Thomas Merton--Happy 100th Birthday!

Thomas Merton, with the Dalai Lama

The great author, peacemaker, mystic, Trappist monk, poet Thomas Merton was born in Prades, France 100 years ago today. Merton joined the Trappist monastery of Gethsemani, near Bardstown, Kentucky, on December 10, 1941. He lived exactly 27 years as a monk until his accidental death at a conference on monasticism in Bangkok, Thailand, dying on December 10, 1968.

Merton by his hermitage, on Gethsemani grounds, where he lived the last years of his life

Merton was the most amazingly prolific author. He wrote what might be the most important and famous autobiography in American history, The Seven-Storey Mountain. He wrote about monasticism, about war and peace; he wrote poetry and literary criticism. One of his great works is Raids on the Unspeakable, where he wrote essays on issues of war and peace, pacifism, non-violence, and militarism.

His life and ideas are fascinating--and remain fascinating to people throughout the world. His influence continues to grow. Today I saw a one-person play on Thomas Merton, 4th and Walnut, put on and performed by Jim Nagle. The play was performed at the Ursuline Motherhouse, adjacent to Ursuline College, in Pepper Pike, Ohio. What an incredible, beautiful performance! The title refers to a street corner in Louisville, Kentucky where Merton had a sudden insight--an overwhelming sense of compassion and love for everyday people, you might say the fruit of his vocation as monk.

Merton's epiphany at 4th and Walnut, in Louisville

Here is a joyous psalm that Thomas Merton wrote, almost in the tradition of Francis of Assisi:

Today, Father, this blue sky lauds you.

The delicate green and orange flowers of the tulip poplar tree praise you.

The distant blue hills praise you,

together with the sweet-smelling air that is full of brilliant light.

The bickering flycatchers praise you

with the lowing cattle and the quails that whistle over there.

I too, Father, praise you, with all these my brothers,

and they give voice to my own heart and to my own silence.

We are all one silence, and a diversity of voices.

You have made us together,

you have made us one and many,

you have placed me here in the midst

as witness, as awareness, and as joy.

Here I am.

In me the world is present,

and you are present.

I am a link in the chain of light and of presence.

You have made me a kind of center,

but a center that is nowhere.

And yet also I am "here."

[Thomas Merton, Conjectures of a Guilty Bystander, pp. 131-132]

Here is another poem of Merton:

Thomas Merton's Prayer of Abandonment

My Lord God, I have no idea where I am going.
I do not see the road ahead of me. I cannot know for certain where it will end. Nor do I really know myself, and that I think I am following your will does not mean I am actually doing so.
But I believe the desire to please you does in fact please you. And I hope I have that desire in all I am doing. I hope I will never do anything apart from that desire. And I know if I do this you will lead me by the right road though I may know nothing about it. I will trust you always though I may seem to be lost and in the shadow of death. I will not fear, for you will never leave me to face my perils alone.

I have written a few poems on Merton. Two of them can be found in earlier blog entries. I may repost them here soon.

Sr. Ruth Marie Behrend (OSU), My First Grade Teacher at St. William's, 1954-55

In one of the miracles of the internet, Tim Behrend, who has worked and lived in Indonesia and New Zealand, has sent me a photo of his aunt, Sister Ruth Marie Behrend, my first grade teacher at St. William's in Euclid. Sr. Ruth Marie is an Ursuline nun and she taught me during the academic year of 1954-55, when I was six years old. There were about 60 kids in our first grade class. These were the baby boom years, and there were lots of kids in Euclid, Ohio. Families were larger then, especially Catholic families. We had five children in our family, along with Mom and Dad, living in a one-bathroom bungalow on East 266 Street --our situation was made even more crowded when our alcoholic uncles, the twins Dick and Don Fitzpatrick, and Uncle Jack Coughlin, lived with us (they lived with all the relatives, until they were kicked out; and then they eventually came back--the cycle went on and on).

How did Sr. Ruth Marie handle 60 squirming little six-year-olds? Tim Behrend tells me that Sr. Ruth Marie herself had not even graduated from college at the time. It's possible she was only 20 years old or so when she had this heavy teaching responsibility.

I cannot say exactly what she did for me--that we can never know precisely. But between my parents, my wider family, and my teachers, I became a well-educated person and a person who passionately cares about justice and about the poor. Also, I became a thoughtful (though not mindless) Catholic-Christian. Some of that must be thanks to Sr. Ruth Marie and the Ursuline Sisters of Cleveland. They took on an impossible task and did a fine job with it. Thank You! Deo Gratias!

Sr. Ruth Marie Behrend, OSU (1950s?)

Postscript. For parts of my adult life, I have worked with the poor, and now the homeless and hungry. I wonder if my experience with my beloved (yet alcoholic) uncles, Dick, Don, and Jack, helped me to see the goodness in such people.

Goodbye to 2011 and Greetings to 2012

I was traveling and otherwise busy as the year changed from 2011 to 2012 and didn't get to write any reflections about the passing and new birth.

I guess the words that entered my mind on New Year's Eve were "Deo Gratias." The old Latin phrase, first learned as a kid attending Latin masses at St. William's back in the early 1950s. Thank You, Lord God, for my life, our lives, my family, friends. Thank you that we have health, a good job, so many gifts. And prayers for those sick in body or troubled in spirit (I know many, as do you!). Prayers for those suffering from the Great Recession, those needing money and work, those without health care. Especially for those without hope. Especially for those without hope.

We got an annual Christmas card from a friend, Tom Liszkay, a Clevelander exiled long ago to Columbus, who closed it by reminding us to clothe the naked, feed the hungry, and shelter the homeless. Tom reminded us to live out the corporal and spiritual works of mercy, an injunction at the heart of our Catholic Christianity, and something I learned in my parents' home (where we fed the neighborhood kids, gave them companionship and love even if their parents neglected them, where my Mom and Dad offered a home to three alcoholic uncles and to my Grandmother in her old age); and learned from my teachers, both Ursuline nuns and lay teachers alike, in my Catholic grade school--St. Williams; and from our first pastor at St. William's, Monsignor John Flemming, who paid the family bills when my Dad was layed off from work; and from the wonderful teachers, both lay teachers and Marianist brothers and priests, at St. Joseph High School in Cleveland. All these wonderful teachers and models--who never saw what they wrought, the fruit of their works and their lives.

As Tom Liszkay said--Don't forget to practice the Works of Mercy.

And don't forget to say thank you to family, friends, and colleagues. And to the Lord--Deo Gratias.

My First Communion: 55 Years Ago Today

On May 20th, 1956--55 years ago to the day--I received my First Communion at St. William's Church, on East 260th Street in Euclid, Ohio. Sr. Ruth Marie, OSU [Ursuline], told us that this would be the happiest day of our lives. She was right.

I was born somewhat early in the Baby Boom, and Euclid was full of kids--and full of Catholics. I bet 60% of the residents of Euclid were Catholic back then (there were 7 Catholic churches in Euclid in the mid 1950's). Seven and eight-year-old boys were kept pretty separate: a line for the boys and a line for the girls, in order of height. I was fourth in line, being one of the shortest boys, and my partner was Randy Wohlgemuth (wonder where Randy is these days?). My cousin Tommy Fitzpatrick was much farther back in the line. I wouldn't be surprised if 200 kids made their First Communion that day.

Probably it was Fr. John Fleming who said the mass (the old Latin high mass). The church was packed to the rafters with kids, their parents, grandparents, and families. That old St. William's Church is now a gymnasium and sometimes bingo hall (sacrilege!)

We had a family party at my house on East 266th Street later that day--everybody came, grandparents, cousins, aunts, uncles. I received $18 dollars in presents--I couldn't believe my luck!

First Communion Day, May 20, 1956--behind our house (655 East 266 Street, Euclid, Ohio):

Denny Coughlin, Susie Brock, Maggie Brock, Bobby Coughlin; in front of Maggie is Mary Ellen Coughlin). Allen Lane's house is on the left.

May 20th, 1956: First Communion

On my wedding day, I told Linda, "This is the second happiest day of my life!" Linda was a bit startled by that remark, to say the least. "What was the happiest?" she asked.

The happiest day of my life was my First Holy Communion, which took place at St. William's Church, Euclid, Ohio, on May 20th, 1956. I was at the end of second grade. We had huge classes at St. William's, almost 60 kids per class. There were two second-grade classes at St. William's and probably another 100 kids from Upson School, the nearby public school, all making their First Communion that day. The boys and the girls were in line separately, and since I was one of the shorter boys, I was near the front, fourth in line. Randy Wohlgemuth was my partner that day. The boys were dressed very smartly, but nothing like the girls. They were dressed in beautiful white gowns, with white veils, and white gloves on their hands. They looked like little brides.

I think Sister Ruth Marie Behrend and probably my second grade teacher, Mrs. Bartrum, among others, helped prepare us for First Communion. And an entire convent of Ursuline nuns prayed that we would have a fine May day for the event. My cousin Tommy Fitzpatrick also made his First Communion that day at St. William's (Tommy would die in another springtime, thirteen years later and 12,000 miles away in Vietnam).

Father John Flemming celebrated the mass (the ancient and beautiful Tridentine Mass, almost totally in Latin). At the Preface, he sang out, in Gregorian Chant, the ancient prayers: "Per omnia saecula saeculorum . . . . Dominus vobiscum." And then proceeded with the Preface chanted in Fr. Flemming's beautiful Irish tenor. A little later, Fr. Flemming sang the Pater Noster and then moved on to the "Domine non sum dignus . . . ." and we would strike our breast as we said, "O Lord I am not worthy," three times, in Latin. And then it was time. Lines of boys on the rights side of the church and girls on the left proceeded to the communion rail. And Fr. Flemming proceeded to give us the transformed bread, the Body of Chirst, as we stuck out our tongues, the golden patent placed under our chins by the altar boy, and a sentence of Latin spoken very quickly by the priest.

I was in stark terror as I awaited the reception of the Creator of the Universe. My heartbeat was surely visible through my white shirt. My hands sweated. I was almost swooning from vertigo. And then the host was on my tongue. Following Sr. Ruth Marie's instructions, I silently said, "My Lord and My God," then proceeded back to my pew. I closed my eyes as I knelt down and wept for this wondrous gift.


My First Communion took place 10 days after the birth of my brother, Kevin Gerard. That middle name came from the patron saint of difficult births (and difficult kids!). Kev almost spoiled my First Communion party by being the star of the show! But we still had a great time. All the neighbors, aunts, uncles, and cousins were there. Denny and Mary Ellen were there (only Jimmy didn't show up! He was born a couple years later). My Gramma and Grampa Coughlin were there. The grownups drank beer, laughed, and told stories, and we kids drank "Little Toms" and played tag, keep-away, and baseball--a perfect party in Euclid in the halcyon days of being a kid!

And that was the happiest day of my life!