Wrestling with traditional Christian scripture and prayers

So here's the thing.

There are many wonderful people who have come to such profound insight into the Divine, and through this to a solidarity with the core insights of other religions, by practicing with traditional Christian scriptures and prayers.  They have inspired me, and I mention them often: Fr. Thomas Merton, Fr. Thomas Keating, Fr. Richard Rohr, Fr. Bede Griffiths, Br. Wayne Teasdale, Br. David Steindl-Rast (to name a few).  So for reasons discussed elsewhere I joined a politically tolerant, theologically inspirational Episcopal parish with a strong anglo-catholic flavor ("high church liturgy"). The Anglicans, including the Episcopal Church, recommend their version of the Daily Office to both priests and laity alike, religious and secular.  So this sounds like a good idea.  Many in the Anglican tradition simply don't do any of the Daily Offices at all, let alone on a regular basis.  And when they do go to Mass, the reading from the Psalter (the Psalms) tends to be edited so that the harsh portions are left out.  So I will offer some background on my views as well as examples of why this practice hasn't been working out as well as I had initially hoped.

It should be recalled that I see no reason to defend the Bible as something it isn't but rather to appreciate it for what it is.  It is an attempt to record people's understanding of their encounter with the Divine Mystery.  This means appreciating things such as historical and cultural context in the use of language and thus not missing the point of why something was phrased a particular way rather than assuming it would have been said the exact same way if it were written today.  Otherwise much of the power of the texts is muted and we risk misunderstanding that can be profoundly damaging. The necessary process of maintaining the vitality of such texts and their commentaries produces a perpetual tension between between received wisdom through tradition and insights from ongoing revelation.  I don't have any need to deny that there is all manner of ugliness recorded in the Bible, often framed as the will of God, nor should anyone be surprised to find such things.  The human path to peace and wisdom is filled with wrong turns and dead ends because of our shortcomings and poor choices.  Our hearts, the deepest parts of our selves, are often hard, narrow, and crowded, which causes plenty of distortion in discerning who God is and what God wants.

Oh, They've Encased Jesus in Carbonite

[Yes, this post is long by blog standards and in a world of twittering and texting, but I've examined the matter and breaking this up into smaller posts really screws up its flow and cohesion, so suck it up and wade in... :o) ]

People have long used images like keeping God in a little wooden box, so I thought I would use an image more familiar to my generation. Jesus is alive, and in perfect hibernation. Frozen forever in a familiar form, easily pictured and understood. Come and kneel - pray before the Carbonite Jesus. He always looks the same, an image inert in time and space - oh how we love thee, Carbonite Jesus.

For those not familiar with my reference, Jesus was a first century Rabbi in Palestine who was executed for sedition. A holy man and reported miracle worker, many of his followers would claim he was/is the son of God. The other reference is to a process by which Darth Vader planned to immobilize his son, Luke Skywalker, for transport his master Emperor Palpatine in the film The Empire Strikes Back.

What is known about the teachings of Jesus emphasize the Hebrew prophetic tradition of emphasizing that obedience to God is to love God and to love others, and that the other Jewish laws must be understood in this context. Hence Jesus took up a call similar to the prophets recorded in the "Old" Testament to be humble and to identify with and serve the weak and the powerless. After his death his followers reported he had been resurrected (not resuscitated, merely bringing his old body back to life). Further, many of his followers claimed he had ascended to Heaven.The early Christian community argued over whether he was a man who had become a god or who had achieved union with God and therefore divinity, or whether he was just God pretending to be a human in a flesh suit. Later his followers would reject both ideas, suggesting he was fully human and fully divine as an aspect of the Trinity. The specific details were left as a mystery of faith. Still others argued whether he arose in his old body, a new body, a body of matter, a body of spirit, or something else. The early community simply said he was resurrected and left an empty tomb. The specific details of his bodily resurrection were left as a mystery of faith.

Many of his followers saw his death and resurrection as an indication of God's solidarity with humanity, an opportunity to participate in divinity as fellow children of God. Trusting in the insights offered by the Gospels and following the example of Jesus were seen as a means of salvation, of transcending a limited life characterized by alienation from an appreciation of the intimate presence and unyielding love of God. Early on, following Jesus was often to defy tradition and what was comfortable and conventional, to be liberated in a way that even death could not taint or corrupt. Such joy and freedom saw Christianity spread and eventually become a state religion, and after this marriage of tradition and politics it became a world religion.

Throughout the centuries as Western history marched on, Christianity became the primary religion of Europe, subject to the influences of politics, bureaucracy, tribalism, racism, regionalism, and eventually nationalism. As the currency of power and control it attracted both noble and ignoble leaders and challengers. Councils were held to formalize and standardize the religion, schisms formed, reformations erupted, and in the background of war and peace and justice and injustice was the crucifix, the cross, and the statues and paintings of Christ and his family and followers. Like all religions and human institutions, the hopes and fears of hundreds of generations became woven into the theologies and practices of those receiving the tradition.

But what ever became of Jesus?

I don't think that provincialism or tribalism is a great way to assess the universal validity of something, so after I left conservative fundamentalist Protestantism and went in and out of anti-spiritual/anti-religious atheism, I got to know a lot more about other world religions as well as some indigenous/Earth-based traditions. I studied Buddhism broadly and centered my specific focus on East Asian (especially Japanese) forms of Mahayana Buddhism, though I had and keep a soft spot for the incredible writings and teachings of figures like the 14th Dalai Lama. And like the hundreds, possibly thousands of others in this kind of situation, having matured a bit about the nature and importance of religion and spirituality, and how it is (in)appropriately expressed in various ways, I naturally got interested in interfaith efforts and insights. This led me to find figures and ideas in historical and contemporary Christianity I hadn't been aware of before, especially the contemplative and mystical dimensions and the broader view of the value of the Gospels and the liturgies of the more sacramental forms of Christianity and the power of practicing forms of devotion.

These authors* - Br. Wayne Teasdale, Fr. Thomas Merton, Fr. Thomas Keating, Br. David Steindl-Rast, and those like them were/are not trying to rewrite Catholicism or Christianity, but rather express the vision of Church and Christ and God that they had received from the Church and presumably from their devotion to Jesus. In addition I benefited from reading about the encounters and dialogues between accomplished Buddhist teachers and their Christian counterparts, as well from as those who had journeyed from one tradition to the other (and sometimes back again). The result may strike some as trying to recast Jesus and his ministry or his relevance to their theological views on life and death. That is not my intent.

Instead, the question that starts to take shape has to do with the essentials or fundamentals of Christianity. Obviously, the Orthodox, Roman Catholics and their primary offshoots can point to their catechism or the set of creeds to which they adhere, and the Fundamentalists were so named because of the pamphlet their ideological forebearers produced outlining what they viewed as the fundamentals of proper Christianity. I appreciate the importance of trying to have standards about important teachings so that they can be faithfully passed on and properly received from generation to generation, and I have no wish here to denigrate such efforts. Obviously, they were useful in guiding the spiritual development of past saints and visionaries often lauded by those who favor the mystic/contemplative dimensions of the Gospel like St. Francis of Assisi, St. Teresa of Avila, St. John of the Cross, Julian of Norwich, etc, as well as those contemporary Christian authors mentioned before.

But that only begs the question - are such traditions meant to guide and influence spiritual growth or to curtail it and box it in? How much latitude is there in interpretation and what is the value of practical personal experience? These questions have stirred controversy and dissent note only throughout the history of Christianity but also throughout the history of every major world religion. And is the goal of a religion merely to perpetuate itself intact from age to age or is it to remind us of the transformative insights and experiences of its founder(s) so that others may be guided and inspired in their own spiritual journey? I take the latter view.

Again, the earliest and most consistently enduring valued aspects of the Gospels (as far as I can tell) include the belief that the life, death and resurrection of Jesus is an indication of God's solidarity with humanity and an opportunity to participate in his divinity as fellow children of God. To know God not as a distant, alien ruler or tyrant but as Abba - our Father. That trusting in the insights offered by the Gospels and following the example of Jesus are a means of salvation, of transcending a limited life characterized by alienation from an appreciation of the intimate presence and unyielding love of God. That following Jesus often means to defy convention and tradition in order to be liberated in a way that even death could not taint or corrupt.

This is what my intellect, my heart, and my conscience tell me is the most relevant and essential aspects of the Gospels and the Christian tradition. Everything else either points back to these basic beliefs or attempts to explain, rationalize, or justify them. Some of these additional efforts are useful for many, some are useful for a few. Some are logical and consistent with the values expressed in the basic beliefs mentioned above, others or inconsistent or tangential, either because they are anachronisms, culturally inappropriate, or because they came from a human need to control and exclude along tribal, regional, racial, economic, ethnic, or political lines.

Both Jesus and his apostles chose different ways of speaking to the people's understanding, to bridge the definitions/perception of divinity and humanity they work with. In Buddhism this is known as skillful or expedient means - sharing an essential truth in a way that is suitable to the audience. There were many stories that kings and rulers used to justify their legitimacy. Many of the ways of telling Christ's story inverted these standard tropes - for example being born in a manger. In other cases well-understood symbols were crossed or exaggerated to try to make a particular point to the audience. This was also true of the stories told after Christ's death.

Take substitutionary atonement. It works up to a point as a metaphor, but if it doesn't get you to the bigger picture, it leads to the strongest forms of Calvinism, of extreme judgmentalism and exlucisivism. The way I understand that particular theological model is that we are all already embraced by God but we cannot see it or accept it. It is our duality of thinking, of God and not-God, of exaggerating the objective reality of good and evil, that keeps us from accepting this truth and resting in God. This way of thinking, of a cosmic struggle, of us and them, is clearly expressed in the most concrete of terms in the Bible as the view of God alternates between a jealous and insecure sky-deity and an all-embracing Source of all that is becoming.

But that doesn't mean we are just supposed to accept that view without further thought or reflection, as the flat-thinking folks would have us believe. I believe it does however, when combined with what Christ taught, ask us to follow through. Christ had to die because we are the ones who see a distance between ourselves and God, because we give our faith to such distinctions. We are the source of alienation, and we don't know how to truly love ourselves and each other, to forgive ourselves and each other, to heal and allow ourselves to be healed. It isn't God's sense of justice that must be satisfied - it isn't God's sense of isolation and intrinsic autonomy that has caused the perception of a rift between ourselves and God (that is, it isn't God's sin) - it isn't God who ate from the fruit of the tree and divided the world into good and evil -it is our own doing. That is a fuller picture of how to appreciate substitutionary atonement in my humble opinion. In our sin we don't just act bad, we fail to achieve our full goodness - our full potential.

So what does all of this suggest about what happened to Jesus? From a panentheistic point of view, everything is Divine. A wave is made of water, but it isn't the entire ocean. If you get rid of all of the waves, eventually there is no more ocean, so to get to know the ocean, become familiar with the waves. The ocean itself is too vast to comprehend in an intellectual sense, but we can still go float in it and experience it directly (which is especially meaningful when we realize we are part of the ocean). The other half, that we can know the ocean by knowing a wave, is important to your question. It is reflected in the Jewish teaching that Jesus taught was supreme - that to know and love God is to know and love others. The Gospels paint a picture of someone who embraces and embodies this Wisdom and lives the teaching every day, every moment, including his willingness to give up his life.

Jesus reminds us we are not lost and dies to make sure we know we are found - that any possible reason we might cling to that we think would keep us from God is no longer an obstacle. Details about his divinity and his resurrection are generally considered mysteries of the faith. Points where we can never receive a complete or satisfactory answer and which are therefore left as a matter of faith. Panentheism, for example, is just as good an analogy as any but like all such systems it is ultimately incomplete and just a useful guide marker on the spiritual journey. Yet we also have the ascension. In this Jesus returns to God/goes to Heaven. To the heart of Creation, which is constantly unfolding. To the Ground of Being and the Source of Becoming. In other traditions this might be referred to as the non dual coexistence of Shunyata and the Pure Land, the Dharmakaya, the Tao.

In this sense, historically, as the stories of the resurrection and ascension spread and became incorporated into The Way (which would later become better known as Christianity), and symbolically, Jesus in the Christian tradition comes to be understood in cosmic terms, as the face and substance of the phenomenological aspect of reality (or of form, to use the Buddhist equivalent). Hence, as folks such as Fr. Keating like to describe it (adding in Mystic/Buddhist subtitles), the Father (Ground of Being/Source of Becoming) empties himself into the Son (the phenomenological or historical dimensions of existence), and the Son empties himself into the Father. Or as the Heart Surtra frames it, form is no other than emptiness**, emptiness no other than form - form is exactly emptiness, emptiness exactly form. They are not really two, but one. Of course in Christian tradition there is a trinity that is one, not a duality. In such a scenario the third part of the trinity is in found in the act of transformation itself - that which helps to define the other two elements and which demonstrates they are simply different aspects of the same. Hence it is supposedly what we "receive" when we realize our own connection to God through the person of Jesus.

There are loads of implications for what it means to have the symbol of love and peace and God's solidarity with Creation being at the heart of Creation as it is constantly formed and reformed. Many of have been pondered ceaselessly, and others likely have yet to be realized. But among them is the denial that "the world", as used in a pejorative sense in the Christian tradition, simply means the physical world, because Christ is at the heart of it. (Again, I think it is the false world we make for ourselves in our delusion, samsara; I also have a thought on what this could mean for sacraments like the Eucharist.) It would also entail a respect for all things inspiring peace and love, since these also must come from Christ. Hence Christ can be heard when a Buddhist chants Nam(u) Myoho Renge Kyo, or Nam(u) Amitofo/Amida, or Om Mane Padme Hung, and in that moment the Buddhist cultivates a respect for all living things or an awareness of his own connection to a larger reality filled with wisdom and compassion. Hence Christ can be seen when a professed atheist works to teach poor children to read out of respect and love for humanity.

But too often, however we have heard of Christ, either from a traditional or non-traditional perspective, as a King, as a Redeemer, or even as a dashboard Buddy, we tend to lock him into a fixed and familiar form. To follow him is often reduced to following a rigid prescription of activities using the right materials and affirming the right beliefs without question, and to reject him is to reject this setup. To grow our understanding of God and Jesus by going beyond the Bible and the cross or whatever we have attached to our fixed image of Jesus is unthinkable, even when this doesn't mean rejecting the Bible or the cross, even when this enhances and builds on our understanding of the Bible and the cross. Clark Strand suggests in his book (How to Believe in God) that often such folks are half-believers, that is, they aren't secure enough or deep enough into the insights of their own faith to be able to appreciate other perspectives. They limit God and they limit Jesus to working only within the familiar and traditional confines of the religion humans created to honor and follow Jesus, which in a way is tragically ironic. This isn't an insult towards the Church, but an observation of successes and failures of the institutions of the Church (Orthodox, Roman Catholic, etc) in creating and correcting such phobia of anything that doesn't officially "look" or "sound" properly "Christian".

[Anecdote: I recently observed a Protestant Fundamentalist reacting with horror to a Catholic suggesting that those who don't truly know Christ and his saving grace can still realize salvation because the truth, if not overt Christianity, is written in their hearts. The Fundamentalist was, at least in his typed reply, almost apoplectic. I would, theoretically at least for the sake of argument, go a little further (given this premise and assuming a less limited view of Jesus) and suggest that even ex-Christians, who knew all the theology and felt joy and power in their lives, who believed all the creeds etc, may not have fully known or understood, in a personal way, what Jesus really represents and who he is. This is not a lame attempt to say they were never really Christians, etc, but rather to suggest that any Jesus or God we can truly and completely dump in our heart of hearts and live without doesn't seem like it would be the complete and full legit article, does it? And the ones who go to Hell are supposedly the ones how are truly aware of Christ and the fullness of his grace and mercy and reject him anyway. This in turn to me implies again the universalist view of Christ. Rather than suggesting that these people are going to Hell because they don't believe in Jesus, we can argue they are not because they haven't actually rejected Jesus. That the point of such a teaching would actually seem to be that no one can possibly reject the actual full and genuine experience of the grace of God, whatever package it comes in (or conversely we could say that so long as we do reject such grace the state we live in would be Hell). And that the package doesn't have to come stamped with a little Cross and a Bible verse. I didn't mention these potential extrapolation of their debate though as I was afraid the one fellow might blow a gasket!]

Each of us has the temptation to take what we think about some revelation we perceive as being from God, in this case the life, example, and status of Jesus, and turn it into an idol. Something convenient. Something comfortable. Something we think we can control. Each of us at some point or another has given into this urge, even if we never used the language of religion or spirituality. And for those whose understanding of God is centered in the person of Jesus, we have all taken our turn at freezing him in carbonite. But Christ's message above all was about liberation, whether couched in terms of salvation or redemption, and perhaps one of the most difficult things one can do if one is inspired by and wants to follow Jesus is to let go of the confining certainty of a few scraps of dogma and scripture for the entire package of tradition AND the living Christ.

It's always best to use practical concrete examples, and great case in point can be found in this recent story about the concern over an Episcopal priest who practices Zen, in which people focus on form and emptiness and generate compassion for all living things...

Unofficial tallies show that an Episcopal priest who practices Zen Buddhist meditation and holds controversial theological views will not likely be consecrated as bishop of the Diocese of Northern Michigan.


James Tonkowich, president of the Institute for Religion and Democracy, however, argued, "The issue is not whether meditation is good, it is what is being meditated on."


"While church leaders may respect other faiths, their vow of Christian ordination has always meant an exclusive commitment to Jesus Christ and the Christian faith."


Responding to criticisms of Thew Forrester's Buddhist meditation, Rustin Kimsey, retired bishop of the Diocese of Eastern Oregon, said, "[W]hen did the way in which we are deepened into the presence of God become a litmus test for being a follower of Jesus Christ?"


Source

Excellent question, Bishop Kimsey, excellent question.


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*It should not be assumed that because these or other author's mentioned may have helped inspire or flesh out the theology and Christology presented here that they would actually agree with my views.

**form refers to phenomena, including anything we can perceive with our senses or conceptualize in our minds; emptiness refers to lack of intrinsic or inherent qualities, that is, it refers to the fact that all form is inter-dependent and transient. Emptiness also refers to potential, the potential upon which existence is based. Hence all forms are interconnected through cause and effect by way of emptiness. The upshot is that all things, including all people and every moment, are fleeting and unique, irreplaceable and therefore valuable beyond measure; it also implies a fundamental equality of all people as well.

Western Buddhists - stay or go home?

Tricycle's Blog recently quoted a sentiment I have run across several times, including a few times from this one individual...

Many Westerners attracted to Buddhist practice have abandoned their own spiritual traditions. They reject the churches and clergy of their own traditions because they feel constricted and uncomfortable with the attitudes and practices they have encountered there. They have suffered within their own tradition and so have sought another. They approach Buddhist practice with the hope of replacing their own tradition and may wish to break away from their own tradition forever.
According to Buddhist wisdom, such wishing is in vain. A person severed from her own culture and traditions is like a tree pulled out by the roots. Such a person will find it hard to be happy. Buddhist practice can offer effective means to heal, reconcile, and reunite with one’s blood and spiritual families, in order to discover the precious gems in one’s own traditions. Thanks to the practice, people will see that Buddhism and their own spiritual tradition have many things in common, and therefore it is not necessary to reject their own spiritual tradition. They will see that there are things that need to be transformed in Buddhism as well as in their own tradition.
–Thich Nhat Hanh, from Teachings on Love (Parallax Press)

I replied with the following...

If you aren’t ready or able to see the use of returning to your religion of ancestry, then do not. The advice doesn’t just say “Go back.” It says to be healed first, implying growing and dealing with the attachment, confusion or pain previously associated with that ancestral religion and to use the insights from Buddhist practice to find what may have been previously overlooked in your old faith. I would venture to suggest that such reconciliation, in part or total, would eventually be necessary an inevitable even if one stayed on the Buddhist path. Just because you can’t appreciate that being possible now doesn’t mean it cannot happen. No need to force or rush anything or to presume where your path will lead. It will be alright and guide you just where you needed to be. :^)

The thing is, I can see how my experience with Buddhism has impacted my view of Judaism and Christianity, opened my eyes to the contemplative and mystical dimensions of Christianity and neglected but traditional forms of exegesis. The ideas of apparent paradox, the importance of the tension between literal and figurative meanings, the value of ahistorical truth, etc, have been amazing on my appreciation of Christianity. I share the excitement and enthusiasm of people like Clark Strand in (re)discovering the wisdom and compassion of the Bible, even if I am not on his level of insight (see my review of his book on the subject). Books like Going Home: Jesus and the Buddha as Brothers as well as the work and writings of Christians like Br. Wayne Teasdale, Br. David Steindl-Rast, Fr. Thomas Merton, Fr. Thomas Keating, and those saints (official and unofficial) who inspired them along with authors like Marcus Borg, along with strong social justice movements for peace and the welfare of all (such as liberation theology) tell me such insights and views are not flukes nor are they extinct in Christianity. And my apophatic contemplative mysticism provided a viable theological foundation.

But I am not finding it easy to decide to go with Buddhism or to go with Christianity. It's hard to find Buddhist communities to practice with, and my cultural (if not karmic) affinities tend to be Western and therefore Judeo-Christian. But then, my ideal Christian community, which would be the size, scope, and liturgical/historical richness and community of the Roman Catholic Church mixed with the interfaith respect and progressive values of the Unitarian Universalist, does not exist, and the idea of just where I would fit is hard to say. On the other hand, many Buddhist communities would have no problem with a new member with Christian affinities. But I don't "know" the Buddhas and Bodhisattvas like I do the Hebrew prophets, Jesus and his parents/disciples, etc. Maybe it would help if a teacher were to say "They aren't equivalent, but this Bodhisattva is like Peter and this Enlightened Being is like John the Baptist and this historical figure is like Moses..." Because even if you try to take these alien figures seriously as part of the service, it needs to be sincere, not just politely going along.

So anyway, as I wrote recently, if you want to pitch your group or congregation, I am open to suggestions.

Book Review: Manifesting God

Manifesting God is the name of a very short, direct, and affective (that's not a typo) book written by Thomas Keating. I have promoted interspiritual, interreligious, or interfaith issues before and I was particularly moved by the writings of the late Brother Wayne Teasdale, who saw the contemplative dimension that is common to all religious traditions and spiritual paths as essential for one's personal fulfilment as well as the transformation of the human community to a more compassionate and mature state. Keating and his revival of Centering Prayer are frequently featured of such interspiritual dialogue. So when I saw slim, diminutive summary book on the topic by Keating himself dated to 2005, I decided to read it and see what the fuss was about.

I am not going to quote from the book here, but let me just that if you are a Buddhist, especially a Western-culture-raised Buddhist, regardless of whether you into Tibetan Buddhism, Chan/Zen/etc, traditional or Japanese Pure Land, or the many other varieties or combinations, I suspect you will frequently feel as if you are reading a book on Buddhism. That's right - whether you identify more with sitting silently while being open and nonjudgmental toward Ultimate Reality/reality-as-it-is or whether you identify more with the idea of faith in our True Nature (i.e. expressed as True Mind, a vision of a particular Buddha, as an ineffable Presence, etc) as the bedrock for all other practice, you will read passages that will resonate with what you have seen, read, heard, and/or experienced as a Buddhist practitioner.

I am not suggesting that what Keating is offering is simply Buddhism-lite dressed up a Christianity. However, as many have noted before while particular rites, rituals, prayers, and paraphernalia are important to beginning and sustaining a spiritual or religious path, it may be that where many of them lead is not so different (or in the end even identical). Naturally, similar traps crop up in all faiths leading at times to exclusion, fear, and hatred. That is because while religions express a shared understanding of who we are and how to live a meaningful life, they don't always come up with the same answers, even within themselves. Hence the familiar fallacy of what it means to be a "true" Christian, or Buddhist, or Muslim. This makes the commonality of the insights and resulting qualities of so many dedicated seekers quite fascinating.

Rather than call for a amalgamation of all religions into a theological gumbo, many contemplative masters and respected spiritual and religious leaders often point instead to the idea that there is a path in each system that works as to get people past the superficial (where much of the disagreements and disputes arise)to the more profound realization of their faith (where there is more commonality and less friction). To paraphrase Teasdale, religious systems are now open and interconnected with one another, able to borrow and learn from each other without completely absorbing or nullifying the others. If I recall correctly even the current Dalai Lama has suggested as much, encouraging people raised in Christianity to seek realization in that more familiar cultural paradigm of spirituality. Of course, that doesn't mean there aren't those who identify with more than one faith, but many I have heard of or know tend to see them as multiple incarnations or distinct expressions of human understanding. That is, I get the feeling they can identify with multiple religions without having to try to explicitly include all of their practices and symbols.

I bring this latter point up simply to remind readers of the complexity of and hence the potential for misunderstanding when discussing interspiritual topics. I have noted a defensive tendency at times(playfully addressed in a post titled "Don't taint my Buddhism with comparisons to Christianity"). Nor am I excluding myself from being more inclined to be argumentative first and respectful second. As for the book, Manifesting God is intriguing to me because yes, it does talk about God and Jesus and it includes quotes from the Bible (for more on my thoughts on these issues in general look here), but it also speaks to topics I have wrestled with in Buddhism.

Perhaps this is in part because so much of my spiritual cultural heritage was founded from such a different perspective than Asian spirituality. While some folks rush to exorcise God and any notion resembling God from their lives and their practice when embracing paths such as Buddhism, it is possible that at times that lacuna means that we have more difficulty processing certain images or messages. That is, even if one does not believe in the God of their childhood or church-going days, it is difficult to "get" some spiritual concepts without a reference that at least vaguely resembles that term because it occupies a unique linguistic and ontological space in our culture and society.

Here is a small sampling of what Buddhists might recognize in the book. The practice of getting past our assumptions, letting go of our false selves, and therefore not clinging to expectations (whether these expectations and judgements are about our formal practice or our lived experience). The idea of being an interdependent aspect of the greater whole of Ultimate Reality. The idea of challenging the view of the embodiment of Ultimate Reality as a transcendent, aloof, and judgemental ruler who only favors the (religiously) observant, the successful, and the upstanding with the view of an immanent Presence that is all-inclusive and is found in the broken, the vile, and the discarded as well as the pretty and the pleasing. (The transcendent aspect is not discarded but is taken from being aloof or inaccessible and recast as simply being ineffable.)

Additionally, Keating talks specifically about pre-conceptions of God (Ultimate Reality) that are commonly passed on to children and which can hinder their interest in or experience of the Divine. While I am not listing and discussing them here, I do believe that for many people raised with such notions these same hang-ups may manifest in subtle and not so subtle ways in their practice of Buddhism as well. Therefore even for those are not particularly interested in interfaith dialogue or Christianity per se, I do wonder to what degree reading this little book may be beneficial to other Buddhists with a Western/Christianized background. So I put the question out there and you can decide what, if anything, you will do with it. Those who practice and path involves both contemplation and faith as co-equal or even unequal elements (including the Zen folks, the Shin folks, etc) I anticipate it will be most useful. For those totally turned off by the association of Buddhism with or even the mere mentioning of Christianity, Jesus, God, etc I anticipate it will be even more useful.



PS- I am aware that Clark Strand, a name that produces strong reactions in English-speaking Buddhist circles, is supposed to have a new book out in the next several months How to Believe in God (Whether You Believe in Religion or Not). I have no idea what he plans to say in that book, but I am wondering if it will be along the lines of what I am discussing here? And if so, I wonder what kind of reaction it will generate?

Using dangerous words - talking about religious language

I recently read a new book titled Dangerous Words: Discussing God in the Age of Fundamentalism, and then posted an excerpt and recommendation on a friend's message forums. It attracted a response from an intelligent person who had a take on the issue, and even though we disagree on many points, he helped me articulate my own views a little better. That is what is being presented here - my replies. The first paragraph is new, and the rest is my half of the dialog stitched together into a single short essay, hence it may seem a little repetitive at times or to jump a little in tone or emphasis. I apologize for the unevenness. In any case, here it is, an ultra-concise (and therefore surely inadequate) summary of my general take on religious language (i.e. spiritual language, language of the sacred, etc).

Some people get antsy around religious language, becoming either confrontational or squeamish. A common objection is that we must deal with feelings and experiences that are highly subjective, and for some, this constitutes a weakness or inferiority of such experiences. But does that make sense? Should we resort to myopic view like the extreme end of scientism, where we discount anything that cannot be physically measured and reproduced?

Logic doesn't actually exist in the sense of being able to touch it or scan it. Neither does love. But I don't disqualify them from the category of "what is". I simply realize that they don't fit in the domain of things that are objectively, physically documented in the same way as minerals, vegetation, or brands of cola.

Nor does it do any good to say "We see reactions in the brain" when people feel or think a certain way or "We can hypothesize how neurons would process these things", because that still misses the mark. It would be like saying that "light" is the name we give to a reaction in the eye. In fact, "sight" is made possible by the eye, and actually takes place as we understand the experience in the brain, yet light is not just a "trick of the brain".

Nor should we be arrogant enough to suppose then that everything else we experience in our "heads" or "hearts" must in fact just be an artifact of biology because we don't have machines to locate or define other phenomena that we currently can only experience and not mechanically break down and describe. I am not arguing for any particular thing to be literally true, here, I am simply suggesting that we should be cautious in our dismissiveness.

Nor is it all about unquestioning devotion to a holy book. Lots of people who aren't fundamentalists put stock in books that they feel come with solid credentials, including sacred texts. The real difference in my view is that a non-fundamentalist can appreciate that religious language does not need to be literal language, and yet at the same time a religious person who is not a fundamentalist realizes that not all truths are in the domain of literal (a.k.a. historically-bounded) truth.

This comes in part from the realization that everything in this world is experienced in our heads. Everything. It cannot be otherwise. Our brain is the seat of our local consciousness. The only thing we can actually be sure of is the existence of our own awareness, an expression of such consciousness. The rest we must assume. That is the whole point behind the scientific enterprise - a methodology which attempts to make the most reliable possible statements about natural phenomena. But that doesn't make that which is not scientifically demonstrable "untrue" or without value. If one is going to go by their experiences, rather than just the received collective authority, as you mentioned earlier, then we must be open to the entire range of experience, even those which are highly personal or rare, even singular.

My point isn't the ontological status of phenomena, which is always a secondary assumption based on the metaphysical model we choose to employ. Instead, it is that our first, best knowledge of anything is our direct experience. Assumptions about how to pigeon-hole our experiences (natural vs. supernatural, this subcategory versus that subcategory) are not neutral. Our theories, models, and theologies are stripped down, simplified versions of the full richness of the actual, which can never be fully described or explained. Hence, understanding how our use of language shapes our perception of reality, whether or not one considers oneself "rational" or "atheist" or otherwise, should be a deep concern.

Nor am I referring specifically to "supernaturalism", which is really a way of trying to make literal interpretations of the metaphorical. However, that is irrelevant to what I am suggesting anyway, as 1) I personally don't use a dualistic universe model and 2) I am discussing the importance of being open to the potential of any given experience. My light/sight analogy isn't a justification for leprechauns or unicorns or Zeus. I am, however, pointing out that there are phenomena which can and do lie beyond the boundaries of strict empiricism as defined by "can I see it and measure it" and that they have value. In addition, my light/sight analogy is pointing out precisely that there can be phenomena we currently (and possible might only ever be able to) experience directly and subjectively and not subject to scientific study. That is, prior to our contemporary understanding of light and the optic nerve, which is still lacking, if someone could have monitored brain activity they may have presumed "light" was a made-up concept. That does not mean light is somehow supernatural. Even in science, people often make the greatest theoretical breakthroughs years before they can actually test them (Einstein comes to mind). Again, the point I am making, as a way of discussing the book I am recommending, is that religious language is useful for expressing experience and phenomena that are outside our standard matter-of-fact descriptions. Such language points us toward something, it doesn't define or prove that something in the way fundamentalists often suggest.

I am not strictly referring to "God", either. I am referring to things which we can experience but which we cannot go out and measure physically and reproduce visibly in a controlled experiment. However, there are common experiences which are reproduced on a personal level throughout history. I do not rush to presume what they must or must not mean in a conclusive and final way because I am aware of the limitations in the way we produce, refine, and store knowledge.

Nor am I suggesting different epistemologies for different classes of phenomena or experience. We can use light again as a helpful example. I assume we have all heard the wave-particle duality of light before: if we measure it one way, it acts like a particle. If we measure it another way, it acts like a wave. If someone were to try pin us down - is it a WAVE or is it a PARTICLE?- we would have to say it is both and neither. A literalist would be maddened by that. However, it isn't a reflection of a fault on the part of some aspect of reality, but rather our ability to describe that aspect. Our concepts of wave and particle are not fully adequate - which is why quantum physics has attempted to reconcile the duality, at least partially, by defining such duality as the result of an equation ("wave function"). Yet this is still not fully satisfying and is more predictive and than explanatory. In the same way, there are many experiences we cannot process according to our preconceived notions and categories into plain descriptive language, but instead only partially through myth and metaphor. This doesn't make these experiences "not true" or "not meaningful", but it does mean they can only be fully understood directly, not indirectly.

Someone could suggest this is"watering down the concept of God", but that assumes that Being is only significant in relation to the expectations or descriptions given it by a particular culture's religious language. In some ways, all people are talking about the same "God" and in some ways they are not. This was the subject of a much-borrowed ancient analogy of blindfolded men touching an elephant in the court of the King. Some men touched the legs, and said the elephant was like a tree trunk. Other touches the tail and said it was like a snake. Still others touched the snout, the tusks, or the ears, and came up with their own descriptions. Similarly some touched the sides and said it was smooth, vast, and featureless. Does that mean that if we try to go beyond any one description that we are not exactly talking about the same thing as someone who clings to a view based entirely on one aspect? Yes. Does it mean we are necessarily talking about totally different things? No. Again, it is a matter of the differences in how we relate to Being. So, if one simply talks about the source of the laws of physics, that is fine, but it is like talking about the sides of the elephant. It is not "wrong", just incomplete. The trouble, as always, is that in the absence of other categories in our heads, we intuitively substitute other images and feelings to stand for things that otherwise have no referent. So rather than looking for a literal meaning ("Being is a lover--huh????") , we have to beyond literal to understand the experience to which the imagery is pointing (deep intimacy).

Someone could also suggest this kind of discussion makes the word "God" meaningless. In the exclusivist literalist sense, the word does become meaningless. But what about people who are not exclusive literalists? Nor just because you liberate a word from one tight, narrow little meaning does not then in turn imply that the alternative is that it can mean "anything". That is the same logic used by opponents of gay marriage. Their reasoning is this: if you take away the definition of marriage as a union between a man and a woman, it could mean anything, like a union between a man and a hamster or two women and a sex toy. This is fallacious. A reasonable alternative is available: marriage as the union between two consenting adults. In the same way, a non-fundamentalist view of God is not an arbitrary "anything goes". And the idea/word "God" does still possess value - the term is still a placeholder for a constellation of interrelated experiences and concepts that has no equivalent in our (and many closely affiliated) culture(s).

For a very brief glimpse into other ways of seeing the issue, here is a list of suggested guidelines recommended at an interfaith conference:

The Snowmass Conference's Guidelines for Interreligious Understanding


1. The world religions bear witness to the experience of the Ultimate Reality to which they give various names: Brahman, the Absolute, God, Allah, (the) Great Spirit, the Transcendent.


2. The Ultimate Reality surpasses any name or concept that can be given to It.


3. The Ultimate Reality is the source (ground of being) of all existence.


4. Faith is opening, surrendering, and responding to the Ultimate Reality. This relationship precedes every belief system.


5. The potential for human wholeness -- or in other frames of reference, liberation, self-transcendence, enlightenment, salvation, transforming union, moksha, nirvana, fana -- is present in every human person.


6. The Ultimate Reality may be experienced not only through religious practices but also through nature, art, human relationships and service to others.


7. The differences among belief systems should be presented as facts that distinguish them, not as points of superiority.


8. In the light of the globalization of life and culture now in process, the personal and social ethical principles proposed by the world religions in the past need to be re-thought and re-expressed.


-from Speaking of Silence: Christian and Buddhists on the Contemplative Way by Thomas Keating

If one really wanted to get a better understanding of such ways of knowing and their roots in the sacred traditions of the world, there are many good sources. For these kinds of language issues there is of course the book Dangerous Words by Gary Eberle, and after that an ideal book to start next would be The Mystic Heart by Wayne Teasdale. Probably selected passages from Paul Tillich's writing on ultimate concern would be helpful as well.

Of course all such discussions and philosophies are irrelevant outside of experience. Because religious language, including God-talk, is dynamic. It is understood in the doing, not in the discussing. Just as many people "know" a lot by reading a book on the topic but couldn't actually "do" what they were reading about to save their lives, one cannot make sense of religious and spiritual language without being engaged in what is being discussed.

Pondering the meaning of liberation from suffering

I was re-reading a few chapters of A Monk in the World by the late Wayne Teasdale this weekend and something occurred to me that hadn't before (which is why it's useful to re-read good books - your perspective will have changed). In a chapter about the importance of understanding and facing suffering, Teasdale described the Buddhist goal of liberation from suffering and then contrasted it with the Christian view of embracing suffering. (For those who don't know, Teasdale was a progressive Catholic who took a Christian version of an Indian monastic ritual and who championed interfaith / interspiritual / intermystical dialog and understanding.) From A Monk in the World and The Mystic Heart, it is clear Teasdale had an understanding of as well as much respect for Buddhism, so I don't want to presume his intention or his comprehension strictly from one page in one book. I, however, was left with the impression that his view is that the Buddha taught escape from suffering.

There may be many Buddhists who would agree with that assessment, so I won't presume to be a spokesperson for all Buddhists or all forms of Buddhism. Yet I can't help feeling that such a perspective gets back to a form of dualism, where "this world" is so terrible but there is some other "place" of perfection to which we can escape. It has been my understanding that "this world" refers to a delusional construction we make for ourselves, and so escaping occurs through seeing reality-as-it-is. Hence this "other place" is not a strictly physical destination, as we may commonly grasp the term. I have often quoted certain teachings which support this view, such as:

"Affliction is Bodhi and the cycle of birth and death is Nirvana"
-Platform Sutra of Hui Neng

"Happy is one who knows samsara and nirvana are not two."
-Milarepa

"Just understand that birth-and-death is itself nirvana. There is nothing such as birth and death to be avoided; there is nothing such as nirvana to be sought. Only when you realize this are you free from birth and death."
-Dogen

"At this moment, is there anything lacking? Nirvana is right here now before our eyes. This place is the lotus land. This body now is the Buddha."
-Hakuin

If we take this perspective seriously, then what does this imply for suffering? I suggest that it means that liberation from suffering does not mean separation from suffering.


Before exploring what that might mean, it would be helpful for you, dear reader, to get a brief outline of how I use the term suffering the Buddhist context. There are different kinds of suffering that are recognized in different classification schemes of various Buddhist tradition and schools, but we can grossly sort the lot into physical pain, emotional pain, and metaphysical or existential anxiety and dread. All forms of Buddhism of which I am aware assert that through the application of the Buddha's teachings,we can eliminate the latter kind of suffering, or unsatisfactoriness, from our lives because it is generated by false views in the first place. The other two are trickier and I think they can cause some sectarian disagreements.

For example, if we want to eliminate emotional pain, we would have to deaden our hearts. If we don't care about anything or anyone, then we cannot be hurt by feelings for them that do not exist. I have at times run across interpretations of Buddhism which would seem to advocate this kind of total emotional detachment in the name on non-attachment. I have referred to it before as Zombie Buddhism - the idea that you need to be dead inside to be free from pain. I have also written about my personal disapproval or rejection of this notion. Non-attachment, or not having an unrealistic view of phenomena, does not require one to not care. If you have a deep craving for something that you think you need to possess, this shows a lack of understanding of the nature of phenomena, which are impermanent and cannot really be "owned" in any meaningful sense. But in opening ourselves to the Truth, we are opening ourselves to all the experiences of life, not shutting ourselves away from them. Our hearts should become larger and more expansive in order to be all-embracing, not hardened and hidden away.

Then there is physical pain, caused by illness, injury, and infirmity. If we wanted to eliminate physical pain, we would need to extinguish our corporeal existence. For those Buddhists who accept reincarnation as rebirth and who also believe in permanently eliminating physical pain, then the goal of Buddhism must be to leave the physical world once and for all. This can lead to a kind of Euthanasia Buddhism - true and permanent physical death is akin to a merciful act to relieve unbearable suffering. I have also mentioned on other occasions my rejection of this notion as well. The extinction of the self, or ego, is not the same as physical extinction. This error arises by continuing the belief that a physical body is equivalent to one's separate existence from all other phenomena. It is true that our memories and experiences are processed and housed in our bodies, and that we have separate identities tied to our physical forms. There is nothing wrong with that at all, so long as we realize all phenomena, including the mental and physical phenomena of which our "selves" are composed, and interdependent and impermanent. Going beyond the ego obviously did not require physical death for the Buddha, so why believe it does for us?

The existential type of suffering can be summarized with a few questions - Where did I come from? What is the point of my life? What is death? What happens when I die? Why must we die? Why must we endure suffering? To put it briefly, if we want to eliminate existential pain, we need to appreciate the true nature of phenomena. Such suffering stems from an incongruence between reality (our true nature) and the idea of reality we have in our heads. Traditionally Buddhism identifies such misconceptions which are exposed by the following principles:

Dukkha (unsatisfactoriness) - there are no phenomena, whether physical, mental, or emotional, which can bring lasting happiness. That is because of...

Anitya (impermanence) - all phenomena are ephemeral and arise and pass away according to specific conditions and causes. All phenomena are interconnected to one another at a fundamental level and are in constant flux - no particular phenomenon has an existence which is distinct from others or unchanging (i.e. no phenomenon has an intrinsic existence). Which leads to the idea of...

Anatman (no-Self) - there is no intrinsic existence of any sentient being. Sentient beings are composed of the same ephemeral phenomena that makes up everything else, so they too are subject to impermanence. This principle is often misunderstood to suggest that we do not exist at all rather than what is really says: we have no fixed, separate, permament reality apart from (causally disconnected to) the rest of existence.

Hence, if we base our satisfaction on the idea of possessions, we will be unhappy when we lose them (or even by worrying about losing them), including our most prized "possessions", our selves. If we believe our true nature is limited to the frail, ever-changing, temporary existence of our current identities, we fear losing them and so fear death. This clinging and grasping at phenomena is commonly referred to in Buddhism as attachment. Hence effective Buddhist practice aims at helping people to understand/realize the false views which are the cause of these attachments, which are in turn the cause(s) of their suffering.

So if one rejects what I have termed Zombie Buddhism and Euthanasia Buddhism (which if combined would make for an extremely morbid and depressing outlook), then what do we do with physical and emotional pain? As I stated above, it means we need to consider the distinction between liberation from suffering and separation from suffering.

One way to posit such a distinction would be replace the second appearance of the word "suffering" in the above statement with "pain", that is, to talk about the distinction between liberation from suffering and separation from pain. For example, dread is almost always worse than what is dreaded. The actual discomfort we may feel during an experience can and often is exaggerated and magnified by our minds - which is how some Buddhist monks can go through procedures such as root canals or tooth extractions awake and without any kind of anesthetic. They experience the pain, to be sure, but they are liberated from the suffering associated with the pain. The pain is just another sensation. A analogous example or two or a dozen could be thought up for emotional pain - experiencing it but being liberated from the added suffering associated with it.

From what little I know about Buddhism, which as I often remark is in fact very little, I get the impression that this is a common Buddhist view, at least in the way Buddhism is presented in the West. So that would mean that where we are going next could seem controversial in the context of traditional Buddhism. Or it may turn out that it's actually a common teaching found all over the place in Asia. I really can't say. Because now I want to explore other possible meanings of the notion that liberation from suffering does not mean separation from suffering. So stay tuned!

Being Buddha, Being "a" Buddha

Another nice find, both in terms of a blog and particular blog content, comes in the form of BuddhaDharma Mum and specifically the post on The Supreme Identity which features a video of a talk by the late Brother Wayne Teasdale. The format is an interview with Ken Wilber. While the talk itself is, typical of Teasdale, and interspiritual / intermystical / interfaith review of Ultimate Nature, it tends to use the most common term for such Supreme Identity, a.k.a. God. To me this was reminiscent of my recent musings on Ultimate Reality and taking refuge as well as James' discussion of a famous quote by Pai-chang that all is Buddha --

Each form, each particle, is a Buddha. One form is all Buddhas. All forms, all particles, are all Buddhas. All forms, sounds, scents, feelings, and phenomena are also like this, each filling all fields.
-Pai-chang

In turn, this reminds me of a collection of quotes I gathered once in contemplating the regarding the implications of emptiness and the nature of existence and identity...

Do you want to understand? The whole world is one of your eyes, the body produced by your parents is a cataract. All ordinary people ignore the indestructible, marvelously clear, unfailingly mirroring eye, and cling fast to the dust cataract produced by the relationship of their father and mother. Therefore they take illusions for realities, and grasp at reflections as the physical forms themselves.
-P'u-an

Ultimately, all phenomena are contained within one's life, down to the last particle of dust. The nine mountains and the eight seas are encompassed by one's body; the sun, moon and myriad stars are contained within one's mind.
-Nichiren

The Smaller Sutra is a highly imaginative portrayal of the realm of enlightenment in very concrete terms: bejeweled railings, nettings, trees; bathing pools lined with golden sands with steps of gold, silver, lapis lazuli, and crystal; pavilions covered with exquisite jewels built on the earth made of gold. The atmosphere is filled with celestial music, rare and exquisite birds, and a subtle breeze blowing through jeweled trees which produces a melodious chorus. This rich and colorful description is said to be a manifestation of emptiness (shunyata) that expresses itself freely in any way it chooses. Since reality is empty of permanent being and all things are in flux, it can take any form.
-Taitetsu Unno

Once you stop clinging and let things be, you'll be free, even of birth and death. You'll transform everything; you'll possess spiritual powers that can't be obstructed; and you'll be at peace wherever you are. If you doubt this, you'll never see through anything; you're better off doing nothing. Once you act, you can't avoid the cycle of birth and death, but once you see your nature, you're a Buddha even if you work as a butcher."
-Bodhidharma

When I was a young novice, I told my Master, 'If the Pure Land doesn't have lemon trees, then I don't want to go.' He shook his head and smiled. Maybe he thought I was a stubborn youngster. However, he did not say that I was right or wrong. Later when I realized that both the world and the Pure Land come from the mind, I was very happy. I was happy since I knew that lemon trees and star-fruit trees exist also in the Pure Land, with dirt roads and green grass on all sides.
-Thich Nhat Hahn

Each Buddha-Tathagata, as the body of the Dharmadhatu, pervades the mind of all sentient beings. This is why when your mind perceives the Buddha, it is your mind that possesses the thirty-two prominent features and the eighty secondary attributes. This mind that creates the Buddha is the mind that is the Buddha, and the wisdom of the Buddhas true, universal and ocean-like arises from this mind. This is why you should single-mindedly fix your thoughts and contemplatively examine that Buddha, that Tathagata, that Arhat, that Supremely Awakened One.
-The Sutra of Contemplation on the Buddha of Immeasurable Life

Which brings us back to the discussion by Teasdale and Wilber, particularly the difference between saying all things are of the substance of God but that no one thing can claim to be God. This can be confusing unless one applies a concept like dependent co-arising and emptiness, in which the fullness of "God" is in all things but no one thing can be separated out/singled out as God, as in a localized, intrinsic, or dualistic identity. This would be the difference in Triyaka doctrine between the created body which manifests in time and space and limitless body of the Dharma itself. Hence in terms of the latter, all things are Dharmakara and Dharmakara maniefests in and as all things, and one who awakens to this is called enlightened. That is the difference, such as it is, between being Buddha and being a Buddha.

Humanist Buddhists? Buddhist Humanists?

I recently wrote some brief thoughts about Christian Buddhists ("Christian Buddhists? Buddhist Christians?"), so now it's time to look at the compatibility, or lack thereof, between Buddhism and Humanism. Previously with regard to humanism ("To be or not to be secular, a humanist, or a secular humanist"), I have written:

By secular I mean the commonly used definitions of the term, which include "worldly, temporal, not overtly religious". It also means that which is common and enduring. It does not necessarily exclude the spiritual, as some may presume. I separate it from the spiritual here *only* to offer a distinction between people and ideas which are more focused on the principle of being non-religious and those which emphasize spirituality regardless of whether or not it is religious. As for spiritual, my view is that it includes "a contemplative attitude" and, a disposition to a life of depth, and the search for ultimate meaning" (as per Teasdale in The Mystic Heart). Throughout my writing it may become obvious that I do not regard these two perspectives to be antagonistic, much less mutually exclusive.
If we briefly take science as an example, it has both a secular and a spiritual component. On the one hand, it deals with the "worldly" and "temporal" and presumes methodological naturalism, which is decidedly on the secular side of things. On the other hand, it involves a "contemplative attitude" and "a search for meaning".

Another area where I find both secular and spiritual elements is humanism. For those who believe "spiritual" is some kind of dirty word and that it has sullied the good name of "secular" humanism, place your head between your knees, put a cold cloth on the back of your neck, and take several deep breaths. Now let us continue. The affirmative aspects of humanist thought are spiritually loaded, with notions of inherent (though not supernatural guarantees of) human worth and the affirmation of the importance of freedom, dignity, and quality of life of all peoples.


Having expressed my views on the relationship of the spiritual to the sacred cows of secular thought, it is important to realize that the door swings both ways. As suggested in the original (and in my humble opinion the far and away best) version of the Humanist Manifesto from 1933, "the distinction between the sacred and the secular can no longer be maintained". This does not suggest that nothing is sacred, at least not to me. Instead it refers to seeing the everyday world, i.e. what is generally thought of as the secular world in the word's more ancient usage, as the foundation of the sacred. It is a rejection of the dualistic idea that the physical world is inherently wicked or fallen and that purity can only be found by escaping it...


Humanism obviously places emphasis on--you guessed it--humans. However I do not embrace any anthropocentric philosophies of human superiority or dominion over other species. In the most general of terms, humanists of all stripes sees humans as responsible for the course of their lives. People are not born good or evil, but may choose to do good or bad things. Humanism recognizes human strengths and frailties but usually emphasizes optimism with regard to our capacity to better ourselves. Religions, philosophies, political parties, or personal creeds which follow this kind of reasoning could be considered humanist.

This can be contrasted with those world views that suggest humans are inherently evil or unable to make a real difference in the world without the miraculous intervention and supernatural assistance of a Divine presence. Hence, you may also often hear humanism associated with the term secular (i.e. secular humanism) as a tacit rejection of religion as well as reliance on/belief in supernaturalism. There are, however, forms of religion and spirituality which are nontheistic (not dependent on belief in or rejection of an anthropomorphic creator God who dolls out blessings and judgments based on your beliefs) but which could still be considered humanist. Certain schools of Buddhism are good examples. In addition some branches of theistic religions, while accepting the existence of (a) God, believe that we are the miracles and cherish that human potential (summed up in the phrase "We are the answers to each other's prayers"). These faiths share humanistic roots as well.


I would add, to be clear, that this does not mean that said forms of sacred traditions do not emphasize the need to embrace the unknown or to surrender to the possibilities of existence. Such transformative notions often include teachings such as no-self or other expressions of going beyond the personal ego, but this should not be confused with giving up the power to chose or think. This subtle distinction is often lost in sweeping critiques of religion and spirituality, and it is also blurred by those wishing to prey on the vulnerable with brainwashing cult tactics...


Is Buddhism really humanistic? In a basic sense I would say yes, but I would also suggest that it is misleading to simply equate the two. I guess I would say Buddhism has a humanistic flavor, but then, that's going with how I've described humanism here. Many versions of what some folks consider humanism would not be so compatible.


[emphasis added]

I think from this point of view, it is possible to talk about being spiritual/religious AND being a humanist in the spirit of the original version of the Humanist Manifesto. While some may see principle #9 as rejecting traditional forms of worship, it seems to have more to do with attitude than form, though one could certainly debate this point. In any case, it is not an anti-spiritual or anti-religious document, but rightly has concerns about supernaturalism, superstition, and waiting on some grandiose miraculous divine intervention to solve the world's problems. But I see such a document as a starting point, not an end, to spiritual/religious exploration and growth.

At the same time, humanism has come to be virtually synonymous with secular humanism, and for many this in turn has become synonymous with atheism/irreligionism. Others see humanists, especially those who dialog and reach out in partnership to religious groups, as atheists who can't fully commit to the full implications of their atheism.

Along these lines, upon receiving a reply to something I had written, I briefly revisited the issue of humanism, or more specifically, secular humanism ("Revisiting secular humanism"), in dealing with the idea that humanism prefers "cold truth" to a "warm lie" (note all of assumptions and biases bundled into those terms):

I don’t find ‘truth’ to be ‘warm’ or ‘cold’ or otherwise. It simply is. But that doesn’t preclude compassion. For example, let’s say a mother has lost a child to an illness. According the formulation that seems to be suggested in the quote, the ‘warm’ or ‘soft’ lie is to believe that little junior is Heaven with the angels, and the ‘cold truth’ is that he is worm food. This dichotomy and debate obscures the reality of a grieving mother who needs a hand to hold, a shoulder to cry on, and a friend to lean on.


It also highlights the need to appreciate the unique and irreplaceable nature of all phenomena, including the singular existence of each sentient being. No configuration of the ever-present moment in any life can be rewound or replaced. Once it is done, it is done. To that extent I would agree with the ‘standard’ secular humanist position (if there is such a thing). But that observation is the beginning for me, not the end. It’s one thing to intellectually assent to that position, it is another to take it heart, to sincerely and deeply make the realization of that fact into an awakening. For me it is also accompanied by other observations, such as the interdependence (dependent co-arising) of all phenomena (regardless of their 'position' on time and space). In turn these observations suggest that in fact what we refer to as ‘meaning’ is just a shorthand or model of the real thing, a formula or description of the nature of the relationships between phenomena, whereas actual meaning *is* (are) the relationship(s) themselves (objects depend on relationships, relationships depend on objects is the very brief version). Meaning is constantly arising and integral as the substance of existence. Hence, the answer to that ‘ultimate’ search to understand our own nature is present in/is every moment.


I cannot say how many ‘secular humanists’ would or would not agree with this, or how the Buddha used it to describe the delusion of a sense of separate intrinsic existence as the root of our suffering...

This started me thinking about how the perception of religion for those not in traditional religious systems in the West might affect/be affecting Buddhism, both in how it received and how it is presented ("I sometimes wonder"):

In the West, there is the long shadow of mytho-historical literalism mixed with the prophetic nature of revealed religion. Others can talk about basic individual and social psychology, sociological and cultural dynamics, historical factors, and how this is tied together to explain why Western religion tended to gravitate towards certain forms of belief. But, the reaction against this was to set up a dichotomy between faith and reason, religion and science, etc. This I believe contributes to what has been discussed before by many people in the emergence of so-called Western Buddhism. If we make sure we don't really believe in anything other than as symbols, and if we make sure we cleanse any ideas tainted with forces or actions that might be at odds with so-believed-to-be "empirically driven" rationalism, and as long as it has demonstrable benefits to the individual and society, then Buddhism is great. You don't have to pray to (a) God or feel the presence of the Divine. Naw, it's just a nice rational system of observations and applications that is practically a twin of what people tend to see as/think of as science...

It all gets into how people view/conceptualize religion. In my view, people really are often talking about many interrelated things. For example, there is the idea of the self, which is defined as any individual by it's beginning and ending, birth and death. So the nature of the self, including questions about the afterlife, what does or doesn't remain after a physical life form "dies", etc, is one element. Then there is "God", or the Ground of Being, or the Divine, or the Tao - some reflection of a beginning and end - kind of like the issue of the self only on a universal scale of identity, birth, and death. There is spirituality, a sense of connection to something greater than the limited individual. This frequently (but doesn't always directly or obviously) ties into the Greater sense of self alluded to under the idea of God. Then there is faith and the supernatural, which frequently go hand in hand and which are, again, often tied (but not always directly or obviously) to these other elements.

Anything which seems to touch on one or more of these elements, especially when it's more than one, is frequently tagged as "religious". And as mentioned, there is this idea, sometimes consciously manifested, sometimes lingeringly patently in our reactions and perceptions, that religion is just a failed way of explaining things, a primitive science that people cling to out of tradition and an inability to deal with reality as it is (cold, hard, impersonal). Hence the aforementioned cleansing to weed out the "troublesome" aspects of Buddhism so that it's true, nobler essence can be brought forth to shine a light of reason and compassion on all who gaze upon it...

I think ideas like "God", rather than staying as a verb, a perpetual process of creation and unfolding, where phenomena arise and fade, emerge and recede, there is the tendency to take the unlimitable and limit it with names, values, desires, wishes, thoughts, feelings, even a distinct "body" of some kind. Just as we see ourselves as bounded individuals rather than ever-changing aspects of the whole, so too is our idea of "God". And, with so many people believing so many bizarre things in the name of religion, it gets tagged as something for the ignorant or feeble-minded. And so, again, spirituality and everything else becomes "tainted" as belonging to the realm of fools, the insane, the desperate, and those who would manipulate such people. Again, this isn't an unfounded or groundless characterization, but because it is so ubiquitously applied, there is no real discussion of how most of the "flaws" of religion are just manifestations of human nature, not some social illness that can be eradicated. Hence, instead of focusing on things which can infect any institution, and to which religions are particularly vulnerable, folks who do not count themselves as religious often just conflate it all as a nasty mess from the stone age that we should rid ourselves of. But they fail to see that even if you get rid of all the current religions, our religious nature and its pros and cons would remain.

Which takes us back to so-called Western Buddhism and what it should or should not be. And the aforementioned desire I suspect to be at work in some circles to "cleanse" Buddhism of any non-rational elements, with the caveat that rational often means what we think makes sense, hence what fits our current "paradigm", which for a number of potential or actual Western Buddhists is, again, the so-called empirically based rationalism which is often associated with the methodology of science but which is often co-opted into what is sometimes termed ontological naturalism, which means anything that smacks of supernaturalism is out...

I count myself among those who are not supersitious. However, if we are saying that Buddhism is just the science of suffering, and only based on observation, what does that mean? Is it just a window dressing for our established preconception of reality? Oh, well, I embrace only empirical rationalism, and so my definition of "observation" technically is limited to that perspective? Or, when we talk about Buddhism being rooted in observation, is it observation freed from believing "this" or generally accepting "that" - a kind of wide open embrace of existence that does not rely on how we define this or whether we divide the universe like that?

In the end, are we just making a new, secularized, empirically-safe finger to latch onto? Does the nature of the Dharma change whether we call Shunyata (emptiness) the Tao or even God? Or if we fail to name it? Does it change if we believe in magic? If we do not? If we pray or do not? For who or what do we need to reinvent or reconstitute Buddhism "in the West"?

[emphasis added]

So then here we are, with the same questions underlying much of what we think of as Buddhism in the West. I believe that if we take terms like religion, spirituality, faith, and the like strictly in terms of their most superficial usage in the "fundamentalist Abrahamic religionist"/"cynical anti-theist" debate, we might as well chuck out Buddhism right now along with every other religion, because we would be missing something like 60-80% of what is being buried under such simplistic definitions. And in that missing chunk are the core spiritual elements that are shared by the various sacred traditions of the world. What would be left would be the trappings, the decor, of the rich history and collected insights of contemplative traditions and the kind of compassionate life they inspire and describe, a hollow shell. If we are the kind of humanist who runs away from such "dirty" words, I don't think what we would practice as "Buddhists" would be permitted to take us beyond our own predetermined comfort zones where we feel in control/think we fully grasp the sum of our experiences in light of our concepts of reason and intellectual comprehension.

On the other hand, if we can get past the knee-jerk reaction to religion and spirituality, and give such sacred traditions an honest and open inquiry, then we may see that while a move to secular humanism might help us shed our previous assumptions about concepts such as God or faith, it can also serve as a clean slate/firm grounding upon which to take our first shaky steps back into pondering the great questions of our existence. If we have the courage and interest in leaving that seemingly secure shelter of Vulcan-esque logic* and getting back into a messy world where we appreciate that all belief systems, even secularism, involve foundational assumptions which must simply be accepted, where intuition and emotion are not denied in our decision-making process, and where there are possibilities beyond the defined borders of rational/empirical understanding, then we can be the kind of humanist who can truly appreciate and practice various paths including Buddhism.


[*lest a Trekkie object to my usage of Vulcan logic in describing secular humanism, yes, I am aware that Vulcans all have a well-developed/realized awareness of the existence of God; yes, this did happen before when I made a similar comparison]

Christian Buddhists? Buddhist Christians?

I have found the question of the compatibility (or lack thereof) of Christianity and Buddhism to be very contentious in certain circles, so I thought I might take the topic out for a spin. So can you be a Christian and a Buddhist? Of course. And absolutely not. Given the choice between the two answers, which would you prefer? But before you decide, let's take a closer look at how we can arrive at these two mutually exclusive answers.

Let's start with the rejection of compatibility. That's not too hard to understand. You start by presuming that being a Christian requires the following beliefs:

1. there is an anthropomorphic Supreme Being, that is, a Creator God who has a will and a consciousness with a personality; more or less this God is like a human being without all the faults and with unlimited knowledge and power; as a perfect Being this God is changeless and eternal.
2. this same God made the Universe at some point in the remote past and either directly created or set in motion the creation of human beings who were initially in total union with the divine will.
3. sin is separation from direct union with the mind/will of God
4. original sin is the story (interpreted figuratively or literally) of how humanity became separated from God, that is, how they came to neglect an inherent awareness of the Divine.
5. the story of the Gospels is the story of how God became manifest in the human world as Jesus Christ in order to bridge the gulf that came to separate humanity from the Divine; this was accomplished by Christ acting as a substitute for all those who deserved eternal separation from God because of either original sin (which is inherited) or their own sins (acts separating them from/going against their sense of the Divine).
6. Jesus was crucified, laid to rest in a tomb, and experienced a bodily resurrection after three days, eventually directly ascending to Heaven, the realm beyond the mortal world where the heart of God dwells.
7. only by believing these stories and accepting the grace of God offered through Christ can a person's soul escape eternal torment/annihilation.

On the other hand, you assume that being a Buddhist means believing teachings which state:

1. everything is impermanent (so a changeless, eternal God as required above would not be compatible with this view) because everything is empty (of intrinsic existence); this is also argued to go against the concept of an eternal soul if a soul is also supposed to somehow be eternal and fixed.
2. even heaven and hell realms are temporary (and possible figurative/metaphoric) and reflections of our choices, i.e. karma; there is no appeal to a Supreme Being to change our karmic consequences.
3. everything is interdependent via the concept of dependent co-arising, so again, there is no existence outside of this connected web of causality and presumably no place for an eternal, changeless Being.
4. one may experience many lifetimes before being liberated from the cycle of birth and death (this can be seen literally or figuratively), which conflicts with the idea in traditional Christianity of living one life then being judged for eternity.
5. the narrow exclusivity of the previously described beliefs of Christianity doesn't fit well with the idea of following the teachings of a different religion.

The conflict, then, between a traditional Christian view and a common Western Buddhist outlook, is fairly obvious. A deeper or more comprehensive comparison and analysis is certainly possible, but even at such a superficial level as has been outlined here one can apprehend why Buddhism and Christianity are often said to be mutually exclusive. Yet there are people who write books comparing the saying of the Buddha and Christ, as well as those who claim to benefit from a syncretic belief involving Jesus and the Buddha (and perhaps other teachers). To appreciate why this may be so, let us consider the distinction of being a Christian Buddhist and a Buddhist Christian.

The distinction between a Christian Buddhist and a Buddhist Christian was not really relevant for discussing why the two sacred traditions are incompatible - no matter how you mix them it doesn't work. But what about those who do mix it up? Presumably, the latter label takes precedence, i.e. a Buddhist Christian would be a Christian first and a Buddhist second (and vice versa). A Buddhist Christian can still adhere to most of the aforementioned list of traditional Christian beliefs while simultaneously picking and choosing certain aspects of Buddhist teachings and practices, such as meditation. A Christian Buddhist can likewise adhere to Buddhist teachings (including but not limited to those listed above) while simultaneously picking and choosing certain aspects of Christian teachings, such as the admonition to love others as ourselves.

Then there are what may be called non-traditional Christians (which traditional Christians, and even many Buddhists, would likely not recognize as being "true" Christians). Many of their beliefs have been on the wrong end of history and have been declared heresies and false teachings, or in some cases are simply in the minority/ignored by most practicing Christians. Yet in the ongoing dialog with eastern mysticism, Hinduism, Buddhism, etc, many of these beliefs are being reconsidered and in some cases resuscitated. Sounds good. Let's get a brief sketch of what that *might* look like:

1. "God" is a term for the endless potential from/in which which all existence/universes spring, known as I AM, as the Tao, as the essence of shunyata and tathata expressed as the dharmakaya, and other hopeless attempts to name the ineffable, which is simultaneously transcendent and immanent.
2. in an attempt to grasp and make this Source familiar, myths arose in which God was fashioned in our own image as an anthropomorphic Supreme Being, that is, a Creator God who has a will and a consciousness with a personality; more or less this God is like a human being without all the faults and with unlimited knowledge and power; as a perfect Being this God is changeless and eternal.
3. creation is a perpetual act of the Divine in which all of existence participates, arising and dissolving in a continuous flow of what can be and what is.
4. sin is separation from direct union with the mind/will of God; rather than a blood curse inherited from the disobedience of Adam and Eve, it is a description of how certain actions, speech, and thoughts lead one away from the truth of the fundamental inter-connection of all things and our own inherent completeness as an individual within a greater whole.
5. original sin is the story (interpreted figuratively) of how humanity became separated from God, that is, how they came to neglect an inherent awareness of the Divine.
6. the story of the Gospels is the story of how God became manifest in the human world as Jesus Christ in order to bridge the gulf that came to separate humanity from the Divine; it is an ahistorical (its value goes beyond its historical reality) story providing an exemplar of the the proper relationship of humanity and the Divine.
7. the story of Jesus being crucified, being laid to rest in a tomb, and experiencing a bodily resurrection after three days, is a part of the larger ahistorical teaching; the truth of the story lies in the heart, not in what cannot be verified or rejected empirically.
8. the message of Christ is one of reconciliation with God and the abundance of undifferentiated grace; the plight of the unsaved is a depiction of the suffering of those who have not been reconciled to God, whether it be through religion or not.

In the case of such Christians (or those who share at least some of these variations from the traditional views), at least for those who will allow them to use that label, it is fairly clear that they can not only find compatibility with Buddhism but even a deep connection between the fundamental principles of Buddhism and their faith in Christ, especially the life of Jesus and the idea of the bodhisattva. It is just as clear how Buddhists might also find a connection with this form of Christianity. As I am not an expert in the history of Christian theology, I cannot argue whether the more traditional view is somehow more authentic to the original teachings of Christ as opposed to the panentheist/universalist view, but I am aware that there is a long thread of such thought in the Church, especially in the more contemplative orders/traditions which practiced mysticism to experience conscious union with the Divine. From what I have heard, there are contemporary theologians/philosophers which have explored such ideas of Christ and God (Paul Tillich comes to mind), so whether or not it is considered orthodox, it is a view that has both a history, is relevant to modern theology, and is actively practiced (see for example the works of Thomas Merton or Wayne Teasdale).

Speaking of being outside of conventional/"traditional" Christianity, the Unitarian Universalists were essentially founded in such an extreme ecumenical revelation and expansion of Christianity and now embraces members who identify as everything from Wiccan to Jewish to Buddhist to atheist. So I will let a UU/Christian have the last word here on the concept:

Who is Jesus Christ to me? He is both a teacher of the Way, and the Way itself. For one who has always had a hard time grasping the concept of God, let alone developing a working definition of God, Jesus both points me toward a definition of God and then lives that definition. Jesus Christ is the freedom that laughs uproariously at the things of this world, while loving me dearly for being human enough to lust after them. He is my soul’s safety from all harm. He is the avatar of aloneness, a compassionate and unsentimental narrator of the soul’s exile on earth, and proof of the soul’s triumphant homecoming at the end of the incarnational struggle. He is not afraid to put his hands anywhere to affect healing. He mourns, and weeps, and scolds, and invites. He is life more abundant and conqueror of the existential condition of fear.

“By their fruits ye shall know them,” Jesus says in the Sermon on the Mount. There are indeed degenerate branches on the tree of Christian life, but this does not keep me from Christ. There are even disagreements among Unitarian Universalist Christians about the appropriateness of this or that perspective, practice, or teaching—debates that I regard mostly with affection, if occasionally with irritation. We have so much else to do.

My daily Christian practice, although it changes frequently and is augmented by wisdom and practices from other traditions, consists mostly of clumsy efforts to love my God with all my heart, all my mind, all my soul, and all my strength, and to love my neighbor as myself. That’s work enough for this lifetime.

I call myself a Christian because I am a disciple of Jesus Christ—not just Jesus-that-great-guy-and-teacher-with-the-long-hair-and-sandals but Jesus the living avatar of the great God and Jesus the Christ of Easter morning.

How Jesus claimed me

One Unitarian Universalist's religious journey.
By Victoria Weinstein