The New Wine of Dominican Spirituality: A Drink Called Happiness, by Paul Murray, OP.
(I ran across this book in the gift shop of a Trappist monastery; God’s sense of humor is astonishing.)
What intrigued me most about this book when I first saw it was the idea of a distinctly Dominican spirituality. I thought there had to be such a thing, but I couldn’t find anything about it.
My metaphysics teacher in seminary once told my class that we were a bunch of Dominicans and didn’t know it. I told him after class that I couldn’t speak for everyone else, but that I was well aware of my own Dominican tendencies. I’ve often said that if I’d had the vocation to community life, the Dominicans would have been the first place I looked.
Much of the spiritual writing of the last few centuries has come from the Jesuits, who have done much to popularize and promote spirituality for everyone, not just for those in religious life. For this, the Church undoubtedly owes them a debt of great thanks. That’s not just lip service—there may be no group that has done more to help bring holiness to the world than the Jesuits of the 19th and early 20th centuries. And yet the methods and ideas that dominate many books on prayer and spirituality have never worked all that well for me.
I found this sentence on page 9 of the book: “When, over the years, Dominicans have found themselves confronted with detailed methods and techniques of meditation, and with long lists of what to do in meditation and what not to do, their reaction has almost always been the same: they instinctively feel that something has gone wrong.” I do not know that the author is claiming that something has gone wrong universally—I certainly don’t—and yet I find the point well taken.
So what goes in the place of those methods and techniques? Most of the rest of the book works its way around that question without quite ever answering it. It seems to have something to do with study, and in particular study as a way to know God better and therefore to proclaim Him better (preaching being the primary charism of the Dominicans, who are officially known as the Order of Preachers).
I can’t give the book an unqualified recommendation, even for those of us who need another way to pray. Although it mentions frequently the need for meditation and contemplation, I’m not sure that the author does not downplay them a little too much. And while I found nothing unorthodox in the book, there are places that I read with a little wariness.
That having been said, I’m still glad that I bought the book (and read it). The page 9 sentence alone might have been worth the price, but I also found a fair amount of food for thought and prayer throughout the book.
Caveat lector, but if you’re in search of an approach to spirituality that’s different from what’s commonly presented yet still based solidly in centuries of practice within the Church, this might be the book you need to get you pointed in the right direction.
