Review: The Spirit of Simplicity

This review first appeared on the Englewood Review of Books.

The Spirit of Simplicity has a compelling backstory: a 70 year old hidden text written by a famed French Cistercian, Jean-Baptiste Chautard, translated with notes by Trappist (a Cistercian branch) monk, Thomas Merton. In a world of complexity and loudness, simplicity for our lives and souls is compelling and increasingly popular.

The text itself is short: 114 pages of content, including 14 illustrations of monasteries, and 23 pages of notes from Merton. It is broken into two parts: The first being the aforementioned translation of Chautard’s The Spirit of Simplicity and the second excerpts from writings and speeches of St. Bernard of Clairvaux, a leader of the Cistercian order, on the topic of interior simplicity, with added commentary by Merton. From a readability standpoint, the reader must remember this text’s place in history: Part 1 was written in 1920s French, translated into 1940s English, both with a target audience of the theologically trained monastic community. Bernard died in 1153. For readers familiar with dense mystical and theological texts, this time will seem familiar and accessible. For those looking for a simplicity self-help book, it will be a grind.

These kind of expectations is where the key focus of satisfaction with the book will be. This book may be most valuable as an insight into the history of the Cistercian order and its accompanying theological values. Its applicability to a lot of modern Christian life is limited, and many will disagree with many of the principles underlying some of the specific applications of simplicity.

A definition of simplicity may be helpful in assessing the book. In his foreword, Merton states, “simplicity may be defined as a constant and unchanging desire for one object and him alone… In the strict sense, simplicity is the perfect conversion of the will to God, asking one thing of God, and desiring that alone, and not going forth and multiplying itself in the world” (p. xviii). This is a laudable definition, albeit ironically complicated to explain simplicity, emphasizing what a difficult concept it is, especially in practice.

Repeatedly through all sections, the writers emphasize that simplicity is intended to bring union with God and the love of God. This may not be intuitive to many people, especially when exploring intellectual simplicity, a section in Part 2. In fact, Merton explicitly states that our intellect is to help us love: “Hence, simplicity in the intellectual order means subordinating all our knowledge to the LOVE OF GOD. We study in order to love” (85). What if we always thought of the principle of study and academia as helping us love?

This quote also reflects the reason for the process of simplicity: Subordination to God. Humility is the term often used to refer to this process, but it does not refer to general humility. Rather, it is humbling (subordinating) ourselves before God. Simplicity helps us to see God as supreme and sufficient, while helping us be obedient to God’s will. This is easier when not distracted by many things of life.

This moves us to what can be considered the limitations of this book: They are focused on a monastic life, which 1) not everyone lives and 2) not everyone agrees is theologically appropriate.

First to 1: This text was written to Cistercian monks. In Part 1, Chautard notes, “It is therefore a matter of obligation for us Cistercians to return often to the study of our ancient Rule, so that we may never forget the fundamental spirit of our reform to which the Church thought it not amiss to grant the title of a true religious order” (p. 12). This seems to provide the intent of his text. The entire focus is reminding his monastic brothers of their proper behaviors, calling them back to the core intent. Merton’s annotations and additions of Bernard’s writings fall into this same focus. If the reader is not a Cistercian monks, the directions will have limited utility, as they are often very behavioral in the context of Cistercian monasticism.

This brand of monasticism advocates for virtually complete withdrawal from society and people gets to point 2 (whether such withdrawal is really intended). To be fair to this spiritual tradition, it is wise to listen to those who promote it to truly understand the goal. The intent is quite holy, seeing to be more like Christ: “The soul of the monk is to reproduce the inner life of his master [Christ] by observing this Rule. That is all” (21). Indeed, all Christians should seek to reproduce the inner life of Christ. The Cistercian model advocates that the best way to do this is through both internally and external simplicity, stripping away as much as is possible. Chautard explains this by stating, “The monk detaches himself from everything that might weigh him down and bind him to the earth. He wants to be simple, not mixed up with the things that are below him” (9). It is hard to argue with this logic in many ways, as life can be distracting. Merton phrases it differently, but again points to separateness from the world as the way to find God: “The whole aim of the Cistercian life—and the fathers of the order are unanimous on this point—is to set men apart from the world that their souls may be purified and led step by step to perfect union with God by the recovery of our lost likeness to him” (71).

Likely all contemplative models and even most general spiritual development perspectives advocate for times of alone. Looking to Christ’s behavior, such as in the Garden of Gethsemane, reinforce this. Indeed, contemplation and slowing facilitates the mystical experiences that the writers are honorably pursuing. However, this monastic approach advocates for this isolation full-time. Many would argue that this is contrary to Christ’s intent, especially when looking at the Great Commission. A balance of the extreme Cistercian version of simplicity with engagement in the world seems a more accurate reflection of Christlikeness.

For readers who want to better understand some spiritual perspectives, especially in the flow of the history of Western Christianity, this is a useful book. If you’re looking for spiritual guidance and inspiration around simplicity, another book in the spiritual formation genre or on contemplation would be more helpful.

Expositional Preaching on Ruth

My faith has increasingly focused on the centrality of love in the Gospel. My professional perspective is oriented toward love in relationships (not always framed in those terms, but with that concept). So Paul Miller's book, A Loving Life In a World of Broken Relationships, sounded intriguing. It was better than a pop-theology/pop-psychology book in that Miller grounds most of his assertions in the Bible. But in reality, it was essentially a series of expositional preaching lessons on the Book of Ruth.

While the topic of expositional preaching can be controversial in itself (some say it's the only way to preach, others think it's horrid and unhelpful), I think it can be useful, but if done right. While I found it interesting doing a sort of in-depth study on Ruth, the re-connection Miller attempted to make to the contemporary world was not terribly smooth. Some of the major problems were with his misrepresentations of psychological processes and groups of people with whom he disagrees.

For instance, a central punching bag in the book is what Miller terms a "feeling culture." This refers to putting feelings as primary and paying attention to them as an element of authenticity. Miller claims some parts of prioritizing feelings that are just simply not true. He asserts that people from this perspective believe that in order to be authentic, you have to do what you feel. Not true. As a psychologist, I definitely put a priority on both feelings and authenticity, but feelings are only one part of who we are. Ignoring them is as inauthentic as letting them bulldoze over our rationality and other priorities. He also claims that the Christian value is to just not let our feelings affect us. This is a major myth in conservative Christianity, and it's just not possible. The reality is that emotions (what he really means by feelings) are always occurring within us and always affecting us. That's part of being human. But that does not necessarily mean that we choose to behave based on what our emotions are moving us toward.

He also makes big claims about other groups/movements/perspectives, like mysticism and meditation. Having studied both academically, I can say that Miller clearly does not understand these concepts, instead going for oversimplistic stereotypes created by people who have had little to no exposure to what these ideas are really about. Unfortunately, Miller uses these various constructs to differentiate his claim of what love is. If he truly understood these other cultures, he would know that they are not necessarily as different from his approach as he thinks they are. They're definitely not as threatening.

Arthur Morey narrated the audiobook, and I've listened to many of his books. He has a great voice, but this book just fell flat. It sounded almost monotone. I'm not sure it was Morey's fault, but perhaps the unengaging content that felt like a dry sermon. I had trouble listening to the whole book and regularly found myself having to rewind because I tuned out. It's really unfortunate because there was potential for a lot of good in Miller's text. It just needs a major revision for accuracy.

Disclosure of Material Connection: I received this book free from the publisher. I was not required to write a positive review. The opinions I have expressed are my own. I am disclosing this in accordance with the Federal Trade Commission’s 16 CFR, Part 255: “Guides Concerning the Use of Endorsements and Testimonials in Advertising.”

Not-So-Imaginary Jesus @caReviewers

The next book I have reviewed for the christianaudio Reviewer's Program is Imaginary Jesus written and narrated by Matt Mikalatos. As should be obvious, I did receive a free copy from christianaudio in exchange for reviewing it. As followers of my blog know, my other reviews of their works have been less-than-stellar (I wish they'd choose other options for review because they have a lot of great texts, er audio). So this positive review should emphasize that this is not an over-inflated review due to getting a free audiobook. :)

Imaginary Jesus caught my eye due to the title and the synopsis. It looked creative and in my interest area because of the idea that we have constructed a Jesus in our minds that clouds the real Jesus. That is precisely what this book discusses, but not in such a bland and boring way as I just described it.

Mikalatos (who does an excellent job narrating--I particularly love when authors narrate their own works, especially when they are of such a personal nature) does a very creative job tackling (sometimes literally) his imaginary Jesuses, guiding us through his imagination in what many ways makes this book feel like a novel. I must say that about an hour or so into the book, I got a bit bored with the Jesuses, but this gave way to appreciation. Without these descriptions, the final chapters, which were more propositional (although not terribly explicit), would not have been as powerful. The chapter, "Holy Mother of God," was particularly moving, I thought. I don't want to give too much away because the process of moving through Mikalatos' imagination is part of the power of the book.

In many ways, this reminds me of the mystical texts that some of the saints used to describe their inward journey to meeting Christ. Mikalatos takes a more humorous approach. However, it is funny because it is terribly accurate (in particular, I loved the Secret Society of Imaginary Jesuses). He does an effective job of crafting a modern mystical experience that is at once both individually contemplative and communal.

Further, I realized toward the end of the book that this is a perfect example of describing God image. This refers to the construction of God we have created and with which we interact. It's a natural psychological phenomenon everyone does with anyone with whom we relate. It can be a hard concept to understand, but this book makes it much more understandable.

In sum, I highly recommend this book. I'm not sure how it would be in written form, but the audiobook is excellent. In many ways, I the audiobook may be better if for no other reason than the author reads it himself. That conveys a message no written text ever could.