Spring 2023 · Vol. 52 No. 1 · pp. 78–80
Book Review
Man of Dialogue: Thomas Merton’s Catholic Vision
Gregory K. Hillis. Collegeville, MN: Liturgical Press, 2021. 320 pages.
Thomas Merton was a twentieth-century Catholic monk and priest. Most readers who know Merton’s work would readily agree with this statement. After all, that Merton was both Catholic and a monk is readily visible in his writings, even if to outsiders his identity as a priest may have been less visible. Why then this assertion of Merton’s Catholicity? According to Gregory K. Hillis’s Man of Dialogue, some branches of the Catholic church doubt that Merton was a Catholic at all. Merton, critics suggest, was too open to ecumenism and interreligious dialogue, irreverent in matters of Catholic orthodoxy, and too focused on social activism to be a true Catholic. Arguing against this conclusion, Man of Dialogue has one central purpose: to “help readers understand that, at the heart of everything Merton did and wrote, he was fundamentally shaped by his identity as a Catholic monk and priest” (14).
It would be hard to imagine a more thorough argument in favor of Merton’s Catholicism. Hillis, a Catholic himself, considers Merton from multiple angles by examining the roles he played (convert, monk, priest, novice master, and more); his life at the Gethsemani monastery; his religious impulses (Eucharist, adoration of Mary); his interest in peace, justice, interreligious dialogue; and his personal struggles (with his calling, with fellow monks, with a romantic relationship late in life). Hillis admits {79} to being an ardent Merton admirer, and his aggressive and multi-layered arguments in defense of Merton amply testify to his devotion.
Whether or not its arguments will succeed in setting the doubters straight, Man of Dialogue is worth reading just for the excellent overview it provides of Merton as person, monk, priest, activist, and dialogue partner. I have read Merton’s writings with appreciation over the years, but this book has given me insights and information about Merton I had not known before or had not considered from Hillis’s perspective.
As a non-Catholic reader, however, I came away from the book with the distinct impression that I had been eavesdropping on an argument between members of a family not my own. I listened with curiosity, but the argument itself had little purchase for me.
The theme that did grab my attention was the role of the Eucharist in Merton’s life. Those who know Merton primarily as a contemplative or activist may not be aware of how central participation in the Eucharist (a.k.a, Mass) was to him. According to Hillis, the Eucharist gave texture and rhythm to Merton’s day, grounded his contemplation, brought him great joy, and—perhaps most importantly—gave his life meaning.
Most Protestant traditions celebrate their version of the Eucharist, communion, or the Lord’s Supper, much less frequently than monks in monasteries celebrate Mass. Ironically, some theologians argue for infrequent communion for the same reason Merton finds the daily Eucharist so important: to uphold its value as a key and central organizing ritual for the faith and life of the community.
Standing outside of Merton’s faith tradition in a larger culture starved of mystery, it is easy to envy Merton’s deeply moving experience of the Eucharist. It gave structure to his day. It was the beginning and end of his theology. It was his daily practice of self-emptying, the container that held his contemplation. It moved him from a focus on self to love for the world, for as he participated in the Eucharist he brought prayers on behalf of others. In the Eucharist he met his Creator and was daily made new. He experienced the Eucharist as both mystery and euphoria, “the moment of the nearest presence of God . . .” (64). Hillis writes: “. . . Merton was struck by how everything at Gethsemani culminated in the Mass. The Eucharist was not something that was a part of each day, or simply another thing to do. It was the very purpose of monastic existence” (46).
While at the surface level Man of Dialogue is an extended defense of Merton’s Catholic identity, for this reader the book’s deeper import lies with the place of the Eucharist in Merton’s life. The book left me with several questions: What is the central organizing ritual of our day? What practices invite us—even press upon us—to self-empty and to turn our face to the other? How and where do we meet the divine? What sacraments open us {80} to the mystery of a life force that is at once transcendent and immanent, cosmic and yet so near, that one can consume its power and be utterly transformed? One is left to wonder: how would our own communities be transformed if we could experience the same mystery that transformed Merton at the eucharistic table?
