A friend of mine went to hear Thomas Merton speak back in the mid-sixties in California. He described the air as electric with anticipation. Thomas Merton was seated in silent contemplation, his eyes closed gently, his body still, and the old wooden church where they were gathering to hear him, was packed with people, as full as it could possibly be. They were trying to be quiet, but inwardly, their expectations were raging – and they all had a lot of expectations of what this event was supposed to be – some great words of wisdom, stuff they could quote with a knowing look and seem oh-so-wise. Let’s face it, when we go somewhere, we go to get something, something for our little selves. We do not really go to be transformed. If that were the case, we would stay right where we are, for Christ is always waiting for us, right here and now, waiting for us to seek transformation. That is what Baptism and the Eucharist and the simple, day to day living of the teachings of Jesus are all about – transformation of our very being, not the further building up of our egos and personalities. So when we go somewhere special, we expect to get something special – the personality and the ego can’t see it any other way. Nothing wrong with it – that’s just how those parts of the human being operate.
So the air was full of this expectation – what great knowledge will come from Merton’s mouth, what new insight can I pass around like candy, and wait till I throw it into a sermon – wow! That’ll really get ‘em. Its only natural for the ego to operate in this way – it knows no other way. And we all have egos, so let’s not ever feel bad about observing it, or even worse, pretend that somehow we are the only ones on earth who have managed to escape the necessity of dealing with the ego. It is just the way that part of us is. No big deal. The invitation is to begin to watch and observe our own ego identities and learn not to make the mistake of thinking this is who we really are and how we are intended to live and move and have our beings.
So all these egos gathered in one place, waiting to get something, waiting to get great spiritual insights to impress their friends and family. That’s what goes on on the surface at gatherings of spiritual seekers. And that’s what goes on whenever we seek to get some new knowledge. The real journey is a surrender to the process of transformation, but we try to substitute for this the gaining of a little bit of new information, something we can add on to our life as it is, without really changing anything, of course, just a little “self-improvement.” The invitation from Christ is to surrender and be utterly changed. We’d rather make an addition to the structure we already have. Surrendering to the process of transformation is not something the ego can do – so if we confuse our true identity with this little ego, we can’t surrender to transformation. We’ve got to discover that our true identity rests in a much different place than this ego I am always calling “I”.
So gathered in one place, full of expectations, wanting to get something, churning inside. And the air was thick with humidity, thick and heavy, and it grew heavier and heavier still, as the clouds thickened. At last there was a great clap of thunder, the clouds burst and a heavy, pounding, gully-washing rain began to fall. And Thomas Merton said, “Let’s just listen together,” and once again, he fell silent, in the face of this far greater sound, and this much richer sermon.
And people were stupefied – aghast – disappointed – angry. They came to get some words to chat around, from Thomas Merton no less, and all they got was an invitation to listen to rain.
No, he wasn’t being clever, or cute. He was being sincere. When you touch the place of stillness within – what Jesus called the Kingdom of God within – there are no words or combinations of words that can possibly describe it or even approach it. What he offered them was the opportunity to touch this place directly, if they would drop beneath their disappointed and oh-so-easily offended egos and sense the pull of the cloudburst and the purifying rain beneath all that endless chatter.
When we hear that in the beginning was the Word, we need to understand that this Word is not the same as “words.” In fact, the Word at the beginning is beyond all our words, and far surpassing even the most eloquent poetry and speechifying in its beauty. It is heard only in inner stillness, and in inner silence. And inner silence is what this is – it is not about outer silence. Inner silence is open to what happens, it does not resist reality, it does not grow irritated by outer sounds. It is what is within us, the chatter within us, that resists the Kingdom of God. The Word cannot penetrate the wall of words our ordinary minds are forever erecting; the Word cannot get past all our projections and expectations. It far surpasses them, but when we are caught up in that state of wanting to get something, we can’t receive this Word, we can’t even have the dimmest understanding that it is there. We have to let go of all our ideas, opinions, expectations, projections, all this incredible chatter, to even come to the dimmest sense of the Word’s presence.
St. John of the Cross described this process in his phrase, “not this, not that.” As we observe the thoughts we turn away, “not this, not that.” And it doesn’t matter how great we think that thought is. “Not this, not that.” Until we come to the place where we really know that we do not know – until we come to such a real sense of the ego’s true nothingness – we can’t see the light that penetrates the darkness of our chatter. So the Word is in the world, but the world is chattering endlessly with words, and does not hear it. The light shines in the darkness, darkness does not overcome it, but we who are so busy trying to prove our opinions and ideas as right, so busy trying to prove our egos right, we can’t see real light.
All our lives is not too much time to spend in observing and turning away from the old, predictable habits of the ego. It seems a formidable thing, but each and every little step we make away from the old man or woman and towards the birthing of the new is met with such tremendous love from heaven, that we are never lacking food for this journey – if we will only take the steps, turn away from the old, turn toward the new life of transformation, the ever new life, the everlasting new life, turn and follow the Word that sounds in silence, turn and listen, not to our old selves, but to the purifying rain.
And in that place, as Jesus said so truly of the Eucharist, “ my flesh is food indeed and my blood is drink indeed.” And we are invited to partake, invited to receive the Word made flesh, here and now, in the Eucharist.
The Rev. Edie Bird
1st Sunday of Christmas
December 31, 2006
Return to St. James' Home Page 12.06