“ It wasn’t long before we saw, far away, a sturdy 53-year-old man in a T-shirt and farmer’s coveralls quickly approaching. His tall boots were muddy, and he carried a grocery bag; the other hand was stuffed into his pocket as he plodded toward us. The sun shone on his balding head, but as he looked up, his eyes glimmered with joy and his generous mouth curved in a smile to see us. I thought Thomas Merton was a monk and did not recognize him in this rough garb and very strong human presence. He greeted us vigorously, shook both our... Read More