
Monday Merton Musings, Nov. 21, 2011
How Clear and Solid the Doctrine
All quotes are from The Seven Storey Mountain, by Thomas Merton
• • •
In the days when Thomas Merton began his graduate studies, he also began to feel the desire to go to a church for worship on Sundays. After some deliberation (and procrastination), he decided to attend his first Mass.
He chose a little brick church on 121st St. in New York — Church of Corpus Christi.
“How bright the little building seemed. Indeed, it was quite new. The sun shone on the clean bricks. People were going in the wide open door, into the cool darkness and, all at once, all the churches of Italy and France came back to me. The richness and fulness of the atmosphere of Catholicism that I had not been able to avoid apprehending and loving as a child, came back to me with a rush; but now I was to enter into it full for the first time. So far, I had known nothing but the outward surface.”
Merton’s description of the congregants in attendance that day reflects his pre-Vatican II Catholic views of a primary difference between Catholics and Protestants:
“What a revelation it was, to discover so many ordinary people in a place together, more conscious of God than of one another; not there to show off their hats or their clothes, but to pray, or at least to fulfil a religious obligation, not a human one. For even those who might have been there for no better motive than that they were obliged to be, were at least free from any of the self-conscious and human constraint, which is never absent from a Protestant church where people are definitely gathered together as people, as neighbors, and always have at least half an eye for one another, if not all of both eyes.”

After the Gospel reading, a young priest stood up to preach, and this was the part of Thomas Merton’s first experience at Mass that was to prove most revelatory for him. He found the sermon quite impressive.
“It was not long: but to me it was very interesting to hear this young man quietly telling the people in language that was plain, yet tinged with scholastic terminology, about a point in Catholic doctrine. How clear and solid the doctrine was: for behind those words you felt the full force not only of Scripture but of centuries of a unified and continuing and consistent tradition. And above all, it was a vital tradition: there was nothing studied or antique about it. These words, this terminology, this doctrine, and these convictions fell from the lips of the young priest as something that were most intimately part of his own life. What was more, I sensed that the people were familiar with it all, and that it was also, in due proportion, part of their life also: it was just as much integrated into their spiritual organism as the air they breathed or the food they ate worked in to their blood and flesh.”
It was a message on the Person of Christ, his divinity, and incarnation. “And His works were the works of God: His acts were the acts of God. He loved us: God, and walked among us: God, and died for us on the Cross, God of God, Light of Light, True God of True God.”
Merton testifies that this sermon was the part of the Mass that he most needed to hear that day.
When it came time for celebrating the eucharist, he became uncomfortable and left the sanctuary. But another ray of light had pierced his heart.
Even though the streets he walked were familiar, something had changed: “All I know is that I walked in a new world.”











