Thomas MERTON, The Climate of Monastic Prayer. Collegeville, Minn: Liturgical Press, 2018. pp. 156. $19.95 pb. ISBN: 9780814663578. Reviewed by Walter N. SISTO, D’Youville, 320 Porter Ave, Buffalo, NY 14201

Originally published 50 years ago, Thomas Merton book The Climate of Monastic Prayer is a modern-day excursus on the spiritual life. This new edition that includes a solid introduction by Sarah Coakley is a welcomed addition to any library of Christian Spirituality.

Although the text is intended for monastics, as Merton mentions in his first chapter, there are teachings in the text for all people. I wholeheartedly agree with this assessment. The reader will find a succinct engagement of the Christian monastic tradition with modern and postmodern movements in culture. It is neither strictly an academic assessment of Christian spirituality, although Merton often assesses various movements in ancient, modern and even non-Christian spiritual movements such as Zen Buddhism, nor a popular self-help book.  But rather it is an erudite, yet accessible engagement with the contemplative tradition.  

One topic that is omnipresent in this text that he addressed in a profound manner is the presumed conflict between the active and contemplative life. (50) This conflict that begins in the early Church was perpetuated and expanded by future monastics: “the vocation of a monk was to stay in a monastery and pray.”  The monk’s engagement with the world, particularly in Church affairs, was to be done whist moaning and weeping for his cloister.

In chapter eight, Merton, using St. Bernard of Clairvaux analogy of the spiritual life as Lazarus the penitent, Martha the active, and Mary the contemplative, argues that the spiritual life requires all three persons. Unfortunately, the harmony between the three is lost particularly by a modern reader who not only tends to dissociate active and contemplative lives, but also to superficially transpose this dialectic upon the relationship between personal (contemplative prayer) and liturgical prayer (active prayer). However, Merton asserts that the latter dialectic is forced, and there is no conflict between the two, as not only can active prayer lead to the heights of contemplation, but by the same token private, contemplative prayer can be forced and arid. What is interesting is that Merton “guesses” that this dichotomy between private (contemplative) and communal (active) prayer and emphasis on the private (contemplative) prayer within monastic communities does not become a dominant framework for understanding the spiritual life until the Counter-Reformation. (67) Merton’s “guess” may indeed be valid; however he does not provide adequate support for his claim. Nevertheless, he argues that a subtle metamorphosis occurred after the Council of Trent that stressed the interior, personal prayer against the liturgical prayer. Thus, “true” prayer occurred after the liturgy ended. For Merton, if we follow the course of this false dichotomy between active and contemplative life, we are eventually lead to quietism. Quietism may be attractive to some, but it is not a Christian spirituality, as it is very far from the person and teachings of Jesus Christ and the early Benedictine tradition. The remedy is of course the synthesis of the penitent, contemplative, and active. The liturgy, communal and active prayer is not an impediment to the spiritual life but rather a centerpiece that provides nourishment.      

Later in his text, Merton returns to this theme. He argues forcefully that the contemplative life is not escapism; Christian monasticism is not neoplatonism. Contemplation no matter how apophatic it may become needs to be anchored in the active mission and liturgical life of the Church. Merton cautions that to simply desire emptiness is “not empty at all: it is full of itself.” (119) The desire for “emptiness”, unknowing itself, or of immaterial and essences distinct from visible and material reality is a subtle, albeit fashionable form of idolatry. This is a challenge of the spiritual life, to worship these things for their own sake, not God. Rather the recognition that nothing “can give us a fully adequate knowledge of God (except by remote analogy)”, then we are gifted with the freedom to use them more freely with greater risk of error because we realize the “limitation of their nature.”  (103) For Merton the life of prayer needs a contemplative orientation. (150) But this orientation does not deny activity but rather raises activity to a new level of pure charity.  Reminiscent of Karl Rahner’s assessment that the Christian of the future will be a mystic, Merton argues that although true contemplatives may be few, the Church must strive to be contemplative. The spirit of contemplation must penetrate all our works, so that all that we do is truly for the glory of God. This means that the Church must always strive for truth, the total love of God. With contemplation we can transform the earth and humankind; however, without it, the Church and religion in general will becomes an opiate of the masses.

This text is a contemporary Christian spiritual masterpiece. Merton’s prose is clear and astute, and his text is replete with profound, yet succinct reflections on contemplative prayer and the Christian spiritual life that is valuable for anyone interested in Christian spirituality.