Thomas Merton was born today, January 31st in 1915. A January baby, like me. Merton was a Christian monastic, whose tremendously popular autobiographic The Seven Story Mountain (1948) made him a well known and well read American intellectual of the 1950s and 60s. He wrote prolifically in his lifetime – around 70 books – before tragically passing away on a trip to Bangkok in 1968. He was attending a meeting of Asian Benedictines and Cistercians. It is well known that Merton was a critic of our technologically obsessed world and a vocal advocate for the role of the artist and intellectual in society:
Is the artist necessarily committed to this or that political ideology? No. But he does live in a world where politics are decisive and where political power can destroy his art as well as his life. Hence he is indirectly committed to seek some political solution to problems that endanger the freedom of man. This is the great temptation: there is not a single form of government or social system today that does not in the end seek to manipulate or coerce the artist in one way or another.
Similarly, the intellectual plays the role of Outsider in our culture. It is in their position as bystander, “innocent” onlooker, that the intellectual might perform their work on society:
We are the intellectuals who have taken for granted that we could be “bystanders” and that our quality as detached observers could preserve our innocence and relieve us of responsibility. By intellectual, I do not mean clerk (through I might mean clerc [a student or scholar]). I do not mean bureaucrat. I do not mean politician. I do not mean anyone whose intelligence ministers to a machine for counting, classifying, and distributing other people: who hands out to this one a higher paycheck and to that on e a trip (presently) to the forced labor camp. I do not mean a policeman, or propagandist. I still dare to use the world intellectual as if it had meaning.
Have you and I forgotten that our vocation, as innocent bystanders – and the very condition of our terrible innocents – is to do what the child did, and keep on saying the king is naked, at the cost of being condemned criminals? Remember, the child in the tale was the only innocent one: and because of his innocence, the fault of the others was kept from being criminal, and was nothing worse than foolishness. If the child had not been there, they would all have been madmen, or criminals. It was the child’s cry that saved them.
It is clear that Merton was not talking about literal innocence (whatever that might mean), nor physical remoteness from society. He was an active author having published dozens of books in his lifetime. Clearly, he wrote with a purpose. Rather, Merton was suggesting we take a stand against “falsehood” and dehumanization. He was, in many ways, a forerunner to thinkers today in my own circles of the recent “spiritual counter-culture,” like Charles Eisenstein, Daniel Pinchbeck, J.F. Martel and many others who call for the artist to “reclaim art” – and by extension poetry, contemplation, the intellectual, and the human person.
For these reasons, and many others, I honor Merton as a kind of patron saint of contemplative artists, those who are alive today and seek to work actively with themselves – with others, with God, with silence – to “rebuild” a world in crisis.
“If we are to remain united against these falsehoods, against all power that poisons man and subjects him to the mystifications of bureaucracy, commerce, and the police state, we must refuse the price tag. We must refuse academic classification. We must reject the seductions of publicity.
What characterizes our century is not so much that we have to rebuild our world as that we have to rethink it. This amounts to saying that we have to give it back its language… The vocabularies that are proposed to us are of no use to us… and there is no point in a Byzantine exercise upon themes of grammar. We need a profound questioning which will not separate us from the sufferings of men.”
The contemplative-artist-intellectual, as I’m coming to see it, is someone who doesn’t get trapped up by the reification – to borrow a word from David Chaim Smith‘s contemplative writings – that runs rampant in commercial society; that sees the person as intrinsically mysterious and potentially luminous. The person, the world, cannot be commodified, nor reified. Neither item, nor idol are we.