I read some of Merton the other day and was mesmerized!
His works were just incredible. A Sister from my parish that is acting as my spiritual director now loves him and gave me a booklet of excerpts from his various works. She is also a fan of St. John of the Cross, and I must say I am too now. The Dark Night of the Soul is on my must-read list now. She is also an avid fan of Jung.
She did not actually introduce me to him. It was, rather, a “synchronicity,” so to speak.
I’m aware that Jung is not always orthodox (then again, neither is Voltaire and I adore him and feel that in various ways he has helped me in my spirituality, interestingly enough). I am by no means a believer in astrology, though I understand why the human pysche is so prone to look toward the stars for guidance. He also has no problem calling God a metaphor for the universal Self, and angels and demons metaphors for various warring pyschic and spiritual realities. I have no problem with this. It is supremely sensible and orthodox when one thinks about it. He does, however, at times assert the impersonal nature of the Self–that is, God. Here I dissent.
I am far from being afraid to incorporate truths from various sources into my own spirituality–but never at the expense of my Catholic faith. As Rumi once said, all Truth is but a mirror in God’s hands that one day dropped and broke into a million shards. Men from all ends of the earth ran to collect each just one shard, and then proceeded to say: “I have the truth!”
Catholicism to me represents a fuller truth. Still… I also recognize and embrace the noble and beautiful aspects of various other religious traditions as being entirely complementary to my own, in keeping with Vatican II.
I needn’t be Muslim to be moved by holy Qur’an’s truth or poeticism; Buddhist to be aspiring toward nonviolence and love; to be a Deist to find humor and wit (and even truth) within Voltaire’s works; etc.
I need only be confident enough in my own faith as a Catholic Christian to explore and learn from these various sources, and to never cease questioning things, even–no, especially–the Church to which I look for guidance.