Archive for the 'christianity' Category

Experience v. theology

I recently finished Thomas Merton’s Zen and the Birds of Appetite. Extremely highly recommended. Especially good was his introduction to Wu’s A Christian Look at Zen. Merton must have been a psychic because he addresses so many questions that I’m asking but he definitely is biased towards Christianity. Although I think that last statement may stem from my not having experienced Christianity as he did. He uses phrases like “mystery of Christ” and “word of the Cross” and I can’t help but wonder how deeply he felt these and how shallow the words are for me. But in any case, Merton wrote …

It cannot be repeated too often: in understanding Buddhism it would be a great mistake to concentrate on the “doctrine,” the formulated philosophy of life, and to neglect the experience, which is absolutely essential, the very heart of Buddhism. This is in a sense the exact opposite of the situation in Christianity. For Christianity begins with revelation. Though it would be misleading to classify this revelation simple as a “doctrine” and an “explanation” (it is far more than that—the revelation of God Himself in the mystery of Christ) it is nevertheless communicated to us in words, in statements, and everything depends on the believer’s accepting the truth of these statements.

Therefore Christianity has always been profoundly concerned with these statements: with the accuracy of their transmission from the original sources, with the precise understanding of their exact meaning, with the elimination and indeed the condemnation of false interpretations. At times this concern has been exaggerated almost to the point of an obsession, accompanied by arbitrary and fanatical insistence on hairsplitting distinctions and the purest niceties of theological detail.

This obsession with doctrinal formulas, juridical order and ritual exactitude has often made people forget that the heart of Catholicism, too, is a living experience of unity in Christ which far transcends all conceptual formulations. What too often has been overlooked, in consequence, is that Catholicism is the taste and experience of eternal life: “We announce to the you the eternal life which was with the Father and has appeared to us. What we have seen and have heard we announce to you, in order that you also may have fellowship with us and that our fellowship may be with the Father and with His Son Jesus Christ.” (I John 1:2-3) Too often the Catholic has imagined himself obliged to stop short at a mere correct and external belief expressed in good moral behavior, instead of entering fully into the life of hope and love consummated by union with the invisible God “in Christ and in the Spirit,” thus fully sharing in the Divine Nature. (Ephesians 2:18, 2 Peter 1:4, Col. 1:9-17, I John 4:12)

Some of the blogs I pay attention to have been spending a lot of time on points of theology that I just can’t see the relevance of. Whether infant baptism is good/bad/indifferent. The “mechanics” of how Jesus’ death saves. Whether homosexuality is good/bad/indifferent. I don’t understand why people would spend so much time on these “trivial” theological points when they are so far from the point. To me, the only thing theology like that does is divide. The only result of saying “infant baptism is necessary and is proper and does such and such for the child and here are a bunch of verses that prove my point” is that you separate yourself from other Christians who do not hold the same view. When I was growing up in an IFCA church (that’s Independent Fundamental Churches of America), I truly thought that all Lutherans, all Episcopalians, all Catholics, most Methodists, some Presbyterians were going to hell. In sixth grade, I told a classmate who was Catholic that he was not a Christian. All based on differing points of theology.

Too many Christians have forgotten that Christianity is “a living experience of unity in Christ which far transcends all conceptual formulations.” Being a Christian has been reduced to a series of bulleted points that you must initial to show that you claim to believe them. And you have to learn to defend these points with chapter and verse so that you can persuade all heretics you may meet. This is what “defending your faith” has become — quibbling over insignificant points of theology.

Christianity should be the “entering fully into the life of hope and love consummated by union with the invisible God.” How can that be reduced to theology? It’s an experience that must be experienced first hand. It can’t be talked about and reduced to formulas. It’s like smelling a rose, watching a sunset, having an orgasm. You just have to experience it yourself or else you have absolutely no idea what it’s all about.

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Fast-acting AND long-lasting

So I’m reading Thomas Merton and D.T. Suzuki on Christian and Buddhist mysticism. I am really feeling a connection with mysticism and how it allows for more than one answer even when the multiple answers appear contradictory. But I’m also feeling very frustrated and … hopeless. I don’t have time for mysticism! I’ve got too little time to deal with my normal, everyday life let alone work on attaining enlightenment. I’m lucky if I get an hour of meditation in a day. It’s especially difficult because the only time I can really meditate is when my daughter takes a nap — late night meditation has not been going well lately. So I’ve got to be ready when she goes to sleep because she sometimes sleeps an hour or less. So, unless I’m “on the cushion” toot sweet, I have to stop “in the middle.” Plus, an hour a day seems trivial and worthless compared to the Desert Fathers who left society to find God. Most of them still had issues years later so how the hell am I supposed to get anywhere still immersed in society and meditating an hour a day?

Where is the get-it-now answer to my problem? Where is the infomercial that promises results before I can finish giving my credit card number? It’s right here, all around us. It’s called mainstream Christianity! The fast-acting and long-lasting solution. Get saved right now and you’re saved forever — and they really mean forever! This is the greatest delusion that Christianity perpetrates on the “lost” but it’s also why it’s so popular — it’s easy.

In a way, it’s too easy. But it’s also the most difficult thing. (paradox — love it!) It’s easy because all you have to do is “believe in Him” and you “shall not perish but have eternal life.” But, at least for me, it’s the most difficult thing because what I have to believe is unbelievable and amazingly incomplete! They make it sound simple. “Accept Jesus Christ into your heart.” In Billy Graham’s column, his answer to every single problem was to accept Jesus into your life. But what the hell does that mean??? No one tells you that. And that’s the great delusion — this one time act, according to them, which can be done in a moment of weakness or desperation or terror, is enough to counterbalance a lifetime of doing the most rotten, despicable, awful, repugnant, evil, vile things imaginable. Salvation, to them, is not a life-long process. It’s one single, solitary, isolated, independent act.

Sure, you’re supposed to grow in your Christian life but how much can you really grow going to church a couple hours a week? At least my parents drug us to church twice on Sundays plus Wednesday nights! And if you don’t make any progress well that’s ok, too, because God’s grace is sufficient and as long as you confess all your shortcomings and you really promise to try harder then it’s all hunky dory. All you really have to do is read your Bible and pray. Well, and look the part. That’s the most important thing — nice suit and tie on Sunday morning to cover up all that you don’t want the rest of them to see.

And there’s sermons on the fruits of the Spirit and how to have the faith-filled life and all that jazz. But those are offset by sermons on eternal security and how Paul even had trouble doing what was right. A little coaxing to keep moving and grow but a lot of reassurance if you just can’t quite do it.

So, go ahead and buy into their delusion if you want to. Convince yourself that going to church on Sunday morning and reading the “feel-good” passages in the Bible are enough. Keep a stiff upper lip during the really bad times so no one knows you have doubts. But that’s not what I’m doing. And I may not get very far in this lifetime but at least I’m trying to do something that means something — to me, at least.

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Christianity is like working for the government

Well, it’s like what working for the government used to be. And it’s like what being a tenured professor used to be. In other words, you couldn’t get fired. The ultimate job security. You could sit around and do enough to just get by. And nobody cared a whole lot.

And that’s what Christianity is like. Once you “accept Jesus Christ into your heart as your own personal savior” you’re on easy street. Sure you should go to church and you should read your Bible and you should pray. But, hey, it’s not works that save you. It’s God’s grace. You don’t deserve anything at all from God so going to church or not going to church isn’t going to change anything. Yeah, yeah there’s all that talk about the Fruits of the Spirit and your faith is demonstrated by your works. But really, in the end, all you have to do is “accept Jesus Christ into your heart as your own personal savior.”

Most Christians who do go to church and read their Bibles just end up listening. They listen to the “feel good about yourself and your life” sermons and they listen to encouraging words and rationalizations for why they’re believe what they’re told to believe. How much do they really work at their salvation? How much do they really grow in their relationship with Jesus?

And this is what I was whining about in my last post. Mainstream and Fundamentalist Christianity is all about getting people to believe. What happens after that doesn’t matter because all you have to do is believe. It’s so freakin’ easy that anyone can do it! Which is the attraction. You don’t have to be a monk or in a convent or work at it full time. You don’t have to quit your day job and all your extra curricular activities. Go to church on Sunday morning and you’re good to go. A Wednesday evening prayer meeting (does anyone do that anymore?) once in a while for a little extra credit. From day one, you’re good to go. Accept Jesus Christ one minute, die the next, and you’re being ushered past the pearly gates into your own private mansion on your own private cul-de-sac of gold.

But what about the mystical versions of religions? The mystics have to work. And work hard! A lifetime of meditation, contemplation, introspection. And what happens if a mystic dies the day after she takes up mysticism? Well, she gets to start all over again next time around. Meditation — training the mind — is extremely difficult. But that’s how the mystic encounters God. It’s not an instant conversion type experience.

But there are those of us for whom the easy way out does not work. We desire a much more intimate relationship with God — more intimate than hearing about him while sitting in church on Sunday. More intimate than just reading what he’s said in the past. More intimate than talking to the wall and pretending he’s listening. And so, because we desire more, we must work more. And so, I’ll get back on “the cushion” tomorrow and meditate again. Take the good days with the bad. I’ll think about true mystics like Suzuki, Merton, Eckhart, Wilber, etc. who were/are much further along the path than I’ll ever be in this lifetime and I’ll be envious of them. I’ll even bitch and moan a little bit about it but I’ll still get back on the cushion tomorrow.

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That’s just not freakin’ fair

So, I’m trying to meditate again. And it’s hard work! Lately I’ve been fighting my body more than my mind. I get fidgety and I just can’t talk myself into staying still. I’m not giving up — no matter what — but it’s still frustrating some most days.

And then I start thinking about how I have a lifetime of meditation ahead of me. A lifetime of sitting and working on quieting my mind. A lifetime of working hard to focus and try and reach the next level, get past the next koan. A lifetime with no assurance of achieving kensho. I read what some of the Christian mystics write and they don’t see themselves very far along the path and that’s all they do! How can I, a non-monk regular working Dad, supposed to make any progress?

And then I start thinking about fundamentalist, evangelical, literalist Christians. Believe in Jesus and you get into heaven. Live a 100% sinful, evil life and repent at the last moment and get into heaven. Simply accept Jesus Christ as your personal savior and get into heaven. It just takes one act of simple belief and your problems are solved. Sure you need to live your life in a certain way but the act of believing seals your fate. It’s so simple a caveman could do it. After you “do it,” even if you fail and sin and stumble, a simple confession makes it all right as rain again. Read your Bible, pray, go to church and you maintain your status of “saved.”

It’s all so simple and all so unfair that I cannot “simply” believe.

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What do you do with a rich young ruler?

(No, this is not a post about drinking songs.)

Most of you, I’m sure, know the story of the rich young ruler who wanted eternal life and Jesus told him to sell all that he possessed. It was in his comments to his disciples after the young man left where he makes his camel and the eye of the needle remark. So, I’m sure most of you know the story but what do you do with it?

I was asking myself this very question while reading Wisdom of the Desert by Thomas Merton (it’s actually a translation by Merton of things ancient hermits said). These hermits gave up everything to go out into the desert and try to find God. What really got me thinking about this was reading how these hermits considered themselves unworthy sinners after years and years and years of searching and fasting and praying. The spiritual practice I do is absolutely nothing in comparison so is there any hope for me? Any at all?

So, I started asking myself: is Jesus really asking me — nay, telling me — to sell everything I own? How rich is “rich” — how rich must I be before it gets in the way? I think a sense of what Jesus was saying is found in the disciples’ reaction to his camel comment. “They were even more astonished and said to Him, ‘Then who can be saved?’ ” They didn’t breath a sigh of relief at this comment and thank their lucky stars they weren’t rich. They wondered who — including themselves — could be saved. I think this because Peter then starts defending the disciples by pointing out the painfully obvious fact that they had left everything for Jesus. Of course Jesus knew this so why did it need to be said?

So, again, I’m asking myself: Do I need to leave everything in order to follow Jesus? Of course, no self-respecting pastor is going to urge his congregation to leave everything for Jesus. No way, no how. If they did, who would pay for refinishing the hardwood floors in the sanctuary and the upkeep on the beautiful stained glass and the organ tuning and his salary! Don’t forget his salary! No. The pastor is going to talk about “attachment” to things or “letting money rule your life” or “tithing” or “coveting” or some other lousy rationalization.

The way I see it, owning something is no different than being attached to it or having it rule over you. I cannot own a car and not be attached to it. If I were not attached, I would not lock it. I would have the absolute minimum possible amount of insurance that still kept me in compliance with state laws. I’d let any of my friends drive it. I’d let my friends’ kids eat ice cream in the back seat. I’d offer to help all my friends use my car to move.

I cannot own a house and not be attached to it. If I were not attached, I would not lock it. I would not have an alarm system. I would have the absolute minimum possible amount of insurance that allowed me to get a mortgage. Scratch that. I would have a house that I could buy outright so that my mortgage payment never troubled me or kept me from tithing and giving the rest of what I owned to the poor and needy. So, I would basically be living in a shack which I probably would not be that attached to.

And what about my family? Jesus talks about leaving family to follow him. Surely he meant that I “leave” my daughter once she is grown and out of the house, right? He can’t possibly be talking about leaving her now when she is 14 months old!! Can he?

I just don’t know. What I do know is that you can think what you want about Jesus’ words to the rich young ruler but as for me, I know I’m attached to my family and to my things. I’ve got financial commitments and I make financial decisions that do not leave a whole lot left over for giving. I make decisions about what I do and when I do it that do not leave a whole lot of time for spiritual practice. And I’m not sure, yet, what it all means and what I’m supposed to do or what I will end up doing about it. But I am sure that these questions will be on my mind.

And as I write this, I feel that this is very inadequate — both my expression of my thoughts and what I’m going to do about it. “These questions will be on my mind.” What the hell does that mean? It’s meaningless. Less than meaningless. But the seed is there. I just need to let it grow. And that, itself, is trite and stupid but I cannot express it otherwise.

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Just a thought … on what’s wrong with Buddhism

I think one of the big problems some Christians have with Buddhism is that they think that the Buddha is identified with the man Siddhartha Gautama. But Buddha is not the man. Buddha is an enlightened one — one who has woken up. It’s more appropriate to speak of Buddha nature, which is very much like the new man in the Bible. Siddhartha realized his Buddha nature and put aside his old ways and put on the new man. Buddha nature and Christ’s nature are the same. They both point in the same direction — inward.

Just a thought …

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“The Christ we seek is within us”

I tried to talk about this idea in previous posts here and here. In my recent “coincidental” book purchase of Thomas Merton’s The Hidden Ground of Love: Letters on Religious Experience and Social Concerns (yes, another quote from Merton!) he talks about the same idea in a letter to D.T. Suzuki:

The essentially Christian element in all this is the fact that it is centered in Christ. But what does that mean? Does it mean conformity to a social and conventional image of Christ? Then we become involved and alienated in another projection: a Christ who is not Christ but the symbol of a certain sector of society, a certain group, a certain class, a certain culture . . . Fatal. The Christ we seek is within us, in our inmost self, is our inmost self, and yet infinitely transcends ourselves. We have to be “found in Him” and yet be perfectly ourselves and free from the domination of any image of Him other than Himself. You see, that is the trouble with the Christian world. It is not dominated by Christ (which would be perfect freedom), it is enslaved by images and ideas of Christ that are creations and projections of men and stand in the way of God’s freedom. But Christ Himself is in us as unknown and unseen. We follow Him, we find Him (it is like the cow-catching pictures) and then He must vanish and we must go along without Him at our side. Why? Because He is even closer that that. He is ourself.

I think there’s too much emphasis on God being “out there.” We as poor sinners cannot reach way up high to touch God except through Jesus Christ. But even after we’ve done that, God is still “out there” and we are still “down here” and Christ is still “some where” acting as mediator. There’s no identification with God or Christ. Sure, we have the Holy Spirit indwelling us but no one really knows what that means today. “Christ … is within is, in our inmost self, is our inmost self.” I think the difficulty with this concept is that it changes the way we must look at others. As Jesus said, “whatever you did not do for one of the least of these, you did not do for me.” Now, if “the least of these” is Christ, then we are in a world of trouble.

Merton goes even further than I did in my posts. He goes beyond the identification. He goes to the total consummation. After we identify with Christ, we then consume him (”This is my body …?”) and he becomes part of us. But even more than part of us. He is integrated into us so completely that we can’t tell where we end and he starts. We’ve become one — the symbolism of marriage — so that there are no longer two but only one.

The goal of every Christian is to able to recognize that integration — in ourselves and in others. The goal is to not see me and you but to see GmOeD and GyOoDu and to recognize the three-sided equality of you-me-God. If we all did that, we would not go to war. We would not let people starve. We would not pollute our bodies or the environment. Obeying God’s law would be first-nature because it would be our law. We would be totally, completely, 100% free to do whatever we wanted because our wants would be perfect wants — the wants of God. God’s will would, surely, be done on earth as it is in heaven.

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Maybe Jesus is the finger, not the moon

“Don’t think. Feel. It is like a finger pointing away to the moon. Do not concentrate on the finger or you will miss all that heavenly glory.”

That was Bruce Lee in Enter the Dragon. He was echoing the well-known Zen analogy that all instruction (doctrine?) is like a finger pointing at the moon. It should not be confused with the moon itself.

Jesus, the man — the human side of Jesus — did a lot of pointing in his day. But a lot of people back then and after him and today are too busy staring at his finger to see what he was pointing to. They see him pointing at his literal life, his literal work, his literal death, his literal resurrection. But those are all the finger!

The moon was Jesus’ other side — his non-human side. The side that is identified with God. The perfect, immortal, numinous side that is in us all — and has been in us all from the very beginning.

Jesus said, “I am the way,” but that “I” was not Jesus, son of Joseph, prophet, leader, healer, etc. When I say, “I love you,” to my wife and daughter, that “I” has absolutely nothing to do with what I am or what I do or what I look like. That “I” is the “I” that is my real essence. It’s the unseen part of me that, if I were to die right now, would remain and still love as much as it does now.

The next part of Lee’s quote is even better. “… or you will miss all that heavenly glory.” If you stare at the finger, you miss the heavenly glory. Now, just imagine what you are missing by staring too hard at the external, literal Jesus! If Jesus is pointing us to God, to glory, and we only look at him and do not follow his pointing to see God, we are missing out on a lot!

As proof of this, compare the writings of any mystical Christian to any dogmatic, literalist, fundamentalist Christian. There is a world of difference. The mystic sees things so far above and beyond and below. They are following the pointing finger of Jesus and truly seeing God.

To go even further, pointing is far from an exact science. When you point, you often have to qualify with words what you are pointing at or the other person misses the point, so to speak. I think there are Christians who do follow Jesus’ finger and look at the “moon.” But some of them then become fixated on “the moon” and become dogmatic that it was “the moon” Jesus pointed to.

Someone else comes along and, looking up to follow Jesus’ pointing finger, sees a star. But looking more intently, they begin to make out the breathtaking Crab Nebula. Another looks up and initially sees a few tiny stars but, looking more intently, sees the Pleiades. They are both taking in the wonders of God and the glories of the heavens when the “moon Christian” starts berating them for missing the whole point and being heretics and idolaters because clearly Jesus was pointing at the moon and at only the moon.

I’ve said this before on this blog: I think that a literalistic view of Jesus as The Way robs you of the true glories and wonders that are available to you. Putting Jesus and God “out there,” perhaps touchable but distinct from yourself, is to miss your Self. Jesus was not pointing to God by holding his arm in the air. He was pointing to God by pointing at himself — his essence of which we all are a part. He was pointing inside at the God inside us all. He was pointing inside you.

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Relative nearness to God

I think it only natural that each of us thinks our own “way to God” is the best. I doubt anyone would travel a path which they felt inferior to another one available to them. But we fall into hubris when we begin thinking that “our way” is categorically the best or only way to God. Thomas Merton put it this way in a letter to Philip Griggs:

You ask about the relative nearness to God of a fervent Sadhu and a superficial Christian. The Church’s teaching on nearness to God is that he who loves God better, knows Him better, and is more perfectly obedient to His will, is closer to Him than others who may love, know and obey Him less well. Since it is to me perfectly obvious that a Sadhu might well know God better and love Him better than a lukewarm Christian, I see no problem whatever about declaring that such a one is closer to Him and is even, by that fact, closer to Christ. The distinction lies in the fact that Catholics believe that the Church does possess a clearer and more perfect exoteric doctrine and sacramental system which “objectively” ought to be more secure and reliable a means for men to come to God and save their souls. Obviously this cannot be argued and scientifically proved, I simply state it as part of our belief in the Church. But the fact remains that God is not bound to confine His gifts to the framework of these external means, and in the end we are sanctified not merely by the instrumentality of doctrines and sacraments but by the Holy Spirit. And I repeat my conviction as a Catholic that the Holy Spirit may perfectly well be more active in the heart of a Hindu monk than in my own. I am prepared to recognize this in anyone I meet who seems to be genuinely holy and I am quite often struck by what seem to me to be signs of such holiness in people who have nothing to do with the Catholic Church.

from The Hidden Ground of Love: Letters on Religious Experience and Social
emphasis mine

The “tricky” part is seeing the genuine holiness in others. It takes an openness on our part that is difficult to achieve. Especially when we are so caught up in external things — names, affiliations, titles, creeds, dogma.

For those of you who have not heard of Thomas Merton, the following is the introduction on wikipedia:

Thomas Merton (January 31, 1915 – December 10, 1968) was one of the most influential Catholic authors of the 20th century. A Trappist monk of the Abbey of Our Lady of Gethsemani, in the American state of Kentucky, Merton was an acclaimed Catholic spiritual writer, poet, author and social activist. Merton wrote over 60 books, scores of essays and reviews, and is the ongoing subject of many biographies. Merton was also a proponent of interreligious dialogue, engaging in spiritual dialogues with such icons as the Dalai Lama, Thich Nhat Hanh and D.T. Suzuki. His career was suddenly cut short at a relatively young age due to an accident when he was electrocuted stepping out of his bath.

I’ve just found some of his letters to D.T. Suzuki in the book from which I quote above and based on comments in those, I’ve ordered six books and will be ordering two more (from “local” bookstores via abebooks.com and from a real local bookstore here in KC). They are truly fantastic letters with so many wonderful ideas about Christianity. I highly recommend them to everyone.

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I am THE Way, yada yada yada

Jesus didn’t say, “I am a Way, a Truth, a Life,” did He? Therefore, Jesus is the ONLY way to God.

Have you heard that one before?

But what if Jesus was not talking about himself as a person or as a god/man. What if he was talking about what he represents?

For example, when J.F.K. gave his immortal speech in which he said, “Ich bin ein Berliner,” was he talking about J.F.K. and only J.F.K.? No way! (I just love unintentional rhymes, don’t you?) He was using himself to represent everyone in the United States, if not the world. This is classic synecdoche. (Which, by the way, is not a city in New York. Lost a ten-spot on that bet!)

Why could Jesus not have been employing synecdoche? Yes, Jesus is THE Way, THE Truth, and THE Life. But it’s not the “THE” that’s the issue here. It’s the “I”. Jesus was singling out himself as an example because that was the only example anyone he was talking to could understand. But if you put Jesus into a larger class with Buddha, Brahman, Atman, etc., then Jesus was referring to all of them as being THE Way, yada yada yada.

“Whoa!” you shout. “Buddha was a MAN and Jesus was GOD! How can they both represent the same thing?”

Well, when Buddha became enlightened, he became one with God. Just like when a person “accepts Jesus Christ into his heart,” that person becomes a child of God and is indwelt with the Holy Spirit (i.e. God).

And if you accept my premise, it makes perfect sense!

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