:'

"Gaze Intently" Second Sunday in Ordinary Time Jn 1:35-42.

Fr. Raymond

 

Sancta Maria Abbey: http://www.nunraw.com.uk  
Blogspot :http://www.domdonald.org.uk/

----- Forwarded Message -----
From: Raymond . . .
Sent: Sunday, 15 January 2012, 8:39
Subject: gaze intently

SUNDAY 2  2012       (John I  35-42)

“.....as Jesus passed, John stared hard at him and said: “Look, there is the Lamb of God”.”   The Evangelist says: “John stared hard at him”, not just “John saw him”, or even “John looked at him”, but “John stared hard at him”.

There are many ways in which we can observe something with our power of sight.  We can take a passing, casual glimpse at a thing.  It hardly even registers it in our consciousness.  Or we can linger on a scene like a beautiful panorama.  We see it; we certainly appreciate; we enjoy it but only in as a whole without focusing on any particular detail.  It’s the picture as a whole that captivates us without us focusing on any particular detail. In fact, as soon as we focus on any particular detail we lose sight of the scene as a whole.  That’s all part of the finitude of our being.  Only God can see everything in all its aspects all at once.  It would make a fascinating study in psychology to consider all the ways in which we can observe something or look at someone.

So, to get back to John’s “intent gaze on Jesus”.  What implications are there in the evangelists use of this fascinating phrase?  We can surely believe that the intensity of his gaze came from an inner fascination with Jesus.  He must have already had some experience of Jesus.  An experience that had moved him deeply.  He must have seen his miracles, how power went out of him.  He must have heard his teaching.  He must have been one of those who felt that no man had ever spoken like this before.  But above all, it was love that drew is gaze to fasten so intently on Him.  His heart had been captivated by everything about this man and the heart, of course, has its reasons that the mind doesn’t dream of.

It’s so important for us to realise that, in this we don’t need to be envious of John.  That same Jesus is still alive and active before the gaze of all of us.  With the eyes of our faith we can all fix our gaze intently on Jesus.   We can all do that through our prayer and meditation.  And that same power that went out of Jesus will certainly reach out to us and captivate our own hearts just as it did the mind and heart of John.  Let us all strive then to “fix our gaze intently on Jesus” throughout or lives.

MASS - de Beata Maria Virgine in Sabbato

14^th , Jan 2012 Saturday of the First Week in Ordinary Time

Mary Mother of Citeaux

Votive Mass of Blessed Virgin Mary 

Magnificat [www.magnificat.com]

MEMDITATION OF THE DAY

Mary's Role in Matthew's Redemption

by FATHER M. EUGENE BOYLAN, OCSO

The work of Christ is to redeem men by making them part of himself. That work in Mary manifests itself as a maternal work of bringing forth all men in Christ, and Christ in all men. That is her function as the principal member of the Body of Christ ... Christ is both Head and the whole Body; may we not say that Mary is the Heart and in some way the whole Body also? All that comes to each member from Christ comes through her ...

Mary then is the Mother of the whole Christ. We can share in her work by bringing forth Christ in our own souls by humble and loving obedience to the will of God. We can ensure our complete union with Christ by true devotion to Mary, by a complete consecration of all that we are or have to her that she may form us in Christ, and Christ in us. She is the Gate of Heaven, by whom we enter into Christ. She is the Mother of the whole Christ.

Father Boylan (+ 1964) was a monk of the Cistercian Abbey of Mount Saint Joseph, Roscrea, Ireland.

COMMENT

--- On Thu, 12/1/12, William  wrote:

From: William . . .
Subject: Re: [Blog] St. Aelred of Rievaulx
To: "Fr Donald" . . .
Date: Thursday, 12 January, 2012, 19:46

Dear Father Donald,

 

Br. Barry's chapter talk contains a special gem that I will share at the RCIA, a star illuminating his reflection on the wonder of creation:

 

The greater the sense of what divinity is, the greater will be the wonder at the Incarnation or of the Maker of the World appearing under the form of a circle of bread.

With delight,

... in Our Lord,

William

St. Aelred of Rievaulx 2nd Patron of Nunraw 12 Jan 2012

Br. Barry

From: Barry . . .
Subject: chapter talk
Date: Thursday, 12 January, 2012.

St. Aelred of Rievaulx 2nd Patron of Nunraw
Community Chapter Talk, Br. Barry.

SAINT AELRED 2012.

Just down the coast there in Yorkshire, St. Aelred sat in his monastery of Rievaulx and wrote his book ‘ The Mirror of Charity’. We might surmise that during breaks in his writing activity, he would have gone outside into the valley where the monastery is situated for a breath of fresh air and to stretch his legs.

If it was winter and a cold, clear dark night or early morning, he would have had a fine view of the stars above. No street lights or other forms of light pollution in those days.

In fact, there may be an allusion in his book to his doing just that. In one passage he writes ( he is addressing human beings ) ‘ O wondrous creature, inferior only to the Creator. Do you philosophise about the harmony of the revolving heavens ? But you are more sublime than the heavens. Do you examine the mysterious causes of creation ? But no creature is a greater mystery than you.’ Was it himself who was philosophising about the heavens and examining the causes of creation?

When he looked at the stars and the night sky, St. Aelred would have seen much the same sight as we do today but he would have interpreted what he saw very differently.

In the 12^th century, the ancient Greek view of the Universe still held sway. The heavens were regarded as a sort of revolving canopy with the stars attached to it – ‘the sphere of the fixed stars’ as it was called. The earth was thought to be stationary as the absolute centre of the Universe.

St. Aelred would have no inkling of the mind–boggling distances and sizes out there in space; that the Universe is reckoned to be 93 billion light years in diameter ( one light year is just under 6 trillion miles ); that it has been estimated that there about 30 billion trillion stars. Nor would he have any notion of perhaps the most amazing modern discovery of all in the field of astronomy, that the galaxies are all moving away from each other at incredible speeds.

What is even more mind-boggling than all this, however, is the lengths to which some people will go to keep the Creator out of the picture. This is so of most popular presentations of science. A recent BBC publication, ‘Planet Earth’ describes all the conditions that were necessary before this planet could become capable of sustaining life. It puts the appearance of these conditions down to ‘plain good luck’. ‘When the cosmic dice were thrown’, it says, ‘our planet came out with a double six’.

Such authors have raised up a new god named Chance. Chance is the origin of everything and explains everything.

Yet is there a better way to come to some appreciation of the immensity and infinity of God than to have a good look at the Universe? Not everyone has received the spiritual gifts of a Blessed Columba Marmion. When he was a young seminarian in Dublin in the 1870’s, he was entering the study hall one day when he was ‘overwhelmed by a light on the infinity of God and seemed to catch a glimpse of the immensity of His Being.’ In the absence of an experience like that it is necessary to use the principle: to go from what is seen to what is unseen. From a notion of near - infinite physical distances and numbers, an idea of God’s infinite qualities can be got: his infinite goodness, power, mercy & etc.

The greater the sense of what divinity is, the greater will be the wonder at the Incarnation or of the Maker of the World appearing under the form of a circle of bread.

When St. Aelred looked at the night sky, he did not see receding galaxies or classes of stars with strange names: quasars, white dwarfs, red giants. He tells us himself what he saw ‘ the tranquillity of that order which charity ordained for the Universe’. As the title of his book indicates, St. Aelred could not see past charity.

Royal Infirmary Edinburgh

In course of discharge from the RIE hospital I noticed the Agamenon 2006.(see prev.post)

The discovery of the painting dominating the mall of the centre set me looking for more art.

Looking along the main ground level corridor, this gem of Madonna of the Bass Rock by John Bellany was along with the gathered Artitsts of Healthcare.

Madonna of the Bass Rock by John Bellany

 

Madonna of the Bass Rock

by John Bellany

1997 Medium: watercolour Size: 90 x 71 cm Reg. Number: P853 About this painting:

Born in 1942 into a family of fishermen, Bellany came to prominance in the 1960s with his early work: large allegorical pieces depicting fishing communities and their environment. Since then Bellany has become one of Scotland's most famous artists. His distinctive style, of which this piece is a recognisable example, has influenced many Scottish artists after him. To find out more about AiH please visit www.artinhealthcare.org.uk.