The real hope, then, is not in something we think we can do, but in God who is making something good out of it in some way we cannot see. In the greatest depths, like a spring of pure water rising up in the flames of hell, is the smallness, the frailty of a hope that is, yet, never overwhelmed but continues strangely and inexplicably to nourish in the midst of apparent despair. We are saved by hope for that which we do not see and we wait for it with patience.

To hope, and to exist, is to have roots in God. As I said-true hope is trusting that what we have, where we are, and who we are is more than enough for us as creatures of God. Hope doesn’t mean an anticipation or expectation of a deliverance from an intolerable or oppressive situation or condition.… That’s what most of us are doing most of the time: wanting something other than what is. That’s the meaning of hope…to trust in the ultimate goodness of creation. Hope then is a gift…but to meet it we have to descend to Nothingness. It leaves all the other secondary effects to take care of themselves. Love seeks one thing only: the good of the one loved. We do not find the meaning of life by ourselves alone. The following words are from Merton himself and can be found in my book The Art of Thomas Merton: A Divine Passion in Word and Vision. Few people have been the subject of so much scrutiny and interpretation, but an anthology enables Merton to speak for himself, and it allows the reader to engage directly with a man who-fifty years after his death-remains a surprisingly contemporary figure, addressing time and again the issues that matter to us and to our world. Words mattered: they were Merton’s stock-in-trade, his first and most characteristic art form. His extensive writings provide ample scope for any compiler who attempts to set before the reader a coherent introduction to his thought, his questions, his concerns, his passions. Thomas Merton continues to speak with a voice that is insightful, compelling, and prophetic.

The Secret Country by Pamela Dean