Nov 222011
 

Friendship is the theme that has arisen for me in this time of thanksgiving,  a time for offering and sharing our gratitude.   For much of my life I considered the highest blessings to be those exceptional ecstatic or contemplative moments in which consciousness fills with, or is blown out by, awareness of God’s immediate presence.  However, with time  I came to see that the blessing of friendship is even more important.  If we would only realize it, friendship is one of the most direct and beautiful ways that God is present to us, whether or not we are engaged in any “spiritual” practice.

And so we know and rely on the love God has for us. God is love. Whoever lives in love lives in God, and God in them.  1st John 4:16

It’s that simple!  Yet some of us have the notion that the more enlightened, illuminated, sanctified, holy, or, well, “mystical” we are then the less regard we give to friendship as an important and worthwhile experience in human life.  Doesn’t it seem odd that sometimes our obsessions with things like philosophy, theology, and mysticism should lead us into places where we feel a need to justify enjoying something as natural and beautiful as friendship?  Yet it happens, and it happens because somehow we come to believe that our great teachers are pointing us in that direction.  With the rest of this post I hope to show that this is not actually the case, and that friendship is not only okay, it’s highly recommended!

As someone who feels a certain affinity with Buddhism, and who values the dialogue between Christianity and Buddhism, I lament that people often consider the Buddha and his followers as models of this disregard for friendship.  I find a number of things in Buddhist scripture that challenge that belief.

Consider this conversation between the Buddha and his disciple, attendant, and friend, Ananda, where Ananda begins:

This is half of the holy life, lord: admirable friendship, admirable companionship, admirable camaraderie.

The Buddha replies:

Don’t say that, Ananda. Don’t say that. Admirable friendship, admirable companionship, admirable camaraderie is actually the whole of the holy life. When a monk has admirable people as friends, companions, & comrades, he can be expected to develop & pursue the noble eightfold path. http://www.accesstoinsight.org/tipitaka/sn/sn45/sn45.002.than.html

On another occasion, the Buddha teaches:

With regard to external factors, I don’t envision any other single factor like admirable friendship as doing so much for a monk in training, who has not attained the heart’s goal but remains intent on the unsurpassed safety from bondage. A monk who is a friend with admirable people abandons what is unskillful and develops what is skillful. http://www.accesstoinsight.org/tipitaka/kn/iti/iti.1.001-027.than.html#iti-017

And again:

And what is meant by admirable friendship? There is the case where a layperson, in whatever town or village he may dwell, spends time with householders or householders’ sons, young or old, who are advanced in virtue. He talks with them, engages them in discussions. He emulates consummate conviction in those who are consummate in conviction, consummate virtue in those who are consummate in virtue, consummate generosity in those who are consummate in generosity, and consummate discernment in those who are consummate in discernment. This is called admirable friendship. http://www.accesstoinsight.org/tipitaka/an/an08/an08.054.than.html

Yes, friendship does, at least for most of us, include greater attachment, and the Buddha acknowledges this when he says to a grieving woman, “’Those who have a hundred dear ones have a hundred pains.”

He then sings:

The sorrows, lamentations,
the many kinds of suffering in the world,
exist dependent on something dear.
They don’t exist when there’s nothing dear.
And thus blissful and sorrowless
are those for whom nothing
in the world is dear anywhere.
So one who aspires to be stainless and sorrowless
shouldn’t make anything
in the world dear anywhere.
http://www.accesstoinsight.org/tipitaka/kn/ud/ud.8.08.than.html

Notice that he did not tell her to give up having dear ones.  Rather he solemnly reflects on the profundity of what we all know in common sense, which is that personal suffering accompanies personal love.  If you aspire to be free of that suffering, he says, then you have to free yourself from personal love, and I swear I can hear the Buddha in the subtext saying, “So, is that the kind of bliss you really want? Hey, if it is then knock yourself out.”

With these scriptures in mind, listen to the poetry written by Ananda after the death of his friend and teacher, the Buddha:

All the quarters are bedimmed
And the Path is not clear to me,
Indeed my noble friend has gone
And all about seems dark.

The friend has passed away,
The Master, too, has gone.
There is no friendship now that equals this:
The mindfulness directed bodywards.

The old ones now have passed away,
The new ones do not please me much,
Today alone I meditate
Like a bird gone to its nest.
http://www.accesstoinsight.org/tipitaka/kn/thag/thag.17.03.hekh.html

We can hear both Ananda’s suffering and his awareness that his suffering points him back toward the practice of mindfulness, acceptance, and letting go; it bears awareness of both his personal love and a transcendent love.  For all of Buddhism’s apparent renunciation of personal attachment, it is not an effort to induce psychological denial.  It is not an either/or dichotomy in which attachment is a “wrong” to be avoided at all costs and an emotionally disconnected detachment is a “good” to be purchased at any expense.  Rather, I hear an acknowledgment that all at once we can know both the suffering of our personal losses and the bliss of that which transcends holding and losing.

As followers of the Judeo-Christian tradition, we have a number of scriptures that actually extol friendship.

The seeds of good deeds become a tree of life;
a wise person wins friends.  Proverbs 11:30

The heartfelt counsel of a friend
is as sweet as perfume and incense. Proverbs 27:9-10

Jesus speaks of friendship as a special relationship:

Greater love has no one than this, to lay day one’s life for one’s friends. You are my friends if you do what I command you.  No longer do I call you slaves, for the slave does not know what the master is doing; but I have called you friends, for all things I have heard from my Father I have made known to you.  John 15:13

Both the Gospels and the apocrypha also allude to Jesus having closer relationships with some of his disciples than others, perhaps even what we might call “favorites” or “best friends,” such as Peter, John, Mary Magdalene, Lazarus, and James.

And there is this classic teaching from St. Paul about the kind of friends Christians should be with each other:

Love must be sincere. Hate what is evil; cling to what is good. Be devoted to one another in brotherly love. Honor one another above yourselves. Never be lacking in zeal, but keep your spiritual fervor, serving the Lord. Be joyful in hope, patient in affliction, faithful in prayer.  Share with the Lord’s people who are in need. Practice hospitality.  Romans 12:9-13

In the first sentence, agape is the word Paul uses for love.  Christians conventionally understand agape to be a love that is unconditional and charitable in the broadest sense.   The word translated as “devoted” is philostorgos, which means to love each other like family, which is emphasized by the word philadelphia, the love of siblings or the closest of friends.  Koinoneo, meaning “to partner with,” is translated here as “share with” pointing to the commitment and depth of hospitality, philoxenia, we should practice even with those we would regard as strangers.

The writers of the New Testament epistles often speak with terms of warmest affection and personal endearment for their colleagues and followers, frequently referring to them as friends, siblings, and children.   They apparently found no shame at all in this, and even saw the cultivation of such relationships as central to living their faith.  As John says at the end of his third letter:

Peace be with you. Your friends here send you their greetings. Please give my personal greetings to each of our friends there.

Can you imagine the feelings that our earliest siblings in Christ must have felt for each other?  It seems to me that the apostles must have missed each other dearly as they each headed off on their missions to spread the Good News of God’s infinite love and grace. They suffered the cruelties and injustices inflicted upon each other, celebrated each other’s accomplishments, and grieved sorely when they heard of each other’s passing, even as they rejoiced at the ascension of their souls.  They were human after all, and they loved as humans filled with faith in a love that transcends but does not negate the temporary joys and pains of personal affections.

So, I close this post with gratitude for the blessings of friendship by sharing the words of one of my favorite mystics of the 19th century, Albert Pike:

That I can be a friend, that I can have a friend, though it were but one in the world: that fact, that wondrous good fortune, we may set against all the sufferings of our social nature.

May you all enjoy a beautiful Thanksgiving, whenever, wherever, and with whomever you may celebrate it.

Nov 292010
 

Here are two dialogues between a Christian mystic and Buddhists.  They are not shared as an attempt to define either religion or to hold one up as superior to the other.  What is important to me is the fraternal meeting of minds, the exposure of mystical and non-dualist perspectives in Christianity, and the  achievement of greater understanding between people of significantly different traditions.

Dialogue #1: The Ultimate Personal Relationship

They were discussing the nature of the Ultimate, beginning at what seemed to be a classic impasse:  The Christian spoke of the Ultimate as a personal God, and the a-theistic Buddhist spoke of the Ultimate as the impersonal principle of Being that gives rise to all things, yet is not contained by all things.

In their discussion, the Christian typically asserted that God is all-knowing, all-powerful and all-loving.  The Buddhist countered that if this is so, then God would be impossible for a human being to understand, that God must also be all-mysterious.  The Christian agreed, yet held that while God could not be understood, God could still be experienced as the great mystery of life itself.  The Buddhist smiled, apparently thinking that he now had the upper hand in the debate.  He asked the Christian how, if God is all-mysterious, one could rightly refer to God as “personal.”

The Christian had two responses:  First, he clarified that when many mystical theologians speak of God as a person, or a trinity of three persons, they are speaking in metaphors that only address ways God can be experienced by human beings.  Second, he said that since we are persons, it only makes sense that one of the most powerful and meaningful ways of experiencing God is as a person too.  So, while speaking of God as a person may be understood to be a metaphor, speaking of one’s experience with God as a personal relationship is entirely fitting.

Well, the Buddhist furrowed his brow for a moment, looking like a chess player trying to salvage his gambit from an unexpected move.  Suddenly he looked up with an idea.  He said that if experiencing God as a person is only a way of experiencing the Ultimate, then wouldn’t a purer, simpler way to experience the Ultimate be as the impersonal principle of Being?

The Christian asked if the Buddhist was one who thinks of the Ultimate as beyond all oppositions and thus non-dual.  The Buddhist said that he did.  Then the Christian said that if we are going to regard the Ultimate as non-dual, it is just as inaccurate to speak of It as impersonal as to speak of It as personal.  He said that personal and impersonal fall into the categories of either/or, neither/nor as well as both/and when speaking of the Ultimate, or God, and that what makes the difference is simply the kinds of experience one is open to.

The Buddhist was nodding with a blank face for moment, and then he laughed.   He said that now he could finally understand Christianity, but he wondered how many Christians do.  The Christian asked how many Buddhists really understand Buddhism, and they both laughed together.

Dialogue #2: If You Meet the Dharmakaya on the Via Negativa….

Zen Buddhist (ZB): “I would be very grateful if you could explain your interest in Zen.”

Christian Mystic (CM): “Zen is of interest because of its acceptance of this moment, right here, right now, just as it is.  The interconnected complexity of everything is permeated by this simplicity.  This explanation isn’t adequate.”

ZB: “Very interesting.  The shift of consciousness, from that of the periphery, to that of the ‘central’ position of the Mind, is, as I understand it, the essential thrust of the Ch’an-Zen teaching – a Buddhism, without the requirement for ‘Buddhism’, so-to-speak.

“In a sense, the Buddha’s own teaching, even within the Pali Canon, advocates the ‘letting go’ of even the method that gets one to the destination – the Dhammapada uses the allusion of a ‘raft’, and another shore being reached, etc.  One question that intrigues me is this; is it possible to reconcile the teaching of ’emptiness’ (sunyata), with that of the existence of a theistic entity creating and controlling all things?”

CM: “Yes, Zen [and Christian mysticism, for that matter] may be thought of as a tool.  About letting go of the raft, the limitation of this metaphor is the notion of a destination, which is not to say that such a notion is not useful.

“The teaching of sunyata can be likened to the Via Negativa of Western mysticism, in which it is acknowledged that the concept of God as a supremely active and intentional intelligence is only one way to think about and relate to God.  In the Via Negativa we continually strip our minds of such concepts to abide in the utter mystery of God, knowing that such thoughts are only limited creations of the mind or, if you will, fingers pointing at God.  In effect, we acknowledge the emptiness of such notions.  One effect of this practice can be to return back to simple awareness of this passing moment.

“So it is that, among many Western mystics, words about God have much in common with the Buddhist concept of Dharmakaya, which suggests a non-duality that is at once empty and full, no-thing and every-thing, impersonal and personal, unintentional and intentional, etc.  [In essence, “God” is the word we use for the Great Mysterious Truth of reality.]  For one in such a position, relating to God as a theistic entity can become a kind of artistic experience and expression of life.  [It is a way to express our love of the Great Mystery.]”

ZB: “Interesting, and well thought out.

“I am reminded of Matthew Fox, and his Original Blessing book, which deals with concepts such as ‘via negativa’, (as juxtaposed with ‘via positiva‘).  In that sense, a binary system that reconciles into an experiential ‘whole-ness’, realised within the spiritual being.  Allusions to similar systems, such as ‘Heaven’ and ‘Earth’, ‘yin’ and ‘yang’, are obvious.

“Of course, a ‘reconciliation’ does imply some kind of ‘third’ other, that actually realises the ‘reconciliation’.  The Dharmakaya (body of truth) is one candidate, and this is often presented in the Mahayana as part of a triad – (usually in conjunction with the nirmanakaya and the sambhogakaya).  Whether it could equally be said to be representative of a theistic entity, is problematic.  As none of the bodies of the Buddha originate ‘outside’ of the Mind.

“And this, (I sense), is where the breakdown of language raises its head!  God can not possibly be ‘God’, if God is in any way ‘real’.  As ‘God’ is a construct of the human Mind.  What lies beyond the construct, would in theory, also lie beyond the dualistic schemes that attempt to organise and explain nature in one, convenient philosophical presentation.

“The practice of Zen would eventually require the ‘giving-up’ of notions of ‘God’, and ‘Zen’, as well as any idea of ‘inner’ and ‘outer’.  As you say, a ‘timeless’, and ever ‘present’ moment of perfect being – free from discursive thinking and emotional over-lay.”

CM: “Peace.”

ZB: “Peace to you also.”

Nov 152010
 

The Good Heart:  A Buddhist Perspective on the Teachings of Jesus

In 1994, the Dalai Lama was invited by Fr. Laurence Freeman OSB to lead the John Main Seminar sponsored by the World Community for Christian Meditation.  The Dalai Lama, seminar panelists, and other participants meditated together and discussed eight key scriptures from the Gospels:

  1. Love Your Enemy, Matthew 5:38-48
  2. The Sermon on the Mount: The Beatitudes, Matthew 5:1-10
  3. Equanimity, Mark 3:31-35
  4. The Kingdom of God, Mark 4:26-34
  5. The Transfiguration, Luke 9:28-36
  6. The Mission, Luke 9:1-6
  7. Faith, John 12:44-50
  8. The Resurrection, John 20:10-18

This book is a record of their dialogue, and presents fascinating reflections on parallels, intersections and differences between Christianity and Buddhism.  While the focus is on Christianity, both traditions are represented authentically and respected as living embodiments of truth.  The Dalai Lama makes it clear, as he has often done in other venues, that he has no intentions of converting Christians to Buddhism or attempting to blend them into an amorphous universal religion.  Instead, he encourages people to plumb the depths of the religions to which they were born.  At no point does he presume to tell Christians what their scriptures should mean to them, but asserts that his views are only interpretations from an outsider.  It’s obvious that he admires Christianity and intends to speak in support of its followers.

Here is a beautiful story the Dalai Lama shared about his experience of Christianity through Christians he has known:

…on a visit to the great monastery at Montserrat, in Spain, I met a Benedictine monk there.  … After lunch, we spent some time alone, face to face, and I was informed that this monk had spent a few years in the mountains just behind the monastery.  I asked him what kind of contemplation he had practiced during those years of solitude.  His answer was simple: ‘Love, love, love.”  How wonderful! I suppose that sometimes he also slept.  But during all those years he meditated simply on love. And he was not meditating on just the word.  When I looked into his eyes, I saw evidence of profound spirituality and love — as I had during my meetings with Thomas Merton. … These two encounters have helped me develop a genuine reverence for the Christian tradition and its capacity to create people of such goodness.   I believe the purpose of all the major religions is not to construct big temples on the outside, but to create temples of goodness and compassion inside, in our hearts.

One of the most interesting things about this book may be how much it offers in the way of fresh and penetrating insight into some of the most well known Christian scriptures, and their implications for doctrine and spiritual living.  Not only are the Dalai Lama’s reflections poignant, but Fr. Freeman consistently offers views on Christianity that lead us well beyond the literalism that tends to dominate mainstream ideas about the Christian faith, and in so doing points toward freedom from many of the absurdities, self-contradictions, and oversimplifications that tend to characterize such ideas.   Consider this excerpt:

Dalai Lama: So that means we need not think of heaven and hell in terms of an external environment?

Fr. Freeman: No.  Hell would be the experience of separation from God, which in itself is unreal.  It is illusory because nothing can be separated from God.  However, if we think we are separated from God, then we are in Hell.  …  There is a poetical metaphor in the Bible in which God punishes humanity for its sins.  But I think the image of Jesus takes us beyond that image of God and replaces it with an image of God as one who loves unconditionally.  Sin remains. Sin is a fact. Evil is a fact. But the punishment that is associated with sin is inherent in sin itself.

This book is highly recommended for anyone with a dawning interest in Christian-Buddhist dialogue, for how it can enrich a Christian’s understanding and living of our faith, and for suggesting how we can embrace each other as spiritual siblings serving many of the same values and principles.  For the most part it is a light and easy read, and those who are looking for more extensive probing of intellectual depths or considerations of spiritual practice and service may be disappointed.  Even so, it’s a good starting place in its genre, and more seasoned thinkers in this area may enjoy it like a refreshing cup of tea.