Archive for the 'mysticism' Category

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.

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 …

“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.

That, not what, God is

“It seems that the most advanced scientific approaches to reality (for instance in physics) seem to exclude the rigid and dogmatic approach to the world and here eventually there may be a meeting with the highest spiritual notions. This remains perhaps for the future. But in the meantime, the struggle to establish a fixed concept of the divine essence that will state clearly “what he is” seems to me to be misleading. It is true that such statements can be made in their place, but they do not really solve anything because our experience of God tells us that he is but not what he is. We tend to experience him as one whom we do not know.”

Thomas Merton, in a letter to Martin Lings
from The Hidden Ground of Love: Letters on Religious Experience and Social Concerns

 

(Note: this was penned in 1964)

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.

From the mouths of those more eloquent than I …

I think things. I write things. I take too long to write good ;-) and put it aside. Then I find that someone else has said what I want to say. And said it more eloquently than I am capable of (hopefully that will change). So, why not let those who have already spoken speak for me?

So, here’s another quote from Thomas Merton’s letter to Amiya Chakravarty in The Hidden Ground of Love: Letters on Religious Experience and Social Concerns:

It is not easy to try to say what I now I cannot say. I do really have the feeling that you have all understood and shared quite perfectly. That you have seen something that I see to be most precious — and most available too. The reality that is present to us and in us: call it Being, call it Atman, call it Pneuma … or Silence. And the simple fact that by being attentive, by learning to listen (or recovering the natural capacity to listen which cannot be learned any more than breathing), we can find ourself engulfed in such happiness that it cannot be explained: the happiness of being at one with everything in that hidden ground of Love for which there can be no explanations.

I suppose what makes me most glad is that we all recognize each other in this metaphysical space of silence and happiness, and get some sense, for a moment, that we are full of paradise without knowing it …

Aside from Merton’s appreciation for religious and spiritual thought other than his own, what strikes me about this passage is the last sentence. How many of us truly recognize each other? We meet someone and immediately we judge them based on name, appearance, the way they stand, how they talk, what their “affiliations” are. We never are just with them in the “metaphysical space of silence and happiness.” We don’t truly recognize them; we think we see them or know them but all we see are the exterior things. We don’t see how “full of paradise” they are. Hell, we don’t even see how “full of paradise” we are. We just don’t know. And the rate some of us are going — we never will.

Bertrand Russell: The Fallacy of Only One True Religion

I’m starting a series of posts motivated by the book Why I Am Not a Christian and Other Essays on Religion and Related Subjects by Bertrand Russell (1957). I’ll tell you up front that I agree with some of what he says and disagree with some of what he says. I think some of his opinions are right on and others are ill-conceived, illogical, and totally ridiculous.

First from the Preface, written by Russell himself:

I think all the great religions of the world — Buddhism, Hinduism, Christianity, Islam, and Communism — both untrue and harmful. It is evident as a matter of logic that, since they disagree, not more than one of them can be true.

A classic argument. Interestingly enough, some Christians make the same claim and use it in their “proof” that Christianity is the only true religion. One oft used “proof” is the Blind Men and the Elephant analogy (also here). The claim is that everyone is totally wrong. Everyone, that is, except for the Christian citing the example and those in his camp who have the ability to somehow see the “real” truth. The problem is that he doesn’t place himself anywhere near the blind men or the elephant. He, apparently, has super powers that let him step out of the scenario, shed his blind fold, see the elephant as an elephant, and allow him to condemn all those poor, poor blind souls to hell for all of eternity. Sort of reminds me of Captain Kirk in Star Trek II: The Wrath of Kahn when he admits to reprogramming the computers during the simulation test and, thereby, wins the unwinnable scenario. All too convenient, if you ask me.

Let me remind the gentle reader what we are discussing here. We are talking about God, Allah, Brahman, Atman, etc., etc., etc. We are talking about a being that creates entire universes by speaking. We are talking about a being that knows our innermost thoughts and feelings. We are talking about a being that is totally beyond our comprehension, our imagination. And yet one religion gets it right?

Let me use a contrived example to illustrate. You, me, and Bob are sitting around drinking some really, really good bourbon. Bob says, “I’m thinking of a number between 1 and a gazillion. Guess what it is.” You immediately shout out “42.” I immediately start screaming at you “You’re wrong! It’s not 42. How could it be 42? It’s 7427466391!” and begin flicking lit matches into your hair to simulate the eternal torment you will endure in hell because you are wrong.

That pretty much describes the situation. I can no more know what number Bob is really thinking of than can our elephant-seeing Christian really, truly, completely know God. And if he cannot really, truly, completely know God how can he say that someone else’s understanding of God is wrong?

Paul even backs me up in I Corinthians 13

  1. For we know in part, and we prophesy in part.
  2. But when that which is perfect is come, then that which is in part shall be done away.
  3. When I was a child, I spake as a child, I understood as a child, I thought as a child: but when I became a man, I put away childish things.
  4. For now we see through a glass, darkly, but then face to face: now I know in part; but then shall I know even as also I am known.

This is Paul talking. You know, St. Paul. The guy who spoke to Jesus — and Jesus spoke back! The guy who wrote a fair amount of the New Testament. He, St. Paul, said that “now I know in part.” Even St. Paul didn’t have all the answers; even he didn’t know what number Bob was thinking of. Is Zacharias really claiming that he knows more than St. Paul? If Paul only knew “in part,” then we, not having spoken with Jesus directly, can only know a fraction of an “in part” and that’s probably not a whole hell of a lot.

But what does this have to do with ol’ Bert? Russell seems to undervalue religion when he claims that conflicting religious ideas cannot both be right because he assumes that man can know god (in whatever form you want to picture god) completely enough that he is able to pass judgement on another idea of god. He also seems to overvalue man’s ability to “know”; if I don’t have the full picture and you don’t have the full picture then who’s to say that both our ideas are not two different aspects of the same, full picture?

For example, let’s assume that god is a cylinder and you and I, in our imperfect, limited, all-to-human knowledge can only see projections of god. I look at god and see a rectangle. You look at god from a different angle and see a circle. Are our two viewpoints necessarily mutually exclusive? Well, obviously not because god is neither a rectangle nor a circle — god is something beyond both our ideas.

In fact, the real answer is to combine our apparently-disjoint knowledge which would allow us all to refine our ideas of god. It’s like those SAT questions where you are given three projections of a three-dimensional object and have to pick the right shape. If you only have a single projection, there is no way you can get the right answer because you don’t see all the details of the object’s surface.

It seems to me that what we really need to do is take the most disparate religious ideas and try to fit them together for it is the disparity itself that tells us we are looking at very different parts of God or we are looking at God from very different angles. It also seems to me that the mystic religious traditions do exactly this. Mystic Christianity has a lot more in common with mystic Islam and mystic Judaism than the main-stream religions have in common with each other.