Alone with God and Thomas Merton

THIS WEEK’S WINNER

Randy Romo Razon, 27, is one of the youngest rectors of the Cursillo movement in the Philippines. Under the aegis of Los Grandes Amores, he has led Cursillo retreats in La Loma, Quezon City and Cabuyao, Laguna. His first rector and spiritual mentor is former Manila Mayor Ramon Bagatsing. He is active in the parish and the local community of Potrero in Malabon City, where he established their small family-owned restaurant.

It is Sunday as I write this. I have just come home from the North Cemetery, where I laid some flowers and offered silent prayers for a dearly departed friend. His final resting place lies over a kilometer from the main gate. I was in a meditative state as I strolled down the road, contemplating the wheels of fate and the laws of the universe. I was surrounded by the mortal remains of those who have passed away, yet I felt a strange affinity with those strangers and their unknown lives. I do not understand why some folks think it is morbid to think about death; it is as natural as the voices echoing from the mountains, as inevitable as sunrise following the night.

There is a world of difference between being lonely and being alone. Sadness comes from the mind, and one can sometimes find oneself miserable and lonely amid the madding crowd. Being alone, on the other hand, is essentially keeping company with only yourself. There lies the rub in human nature: a person needs to retire from the world every once in a while; solitude nourishes his will and uplifts his spirit. But if he is afraid to be alone with himself, it is impossible to achieve harmony between the heart and soul. This music from one’s internal orchestra is what makes us act as we do; it is the rhythm that directs the steps we take, the moves we make, as we travel in this pilgrimage called life.

I am not solitary by nature. I have many friends from all walks of life. But this I believe: the essence of true brotherhood lies in the spiritual realm. Every man, woman and child is a spark from the blinding light of God, thus we are all connected. God communicates with us in His own mysterious ways, yet we expect to hear Him above the noise of superficial posturings and the ephemeral confusion around us. I always keep in mind “that our lives, as depended and contingent creatures, must always be those of listening,” as Thomas Merton writes in my favorite book The Philosophy of Solitude.

I grew up in a family permeated with deep religious convictions and a sense of service to the Church and the community. My parents were both active in the Cursillo movement and in helping organize Life in the Spirit Seminars in and out of the metropolitan area. I have an uncle who heard the call and is now in a seminary. I became a rector with the Los Grandes Amores, having been a cursillista since the mid-1990s, with no less than former Manila Mayor Ramon Bagatsing as our rector. It was only natural that I would eventually come across the works of the celebrated Trappist monk, including The Seven-Storey Mountain, Thoughts in Solitude, Mystics and Zen Masters, and Bread in the Wilderness.

Thomas Merton is indeed my favorite writer, if only for eloquently articulating with crystal clarity all the complexities of the spiritual journey towards the divine destination. That alone is enough, but it is more than that, of course. In these times of self-righteous condemnation of foreign creeds and opposing doctrines, Thomas Merton’s humility and simplicity make me proud to be a Catholic and evoke within me a greater and more profound appreciation of God’s supreme love for humanity.

There is beauty in silence, if I may paraphrase the Desiderata. In solitude we find strength and a renewed sense of purpose.

“God works in silence,” Thomas Merton writes. “The spirit of the world which is always selfishness and envy and conspiracy and lust and terror, doesn’t like silence. The world around us makes people loud and noisy from fear of their hollowness.”

Is it any wonder, then, that pomposity and delusions of grandeur are witnessed from those whose hearts are empty?

But God is not finished with us yet. Thomas Merton goes on to say that “the spirit of God gives them peace, teaches them not to be afraid of silence, but to find themselves in the quiet.” And only then can the still, small voice be heard.