Mystics Among Us

In two perceptive, quietly stirring books published this week, an old and a young American gave their testimony about mysticism. A Call to What Is Vital (Macmillan; $2) is the last book written by Rufus M. Jones, a Quaker elder statesman until his death last June at 85. The Seven Storey Mountain* (Harcourt Brace; $3) is the autobiography of Thomas Merton, 33, a convert to Roman Catholicism who is now a Trappist monk in Kentucky.

Both men re-emphasize two facts often forgotten: the world still has millions of mystics, and the most mystical human beings are often among the most practical as well. Merton cites St. Francis, whose visions did not keep him from down-to-earth social work, and the contemporary Catherine de Hueck, with her Roman

Catholic settlement house in Harlem. Jones describes the work done throughout the world by the American Friends Service Committee--which he helped found. His conclusion about the committee: "It is a revelation on a small scale of what would happen on a great scale if ... the whole Church of Christ should be dedicated to the urgent business of rebuilding the world on the lines of the Kingdom of God."

Still Speaking. Jones observes: "Vital religion cannot be maintained and preserved on the theory that God dealt with our human race only in the far past ages, and that the Bible is the only evidence we have that our God is a living, revealing, communicating God. If God ever spoke, He is still speaking ... He is the Great I Am, not a Great He Was . . ."

As a young teacher in 1886, Jones had his own vision during a solitary walk in the foothills of the Alps: "I felt the walls grow thin between the visible and the invisible, and there came a sudden flash of eternity, breaking in on me. I kneeled down then and there in that forest glade, in sight of the mountains, and dedicated myself in the hush and silence, but in the presence of an invading life, to the work of interpreting the deeper nature of the soul, and direct mystical relation with God, which had already become my major interest."

A similar vision came to Merton during a Mass in 1940 at Havana: "It was so intangible, and yet it struck me like a thunderclap ... It disarmed all images, all metaphors, and cut through the whole skein of species and phantasms with which we naturally do our thinking ... [It was] far above and beyond the level of any desire or any appetite ... It left a breathless joy and a clean peace and happiness that stayed for hours, and it was something I have never forgotten."

Keep On Working. Merton's autobiography charts the gradual transformation of a worldly young pagan into a Roman Catholic ascetic. Most of its final hundred pages are a striking description of the life he now leads at the Trappist monastery of Our Lady of Gethsemani in Kentucky. The severe Trappist discipline includes a vow of perpetual silence, which can be broken only on certain occasions. It is a life of prayer, fasting and contemplation, spiced with hard work. His account of haying:

"You get inside the huge, dark loft, and the dust begins to swirl and the ones on the wagon are pitching hay up at you as fast as they can, and you are trying tp stow it back in the loft. In about two minutes the place begins to put on a very good imitation of purgatory, for the sun is beating down mercilessly on a tin roof over your head, and the loft is one big black Stifling oven. I wish I had thought a little about that cow barn, back in the days when I was committing so many sins, in the world. It might have given me pause.

"You are not supposed to pause and pray while you are at work. American Trappist notions of contemplation do not extend to that: on the contrary you are expected to make some act of pure intention and fling yourself into the business and work up a sweat and get a great deal finished by the time it is all over. To turn it into contemplation you can occasionally mutter between your teeth: 'All for Jesus! All for Jesus!' But the idea is to keep on working."

Every human being, says Merton, should spend at least some time in contemplation. "No matter who you are or what you are, you are called to the summit of perfection: you are called to a deep interior life, perhaps even to mystical prayer, and to pass the fruits of your contemplation on to others."

-The seven-tiered mountain, Dante's image of purgatory, is used by Merton as a symbol of the modern world.

This file is automatically generated by a robot program, so reader's discretion is required.