January 6, 1964. Epiphany
All day yesterday I was trying to remember the name of the affliction I got in my eyes and which was slightly bothersome recently. Could not get the word. This morning in demi-sleep, before awakening it came to me clearly, “conjunctivitis.” And yesterday also in the field I could not remember the fourth member in the “Noble Eightfold Path” and today I looked it up: “Right conduct.” So much for that!
Bultmann’s Essays have been a revelation to me, so powerful, so urgent, so important that every sentence stops me and I don’t seem to get anywhere. I am snowed under by it. The extraordinary grasp of Greek thought which he has and which he always transcends in order to end in a Biblical and eschatological freedom. The seminal influence of Heidegger, whom he appropriates and develops in a fully New Testament and Kerygmatic way. Fantastically good. How many of my own old ideas I can now abandon or revise. He has revealed to me the full limitations of all my early work, which is utterly naive and insufficient, except in what concerns my own experience. He says: “Grace can never be possessed but can only be received afresh again and again.”
“Man comes into his present situation as in some way under constraint so that real freedom can only be received as a gift.” One of the great temptations of an over institutionalized religion is precisely this: to keep man under the constraint of his own and his society’s past so that this “safety” appears to be freedom. He is free to return to the familiar constraint, but this interferes with his freedom to respond to the gift of grace in Christ. This raises the whole problem of outward forms of worship, etc. and I think Bultmann is so far weak in his concept of the Church. But this is nevertheless a great truth which must be brought in to our view of the Church. Otherwise, where is the Holy Spirit? Where is the soul of this Body? He is perhaps extreme in denying that freedom can be a quality in us, and is only an event–only comes to us in an encounter. This may be hyperbole, and apply to grace. But man has a natural faculty to will freely, surely! This is not absent.
The “dread of being oneself” (as the great obstacle to freedom, for freedom is being oneself)–flight to authoritarianism and approval. Contrary: ability to make decisions as though they were not subject to the comment of other men–true solitude! Solitude of the poet in his decisions (quote from [Thornton] Wilder’s Ides of March–I ought to read this!). Bultmann has a very real notion of tradition–not a past which provides refuge.
“True loyalty to tradition does not consist in the Christianization of a particular stage in history…always criticism of the present before the tribunal of tradition but also criticism of tradition before the Tribunal of the present day.” “Real loyalty does not involve repetition but carrying things a step further” (p. 315). And this: “Freedom from the past does not result in a denial of the past but in the positive appreciation of it” (p. 321).
January 7, 1964
Thick, curious icy mist–vile weather for a cold (which I have). The mist had made a wonderful abstract pigment out of the silvery mass of manure in the night pasture. And the dry weeds too, silver with it!
One of the most striking and in some ways frightening events (at least as narrated in the news stories that have been read in the refectory) has been Pope Paul’s visit to Palestine. After landing in Jordan and driving to Jerusalem he tried to make the Via Crucis. First he was met by people with palm branches: “recalling Christ’s triumphal entrance into Jerusalem” said the United Press man–then there were women veiled in black on the housetops, clapping rhythmically. Then the crowd of 100,000 got out of control–not hostile, not friendly, just out of control, all rushing at the Pope, some with reason, some without. Some shouting in Arabic “The Father, the Father!” Then the crowd became “hysterical,” the Pope was rushed through the first Stations of the Cross without being able even to see them, let alone stop and pray. At the Station of Veronica’s veil he took refuge in the entry of a convent and “his face was ashen.” He finally got to the Basilica of the Holy Sepulchre. A TV cable over his head caught fire while he was trying to say Mass. All the lights were out most of the time of his Mass. The whole narrative of his first day or so was of him being hustled by huge crowds, carried through mobs by Arab policemen, or having a way beaten for him with clubs!
As I was leaving the refectory early I heard something about his plan to go by car to Nazareth, meeting high Israeli officials at Meggido, “the Biblical Armageddon.” This whole story had the most ominous and urgent sound about it, and it seemed to be fraught with a symbolic seriousness I could not interpret or fathom in any way: as if somehow the passion of Christ in the Church were being definitively announced, or something else more strange–perhaps put the disappearance of the Church in a huge whirlpool of confusion! Coming on top of the mass trauma following Kennedy’s assassination and with the explicit terror that the Pope himself might get killed, and the general background of unreason, this gives the impression that the world is slowly going completely mad and no solemnity, no gesture of civility, pleasantness, good will, can prevent the unknown fury that is breaking–without explanation.
A youth (?) in California sent a manuscript of a book he had written saying I had advised him not to write it (I did not remember) and that I would not be able to resist the urge to read it. I resisted the urge without difficulty and sent it back by return mail. I would not care if he were the Shakespeare or the Dostoievsky of the new generation. I am just not reading any more manuscripts that people send in. Not that I have in the past. But now I will not even hesitate.
Yesterday Reverend Father announced the officers for the year–he was away at New Melleray with the Abbot of Mount Melleray on visitation for New Year. Friday he leaves for the General Chapter and the election of the new General.
I got a good note from Père Placide [Deseille] at Bellefontaine thanking me for my card which complimented him on his draft of the new Directory. He said there were quite a few objections: from Dutch abbots that it was “too traditional” and from American abbots that it was “too favorable to eremitism.”
January 9, 1964
Dom James is saying Mass for all the novices, getting ready to leave tomorrow for the General Chapter and the election. The question has arisen: will Dom James himself be elected? I think not. He has acquired great prestige and power in the Order, certainly enough to warrant his election–but he cannot speak good French, does not really know the Order or the houses in France and I would add he is not really aware of the genuine monastic traditions. He has his own rather short-sighted, oversimplified view of monasticism. (Keep them locked up and silent. What they don’t know won’t hurt them–No letters and contacts, or only the minimum–make them obey rules, etc.) Yet his view is popular among the Abbots. If he were elected it would be a victory for conservatism and the status quo. On the other hand–Dom Willebrord [Van Dijk] of Tilburg (Holland) represents a certain type of progressive outlook. Dom Edward of Westmalle in the middle. The new school is represented by Dom André Louf of Mont des Cats who is too young to get it–and too advanced.
Nevertheless the question also arises: if Dom James is elected, who will be elected here? I don’t think there will be any problem, because Dom James will not be elected. Yet anything might happen. Who are the possible candidates? Father Flavian, Father Eudes, Father Baldwin, and myself. Perhaps a few votes for some one of the old guard or an abbot of a foundation. However, most of the chapter know of my vow not to accept an election–and hence would probably not vote for me–again no problem. Dan Walsh, Jim Wygal, and Father Gerard my confessor have all urged me to reconsider the whole thing. I do not see any reason to at the moment. My vow still stands, though it was made “into the hands of Dom Gabriel” who is dead. It still seems to me to be a greater good not to accept a position fraught with artificialities and stupidities, with things I do not believe in, and cannot. Things I cannot change, or even try to. I would get into an official and institutional harness which is to me totally suspect. I am urged to do it in order
to change things, to be a “discerning force,” etc., etc. Is this really possible? There is no point in considering it unless an election happens and I am really ordered by a higher superior to accept–and I still retain the power to refuse and still think I ought to. Yet I will reconsider if there is a real indication that it might be God’s will for me to do so. I see no such indication anywhere at present. All I can say is that I will not be obdurately closed in on my own preferred solution. There is very little likelihood of the problem arising and it does not disturb me in the least.
January 10, 1964
Ad Reinhardt sent all kinds of fine paper, especially some thin, almost transparent beautiful Japanese paper on which I have found a way of crudely printing abstract “calligraphies” which in some cases turn out exciting–at least to me.
Fine afternoon after yesterday’s rain. The snow has been washed away. The hills are purple and cold, sharply outlined.
Dom James left today for Rome. Three of us separately had told him he might be Abbot General himself–I–Father Prior (Flavian) and Father Eudes. Apparently it worried him enough to keep him awake last night. I should not be so unkind. Yet there is a slight chance.
Half the community seem to be making up new offices, reorganizing the liturgy, planning new ways of prayer. After a thousand years of stillness now it is every man for himself.
The Pope’s short visit to Palestine, his talk with Patriarch Athenagoras, seem to have been after all something quite magnificent–a great thing, a sign of real life, full of hope and meaning.
Father Reinhold gave my manuscript on Peace in the Post-Christian Era to Bishop Wright,18 who apparently is reading it with interest and seems to like it. I think he is taking it to Rome soon.
January 11, 1964
Moved by David Kirk’s notes on Patriarch Maximos of Antioch, obviously one of the greatest men in the Church today. He is doing a lot for the monastic life. Maybe get Kirk to write some notes on this for the Collectanea [Cisterciensia].
Much as I disagree with some of Bultmann’s statements on non-Christian religions I cannot help being swayed and moved by his basic argument which is completely convincing–and most salutary. “God’s grace is to man grace in such a thoroughgoing sense that it supports the whole of man’s existence, and can only be conceived of as grace by those who surrender their whole existence and let themselves fall into the unfathomable, dizzy depths without seeking for something to hold on to” (Essays, p. 136). The great hope of our time is, it seems to me, not that the Church will become once again a world power and a dominant institution, but on the contrary that the power of faith and the Spirit will shake the world when Christians have lost what they held on to and have entered into the eschatological kingdom–where in fact they already are!
From a certain point of view my monastic life brings me “close to God,” but this closeness is an illusion unless I see it also in some sense as conflict with Him and therefore as dread. Monastic Peace or Monastic Dread? Both! Monastic life as a “sure thing,” as answer to everything, can become a prevarication.
Bultmann again. “It is not just what is transitory in man that is given over to death–not just what is subject to fate, so that his will to love now triumphs, and his old ego is perpetuated in his indomitable will to love. On the contrary man is given over to death in his entirety so that he has become a new man in a radical sense. But that means that his will has become a new will and that in the security of his possession of immortality he is not relieved of all claims and he cannot enjoy his new life with a mind set at rest.”
(Essays, p. 146)
Blackham, writing of Sartre, says wisely that “popular wisdom” easily accepts extreme views but not disturbing ones. The extreme view that to live well is impossible, and the other extreme, that to live well is easy: this they will accept. But Sartre’s claim that to live well is difficult and possible they reject as despair. Sartre’s courage is laudable, his stoicism is insufficient. His seriousness is the kind that makes possible the conflict and contact described by Bultmann. In hoc laudo. [Praise for this.] But his dogmatic humanism has no point except as a useful illusion.
January 13, 1964
Yesterday it snowed and there was sleet, wind and cold, queer frozen surface on the new snow, sleet like the manna in Exodus, but useless. And after I had ploughed my way around among the pine trees in a walk before Vespers, with snow flying into my eyes, my neck began to hurt. But Saturday was a bright day, even warm, and the Hammers [Victor and Carolyn] came over.
Saturday evening I got a call from Msgr. [William J.] McCormick in New York. He had been down a month ago to get me to write a short script for something in the Vatican Pavilion at the New York World’s Fair. I did [“The Church Is Christ Alive in the World”], and it was mostly about charity, peace, racial justice, etc. Now he calls and evidently the script has been to [Francis Cardinal] Spellman and back in the meantime. The indications are that all this must be replaced by an apologetic text-book piece on the Church as the one true Church, “what we have that is different from the Protestants and the Orthodox” to dispel any confusion that may have been created “by all this ecumenical business.” I suppose this was to have been expected. I asked him to send down notes of what he wants and I will try to do something. I am a bit doubtful of getting anything worth while out of this–perhaps a few lines that will have meaning for someone outside the Church. The rest? Will it even support Catholics in their convictions–or just be another four minutes of familiar jargon?
Jaspers talks of the “Augustinian turnabout.” At one moment Augustine is saying “let none of us say he has already found the truth. Let us look for it as though we did not yet know it on either side” and then later he advocates using force against those who do not accept our faith. And apparently without feeling there is any problem. As the greatest of Catholic Doctors he has bequeathed this mentality to the entire Catholic Church–and to the Protestants as well, because he is as much their Father as ours! This is the mind of Western Christendom.
If in my Vatican Pavilion script I give the impression of openness and ecumenism will this not be a deception? The temptation is deliberately to write a closed, impassive, inattentive series of declarations and let the heathen draw their own conclusions!
January 14, 1964
I learned this morning of the death of Paul Hindemith. It is about ten years since his visit here, and I remember he and I and his wife took a long walk to the woods at the foot of Vineyard Knob, and talked about many things. He had just directed the first performance of the Harmony of Worlds at Minneapolis. He was talking about his collaboration with [Bertolt] Brecht (very funny) and about the “Ite angeli veloces” of [Paul] Claudel. A great person. I have not heard half of what he has written.
It is zero weather–the novitiate thermometer which is quite conservative registered ten above but others were claiming that their thermometers were ten below. The snow is deep, sparkles in the sun under the trees.
I wrote a few final pages for Art and Worship–on the Council Constitutions, and a Preface.
January 16, 1964
5:10 a.m. At Cîteaux it is noon–we may already have a new Abbot General–and may learn his name even before the singing of the conventual Mass of the Holy Spirit, “for the Chapter.”
Notes that come to mind in connection with Merleau-Ponty. When men speak we assume they have something to say and know what it is. How often are these assumptions well-founded? Ambiguity of man who tries to emerge from his own darkness–and yet wants not to emerge. How often is speech an excuse for remaining within, on the grounds that one “has communicated.” (Has “done his duty”–been to the toilet.)
The artist who recognizes and loves his own style–au grand dommage de son oeuvre [to the great detriment of his work]–the style being imagined as “himself.” At this point he begins to know and will his style as it were without contact with the world, whereas in reality the style is only a by-product of that contact. Emblems–eq
uivalences. Finding my own system of emblems. Picture of the back of [Georges] Braque’s white head surrounded by his own bird emblems. He looks, sitting in a corduroy jacket. (Braque is dead.) Finding figures of being, or seeming to–when the painter no longer seems to himself to find these–he is dead. That is, he does not encounter the world, for the figure is his encounter. (“Des groupes de beffrois assistent les idées des peuples”) [“Some groups of belfries assist the ideas of the people”] Rimbaud. Response to the past–one’s own previous work, the work of others–reviewing the life that was in them.
I have an obligation to Paul Klee which goes deep even into the order of theology, an obligation about which I have done nothing. Knowing he is there in some museum or in the Skira [art] books is not enough. Nor is mimicry. My obligation is to seriously question him, and reply to his question addressed to me. To justify, in some sense, the faith in me which he never knew he had (for how would he know me?).
The artist has not been demonstrated to be a failure because of his neurosis appearing in his work. He may have succeeded in using all his experience (even sickness) to interpret the world ([Merleau-Ponty] Signes, p. 80).
January 17, 1964. St. Anthony
Yesterday at the beginning of the afternoon work, as I was settling down to change a typewriter ribbon and rewrite the script for the Vatican Pavilion, Brother Denis came and told me Dom Ignace Gillet, Abbot of Aiguebelle, was the new Abbot General. Later Brother Denis wanted to know if I thought the new General was a “return to sources” man and I said I thought probably not. Father Prior (Flavian) thinks this means a “strong Chapter” (or stronger at any rate than it was when under the massive power of Dom Gabriel). Dom Ignace is a Dom Gabriel man, and will probably hark back to him as the hero and model for all, without trying himself to do all that Dom Gabriel did.
Dancing in the Water of Life Page 9
