A Modern Tertullian: Merton for Better and for Worse

A Modern Tertullian?

You’ve probably heard of the not modern Tertullian. He’s the one who said, “The blood of the martyrs is the seed of the Church.” This was one of Pope St. John Paul II’s favorite quotes. Its author lived from c. A.D. 160 – c. A.D. 220. He was one of the foremost Christian writers and apologists of his age, who also gave us such essential terms as “Trinity” (Trinitas) and “Three Persons, One Substance” (Tres Personae, Una Substantia).  Despite his enormous achievements, however, and his lasting influence, we don’t consider Tertullian a Father of the Church. We don’t even call him “Saint” Tertullian. He chose, sadly, to follow his own judgment rather than that of the Apostolic Church, and he fell into heresy in the latter part of his life.

Outside the Bounds

I first wrote this post over a decade ago. It’s a follow-up to my essay “Merton’s Parable of the Trappists and Icarians.” Trappist monk Thomas Merton would have been celebrating his 100^th birthday (January 31^st 2015) if he had still been with us. Reading about him again brought Tertullian to mind. I certainly don’t mean to suggest that Merton was a figure on a par with Tertullian. The late Trappist made no lasting contribution to the development of Catholic Doctrine. Likewise, he added no new words to our vocabulary.

He was, however, quite influential in his time. He still is, to a degree. Like Tertullian he didn’t stay the course. While he never considered himself to have left the Church, his growing involvement with Zen Buddhism in his last years appeared to be carrying him outside the bounds of Christian belief and practice.

Back into the Night

I resisted reading anything by Thomas Merton for a long time. Largely, I confess, because I was put off by certain enthusiasts who were mostly interested in his Zen phase. When I first picked up The Seven Storey Mountain, the autobiography he wrote shortly after joining the Trappists, I wished that I hadn’t waited so long. The story of his conversion was beautiful and inspiring. We can say the same of much of his other writing from the 1940’s and 1950’s.

It was also perfectly orthodox. Sadly, Merton didn’t stay that way. He has always reminded me of an image from the English historian (and Catholic saint) the Venerable Bede (672-730 A.D). In Merton’s case, however, the image represents something rather different. In his Ecclesiastical History, Bede recounts how a retainer of King Edwin of Northumbria convinces him to embrace the new faith of Christianity. He tells the king that his life is like a bird that passes through an open window into a well-lit hall, and then out again into the stormy night. His pagan worldview can only explain that brief moment in the light, but what comes before and after is dark.  The Christian Faith, on the other hand, can explain it all. 

In Merton’s case, he is the bird in the image. He flew out of the darkness of his early, unbelieving, years into the light of the Faith. Sadly, he appeared to be headed out the far window, back into the night, when he met his end in Thailand in 1968.

Good Catholic Gone Bad?

     As I mentioned above, this post originally grew out of other articles I read marking the centennial of Merton’s birth. On the Catholic World Report site, for instance, Karl Olsen had posted a piece “More on Merton.”* This was itself a spin-off from an earlier article published in This Rock in 2008 by Anthony E. Clark (“Can You Trust Thomas Merton?”) for which Olsen had been the illustrator.  

The two pieces highlight the dilemma presented by this conflicted, contradictory monk. Yes, he was a good Catholic gone bad. But he was also a gifted writer who, in his orthodox period, wrote some insightful and uplifting things. Clark’s This Rock article very helpfully includes a list of Merton works to avoid, but also enumerates recommended writings. Clark introduces these by saying: “These works represent the early era of Merton’s monastic life, and his views are still quite orthodox.  These books are beautifully written; they are what made Thomas Merton Thomas Merton.”

Hold on to the Good

 It’s tempting to simply drop Merton altogether, given the potential bad influence of his later, heterodox books. I don’t think we should do that. That’s not the way the Church dealt with Tertullian. Or with Origen, another almost-Father of the Church gone bad whose good writings we still read.  We should hold on to what what is good and beautiful. We haven’t thrown out the word “Trinity” because Tertullian became a Montanist. Likewise, we should not forget The Seven Storey Mountain just because Thomas Merton seemed to lose his way later in life.

*Olsen’s piece seems to have disappeared at some point over the intervening years. In looking for, it however I came across this very helpful article by Dan Burke: “Catholicism and Buddhism -Clearing up the Confusion.”

Featured Image top of page: detail from La Divina Commedia di Dante by Domenico di Michelino, 1465. Dante appears with Mount Purgatory, which gave Thomas Merton the title of his autobiography The Seven Storey Mountain.