Pro-Life Means Anti-Drone Strikes

As far as I can tell, this video comes from a conservative "pro-lifer." The issue of the US use of drone strikes is not a right/left one (as the video notes, both Obama and Romney support their use), but one of common human decency and respect for innocent human life. Period.

Moral Minority Now Available!

Today I got my copy of David Swartz's new book, Moral Minority: The Evangelical Left in an Age of Conservativism (UPenn, 2012). Check out this review at the New York Times and then get yourself a copy too!

The Peace of Pace, the Peace of Place: Thomas Merton’s Pacifist Spirituality

[The following is a reflection written for my seminar, The 20th Century Catholic Renascence (Dr. Ralph C. Wood), at Baylor University, Fall 2012.]

It is a well-known fact that Thomas Merton was a pacifist. However, simply noting that Merton was a pacifist does not tell us much, for as John Howard Yoder describes in his classic study, Nevertheless, there are no less than twenty-nine different versions of religious pacifism alone.[1] In this essay, I suggest that Merton’s pacifism is more than a matter of political calculations about the use of violence by nation-states. Instead, for Merton pacifism is integral to his entire spirituality; or, to state it another way, Merton’s pacifism is unintelligible without his spirituality. For Merton, peace is not simply the absence of war; it is the absence of self. Peace comes through a renunciation of the frenetic striving after worldly possessions. Only when one has emptied oneself can one be filled with the good gifts of God, not least of which is the gift of peace. In the following, I briefly trace Merton’s pacifist spirituality through his autobiographical reflections as well as his reflections on significant literary influences on his life.

Merton’s Mountain

Merton’s autobiographical reflections, most of which are drawn from his classic Seven Story Mountain, describe Merton’s journey from “The Unreal City” to “The Sacred Land,” that is, from his life in pursuit of worldly fulfillment to his life in pursuit of the presence of God.[2] As a young boy, Merton was taught to appreciate the finer things in life by his cultured and cosmopolitan parents. In reflecting on this time in his life, Merton quips that he would have been rich, if riches were measured by the accumulation of experiences (28). After his mother’s death, Merton traveled the globe with his father before finally arriving in New York City to study at Columbia University. There he spent his days in a flurry of curricular and extracurricular activities and his nights in downtown New York jazz clubs.

During this time, through a series of events and encounters, Merton is drawn to the Catholic faith and decides to become a monk. He consults with a friend and mentor, Dan Walsh, about the various monastic orders, and Walsh tells him of the Trappist monks of the Abbey of Gethsemani in Kentucky. Merton, however, finds the description of their austerity totally unappealing and decides that he wants to find an easier monastic order. Nevertheless, Merton somehow ends up at Gethsemani, and in looking back, describes being enclosed in the walls of the monastery somewhat ironically—though no less literally—as entering into a newfound freedom (140). Indeed, Merton describes the whole point of Cistercian life as emptying one entirely of everything worldly, including one’s very self, in order to prepare one to be filled with God’s gift of peace (313).

Not only does self-renunciation lead to the gift of peace; it leads to the recognition that all of life is a gift from God. When one ceases to strive for material possessions, one is able to slow down and enjoy the presence of God in and through God’s creation. In other words, when one has no possessions, one is able to receive this world—and one’s particular place in it—as a gift from God. Thus, in essays such as “Day unto Day” and “Fire Watch, July 4, 1952,” Merton slowly and meticulously describes his place on this earth: the landscape, the insects, the movement of the clouds, the monastery. Merton is keenly aware that these things in and of themselves are ephemeral and thus not to be grasped, but as gifts from God, they reflect God’s beauty and are thus to be enjoyed.

Merton’s Mentors

In describing his life mentors, Merton discusses such seemingly disparate influences as the Romantic English poet, William Blake; the twentieth century Ecuadorian poet, Jorge Carrera Andrade; the sixteenth century Spanish Catholic mystic, St. John of the Cross; and the sixth century B.C. Chinese text, Tao Teh Ching, among others. When read against the backdrop of Merton’s spirituality described above, a thread among these influences emerges.

            In his discussion of Blake, Merton notes that, despite Blake’s foibles, including spelling errors and religious heterodoxies, he is the greatest of Romantic poets, due in large part to the intensity of his desire for God, beside which worldly things become only lifeless obstacles (228–229). In Carrera Andrade, Merton finds a gentle prophet, who renounces the world of violence and power in order to seek a different country, an internal country, where Merton claims to have met Carrera Andrade (253). In St. John of the Cross, Merton encounters one who found peace in the midst of extreme isolation and suffering. Indeed, it was because of St. John of the Cross’s detachment from worldly things and utter self-denial that he was able to find joy and peace in an isolated jail cell (287–291).

            Finally, and perhaps most provocatively, in his essay “Christian Culture Needs Oriental Wisdom,” Merton describes how his encounter with the ancient Chinese text, Tao Teh Ching, where he learns of complete self-emptying, of absence of activity, and of renunciation of the desire to control reality. Merton finds in these teaching parallels with the itinerant ministry of Jesus as well as Christian teaching on self-emptying in order to be filled with the Holy Spirit.

            Each of these influences, though differing on particulars, articulates a form of spirituality that resonates with Merton’s own spiritual journey. It is a spirituality of self-negation, not for the sake of negation alone, but in order to open oneself up and to make room for a lasting peace.

Concluding Reflections

It would be easy, though unfortunate, to consider Merton an “anti-war” monk. Pacifists could then enlist him for their causes, while non-pacifists could dismiss him as yet another in a long line of misguided idealists. In so doing, however, both pacifists and non-pacifists would miss the deeper challenge of Merton’s writings. Merton calls not for the adoption of a certain political posture, but rather, for a life so devoted to the pursuit of God that it negates itself completely in the pursuit. This is a challenge for any Christian disciple, regardless of political persuasion. At the same time, Merton teaches that such a pursuit is nothing other than a renunciation of all other pursuits. In this sense, the Christian life is incredibly simple. When one gives up worldly pursuits, one is able to take the time to enjoy one’s place—to rest in the peace of God.

            For Merton, war is not the problem; war is merely a symptom of the disease of human striving after space at an ever-increasing speed. It should thus come as no surprise that in his apocalyptic essay, “The Time of the End is the Time of No Room,” Merton describes the end of the world as a time when there is no longer any time or space for a culture obsessed with more time and space (363). This indeed leads to war, but only out of the emptiness that comes from the desire for more (364). In contrast, Merton describes a people at peace with their place because their place is in the One for whom the world had no room (365).

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[1] John Howard Yoder, Nevertheless: Varieties of Religious Pacifism, rev. ed. (Scottdale, PA: Herald Press, 1992). Yoder mentions Merton in his discussion of “The Pacifism of the Honest Study of Cases,” noting that, while Merton rejected war, he still allowed for violence in the case of family protection (30). As we will see, my argument is that Merton’s pacifism runs deeper than simply a matter of political calculations.

[2] “The Unreal City” and “The Sacred Land” are the section titles of the first and last parts of A Thomas Merton Reader, edited by Thomas P. McDonnell, rev. ed. (New York: Doubleday, 1989). All subsequent citations refer to this text.

Blessed Are Those Who Mourn (A Sermon)

They That Mourn with Dave Cramer from State Street Community Church on Vimeo.

The Activist Impulse chapter summaries

Over the summer we've been offering short summaries of each of the chapters of The Activist Impulse. Below are links to each of the posts:

George Marsden's Foreword

Our Introduction

Chapter 1 by Steve Nolt

Chapter 2 by John Roth

Chapter 3 by John Fea

Chapters 4 - 7 by Ben Wetzel, Nate Yoder, Mark Norris, and Jared Burkholder, respectively

Chapters 8 - 10 by Matt Eaton and Joel Boehner, Filipe Hinojosa, and David Swartz, respectively

Chapter 11 by Geoff Bowden

Chapter 12 by Tim Erdel

Chapter 13 by Kirk MacGregor

Chapter 14 and Afterward by David Cramer and Sara Wenger Shenk, respectively

Also, be sure to check out the Press on The Activist Impulse

The Activist Impulse: Cramer on Scripture and War

The last chapter of The Activist Impulse is by (yours truly) David C. Cramer, who continues charting an evangelical Anabaptist path with a biblical reexamination of the question of war in his essay, "Evangelical Hermeneutics, Anabaptist Ethics: John Howard Yoder, the Solas, and the Question of War." While the majority of evangelicals have rejected the Anabaptist commitment to pacifism as unbiblical, Cramer believes that evangelicals should feel compelled by their commitment to Scripture to consider the pacifist position more carefully. His argument rests not on a discussion of just war theory or the merits of “redemptive violence” as is often the case. Rather, he asserts that this issue has more to do with traditional evangelical concerns regarding faith and Scripture than it does with violence per se. Appropriating John Howard Yoder’s evangelical Anabaptist reading of Scripture as well as a fresh consideration of sola fide (faith alone) and sola scriptura (Scripture alone), Cramer beckons evangelicals to reopen this important topic that has long been central to Anabaptist teaching.*

 Finally, the book ends with a generous Afterward by AMBS president, Sara Wenger Shenk, who describes Anabaptists and evangelicals as a mixed family sitting down to dinner. Yes, over dinner there are bound to be hearty discussions and sometimes even heated debates, but at the end of the day, those conversations only prove that we are a part of the same family.

The Activist Impulse also includes a very detailed subject index to help you get around. 

*This paragraph is slightly adapted from The Activist Impulse, 324.