I don’t know whether or not it occurred to me to pray, but I think by this time I must have, at least once or twice, although I certainly had very little of anything that could be called faith. If I did pray for my father, it was probably one of those blind, semi-instinctive movements of nature that will come to anyone, even an atheist in a time of crisis, and which do not prove the existence of God, exactly, but which certainly show that the need to worship and acknowledge Him is something deeply ingrained in our dependent natures, and simply inseparable from our essence. - Thomas Merton, The Seven Story Mountain
What is it that causes salmon to find their way back from the vast expanse of the sea to the single stream from which they had once emerged? What causes them to engage in the relentless fight against the current, battling danger after danger, expending every last ounce of energy they possess, to return to that exact spot from which they first received life, only to lay their own eggs and pass away themselves from exhaustion? What causes millions of birds every year to fly thousands of miles to return to the same nesting grounds? How do they know where they are going? How do they know when they arrive? Nature is filled with mystery and awe. We stand as witnesses to these ever-recurring cycles, amazed at the way in which these simple creatures do things that defy explanation. We have scientifically labeled these as instincts. By this, we mean to say that it is part of the animals basic essence. These instincts are not something that is learned. They need not be taught what to do or where to go, they just do because it is part of them. These instincts are hardwired into them from birth and as such they cannot be altered or denied. These journeys happen because they must, they are part of the basic instinct that makes them who they are.
But what about us? What about human beings? Is there somewhere deep inside us a mystery and wonder, a basic instinct that helps to define who we are? Like all of us, Thomas Merton’s life was a journey. By all accounts it was the kind of life journey that most people only dream about. In his own words he says, “if all you need to be happy was to grab everything and see everything and investigate everything and then talk about it, I should have been a very happy person, a spiritual millionaire, from cradle even until now.” These words typify a man who recognized the kind of life he had. The son of an artist he lived back and forth between America and Europe. He traveled far and wide with his father seeking those places where an artist can find true inspiration. Educated at Cambridge and Columbia University, he grew to be skilled in the arts of literature, poetry, and education and became a gifted writer himself. With such experience and talent, life seeming to be at his beck and call, it makes one wonder why such a man would end up seeking out the ascetic life as a Trappist monk. Perhaps it was because this journey of life was not just about the experience, but it was also a journey of spiritual awakening in which he would discover in himself a human basic instinct.
Often, it isn’t until we can look back upon a time or incident in life that the full impact and meaning can be ascertained. Such was the case with Merton. With a life filled with such excitement and experience, Merton could have reflected upon any number of moments, but instead he was moved by a moment of mystery and awe, not brought on by observation of the French countryside, but by a moment in his own life of deep fear and sorrow as a boy. He had just received the news that his father was ill, and in fact he was dying. It was the kind of blow that hits you in the gut when you are not ready for it. It about knocks you down and you don’t know what to do. His upbringing was much like many people today, religion and church kind of hanging out on the periphery, but having no real impact on his life. Yet in that moment he did something, without even thinking about it; he prayed. Not an eloquent prayer, perhaps not even a faithful prayer, but in the very act of doing, he found himself caught up in the mystery and awe of life. He describes his reaction to crisis as a “semi-instinctive movement of nature that will come to anyone, even an atheist in a time of crisis.” Somewhere from the mysterious depths of his inner being had come forth a basic instinct. In the midst of this painful experience, he gives us a window into the mystery of what it means to be human. No, it doesn’t prove the existence of God, but it does reveal what is so deeply ingrained in us, that we are dependent on someone outside of ourselves. Our need to worship and acknowledge Him is inseparable from our nature.
This reality is hard to deny. Moments of crisis strip us bare and leave us exposed right down to the core. The layers of rational thought, which have been piled up one on top of the other which have sought to explain God away or make him irrelevant, get torn down when our life takes an unexplained detour. It doesn’t matter if you are religious or not. If you are atheist, agnostic, or anything else for that matter, the fact that you are human makes all the difference. Thomas Merton may be only one man, but through him we enter into the mystery of human experience. We all have encountered those moments when we received the unexpected blow to the gut, a broken relationship, a lost job, a tragic accident, a death of a child, some moment that demanded a reaction. What was that reaction? How did you feel in that moment? Did you just want to get away from yourself to get away from the pain? Did you spin around helplessly, hoping there was someone that could make sense of this mess? Did you perhaps shoot up a prayer addressed to anyone that might be listening?
There is something primal, some basic instinct, that we as human beings need for there to be something bigger than ourselves. That, in our moments of crisis, we can turn to someone that goes beyond our rational senses. Deep in our gut, we want it to be this way. Deep in our gut, we need it to be this way. Deep in our gut, it is this way because it has been hardwired into us. Created in God’s image, our basic instinct is to be dependent upon Him. We can deny Him with words, we can live as if we don’t care, but inevitably there will be a moment when instinct takes over. If even for a second we turn to God for answers that just aren’t there, we do so because it is simply inseparable from our essence. Thomas Merton, in the midst of the pain and sufferings of life, invites us to reflect upon the mystery and wonder of life. He reminds that what is most important is that we are human. Perhaps, at this deepest level, we aren’t any different than the salmon that just does what it is supposed to do. For us, we are supposed to turn to God because it is our instinct.
Suggested Prayer: Creator God, open our eyes to see what you have put in us. That instinctually we are aware of our dependence upon you. Forgive us for denying your presence and living as if you aren't there. Make your presence known in our lives through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.