Archive for January, 2008

Self and religion

Friday, January 4th, 2008

It strikes me that much of what I read about the self treats it as something static. Alan Combs in The Radiance of Being describes the self depicted in the Vedanta. This is atman, the eternal, unchanging source of the multi-layered structure which is the human being. This self is surrounded and eclipsed by a series of sheaths. These seem to be levels of awareness, ranging from the lowest, physical awareness, to the highest, rapture or bliss. All these exist together and progress is a progress in awareness not in being. He then goes on to compare the Vedanta model with those of Ken Wilbur and Jean Gebser. These follow the same pattern, though the names and the number of the stages may differ. They seem to me to be an attempt to join two contradictory ideas – becoming, growth and development with that of an eternal, unchanging substance. How these might be combined seems as intractable a problem as that of the mind/brain.

I see the self as a process of becoming in a much larger, a cosmic, process of becoming. I don’t know whether each individual self is necessarily eternal. I believe it has the capacity to become so. The soul is not an eternal, unchanging substance but a person who emerges from the dynamic process of relationships which is the cosmic process. The essence of being a person is being in relationship. It is a new complex of relationships which calls the person into being. The relationship of the mother and the father leads to the union of the sperm and ovum. This new entity grows and develops until a consciousness emerges and it becomes a person. A little later the person becomes self-conscious, caught up in a network of interactive relationships. Some of these relationships are positive and fulfilling, drawing out its potential. Others are neutral, while still others are harmful, damaging its ability to relate to others in an open and loving way. They turn it in on itself, creating a sense of isolation from and incompatibility with others. It is easy to see how important it is that the positive relationships should far outweigh the negative.

Nevertheless, however many the positive relationships and however few the negative, there is one problematic relationship which sooner or later impinges on a person’s awareness, and that is the relationship with existence itself. Eventually each person encounters the cold and impersonal reality of the brute facts of existence – contingency, powerlessness and scarcity. These immediately put all personal relationships into perspective. They are ephemeral; transient episodes in an all too brief life. Against the backdrop of history most lives are like shooting stars, flashing briefly into view and vanishing without a trace. It is no wonder that so much modern philosophy is negative and pessimistic. What can it offer except the encouragement to shout defiance at the blind meaninglessness of such a fate. It was in answer to this that religion was invented, or was it discovered? I think religion is an attempt to make sense of, to rationalise the awareness of the transcendent which has always been part of the human dimension. This is not something we can deal with as we deal with the other factors in our lives, like food, shelter and society. So we try to bring it down to a level we can cope with using myth, ritual and story. But never quite successfully. In the end all our human coping strategies fail and we find ourselves facing a dreadful (literally) void. This is the horizon of being, of existence itself. Beyond lies the greatest journey of all but, in spite of the glimpses we have had in the past, it takes a mad, blind courage to believe in the beyond. The myths and the rituals and the stories can help a little but there is no escaping the emptiness, the empty darkness and the absence. This too is part of the process.

Nothingness

Thursday, January 3rd, 2008

I think one of the problems with meditation is this problem of ‘nothing’. One hovers on the verge. There is no progression of thoughts, or feelings. Awareness of breathing and counting of breaths becomes a featureless desert – no sky, no horizon, nothing but a timeless expanse stretching before and behind. I feel that somewhere there must be a boundary, a wall with a door leading through to… what? According to Nishitani the relative nothingness of the desert, nihility, is grounded in the absolute nothingness of sunyata. According the Christian mystics, the desert, or the dark night, leads to union. The two views of the outcome seem very different but since they are both talking about an experience of transcendence, by definition ineffable, it is possible they are not.

Beyond religion

Wednesday, January 2nd, 2008

‘The religious life does not depend on the dogma that the world is eternal or not eternal, infinite or finite, that the soul and body are identical or different, or the dogma that the saint exists or does not exist after death…’  (Buddha, quoted in The Three Pillars of Zen, Philip Kapleau, Anchor Books, New York, 1989  p. 75) 

A very interesting point.  Reality does not depend on theory, or dogma, but so often we shape our lives according to theories and dogmas which may be a long way from reality.  First get in touch with reality then start thinking about the theories if you feel the need but by then they will be superfluous.

Christianity

Tuesday, January 1st, 2008

Christianity is in a mess at the moment.  Those who believe with any sort of passion and really try to live their religion tend in the main to be fundamentalists and one is always wary of fundamentalism, of whatever flavour.  Why?  Because, I think, it is just not possible to have absolute certainty.  It is arrogant to say that what I believe is true.  It implies, even if it is not stated, that all others are wrong.  There are many people, of course, who are filled with doubts and uncertainties, who dearly wish not to doubt but to be sure and have something solid, clear and explicit to which they can adhere and by which they can judge all the other claimants for belief.  These are sort of people who are attracted to fundamentalism and to the Catholic Church.

The Catholic Church in the past claimed absolute authority, it still does but not with anything like the assurance or the general acceptance of former times.  It avoided the fundamentalist position by allowing neither scripture nor the teaching authority of the Church to become an absolute.  Each is tempered and interpreted by the other; both are seen in the light of what has always been traditionally believed.  

The Church is no stranger to crises or to challenges to its authority.  From the very beginning it has had to face other interpretations, which it called heresies.  Sometimes the struggle was long and bitter.  Sometimes the alternatives were more appealing, more warmly human, more idealistic than the inflexible and, at times corrupt, institution.  But they were always ruthlessly put down and none of the good, and there was much good in many of them, was recognised.  The Church lived in a black and white world, an either…or world, with no shades of grey, nor the slightest compromise.  As time passed the challenge of these alternative Christianities faded; some disappeared, others were marginalised, still others split and argued amongst themselves.  None achieved anything like the breadth, the diversity of spiritualities, or the universal dominance, both within and without, of the Catholic Church.

But now the Christian churches, all of them including the Catholic Church are faltering.  How does one go about being a Christian in this world of ours today?  There is no clear cut answer.  Some see abortion as an evil so great that it justifies the murder of those who procure it.  Others could never justify the use of a condom, AIDS notwithstanding.  Some bishops see the expression of homosexual love as intrinsically evil while other bishops describe how the realisation of their homosexuality made them aware of the dimensions of love, including Christian love.  Some Christian groups throw themselves into the struggle for justice to liberate both the oppressed and the oppressor.  Others would deny the Church any role in politics.  The Catholic Church still upholds the ideal of celibacy as something wholesome and good while for years it refused to acknowledge the appalling abuses perpetrated by its priests.  

However, to an extent, these are peripheral questions.  They grab the headlines but for the majority they are not the stuff of daily life.  The underlying question is how does one go about being a Christian in a world where most are not Christians and those who are are not sure what that involves?  “But wait,“ I hear you cry.  “Of course we know what it means to be a Christian.  You keep the Commandments, go to Church every Sunday and say your prayers.  Everyone knows that.“  

True, many people do know just that but if that is all there is to being a Christian it is not surprising that, in the developed world at least, Christianity is declining.  Is this the religion that took the Mediterranean world by storm two thousand years ago?  How could anything so bland, dull and unexciting have been the impulse that led the martyrs to go singing to their deaths?  What was the secret of these early Christians which led them to put their lives on the line rather than compromise their faith?  Whatever it was we have lost it.  Now, rather than making converts, we inoculate our children against religion.  We expose them to bland platitudes in sermons, hypocrisy and double standards.  With our mouths we say one thing but the witness of our lives says another.  It is hardly surprising that they look the other way.

“Ah,“ you reply, “but Christianity is about faith which leads to salvation.“  I think Christianity in the past has been a religion fixed on death.  In the early days it was a serious commitment and included the possibility of martyrdom.  After Constantine and the establishment of Christianity this hankering for an absolute commitment persisted.  Many felt that it was not really possible to be a full-blooded Christian and live an ordinary worldly life.  In fact worldly and Christianity were contradictory terms.  In the Middle Ages the monastic life, with its withdrawal from the world was seen as the nearest it was possible to get in this life to life as it would be lived in Heaven.  Christianity was all about world denial, ordinary life denial, self-denial.

That too has changed and today the problem is the absence of God. An obscure sense of something missing pervades our secular age. What? We are not sure, only that there is a lack. There is suddenly an interest in religious experience. It has become academically respectable and is offered as a course by universities. And then there is an interest in meditation. Many, many people wish to learn how to meditate. Not necessarily because they are searching for God. After all, God is not there, not even as a possibility. But it might put them in touch with themselves. It might delineate what exactly is missing. In a strange way, the more keenly we experience the absence the more we come to understand what is missing. We need to look beyond religion.