Today I rediscovered this old photograph taken of me by John Howard Griffin on my visit to Thomas Merton's hermitage. I sat and held the photograph and remembered a glorious October day when my sister, Elizabeth, and I traveled to Gethsemani Abbey in Kentucky with friend, Fr. Maurice Flood, to spend a day with John Griffin at Merton's hermitage.
I had long been a fan of Merton's work, having read many of his books on prayer and contemplation as well as his famous autobiography, "The Seven Story Mountain." John Griffin was also familiar to me as the author of "Black Like Me," a book that was required reading in my high school. The book remains an amazing account of Griffin's encounter with racism in the South where he traveled after darkening his skin to pass as black.
When I met him, he was suffering from diabetes and from effects of the chemicals he had taken along with treatments to blacken his skin. Despite his poor health, he was working on a biography of Merton, entering into the prayer and spirituality that filled the place. The hills were full of autumn color: trees, New England asters, tall wispy grasses, and wild flowers. I sang outside, my own song, October Days. John fixed a wonderful dinner (see my blog post A Good Friend) and we shared conversation and song late into the night.
I had never been in the company of a professional photographer before but soon became accustomed to the sound of continuous clicks of his camera. He laughed and commented that he would need more film for the next day when he was scheduled to photograph the abbot. Evening came and he built a fire in the fireplace.
When the few monks who had come to share the evening stood up to leave at 8:30 I looked at Maurice.
"Leaving? So soon?" I asked.
They smiled. "Monks get up early around here, you know."
Of course! Like at 3am! I had forgotten. Maurice rose to leave as well.
"Wouldn't you like to stay a little longer?" John asked.
The monks shook their heads. Maurice said we were expected at a nearby convent for the night. They wanted to hear us sing, too. All the way out to the car, John kept asking.
Finally, I could stand it no longer. Nuns or not, I was not about to give up a few more hours John Howard Griffin.
"I do. I will stay!" I said. Maurice looked a bit puzzled, but we waved goodbye to the monks and reentered the hermitage.
I never regretted it. We sang and talked and watched the fire. At 12:30 or 1am we were knocking on the door of some of Maurice's friends in Louisville where we spent what was left of the night. They also were friends of Merton's and trustees of his papers at that time. We had a good breakfast and then made our way back to the convent where I apologized to the nuns we had stood up the night before. We sang and ate brownies they had made for us. I felt only a little guilty. One must seize opportunities when they present themselves.
I never saw John Griffin again, but not long after our visit, Maurice gave me a present: Griffin/Merton's book "A Hidden Wholeness: The Visual World of Thomas Merton," signed to me by Griffin. It remains a treasure. When I saw the old photograph of me, I found the book and sat with it. Whenever I have looked through it reflecting on the photographs taken by Merton (with the exception of a few taken of Merton by Griffin) and reading the commentary by John Griffin, it has been a prayerful experience. This time was no different.
God's Presence in creation, in one another, is truly a hidden wholeness, waiting to be recognized. I thank the Holy One for John Griffin, his courage and efforts to uncovering racism in our world, and for his hospitality. I remain grateful to my friend, Maurice, for that incredible experience.
Today's unexpected "find" has reminded me of what contemplatives (in or out out of monasteries) know: We must take time to be still in the Presence of the Holy Mystery, and be open to the sacred in our midst.
© 2011 Mary K. van Balen
Morgan Atkinson has directed a DVD on Griffin titled "Uncommon Vision:The LIfe and Times of John Howard Griffin.