29 October 2007

Not One, Not Two: Being a Christian Buddhist

You love the apple; yes, you are authorized to love the apple, but no one prevents you from also loving the mango. -Ven. Thich Nhat Hanh
I am writing this paper on behalf of people who wonder if they can have a dual affiliation of being a Christian and a Buddhist. There are many people in Christian and Buddhist communities or congregations to which practices of both religions have value. Such people wonder, "Can I be a Christian and a Buddhist?, "Are there other people like me?", " Do I have to adopt some strange dogma in order to bring them together?" This paper will show how myself, and other people have decided to identify themselves as not following just one religion, or following two religions. These people are just following their individual spirituality which include what many consider two disparate religions.

It has been said that Christians can learn a lot from Buddhism, which would make them "better Christians." In Father Joseph Spae's book on Buddhist-Christian empathy, he sums up authorities as pointing out the value of Christians learning about Buddhism.
Some Christians still labor under a host of misconceptions in regard to Buddhism. Yet there are many others - particularly in Buddhist countries - who realize that the Buddhist culture and tradition are worth their interest and support, not only as treasuries of mankind, but also as an actual enrichment of the Christian faith….
Faculty member Reggie Ray, in reflecting on the history of the Buddhist-Christian dialogues at Naropa University, wrote about the effect on the Christians and Buddhists who attended.
We also found that many of our deepest insights were provoked by or came from the other: Christians experienced over and over that they learned about what is true and ultimately real from Buddhists, and Buddhists learned likewise from Christians.
A Christian Buddhist (or Christian-Buddhist) is someone who practices Christianity and Buddhism equally or at least makes both of these religions parts of their personal spirituality. Such persons don't consider themselves to be following only part of either religion, but to be a full member of both.

Below are two possible types of Christian Buddhists.. The actual variety of individuals for whom such an idea as being a Christian Buddhist has some relevance is difficult to pigeonhole. For the sake of this paper I will use these two general types.

One of these types are those who grew up Christian and later took on Buddhist practices and developed a deep respect for Buddhism, while still remaining a Christian. Such a person might be a regular attendee at church services but also participate in a sitting group or be active in a Buddhist temple or center. Such a person may read quite a bit about both Christianity and Buddhism. Many writers have said that such a person often becomes a better Christian due to better connection with personal spirituality and mysticism which is more easily available in Buddhism.

The other type discussed in this paper are those who left Christianity as a child, or later in life. Such persons often come from a conservative religious background, or some may come from families who do not participate much in religious life. Such a person had been exposed to Buddhism at some point, and been attracted to its brand of spirituality as being much different from his or her opinion of religion growing up. Such a person, before finding Buddhism, often has grown disillusioned with the religion of his or her parents or even religion in general.

Interestingly, many of the people of this type, after practicing Buddhism for many years, become curious about the religion in which they grew up on. The forms of the faith of their parents come back into their mind, or the ideas do not seem as foreign as they once were. Especially learning about Christian contemplatives can have this effect.

Such a person may feel that Christianity is part of his or her identity and culture. Christianity could be seen as part of who he or she is, and therefore a part that needs to be acknowledged and dealt with.

In Thich Nhat Hanh's book, Going Home: Jesus and Buddha as Brothers, he addresses the situation of Westerners who have adopted a faith different than the one they grew up in, because they were so angry about the religion they followed in their youth.
Because they have suffered so much they want to have nothing to do with their family, their church, their society, and their culture. They want to become someone else…. They want to become a Buddhist because they have hated everything relating to their roots. Have they succeeded in leaving everything behind in order to become something new? The answer is no.

At first one would wonder, "where are Christian Buddhists?" The truth is that Christian Buddhists are all around us. I believe that many people have these tendencies but don’t believe that they can decide to openly practice both religions.

First, there are people that are in churches who are afraid or uncomfortable with expressing their practice of another religion to other church members. Interfaith worship and activism seems to be only a recent occurrence. It seems that only in the last ten years have people realized that they can participate in dialogue with another religion without trying to convince each other to convert. Members in churches may feel that they are not good Christians if they take on the practices of Buddhism. They are held back by the idea of Christianity as the "one way" to God.

Secondly, within many western (i.e. "white") Buddhist organizations there has often been the opinion that Buddhism is "better" than the religions members have left. Christianity is seen as ignorant or full of blind-faith fundamentalists. Buddhism is seen as more free of structure or institutions. Western Buddhists may look at someone becoming interested again in their first religion as regressing. So these people are stuck feeling awkward about participating in Christianity.

There are probably people that are not satisfied with their impression of the practice of either religion on its own, and wish there was an organization or place where they could practice both. They may believe that the organizations they currently find are insistent on someone practicing their faith in isolation.

There are also different degrees of practice of either religion. Some people may adopt only some of the practices, like a Christian who practices Buddhist meditation.

People often ask me how I could think of myself as a Christian Buddhist. The simple answer is that I don’t see God as separate from me. However I don’t think of myself as God, or a God. Father Thomas Keating agrees with this concept of God in a speech he made at one of the Buddhist-Christian dialogues at Naropa University.
The idea that God is an object outside of oneself to which one relates through prayer is totally unscriptural. It is heresy, and should well be forgotten. It is an idea which is the result of a cultural conditioning originating in the world of philosophy and especially Descartes. The worldview that affirms the subject-object dichotomy has produced the fruit of modern technology, but it has also cramped the intuitive faculties of the Western mind and left education totally bereft of its spiritual dimension.
God is within me as God is within all things. Regarding this, R.H. Blyth, in his book, Buddhist Sermons on Christian Texts, quotes the book of Revelation, "And I saw no temple therein: for the Lord God Almighty and the Lamb are the temple.... " He comments along with this quote that for those who live by Zen Buddhism, "Every place is hallowed ground, every day is a good day, every act is worship, waking or sleeping, dead or alive." It is the idea of God as existence. When I worship God, I am worshipping creation and all beings. This is basically the idea of panentheism. Matthew Fox explains the idea in his book, Wrestling with the Prophets, he believes this "theism" was a tradition of the early Christian mystics.
This is a precise naming of panentheism "all things in God and God in all things." This perfectly orthodox naming of our relationship to divinity is alluded to in the vine-and-the-branch imagery of John [chapter] 15 as well as in Acts. ‘For in him we live, and move, and have our being; as certain also of your own poets have said, For we are also his offspring.’
In regards to Buddhism, I no longer pray to God asking for something. I realize that God is not separate from me and therefore try to avoid dualism. I also think of Jesus as a great teacher who reached the highest spiritual level, Christ. The notions of being a Buddha or a Christ become synonymous. The potential within each of us is to equally have the chance to develop to the level of Christ or Buddha. Marcus Borg, in his book about the historical Jesus, comments about the uniqueness of Jesus and his attainment.
…I would agree that Jesus is unique in one sense of the word, and deny that he is unique in another. In the sense that Jesus is not exactly like any other religious figure, he is unique (and so are the Buddha, Muhammad, Lao-tzu, and, for that matter, every person). But in popular Christian usage, the "uniqueness" of Jesus is most commonly tied to the notion that he is uniquely and exclusively true revelation of God. It is this meaning of his uniqueness that I deny.

In this way, you could call the potential inside us buddha-nature or christ-nature. This could be said to be similar to this verse in the book of Colossians, "For ye are dead, and your life is hid with Christ in God." Hid inside you is your christ or buddha nature, waiting to be uncovered. It is also said in the epistle to the Romans that, "For as many as are led by the Spirit of God, they are the sons of God." We are all the sons and daughters of God.

I follow both the Ten Commandments and the Ten Lay Precepts in Zen. I worship God and Jesus in church and bow to the wisdom of Buddha’s state of enlightenment and the sutras. I am not bowing down before idols as I don’t think of myself as bowing to the statue, but to the state of realization that Buddha achieved. Dom Aelred Graham, in his book Conversations: Christian and Buddhist, quotes a Zen Master who was once questioned by a disciple about the image of Buddha in the temple.

It is as you say, but you may learn while you worship that you yourself become the Buddha itself. But for the time being you may not understand what the Buddha is. So for this period this Buddha image is necessary. When you come to understand what the real Buddha is, you bow to the Buddha image at that time too. But the meaning would have become greatly changed…. The meaning, or so-called act itself, is 'pure' or 'great act,'….

I am not putting another god before God, because I think of God as not being different from the ultimate realization in Buddhism.

As to my own upbringing, my father is a retired American Baptist minister. He has a doctorate in the philosophy of World Religions. My mother started out on the path of becoming a minister and then decided to be a social worker. Actually, at this time my sister is studying to become a minister. I grew up going to church every Sunday. Church was a given that was not questioned in my family. My older brother and sister, like me, had to go to church every Sunday, unless there was something else the family was doing.

I enjoyed going to church. I appreciated Sunday school and loved to read all the children’s storybooks in the church library. There were only a half a dozen kids in the church my age as most of the congregation was over fifty.

Though religion was a big part of my life I don’t remember discussing it much with my father until I was in my teens. Until my teens I was not exposed to any other ways of worship.

Every summer I would go to church camp. During one summer I experienced my first disillusionment with Christianity. The campers were given a survey to fill out at one of the classes. One of the questions was something like, "Do you believe you are going to heaven when you die?" The choices were "yes," "no," or "I don’t know." I put down that I didn’t know, and one of the counselors noticed and talked to me right away. I told her that I didn’t know if there was a heaven or not, which was somewhat accepted in my family. Since no one dead could tell us, my Dad saw how it wasn’t so important to know where we would go when we die, but how to live. The counselor told me that there was a heaven and that I should just put down that I believed I would go there someday.

I was disappointed with her suggestion but did as she said. Later it came to exemplify the lack of individual spirituality that I missed in Christianity. I was not encouraged to think independently.

For myself and other Christian Buddhists there are a number of problems we have with Christianity that bring about our interest in Buddhism. When we discuss religion together we often give the impression of being very negative about Christianity. I don’t believe we mean to do so. I will list here the problems with Christianity that led to an interest in Buddhism and some of the problems I have encountered since then.

As I mentioned above the evidence of members of a church following an individual spirituality is not easily apparent in most congregations. It is especially difficult to see among fundamentalist Christians who have blind-faith in God. People in churches are easily tempted to just agree with everything the minister says whether it is a conservative or liberal church. This kind of apathy in belief brings together that congregation and solidifies its bonds.

This relates to the feeling of specialness among church members. Other churches, denominations, or religions are seen as "not one of us." We are seen as having the sole hold on "the truth." This keeps out the openness of ecumenism or interfaith work. There is a great need of people to solidify their own belief system by bringing it in accord with a group. This is even better accomplished when one is convinced that anyone not in his or her group is wrong or misguided. There is a great feeling of security.

Another problem I saw were "Sunday-only" Christians. They are those who think only about God or spirituality on Sunday. They believe that if they go to church every Sunday and live an honest life they will go to heaven. There is no inner development for these people. There is no personal connection to spirituality or God. It could be said that such people are lazy in their spiritual life. R.H. Blyth quotes the Christian mystic Tauler as writing, "Who does not seek and find and receive God at home, or in the street, will never receive him rightly in church, that is certain." He follows this with a quote from the Japanese Buddhist poet Shodoka, "Walking is Zen, sitting is Zen, speaking, silence, activity, quietness,--the essence is at rest." There is no time when it is not good to think of God and therefore your own spirituality.

After I became a Christian Buddhist I encountered some Christians who did not understand how I could do so. Some of them took it as a personal insult against their faith that I thought of myself in such a way. By being a Christian these people thought of themselves as the keepers of that faith. It was "theirs" to defend from those who adopt their own understanding of Christianity, which is different from their own.

In addition it doesn’t seem to provide a clear guide to how to live one’s life. Simply imitating Jesus is not sufficient for guidance.

In Buddhism I found excellent guidance for how to live my life. The whole concept of being aware every moment appealed to me right away. Before encountering Buddhism I had been studying environmentalism and ecology. The idea in Buddhism that every action has an effect fit in quite well with my study. I knew that the idea of there being consequences (karma) to our every action made sense. As in environmentalism, I saw again how no action happens in isolation. That ultimately we are not separate from everything in the world.

The next thing that impressed me were the Ten Lay Precepts and the Bodhisattva Vow. The precepts, which I will go into in more depth later, show one a good way to act. Basically that way is in consideration of other beings. The way it was presented was clearer to me than trying to somehow obey God. The Bodhisattva Vows emphasize service to all beings, which sounded like serving God, as I had promised to do when I was baptized. I follow the Zen version.
However innumerable beings are, I vow to save them.
However inexhaustible the passions are, I vow to extinguish them.
However immeasurable the Dharmas are, I vow to master them.
However incomparable the Buddha truth is, I vow to attain it.
The other great idea that encouraged the growth of my respect for Buddhism, and acceptance of it was the idea that we create our own reality. We make the world as difficult or easy for us as we choose. We all see things slightly differently. This notion that we don’t all experience life the same was totally different than what I had found in Christianity.

I was surprised to find that eventually my interest in Christianity was revived. While learning about Buddhism I still attended church irregularly and enjoyed it. Even though I considered myself a Buddhist after 1992, I did not become active in a Buddhist group until I lived in a Zen monastery for a year beginning in 1995. The monastery was in South Korea. I lived for a year as a student there. I was the first Westerner to do so. It was when I was a resident there that I first read the Bible all the way through from the beginning.

While I read the Bible I found a great deal of ideas that were similar to Buddhism. I was struck by how much of Christianity is not presented to the common believer. I also had been exposed somewhat to the Christian mystics, like Thomas Merton, who had never come up during my experience of church life. It was then that practicing both religions became easier.

I have been able to find many similarities in Christianity and Buddhism. The most obvious similarities are compassion and honesty. The compassion of Jesus and that of a buddha or bodhisattva are the same in that they are unconditioned. Jesus' love was for everyone. To emulate that love is a challenge for both Christians and Buddhists.

As I mentioned about the Commandments, both religions emphasize honest relation with each other. This is related to the verse, "Do unto others as you would have them do unto you." This consideration in actions is directly related to karma. In Buddhism you also do this because no person is separate from you, and each being was at one time your mother, father, or lover.

When considering the mystics there is also a common belief that to "know God" or become close to God, one must transcend or destroy the self. This is the last barrier in both religions to pure experience of the universe.

It would be remiss to not also point out some of the differences between Christianity and Buddhism. I admit that they are different. However within a person, they can be the same. They may be different roads to the same goal, but they are different roads.

The biggest difference is the apparent separation of us and God. Though there are ideas in Christianity that say otherwise, this is the appearance of reality in Christianity. This separateness is further solidified by the idea of "original sin." Being that we are sinful, and god is not, makes us inferior. We cannot be perfect as Jesus was, and only exist by the grace of God.

In Buddhism it is emphasized that you are equal to Buddha. You have the same potential of the highest spiritual attainment. Nothing is above or below you.

As with the problems I shown above with Christianity, I have also found problems in Buddhism which are related more to the practice than the teaching themselves, and how followers act.

The first shows the differences between Eastern and Western culture. The most difficult thing about transplanting Buddhism to the West is separating or not separating the cultural practices from the practices inherent to the religion. The relationship between teachers and students is completely different from the East. The most difficult tasks for teachers is to clearly define the roles. This has brought about students in the West who revere their teachers so much that they insist everyone else should too. Students make cliques around the teachers that make the teachers unreachable by the beginning practitioner.

Western practitioners will also sometimes become angry when a newcomer doesn't know the rules, or questions the authority of the teacher. Students attach on to their teacher or organization and cut themselves off from other very similar Buddhist teachers or organizations. Just as there is exclusivism in Christianity, it rears its ugly head in Buddhism as well.

28 October 2007

No Post Today!

Sorry, I am unable to make a full post today, but to make it up to you, I will have a very long post tomorrow. I try to post something insightful daily, but I apologize for failing my readers today. In the meantime please feel free to follow one of the links to the right or leave a comment with your blog URL so that I may link to it.

27 October 2007

Jesus Christ through a Buddhist's Eyes

The adage about 'location, location, location' as an operative principle is perhaps as true in theology as it is in other more mundane ventures. For a theologian, identifying one's location principally involves situating oneself with respect to one's religious tradition, but also vis-à-vis the secular currents of the past and present that have been for one intellectually influential. I take my task in this essay to be a theological one, and so perhaps it is not wholly out of place to begin with a few words concerning my theological location. Of the various hats I wear, one of the most important is the one that identifies me as an academic Buddhist theologian, one who works from out of the Indo-Tibetan tradition. 1 As a Buddhist, my theological location has been largely shaped by the years that I spent as a monk in the Byes College of the exiled Tibetan Buddhist monastic University of Sera in southern India, where I received the bulk of my training in the classical textual tradition of Indo-Tibetan Mahayana Buddhism. As an academic, I have been molded by the Western buddhological tradition, with its strong emphasis on the philological study of texts, albeit tempered by the other concerns (e.g., material culture, social life, and a variety of theoretical issues) that are at the core of contemporary North American approaches to Buddhist studies. 2

My theological identity is determined not only by my chosen tradition and academic discipline, however, but also by my commitment to interreligious dialogue. Dialogue, especially with the Christian tradition, informs and shapes my theology at the level of content. In this regard I have benefited greatly from the fact that I teach at a Christian seminary and that I am fortunate enough to have colleagues who are similarly committed to the intellectual value of the cross-cultural and interreligious exchange of ideas. In addition to influencing the intellectual content of my theology, dialogue also informs my religious life. The only religious praxis community with which I am presently affiliated is a community of Buddhists and Christians who meet on a weekly basis for a contemplative service that includes a common liturgy, readings from the two traditions, and periods of silent meditation. 3

No less important a part of my theological location is the fact that I was raised a Cuban Catholic. I rejected Christianity at an early age largely on philosophical grounds, and this no doubt opened up the space for my eventually embracing Buddhism. Nonetheless, I continue to this day to cherish many aspects of Latino-Catholic culture--its malleability and especially its ability to accommodate magic, its mystical bent, the passion of its piety, its emphasis on tradition and ritual, the richness of its art--and this too, without a doubt, has influenced my theological worldview.

In what follows, readers will undoubtedly see in my mode of engaging the question my commitment to the historical-critical method, which is the result of my training as a buddhologist. They will see in the content of my response the doctrinal voice of Indo-Tibetan Mahayana Buddhism, my tradition of choice. In the organization of the essay and in its (alas, unfulfilled) wish to be complete, they will witness my penchant for scholastic systematicity, the legacy of my Tibetan Buddhist monastic training. They will also encounter a Jesus, or perhaps Jesuses, that are the result of (others') historical and textual study of the Christian sources. But within each of these Jesuses there is bound to be evident at least a glimmer of the Cuban Christ of my youth, the one Jesus that, over and above all of the others, I know most intimately.

If the identification of my location as a theological respondent is important, so too is the location of the object to which I am responding. More so now than at any other point of history, the location of Jesus is something that cannot be taken for granted. As Sheila Davaney says in her characterization of the work of Dominic Crossan: 4 "Not only is historical material difficult to come by in relation to Jesus but, Crossan insists, what material we have represents value-laden interpretations yielding different and even contradictory portrayals of Jesus. From the beginning, according to Crossan, the various Christs of faith emerged, and the historical Jesus is available to us only within and through those theological portrayals." 5

My response in this essay is mediated theologically by my subjectivity as respondent, but it is equally mediated theologically by the portrayal of Jesus, who is the object of my response. In what follows I take myself to have chosen a relatively mainstream Jesus as the object of my reflections, realizing all the while that, especially in this hyperhistoricist, critical, and skeptical age, such a portrayal may be outmoded. How plausible my portrayal of Jesus is will have to be determined by those for whom Jesus stands as an object of faith and devotion. (I take the plausibility of the Jesus that we Buddhists have chosen as the object of our response to be at least part of the Christian respondents' task in this volume.) In any case, it is my hope that the Jesus I have chosen to represent will not be wholly a figment of my imagination, and that instead my portrayal (even if not my assessment) of Jesus will be one that is familiar to a relatively large number of Christians.

Jesus as Social Activist and Critic

This aspect of Jesus' identity has of course been emphasized by many New Testament scholars and has been the basis for entire movements such as liberation theology. It is said to be exemplified in Jesus' espousal of a radical egalitarianism, "something infinitely more terrifying than (contemporary democracy)," 6 in his repudiation of class boundaries, in his antihierarchical views, in his skepticism about institutions, and in his empathy with and prioritizing of the cause of the poor and downtrodden of society.

Like Christianity, Buddhism also began as a reformist movement, but of a very different kind. Unlike Jesus, the Buddha was not a peasant; his followers seem to have been principally middle- and upper-middle-class men and women, as was his principal audience; and his criticisms were primarily directed at the Brahminical religious beliefs and practices prevalent in his day, not at the social structures that marginalized and oppressed men and women in ancient India. 7 This is not to say that the Buddha was unconcerned with social issues, or that his teachings do not have social implications, or that they have not been used in history to socially reconstructive ends, 8 but it is clear his goal was, rather than to transform the existing social order, to use it to further his religious ends. For example, whereas mendicancy--that is, religious itineracy--in other societies represented a flight from the social order and even a vehicle for social protest, it is clear that in India, at least by the time of the Buddha, it had already achieved a socially legitimized and institutionalized form.

This being said, there are clear parallels between the Buddha and Jesus as regards their reformist tendencies, and this certainly gives Buddhists a vehicle and framework for appreciating Jesus. The Buddha opened up the religious life (and therefore the possibility of salvation) to members of society that had hitherto been denied it: members of the lowest castes and women especially. Both figures were also exponents of a kind of theological reform that emphasized the interior life over external action. Nonetheless, as a program of social reform, Jesus' must be recognized as being the more radical and far-reaching, and this no doubt is why the Christian tradition to this day, even when impeded by its own institutional forms, has been at the forefront of social transformation.

Speaking personally now, I must say that this is for me one of the most appealing aspects of the legacy of Jesus. I consider my Christian brothers and sisters fortunate, and I rejoice in the fact that they have at the very core of their tradition--in the very life of their founder--such a clear and superb model for what it means to be a socially responsible person, a person of integrity, in the world. We Buddhists have a great deal to learn from this aspect of the life of Jesus.

Jesus as Magician

I include within this aspect of the life of Jesus his various miracles, his exorcisms, his work as a healer, and even his resurrection. As regards these events, there are for the Buddhist tradition, as there have been in the West, two possible types of response. The first challenges the historicity or veracity of these events. It would attribute them to superstition or to later tradition, and, in its desire to make of Jesus either a charlatan or a paradigm of enlightened rationalism, it strips him of this aspect of his identity. I opt here for the second alternative: to take these events as historically factual. While doing so, however, I beg to differ with those Christians who consider these events as probative of various aspects of Christian theological dogma. That Jesus had these powers--that he could cure the sick, manipulate matter, cast out demons, raise others (and himself be raised) from the dead--most certainly points to the fact that he was an extraordinary individual. None of these events are for Buddhists outside of the realm of possibility. At the same time, they are not unique in history, nor is the person possessing these attributes unique. More important, they do not prove that such a person is God or that he or she is enlightened or worthy of worship.

Magic as such is theologically neutral for Buddhists. Most, and perhaps all, of the extraordinary feats performed by Jesus would be classified by Buddhists as "common accomplishments" (thun mongs ba'i dngos grub): common because they are feats that can be accomplished by Buddhists and non-Buddhists alike, requiring a certain degree of meditative competence, but no real degree of permanent spiritual maturity. This being said, the fact that Jesus performed these various actions for the benefit of others does point to an important fact; namely, that he was operating from an altruistic motivation, and this perhaps is the more important point for Buddhists: not that Jesus was a magician, but that he was a loving one.

I have always found it awkward to offer theological advice to a tradition that is not my own, even if, as I have mentioned above, it is a religious tradition that is an important part of my past and that I still hold dear to my heart. Given that the editors of this journal have encouraged us to do so, however, I offer this guarded counsel, modulated autobiographically. My attraction to Tibetan Buddhism in large part is due to the fact that it is an unabashedly magical religion. In this sterile space of skepticism that is (post)modernity, I find it refreshing that my tradition is a place of mystery, a magical refuge inhabited by all sorts of spirits, a space where extraordinary events abound. This has certainly enlivened my religious life. Might magic do the same for Christians? Certainly there is precedent for this in the Christian tradition, in the life of Jesus but also in the life of the saints, and even in some aspects of liturgy. To attribute Jesus' magic to his divinity, it seems to me, has relegated magic to the transcendental sphere, making it inaccessible to those who need it most: us. Perhaps it is time to allow magic to enter Christian life in greater abundance.

Jesus as Teacher

I would venture to guess that of all of the aspects of the persona of Jesus that I deal with in this essay, none is more appealing to Buddhists than that of Jesus magister. This may say more about Buddhists than it does about Jesus, however, for Buddhists, at least scholastic Buddhists, have always seen the teachings of their master(s) as embodied in the concept they call dharma as constituting the core of their tradition. Hence, of the three refuges--Buddha, dharma, and sangha--it is the dharma that is considered the true (dngos) refuge. The doctor (Buddha) may diagnose the problem and prescribe the cure, the nursing staff (sangha) may administer it and help the patient in the process of recovery, but it is the medicine (dharma, as embodied in the Buddha's teachings and internalized in the lives of his followers) that is the real antidote to the illness.

Of course, a thorough Buddhist response to Jesus as teacher requires nothing less than a full assessment of his teachings. This is not possible here due to constraints of space. Such an assessment is further complexified by the fact that what constitutes the authentic teachings of Jesus are highly contested, having become for New Testament scholars a source of almost obsessive preoccupation. This being said, there are certain portions of Jesus' teachings--portions on which there seems to be at least partial consensus concerning authenticity 9 --that I believe resonate well with Buddhist doctrine. These include at least portions of the so-called beatitudes (Mark 5:3-10). 10 Equally attractive are the apparently authentic teachings of Jesus concerning love of the enemy (Matt. 5:43-48; Luke 6:27-28, 32-35), his admonition to repay evil with kindness, and his advocacy of charity (Matt. 5:38-42; Luke 6:29-30, 18:22) and of equanimity (Luke 10:30-35), all of which resonate well with the Mahayana Buddhist teachings on the virtues of universal and impartial compassion and with the perfections (paramita) of patience and giving. Mention should also be made of Jesus' emphasis on self- rather than other-directed criticism (Matt. 7:1-5; Luke 6:36-42; Thomas 26), as well as his counsel to followers concerning the importance of renouncing a life dedicated to the pursuit of wealth in favor of a simple itinerant's life dedicated to the pursuit of virtue through humility (Mark 6:8-10; 8:34-36, 9:35, 10:23-25, 29-31, 10:42-45; Matt. 6:25-34, 19:23-24; Luke 9:23-27, 10:1-9, 12:16-31; Thomas 14, 36, 63), all of which resonate well with the Buddhist monastic ideal.

While there is much that is appealing in what Jesus taught, there also appear to be lacunae in what Buddhists would expect to find in the collected teachings of a sage. For example, there is evinced in the extant material little concern for the welfare of living beings other than human beings. There is a lack of detailed teaching setting forth a systematic path to salvation, and, perhaps most disturbing, there is little or no mention of wisdom or gnosis, which for Buddhists is the very heart of the spiritual path. 11 Of course, it might be the case that many of Jesus' teachings have been lost, and Gnostic teachings are indeed found among the New Testament apocryphal texts. Still, it is surprising to Buddhists that especially the idea of wisdom or gnosis should have been so marginalized by Christians. 12

In addition to what, from a Buddhist perspective, appear to be lacunae in the canonical teachings of Jesus, there is some material that is found in the canonical sources that seems quite foreign to Buddhists. Perhaps the best example is all of the apparently authentic material concerning the kingdom or imperial rule of God. Buddhists will obviously find this material problematic in part because of the deity whose kingdom is being prophesied (see below). Aside from this, however, I believe it fair to say that Buddhists also find the particular brand of Christian apocalypticism to be problematic. This is not to say that quasi-apocalyptic doctrines are unknown to Buddhists. 13 What Buddhists find disturbing is the utter finality of the Christian apocalypse, which represents a break in history after which the fate of human beings is forever sealed. Such a notion is anathema to Buddhists principally because it implies that there exists a time after which the potential for the salvation of at least some beings becomes nullified. From a Buddhist perspective, history as we know it simply cannot come to an end until all beings have been liberated. 14

Of course, a great deal more could be said about which portions of the teachings of Jesus do and do not resonate with Buddhist doctrine. But perhaps this impressionistic treatment of the subject is sufficient to allow the reader at least a glimpse of the complexity of some of the issues.

Jesus as God

Arguably the single most problematic aspect of Jesus' identity for Buddhists is his portrayal by Christians as God. I believe, however, that the nature of the Buddhist reluctance in this regard has often been misunderstood. The problem lies not in the claim that Jesus is the incarnation or manifestation of a deity. What Buddhists find objectionable is (a) the Christian characterization of the deity whose manifestation Jesus is said to be and (b) the claim that Jesus is unique in being such a manifestation.

Mahayana Buddhists believe that the universe is populated by a wide range of deities. Some of these are not more than spirits, who, like humans and animals, are subject to the vicissitudes of karma, and hence still bound in the cycle of rebirth (samsara). 15 Nonetheless, because of previous spiritual accomplishments, many of these deities have developed the ability to manifest a variety of physical forms. 16 Other deities, those who have attained the state of perfection known as enlightenment (bodhi), have gone beyond the cycle of involuntary rebirth. Such 'supramundane' deities--beings who have attained the state of buddhahood--also have the ability to manifest such forms, but in a much more highly developed fashion. The historical buddhas who manifest on the earth for the betterment of humankind are in fact considered the incarnations or manifestations (nirmana- or nairmanika-kayas) 17 Moreover, especially in the Buddhist Tantric tradition, there is the notion that enlightened beings can create special incarnations that are embodiments of selective aspects of the enlightened state. Hence, Manjusri is considered to be the physical manifestation of enlightened wisdom (prajna), 18 Tara to be the physical manifestation of enlightened power (samarthya), and so forth. In Tibet it is also not uncommon to find situations in which three different historical figures were (and are) identified as the body, speech, and mind incarnations, respectively, of a single enlightened source.

All of this is to say that Buddhists, at least Mahayana Buddhists, find little that is objectionable in the notion that Jesus is the manifestation of a deity or the embodiment of a particular quality or attribute like wisdom (Sophia) or 'the Word' (Logos). Not all Mahayana Buddhists may of course themselves consider Jesus to be such a manifestation, but many will at least accede to the possibility. In any case, that Jesus could at least in theory have emanated from a divine source is within the realm of possibility for those who share the Mahayana worldview. Certainly, the events in the life of Jesus point to the fact that he was an extraordinary individual, and the claim that Jesus is a divine incarnation is as good an explanation as any for his exceptional qualities.

Mahayana Buddhists may thus be quite open to the possibility that Jesus had a divine source and that he therefore shares in the extraordinary status of the deity from which he derived. But as stated earlier, even some mundane deities--deities that have yet to reach the perfected state--have the ability to incarnate physically in the material realm. So the mere fact that Jesus is an incarnation may imply that he is extraordinary, but for Buddhists it does not guarantee that he possesses the quality of maximal greatness. That of course will depend on the nature of the deity that is his source. To identify the deity as the God of the Hebrew Bible, as Christians are wont to do, does not, it seems to me, strengthen the case for Jesus, for that deity seems from all accounts to be far from perfected. The God of the Hebrew Bible is a jealous one that demands the undivided loyalty of its followers, it demands of them blood sacrifice, it is partial and capable of seemingly malevolent actions, to the point of even engaging in violent reprisals against those who refuse to obey its will. Of course, Jesus' appearance in the world is seen by Christians as ushering in a new age, one that reveals a kinder, gentler, more universalistic side to the God of the Hebrew Bible. But the slate of history cannot so easily be wiped clean. Those who would identify Jesus with the God of the Hebrew Bible make him heir to a divine legacy that is, from a Buddhist viewpoint, at the very least of questionable worth.

If the association of Jesus with the historical God of the Hebrew Bible casts moral aspersions on the identity of Jesus, the association of Jesus with the God of later Christian theological speculation represents a different kind of stumbling block for Buddhists: a logical one. I am not referring here to the kinds of logical problems that result from the fact of Christ's dual human/divine nature, problems that also plague Mahayana Buddhist theories of incarnation with their dharma/rupa-kaya distinctions. Instead, the logical stumbling block for Buddhists lies in the attributes ascribed to God. Without attempting to give the reasons behind the Buddhist objections, let me simply list here the points of contention. (1) Buddhists repudiate the notion of a creator god, since they maintain that the universe is beginningless. (2) They reject the idea of a being who is primordially pure from beginningless time, since all beings, even enlightened ones, must at one point in time have been fettered in the cycle of suffering and rebirth. (3) They reject the notion of an omnipotent being. (3a) Especially when such a deity is said also to be omnicompassionate, Buddhists see these dual qualities as being contradictory to the existence of suffering in the world (the problem of evil). (3b) More specifically, most Buddhists balk at the idea that any deity is capable of granting liberation to a being who suffers in samsara. Salvation from suffering is earned through the process of self-purification, not bestowed on one as a gift from above. There is no god who is the creator of the universe, who is originally pure and primordially perfected, who is omnipotent and who can will the salvation of beings. Jesus, therefore, cannot be the incarnation of such a God. This of course leaves the Buddhist asking: With what deity is Jesus then to be associated?

This is ultimately a question that Christians will have to answer. Still, this does not preclude Buddhists from offering their own interpretation. On this issue the most charitable alternative a Buddhist could offer is one that identifies Jesus himself as a nirmanakaya--that is, as the physical embodiment of an enlightened being. Though effortlessly asserted, however, such a claim has far-reaching implications, the defense of which is not easily dealt with, for, among other things, it leaves unexplained the contradictions between the teachings of Jesus and classical Buddhist doctrines. Of course, there exist hermeneutical mechanisms within Buddhism to deal with such contradictions, to wit, the doctrine of upaya or skillful means. 20 But the point still remains: it is necessary to deal in some way with the implications of such a claim.

Finally, and briefly, Christians view Jesus' status as a divine incarnation to be a unique event in human history, and this too is problematic for Buddhists. As mentioned above, in Mahayana Buddhist cosmology the universe is believed to be filled with beings that have ontological relationships to one or another of a variety of deities. All such instances are, from one point of view, unique, insofar as each incarnation represents a specific aspect of--and therefore has unique relationship to--a given deity. From this perspective it can of course be said that Jesus' status in this regard is unique, but as a phenomenon in the religious history of the universe, the manifestation of Jesus on the earth is far from the singular event that most Christians believe it to be. This at least is the Buddhist view.

Jesus as Messiah

One of my most memorable adventures as a cultural intermediary occurred about twelve years ago when I translated for a Christian colleague who was visiting the monastery in southern India where I was living. He was there working on a translation of a Buddhist text, and I volunteered my services as interpreter. One day, in the course of his conversations with one of the senior scholars of the monastery, it came up that he was a Christian, and my teacher asked him to share some of his beliefs. My friend chose to focus on Jesus' identity as messiah. As I finished translating the words of my colleague, my teacher broke out in a fit of laughter, much to my embarrassment. He then proceeded to question his interlocutor in the kind of pointed and unabashedly adversarial way that is typical of the Tibetan monastic debate courtyard. There ensued a lively exchange, but when all was said and done, my teacher's basic question was this: How can the death of one individual act as the direct and substantive cause for the salvation for others?

Behind this interreligious impasse there are of course operative several Buddhist doctrinal presuppositions that are in marked contrast (at times even in opposition) to those of traditional Christianity, not the least of which is the Buddhist vision of what constitutes liberation. 21 Several corollaries to the Buddhist view of liberation are especially relevant as responses to the Christian confession of Jesus as messiah. (1) Each of us is responsible for our own lot in life. We each cause our own suffering, and each of us is ultimately responsible for our own liberation. (2) Our salvation is not dependent on any one historical event. Specifically, our salvation is not dependent upon the appearance of any one personage in history. True, the actions of others can help us or hinder us on the way, but no action (or lack of action) on the part of another individual--whether human or divine--can seal our fate, either as regards salvation or damnation. (3) Soteriologically, there is no end to time, no time after which sentient beings will suffer, and thus long will there be the possibility of their liberation. (4) No being has the capacity to decide whether or not we will be saved. Salvation is not granted to us, or withheld from us, by some external force. It is self-earned. (5) No single action on our part can instantaneously cause our liberation. What brings about salvation is not mere belief or faith, even a faith that is sustained throughout an entire life. Certainly, it is not the instantaneous belief in something (e.g., the belief that Jesus is Lord) that brings about salvation, but the long and arduous process of radical mental transformation, which requires more than simply belief. 22

Together these various tenets make it impossible for Buddhists to accept a messianic creed of the traditional Christian sort. Jesus may have been an extraordinary human being, a sage, an effective and charismatic teacher, and even the manifestation of a deity, but he cannot have been the messiah that most Christians believe him to have been. 23
Concluding Note

It will not have gone unnoticed that many of the Buddhist responses to Jesus presented in this essay have strong affinities to positions found in Christian Gnosticism. What historical links, if any, exist between Buddhism and Gnosticism remains for the most part an unresolved scholarly issue. That there do exist such links at least in the realm of ideas, however, can hardly be denied, and perhaps this is as good a time as any to suggest that such commonalities of perspective deserve greater scholarly attention. At the same time, despite the similarities, it is clearly too facile to simply equate Buddhism with Gnosticism, as Pope John Paul II does for clearly polemical purposes in a recent book. 24

The value of the above remarks--to the extent that they have any--may lie principally in the fact that they provide Christians with a perspective on Jesus that is foreign and therefore fresh. If, in the process, they also manage to evoke the memory of a more familiar but forgotten voice, that of Christian Gnosticism, perhaps this is an overtone to the discussion that is not unwanted, adding as it does a third--albeit more muted--voice to the dialogue; and that, it seems to me, can only add to its richness.

Notes

1. For more on what is perhaps a nonstandard use of the word theology and on what I take the academic Buddhist theological task to be, see my forthcoming "Buddhist Theology in the Academy," in Roger R. Jackson and John J. Makransky, eds., Buddhist Theology (London: Curzon Press), Critical Studies in Buddhism Series.

2. My views of buddhology as an academic discipline can be gleaned from my "Buddhist Studies as a Discipline and the Role of Theory," Journal of the International Association of Buddhist Studies 18, no. 2 (1995), pp. 231-268.

3. We call ourselves the "Buddhist-Christian Contemplative Service" and we have met since 1995 at St. Paul's United Methodist Church in Denver. I am cofounder of the group together with Rev. Toni Cook (an ordained United Methodist minister) and Sister Mary Luke Tobin (a Catholic sister of Loretto).

4. John Dominic Crossan, The Historical Jesus: The Life of a Mediterranean Jewish Peasant (San Francisco: Harper San Francisco, 1991).

5. Sheila Greeve Davaney, "A Historicist Model for Theology," in Jeffrey Carlson and Robert A. Ludwig, eds., Jesus and Faith: A Conversation on the Work of John Dominic Crossan, Author of The Historical Jesus (Maryknoll, New York: Orbis Books, 1994), p. 50.

6. John Dominic Crossan, "The Historical Jesus in Early Christianity" in Jeffrey Carlson and Robert A. Ludwig, eds., Jesus and Faith: A Conversation on the Work of John Dominic Crossan, Author of The Historical Jesus (Maryknoll, New York: Orbis Books, 1994), p. 3.

7. This is true despite the attempts by some scholars to imply a greater similarity between the reformist traditions of the two figures. See, for example, the discussion of the work of the anthropologist James C. Scott in Crossan, ibid., p. 2.

8. Especially on the latter point, see Christopher S. Queen and Sally B. King, eds., Engaged Buddhism: Buddhist Liberation Movements in Asia (Albany: State University of New York Press, 1996). My own essay in that volume actually contrasts one such Buddhist movement (the Dalai Lama's Tibetan independence movement) with Latin American liberation theology.

9. I base the fact that there is relative consensus on the passages cited below on the results of the work of the Jesus Seminar; see Robert W. Funk, Roy W. Hoover, and the Jesus Seminar, The Five Gospels: The Search for the Authentic Words of Jesus (New York: Scribner, 1993).

10. Space does not permit me to go into any detail concerning why this portion of the gospel of Matthew appeals so to Buddhists. Instead I refer readers to the Dalai Lama's recent commentary on this (and other) portions of the New Testament; see his The Good Heart: A Buddhist Perspective on the Teachings of Jesus (Boston: Wisdom, 1996).

11. Marcus Borg characterizes Jesus as a teacher of subversive wisdom. Jesus' teachings, he says, "are crystallizations of insight which, either radical in themselves or radical in their application, frequently embody the theme of world reversal. They are invitations to see differently, bringing about a shattering of world." Such a "Zen-master Jesus" is certainly appealing to Buddhists, although I must admit that it is not the picture of Jesus that has ever come to my mind as I have read through the gospels. But even if what Borg says is accurate, it seems to me that several observations are in order. (1) Jesus, as far as I can tell, does not have this picture of himself. For example, he does not, to my knowledge, ever speak of the insight- or wisdom-generating function of his teachings. (2) This does not of course imply that Jesus cannot be so interpreted retrospectively, as it were, regardless of Jesus' own self-image. But to the extent that Jesus' teachings can be interpreted as koan-like vehicles for world-shattering, it seems to me that the emphasis must still be placed on the term world, for the function of these teachings seems to be social rather than personal transformation. (3) Perhaps this dichotomy is not altogether appropriate, however, for Borg's point in part is that such a program of social transformation is brought about precisely by the personal transformation wrought by Jesus' teachings. This is certainly a welcomed perspective from a Buddhist point of view, although I believe that it still leaves Buddhists with questions about Jesus' vision of the nature of salvation and with a hankering for more explicit details on the exact relationship of wisdom to salvation.

12. By suggesting that the Gnostic material contains parallels to Buddhism, I do not wish to imply a simple identity between the two traditions. There are of course clear differences. For example, the portrayal of the material world as evil in a great deal of Gnostic literature is anathema to Buddhists.

13. In the Indo-Tibetan tradition, for example, the Kalacakra tantra espouses a kind of apocalypticism when it speaks of a great war giving way to an eight-hundred-year period during which the teachings of Buddhism will flourish. See Helmut Hoffman, The Religions of Tibet (trans. Edward Fitzgerald), (London: Allen and Unwin, 1961), pp. 125-126; and Tenzin Gyatso, the Dalai Lama, and Jeffrey Hopkins, Kalacakra Tantra: Rite of Initiation (London: Wisdom, 2nd ed. 1989), p. 65.

14. I am not unaware of the fact that recent scholarship on Jesus has brought about what Borg calls "the collapse of the eschatological Jesus;" Marcus Borg, ibid., p. 13. Nonetheless, it can hardly be denied that the end-of-time interpretation of Jesus' "Kingdom of God" teachings has been at the very least central to Christianity. What is more, it remains unclear to me how those teachings are to be explained if not in an eschatological fashion, and perhaps this is a point that the Christian respondents in this volume could elucidate.

15. On the distinction between mundane and supramundane deities, see Rene de Nebesky-Wojkowitz, Oracles and Demons of Tibet: The Cult and Iconography of Tibetan Protective Deities (Taipei: SMC, reprint of the 1956 ed.), pp. 3-5.

16. The ability to manifest different physical forms is not limited to nonphysical deities. Even humans can accomplish this as the result of certain meditative exercises. This is one of several extraordinary achievements spoken of as being the fruit of meditative practice. See, for example, the discussion of the iddhis (especially the first and third iddhis) in Visuddhimagga (XII, 23-25), trans. Bhikkhu Nanamoli (Kandy: Buddhist Publication Society, 1991), p. 374; and also Paravahera vajirajnana Mahathera, Buddhist Meditation in Theory and Practice (Kuala Lumpur: Buddhist Missionary Society, 1975), pp. 425-426.

17. The most extensive treatment of the buddhakayas in a Western language is John J. Makransky, Buddhahood Embodied: Sources of Controversy in India and Tibet (Albany: State University of New York Press, 1997), see especially chapter 5.

18. "Manjusri, the epitome of the conqueror's wisdom;" tib. Rgyal ba'i mkhyen rab kun 'dus 'jam dpal dbyangs. A line from a well-known Tibetan prayer; in Daily Recitation of Preliminaries (Dharamsala: Library of Tibetan Works and Archives, 1975), p. 5.

19. For a more complete treatment of Buddhist objections to the traditional God of Christian theology, see Gunapala Dharmasiri, A Buddhist Critique of the Christian concept of God (Kandy: Lake House Investments, 1974); and also Roger R. Jackson, "Dharmakirti's Refutation of Theism," Philosophy East and West 36, no. 4 (1986), pp. 315-348.

20. On this doctrine as a hermeneutical device, see my Buddhism and Language: A Study of Indo-Tibetan Scholasticism (Albany: State University of New York Press, 1994), especially chapter 3.

21. See my "Liberation: An Indo-Tibetan Perspective," and response to Terry C. Muck, in Buddhist-Christian Studies, 1993.

22. I am not unaware of the fact that in the history of Buddhism there have been movements that challenge this notion of the nature and path to salvation. Especially important to mention in this regard are certain schools of Japanese Pure Land Buddhism. But again, I remind my readers that I am speaking here principally from an Indo-Tibetan Buddhist doctrinal perspective.

23. Of course, if the Jesus Seminar is right, then Jesus did not make this claim of himself. See Funk et. al, op. cit., pp. 32-34.

24. For a response to the Pope's polemic against Buddhism, see my essay, "A Buddhist Response to H. H., John Paul II," in Harold Kasimow and Byron Sherwin, eds., No faith Is an Island: John Paul II and Interreligious Dialogue (Orbis Press, forthcoming).

26 October 2007

Religious Syncretism in the History of the Shaolin Temples

The following accounts are taken from sources who 1) practiced the specific kung fu styles to Master level from the "supposed" temples, 2) learned their arts AT those temples before the temples were destroyed, or 3) were taught by practitioners from those temples. Also, our sources were corroborated by at least three individuals (standard rule of evidence accepted by most professional journalists). The masters, however, have declined to be named for the reasons that 1) they do not want to engage in controversy--the information is here to accept or reject as you like (as directed by the last lesson of the Buddha), 2) they have assumed new names after leaving China because, as refugees, did not want their families to suffer for their actions. Having said that, and agreeing in advance to protect the confidentiality of our sources, we have been told that...

The Shaolin order dates to about 540 A.D., when an Indian Buddhist priest named Bodhidharma (Tamo in Chinese), traveled to China to see the Emperor. At that time, the Emperor had started local Buddhist monks translating Buddhist texts from Sanskrit to Chinese. The intent was to allow the general populace the ability to practice this religion.

This was a noble project, but when the Emperor believed this to be his path to Nirvana, Tamo disagreed. Tamo's view on Buddhism was that you could not achieve your goal just through good actions performed by others in your name. At this point the Emperor and Tamo parted ways and Tamo traveled to the nearby Buddhist temple to meet with the monks who were translating these Buddhist texts.

The temple had been built years before in the remains of a forest that had been cleared or burned down. At the time of the building of the temple, the emperor's gardeners had also planted new trees. Thus the temple was named "young (or new) forest", (Shaolin in Mandarin, Sil Lum in Cantonese).

When Tamo arrived at the temple, he was refused admittance, probably being thought of as an upstart or foreign meddler by the head abbot (Fang Chang). Rejected by the monks, Tamo went to a nearby cave and meditated until the monks recognized his religious prowess and admitted him. Legend has it that he bored a hole through one side of the cave with his constant gaze; in fact, the accomplishment that earned his recognition is lost to history.

When Tamo joined the monks, he observed that they were not in good physical condition. Most of their routine paralleled that of the Irish monks of the Middle Ages, who spent hours each day hunched over tables where they transcribed handwritten texts. Consequently, the Shaolin monks lacked the physical and mental stamina needed to perform even the most basic of Buddhist meditation practices. Tamo countered this weakness by teaching them moving exercises, designed to both enhance chi flow and build strength. These sets, modified from Indian yogas (mainly hatha, and raja) were based on the movements of the 18 main animals in Indo-Chinese iconography (e.g., tiger, deer, leopard, cobra, snake, dragon, etc.), were the beginnings of Shaolin Kung Fu.

It is hard to say just when the exercises became "martial arts". The Shaolin temple was in a secluded area where bandits would have traveled and wild animals were an occasional problem, so the martial side of the temple probably started out to fulfill self-defense needs. After a while, these movements were codified into a system of self-defense.

As time went on, this Buddhist sect became more and more distinct because of the martial arts being studied. This is not to say that Tamo "invented" martial arts. Martial arts had existed in China for centuries. But within confines of the temple, it was possible to develop and codify these martial arts into the new and different styles that would become distinctly Shaolin. One of the problems faced by many western historians is the supposed contraindication of Buddhist principles of non-violence coupled with Shaolin's legendary martial skills. In fact, the Shaolin practitioner is never an attacker, nor does he or she dispatch the most devastating defenses in any situation. Rather, the study of kung fu leads to better understanding of violence, and consequently how to avoid conflict. Failing that, a Buddhist who refuses to accept an offering of violence (i.e., and attack) merely returns it to the sender. Initially, the kung fu expert may choose to parry an attack, but if an assailant is both skilled and determined to cause harm, a more definitive and concluding solution may be required, from a joint-lock hold to a knockout, to death. The more sophisticated and violent an assault, the more devastating the return of the attack to the attacker. Buddhists are not, therefore, hurting anyone; they merely refuse delivery of intended harm.

The Shaolin philosophy is one that started from Buddhism and later adopted many Taoist principles to become a new sect. Thus even though a temple may have been Taoist or Buddhist at first, once it became Shaolin, it was a member of a new order, an amalgamation of the prevailing Chinese philosophies of the time.

Other temples sprung from Henan. This happened because the original temple would suffer repeated attacks and periods of inactivity as the reigning Imperial and regional leaders feared the martial powers of the not-always unaligned monks. Refugee Shaolin practitioners would leave the temple to teach privately (in Pai) or at other Buddhist or Taoist temples. In rare cases, a new Shaolin Temple would be erected (Fukien, Kwangtung) or converted from a pre-existing temple (Wu-Tang, O Mei Shan). Politically and militarily involved monks (such as the legendary White Eyebrow and Hung Tze Kwan) would be perpetual sources of trouble for the generally temporally aloof monks.

The Boxer rebellion in 1901 was the beginning of the end of the Shaolin temples. Prior to that, China had been occupied by Western and Japanese governments and business interests. The British had turned the Imperial family into an impotent puppet regime largely through the import and sales of opium and the general drug-devastation inflicted upon the poor population. This lead to the incursion of other European powers, including Russia, France and Holland, and later the Japanese and Americans. By the late 1800s, China was effectively divided into national zones, each controlled by one of the outside powers (similar to post World War II Berlin, on a hugely larger scale). The long standing animosities between China and Japan worsened, and extended to include all other "foreign devils" as well. Coupled with the now almost universal disdain by the Chinese for their Empress, a Nationalist movement with nation-wide grass-roots support was born. Among the front line soldiers of the new "order" were the legendary and near-legendary martial artists--many Shaolin--known as Boxers (remember how Bruce Lee, in his films depicting these times, refers to himself as a Chinese boxer...). Though their initial assaults on the military powers of the occupation governments were not entirely successful (many believed in Taoist magical spells that would make them impervious to gunfire), their temporary defeat would lead to a more modern reformation that included adopting modern military weapons and tactics.

The withdrawal of western forces was prolonged over many years, and by the end of World War I saw China in an almost feudal state of civil war. Not only were national troops fighting loyalists, but both sides had to fight the Japanese (who still held much of the northern Manchurian region of China) as well as many powerful, regional warlords. Many parts of China were virtually anarchies, but by 1931 almost all non-Asian occupants had been successfully driven out (with the interesting exception, in the late 1930s, of the volunteer American airmen known as The Flying Tigers, who helped repel Japanese forces prior to World War II), and the major combatants within China were the Nationalists and the Communists. Both sides displayed the typical jingoistic attitudes of forces in mindless warfare--if you aren't with us, you are against us. Neutrality meant nothing except the possibility of a later enemy. Consequently, Shaolin and other monks were routinely murdered by soldiers from both sides. One result of this program of murder was the exodus of many monks into the hills, or abroad, with the hope that Shaolin knowledge might survive even if the temples themselves did not.

The temples were unfortunate victims of war in a land that had abandoned its historical practice of respecting posterity and ancestors. All were ransacked and looted by various armed groups. O Mei Shan Temple ("Great White Mountain"), in Szechuan Province, was situated on a mountain top and deemed by Chinese officers to be a fitting target for artillery practice. It was shelled in turn by Nationalist and Communist armies. In a fitting twist of fate, this one-time site of medical and natural history knowledge was rebuilt by the Communists in the mid 1970s, and now stands as the National Park and Research Headquarters for the panda preserve.

25 October 2007

The Reverend Father William Johnston and Shusaku Endo Talk of Buddhism and Christianity

The following conversation took place in Tokyo between the Reverend Father William Johnston, S.J., who has written extensively on Zen and Christian contemplation, and the Japanese Catholic novelist Shusaku Endo, recipient of AMERICA's Campion Award in 1990. The text was translated from Japanese by Father William Johnston and appears by permission of its Japanese publisher, Bungeishunjusha.

Endo: Are you still interested in Buddhism, Father?

Johnson: Yes, of course. I don't think I'll ever lose my interest in Buddhism.

E: What aspect of Buddhism interests you most?

J: The meeting of Buddhism and Christianity. The dialogue. Aren't you interested in that?

E: I certainly am. In Europe and America scholarly studies of Japanese Buddhism keep appearing.... J: Dialogue is the great discovery of the 20th century. Dialogue between nations, dialogue between capital and labor, dialogue between husband and wife--and dialogue between Buddhism and Christianity.

E: Little by little the dialogue is getting under way. A while ago in Sophia University I heard Buddhist monks chanting the sutras during Mass instead of Gregorian chant. If that had happened 20 or 30 years ago, there would have been an awful rumpus. But tell me, when did you first get interested in Buddhism? Was it before the Second Vatican Council?

J: Yes. The pioneer was Father Lassalle [Enomiya Lassalle, S.J.]. He influenced me a lot.

E: He built the Zen center outside Tokyo. But apart from Lassalle there wasn't much interest before the council. What makes people interested in Buddhism today? J: Meditation is highly developed in Buddhism and modern people are looking for meditation. Often they don't find it in their own religion.

E: But when Lassalle began, it must have seemed heretical for Christians to practice Buddhist forms of meditation.

J: Not heretical, but progressive.

E: But what did the other missionaries think? I suppose they were indifferent. Or did they not think it was dangerous?

J: Some considered it dangerous. But aren't modern people attracted by danger? Don't they like risk?

E: [Laughing] There was a stage in the Japanese church when we thought we had to avoid all risks. But you seem to have done away with that idea. Was it because of the Second Vatican Council?

J: Of course. But you yourself are known for your interest in inculturation. There can be no inculturation of Christianity in Japan without dialogue with Buddhism.

E: Yes, but my efforts at inculturation got me into trouble with my fellow Catholics. [Laughing] You seem to have escaped. I wonder why .... Anyhow, I'm joking.... Thanks to people like you, we can talk freely about dialogue with Buddhism. In fact Japanese Catholics are now very happy with the idea. I have no doubt that dialogue is a very fine thing. But it has its limits. After all, when we Christians talk to Buddhists and learn from them, we must know where to draw the line. I would like to hear something about that.

J: Yes....

E: There are vast differences between Buddhism and Christianity. Buddhism talks about abandoning the self. It talks about getting rid of all attachments and it even claims that love is a form of attachment. We can never say that. Moreover, the Buddhist approach to evil is quite different from ours. Then there is the question of reincarnation versus resurrection. Again, Buddhists claim that the Buddha is working dynamically at the core of our being, and we say that the Holy Spirit is working at the core of our being. Are we saying the same thing or are we saying different things? There are endless questions.

J: Yet I believe that you yourself have the basic answer. When I was in the United States a few years ago I heard a Catholic priest say that the interesting thing about Endo is that he is fascinated with the person of Christ. He is always talking about Christ, struggling with Christ, trying to understand Christ, experiencing the presence of Christ. Now it seems to me that the main thing for a Christian in dialogue with Buddhism is a deep commitment to Christ and the Gospel. If this is present, other problems will solve themselves. Besides, when we come to dialogue, we must distinguish between Christianity as a living faith and Christianity as theology. The living faith is expressed in the prayer and worship of the people who say, "Our Father, who art in heaven" or recite the Jesus prayer. This does not change. Theology, on the other hand, is reflection on religion at a given time and in a given culture. It changes from culture to culture and from age to age, as we have seen so dramatically in the 20th century. Our task at present is to create an Asian theology.

E: I agree with that completely. Theology has been based on Western thought patterns for too long. We Japanese were taught that it was dangerous to depart from them. That was good medicine, but like all good medicine it had unpleasant side effects. But, as you say, if our commitment to Christ is firm other problems will be solved. But in the West, particularly in California, people are fascinated by oriental thought. They are interested in Zen, in esoteric Buddhism and in the Buddhist description of the Great Source of Life. When I read their books I see little commitment to Christ. They are creating sects that have little in common with Buddhism or Christianity or Islam...something that transcends the traditional religions. But I suppose the main influence is from Buddhism. Aren't people in Europe and America drawn to these sects because they are tired of traditional Christian thinking? Haven't they had enough of Aristotelian ethics and Aristotelian logic? And so they are attracted to Buddhism. But let me return to the theological difficulties. I spoke about the vast differences between Buddhism and Christianity, and I would like to hear more about that.

J: At this point in history I don't think I can answer all those questions. I don't think anyone can. It will take time. Dialogue is a process and we are at the beginning. Looking back in history we now see that Christianity has been in dialogue since its inception. Jesus was a Jew. He spoke like a Jew, thought like a Jew and acted like a Jew. Christianity was at first seen as a Jewish sect. The person who brought it into the Greek world and initiated the first great dialogue was St. Paul. Then in the 13th century, when Aristotle was introduced into Europe, Aquinas initiated a dialogue that resulted in a Thomism that dominated Catholic theology until the Second Vatican Council. Now, even as we speak, Christianity is in the process of extracting itself from one culture and becoming incarnate in another. The new culture is deeply influenced by Asian religions and the work of dialogue is only the beginning.

E: It seems to me that Buddhism and Christianity have in common the belief that what Buddhists call the Great Source of Life and what we call the Holy Spirit dwells within us and surrounds us. Yet there are differences in the two religions and these differences must be made clear; otherwise something fundamental might be lost.

J: We must rely on the Holy Spirit. Any Christian who would enter deeply into dialogue must have true Christian experience--contemplative or mystical experience. Otherwise he or she will have nothing to offer. Besides, Buddhism is a very fascinating religion. Roughly, there are two kinds of dialogue. One is the interior dialogue of a person who lives in a new culture, who reads the newspapers, talks to the people, breathes the air. The other dialogue is exterior, where people meet, share ideas, say what they believe and what they practice. They don't force anything on one another but adopt a "take it or leave it" attitude. For example, Christians are now learning the role of the body in meditation. They are learning to sit in the lotus, to regulate the breathing, to enter into unitive silence, to get a glimpse of oriental wisdom. To what extent we can imbibe Buddhist philosophy is not yet clear.

E: I think you have practiced some Zen. You know that when one sits in silence for some time the unconscious begins to surface and one can come into considerable turmoil. Eventually one is liberated ("Body and soul have fallen away" they say) and one reaches enlightenment. Now tell me, is there anything like that in Christianity?

J: Of course. You get this kind of experience in the Christian contemplatives.

E: But is the experience of the Christian mystics like St. Teresa and St. John of the Cross the same as the Zen experience or is it different?

J: This is a much debated point. I can only give you my opinion. I believe that mystical experience is conditioned by one's faith. If one believes that God is love and that the Word was made flesh, this will enter into the experience. It certainly enters into the experience of St. John of the Cross, who speaks of the Incarnation at the summit of the mystical life and whose mystical experience is finally Trinitarian. In short, even though profound mystical experience is silent, imageless and ineffable, it has content. The experiences of St. John of the Cross and Zen master Dogen are not the same. To anyone who reads their writings this is obvious. Precisely because they are different, dialogue is meaningful.

E: I believe that in dialogue with Buddhism we can learn a lot about psychology. From the fifth century Buddhism has been preoccupied with the self, whereas Christianity has spoken principally about the relationship between God and human beings and has put all the emphasis on a God who is outside. In the knowledge of the self, Buddhism has made much more progress. Take, for instance, psychoanalysis. Buddhism has been practicing it since the fifth century. Whether one can precisely call it psychoanalysis I am not sure. Anyhow, Buddhism has seen layers of consciousness in the human psyche, and in the area of psychology it is far in advance of Christianity. When it comes to Zen, however, I have no experience. I am just a theoretician talking out of my head.

J: Neither do I practice Zen. Perhaps it could be said that I practice a Christian contemplation with some influence from Zen. Throughout Japan now there are people--mainly priests and sisters--who sit silently in Zen style before the Blessed Sacrament, regulating their breathing and stilling their mind. They are not practicing Zen, but perhaps it could be said that they are practicing a Zen-influenced Christian contemplation. Of course there are others, though not many, who have practiced pure Zen under the direction of a Buddhist master.

E: But you have written books about Zen.

J: I would prefer to say that I have written books about Christian contemplation, with the Zen-Christian dialogue in the background.

E: Tell me, what kind of letters do you get from your readers?


J: I sometimes get letters asking questions about Zen and Christianity. People in the West often ask where they can find a Christian Zen master or they ask me to recommend a place in which they can practice Christian Zen. It is difficult to give answers. I sometimes say that we are pioneers in this whole area. We are still groping and trying to find our way.

E: Always I come back to the same question. The Great Source of Life--what are we to call it? Do we call it the Christ or the Buddha? That is the central question.

J: If I am a Christian, it is because of Jesus Christ. I already spoke about the centrality of the commitment to Christ. Let me tell you something that illustrates the point. When I translated your novel Silence--you remember it was a controversial book because you seemed to sympathize with the Portuguese priest who apostatized by stepping on the crucifix. Well, after I translated that book I got a letter from a contemplative nun in the United States. She said that for her Silence was a novel about prayer. Prayer, she said, is a struggle with Christ. Magdalene struggled with Christ and then surrendered. Likewise, Peter denied Christ and then surrendered. Then there was Thomas and, of course, St. Paul. They all had their struggles before they made their commitment. Similarly the hero of Silence struggled with Christ. He never lost his faith but made a deep commitment.

E: Yes, you told me about that sister's letter many years ago, and I never forgot it. In fact, what she wrote about prayer being struggle influenced a novel I wrote subsequently, called The Life of a Woman (Onna no Issho). In this novel a girl is in love with a Nagasaki Christian boy who has a great love for the Virgin Mary. The girl becomes very jealous of Mary and says to her: "I hate you! I hate you! You have stolen my lover." In the end she dies peacefully before a statue of Mary. But her prayer was one of struggle. She could never have said, "I hate you" if she had no faith. Hatred can always change to love. When one can say to God, "I hate you," it is like saying, "My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?" With these words authentic prayer begins. So I was impressed by that sister's comments. If ever you meet her, tell her that Endo is terribly pleased with what she wrote and sends his gratitude.

24 October 2007

23 October 2007

Rationality and Emotion

If you love rational thought and are attached to ideas and perceptions, then you tend to despise the emotions. You can notice this tendency if, when you start to feel emotions, you say, ‘I’m going to shut this out. I don’t want to feel those things.’ You don’t like to be feeling anything because you can get into a kind of high from the purity of intelligence and the pleasure of rational thinking. The mind relishes the way it is logical and controllable, the way it makes sense. It is just so clean and neat and precise like mathematics - but the emotions are all over the place aren’t they? They are not precise, they are not neat and they can easily get out of control.

So the emotional nature is often despised. We are frightened of it. For example, men often feel very frightened of emotions because we are brought up to believe that men do not cry. As a little boy, at least in my generation, we were taught that boys do not cry so we’d try to live up to the standards of what boys are supposed to be. They would say, ‘You are a boy’, and so we’d try to be what our parents said we should be. The ideas of the society affect our minds, and because of that, we find emotions embarrassing. Here in England, people generally find emotions very embarrassing; if you get a little too emotional, they assume that you must be Italian or some other nationality.

If you are very rational and you have figured everything out, then you don’t know what to do when people get emotional. If somebody starts crying, you think, ‘What am I supposed to do?’ Maybe you say, ‘Cheer up; it’s all right, dear. It’ll be all right, there’s nothing to cry about.’ If you are very attached to rational thoughts, then you just tend to dismiss it with logic, but emotions do not respond to logic. Often they react to logic, but they do not respond. Emotion is a very sensitive thing and it works in a way that we sometimes do not comprehend. If we have never really studied or tried to understand what it is to feel life, and really opened and allowed ourselves to be sensitive, then emotional things are very frightening and embarrassing to us. We don’t know what they are all about because we have rejected that side of ourselves.

On my thirtieth birthday, I realised that I was an emotionally undeveloped man. It was an important birthday for me. I realised that I was a full grown, mature man - I no longer considered myself a youth, but emotionally, I think I was about six years old some of the time. I really had not developed on that level very much. Even though I could maintain the kind of poise and presence of a mature man in society, I did not always feel that way. I still had very strong unresolved feelings and fears in my mind. It became apparent that I had to do something about that, as the thought that I might have to spend the rest of my life at the emotional age of six was quite a dreary prospect.

This is where many of us in our society get stuck. For example, American society does not allow you to develop emotionally, to mature. It does not understand that need at all, so it does not provide any rites of passage for men. The society does not provide that kind of introduction into a mature world; you are expected to be immature your whole life. You are supposed to act mature, but you are not expected to be mature. Therefore, very few people are. Emotions are not really understood or resolved - their childish tendencies are merely suppressed rather than developed into maturity.

What meditation does is to offer a chance to mature on the emotional plane. Perfect emotional maturity would be samma vayama, samma sati and samma samadhi. This is a reflection; you will not find this in any book - it is for you to contemplate. Perfect emotional maturity comprises Right Effort, Right Mindfulness and Right Concentration. It is present when one is not caught in fluctuations and vicissitudes, where one has balance and clarity and is able to be receptive and sensitive.

Catholicism and Buddhism

In creating a theological roadmap to world religions, Catholics hit a pothole with Buddhism ... but a spiritually exhilarating one.

For the past 50 years, Roman Catholics have been engaged in constructing a theological roadmap of the vast diversity of religions in this world. This Roman Catholic theological understanding of the other is often called the “inclusivist theology of religions.” The dialogue with Buddhism, perhaps more than the dialogue with any other religious community, runs Roman Catholics off this roadmap. This state of affairs is theologically bewildering, but spiritually exhilarating.

Therefore, Roman Catholics should embrace dialogue with Buddhists as a genuine opportunity. If the “inclusivist theology” doesn’t work with Buddhism, what does? How should Catholicism make its way in a new century, where the revival of religious belief will be a major factor politically and pastorally?

The Institute for Advanced Catholic Studies at USC – a research-oriented institution that supports ecumenical and interfaith explorations of Catholic intellectual traditions – offers an annual public lecture series at USC. Local, national and international scholars will be invited to speak on the rich and varied dimensions of Catholicism, examining its history and development, its current condition and possibilities, and the multiple ways in which it has, can and ought to interact with society, governments and other religions.

22 October 2007

History of the Five Major World Religions In 90 Seconds

The geographic history of the world's most well-known religions: Christianity, Islam, Hinduism, Buddhism. Five thousand years of religion in 90 seconds.



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