The Zennist

Buddhism's Relation to Christianity

An interesting read is D.M. Murdock's book review of Michael Lockwood's book, Buddhism's Relation to Christianity.  I would recommend it to anyone interested in the subject.  They should read her review before they purchase Lockwood's book which doesn't include an index. 

Christianity is a difficult subject in its own right.  I have always looked at it with a mind to simplify it; to see what the text is really saying and how we should read it.  That said, I have tentatively concluded that Christianity stems from Buddhism.  

A number of years ago when I entered into the mystical side of Buddhism in 1976 (which I have touched on in this blog) I was given a simple picture of Christianity which also allowed me to connect it with Buddhism.  If you put your feet together and outstretch your arms you have a cross.  In other words, our carnal body is the cross and our soul is nailed to it which is yet to become spiritualized.  Flesh, which is evil and not spirit, is not unlike the five skandhas which belong to Mara the Evil one, which are not the ātman or spirit. 

We Buddhists wrongly through our spiritual ignorance latch on to the skandhas as being who we are—our pleasure toy of the flesh.  But our spirit or ātman  is not any of the skandhas according to the Buddha.  We still have to separate our self or ātman  from the skandhas spiritually which is what dhyāna is all about! 

In a way, like the Christian we bear the cross, also, crucifying the flesh with its passions and desires (Galatians 5:24).  And for those Buddhists who have spiritually separated from the skandhas by dhyāna we read that they are: "reborn in companionship with the devas of the pure abodes. This is a rebirth not shared with worldlings" (A. ii. 128).

But let me stop here.  We learn from Murdock's review that Indians have long been in the Mediterranean, for example. 

Indian envoys sent to Rome and other parts of the Roman empire;

Stories of Indian saints immolating themselves in the West;

Presence of thousands of Indian slaves at Rome and elsewhere in the Mediterranean;

Numerous substance traded between the two worlds. . .;

Caches of thousands of Roman coins found in...in India;

Testimony in Josephus that the Jews were descendants of Indian philosophers.

Anyway there is much more. Please check out Murdock's book review.  

 

 

 

The overcoming of metaphysics

We might speculate how to bring non-being and being into unity which seem to be contrary to each other.  The same goes with non-existence and existence.  By taking up this problem we have taken the bait, that is, we have fallen into the trap of metaphysics (i.e., beyond the physical).  However, to be honest, we are not really beyond the physical.  Only in a theoretical or speculative unproven sense, both terms being fictions, as if real. 

Here is what is really going on.  Our consciousness (S., vijñāna: lit. in two parts knowing), this being our familiar human mind which only perceives illusion, has ensnared itself in metaphysics which is an attempt to get beyond illusion, but always fails. 

Furthermore,  consciousness is the illusory subject in relation to the illusory object.  This relationship explains why the goal of Buddhist meditation is the total overcoming of consciousness in which the two parts return to the original one or ultimate ground from which they first emerged appearing to become opposed (but never actually opposed since the mysterious relation between the two sides held them together). 

There is nothing in metaphysics that is capable of overcoming consciousness.  It is a fictional enterprise.  Returning the two parts back to the original one can only be accomplished through meditation or dhyana.

It is important to always keep in mind that the role of consciousness, which is saṃsāric consciousness, often gets overlooked in Buddhism and, especially, Zen.  The Buddha says:

“When consciousness is established and has come to growth, there is the production of future renewed existence. When there is the production of future renewed existence, future birth, aging-and-death, sorrow, lamentation, pain, displeasure, and despair come to be. Such is the origin of this whole mass of suffering” (S. ii. 65).

We can read this passage all that we desire.  That is a good thing to do.  Still, it will not grant us a state of oneness or return.  Right meditation which ends in gnosis of the one is the only route we have (a route that is intuitive).  All else is fiction.  By the way, this is Zen’s sudden enlightenment.

Closer to being a true religion

Westerners tend to identify religion with having a belief in God.  Rites and rituals also play an important part.  Nevertheless, rites and rituals do not make a religion religious.  To be religious means personally relating to or contemplating the nature of ultimate reality. 

The modern definition of religion, in general, is too limiting and too restrictive.  I would go so far as to say that most modern day religions are not all that religious.

A truer understanding of what real religion means for us begins with existential questioning.  Existential questioning always concerns the first-person, for example, Who am I (essentially)? Or it can be something like, What is my purpose in life? or What is my true self, or What happens when I die?

At first these questions seem to get nowhere beyond the question, itself, until the individual turns to religion which then becomes, God knows the answer to my questions — believe in God.  But this is still far too superficial.  Serious and deep existential questioning is lacking.   

But Buddhism and more specifically, Zen Buddhism, are closer to being a true religion.  First, they acknowledge the great value of existential questioning.  Such questioning finds both meaning and answers in personal enlightenment.  This means that a person realizes nirvana in their innermost self after going through a difficult process that strips away the self-limiting fictions and beliefs that make personal enlightenment seem impossible.  As for what they personally realize it is deathless, peace, truth, the ultimate goal, endless, etc.  These are all epithets for nirvana.

The teachings of the 1926 Maytag Buddha in appliance world

In appliance world there were many kinds of different machines from vacuum cleaners, toasters, hair dryers to washing machines. 

One day some young washing machines happened to come upon an old Buddhist washing machine. He was a 1926 Maytag.  He could still do the job of any young washing machine.  But there was something about this old washing machine that despite its age seemed timeless and had a certain flair that seemed unusual and unaffected by the years.

The young washing machines, attached to their youth had, as we might expect, a certain arrogance about them as is natural with all youth; who hadn’t really accomplished anything of worth and knew even less about themselves.

Still, they managed to be polite to the old Maytag, after all he was a venerated Maytag who many appliances said was fully awakened and knew the very essence of an appliance—what made them run.  After an exchange of polite words and the customary greetings expected between washing machines one of the young washing machines asked the old Maytag if it was true that he knew of the universal essence of all appliances.  The old Maytag quietly nodded and said that he did.

“But what could this universal essence be?” inquired the young washing machine somewhat seriously.  “We all know the parts we were made from.  We have an outer frame which contains all the parts such as a water pump, transmission and motor, the agitator, tub and various kinds of controls.  This is all we are sir.”

The old Maytag looked at all the young machines. Then in a jovial voice he said, “Relax friends and listen to my words.  Although you are much younger than I, your parts very new and made with plastics that are quite light as compared with what this old machine is made from, in the example of the agitator, there is something ageless within us that suffers no change whatsoever.  Of course you can’t see it.  You only know the parts of the washing machine such as the spin pulley and the water supply hoses.  But as for what makes this odd contraption work and give the motor its power, you do not know.  But this is what I know.”

The young washing machines didn’t know whether to laugh or to take this old Maytag seriously. They were stuck in between you could say.  Then the old Maytag sensing their unease said something strange they never heard before.  “Have you ever heard of electricity?”

All of the machines remained quiet except one who said that he had not heard of electricity before.

“Listen carefully my young friends,” said the old Maytag.  “We are all fundamentally electrical machines.  This electricity is the power that runs our motor and makes the agitator swish back and forth.  It is ageless, you could say, and undying too.  It never grows old in other words.  It is all around us.  Even our sun is electrical.  Some call it energy some call it a force, but these are just names.  Electricity is fundamentally one thousand, billion, billion, billion, billion times more powerful than gravity.”

The young washing machines were dumbstruck.  What could they say? They knew nothing about this mysterious power that made them work and made them useful.  With their new knowledge, they bowed in respect to the old Maytag as asked if they could become his disciples.  He nodded indicating that they could.

Unmasking atheism: what it really is

What is atheism?  The simple answer comes from my dictionary:  a lack of belief or a strong disbelief in the existence of a god or any gods.  More, specifically, “god” in this definition should be thought of as a “creator god.” 

In Buddhism the idea of a creator god is rejected.  How the world comes into being is treated much differently in Buddhism and for that reason it is difficult to understand for those who have been brought up believing in a creator god. 

But today atheism goes much farther insofar as there is a sinister side to it that needs to be unmasked.  What I mean by this, is that atheism in the modern sense really refers to someone who is anti-religious; someone who rejects any kind of ultimate reality such as described in Buddhism.  This could be the state of nirvana which is immortal and unconditioned.  Another example is the One Mind which is very important in Zen.  In his book, The Records of Mazu and the Making of Classical Chan Literature, Mario Poceski informs the reader that,

“One Mind is a concept that appears in a number of canonical texts, such as the Huayan Scripture [華嚴經]—there are no fewer than forty-two references to it in Śikṣānanda’s translation of the scripture—the Laṅkāvatāra Scripture […] The notion of One Mind points to the absolute nature of the mind, which is equated with ultimate reality. It is also envisaged as the essential source of all things or phenomena in the universe.”

Over the years, this anti-religious sentiment has been carefully inserted into the academic world by way of postmodernism which is an attempt to salvage Marxism which I have noticed has no sense of the transcendent which  I take to mean that we are greater than the sum of our biological parts.  The Marxist view of man is not unlike that of Thomas Hobbes who saw mankind doomed to a life that is solitary, poor, nasty, brutish, and short.  There is nothing after that—and worse, we could fall into Nietzsche's nihilistic "eternal return" which is inescapable rebirth.  

Another name for this anti-religious sentiment is secularism which insists that religious considerations—and that includes the transcendent—should be ignored if not purposely suppressed.  Have we come to this in Buddhism?  I think modern, popular Buddhism is moving in this direction.  But for every such movement there is an equal attempt to counter to this.  We should join this side.

Zen and the left and right hemispheres of the brain

The way I see it, those who use the right hemisphere of the brain more than the left in which the left is secondary, are much more likely to understand Zen because this hemisphere favors intuition and insight.

The left hemisphere is more concerned and focused on identification by parts, or bits and pieces of data which have not yet been contextualized remaining, in this regard, abstract, that is,  insufficiently factual.  The right hemisphere, on the other hand, is looking for the underlying unity, what connects and holds the parts together in their unity.  As we might expect, the right hemisphere understands both context and the metaphor. 

It also appears that the left hemisphere is ultimately dependent on the right.  But while the left depends on the right hemisphere the left can also block our access to the right hemisphere where we might encounter another reality closed off to the left hemisphere.  I think a good example would be kenshō in which we suddenly intuit the underlying essence of the universe and our true nature.

I think related, the chattering that goes on in our head when we sit in meditation is from the left hemisphere (its blocking maneuver?).  I find it interesting that Zen always stresses no-thought 無心 in which the chattering left side is stopped which culminates in kenshō. 

While both Asian and Western culture use both right and left hemisphere, the history of ancient Chinese Buddhism appears to rely much more on the right hemisphere where intuition is used although it is true that Chinese culture during this period and before had achieved great advances in engineering and the sciences which is the principle concern of the left hemisphere which favors the abstract, utility and the mechanical. 

It seems that ancient China found a harmony between the two sides.  One might even argue that this harmony is what gives a civilization its longevity in which the right hemisphere leads the way—seeing the big picture.  The fall of a civilization then occurs when the left hemisphere dominates which then proceeds to cut off access to the right.  

 

Zen is a barrier—only pure Mind can pass

At sometime in our brief life, in our study of Zen, we have to pass through the world of the conditioned to apprehend the transcendent (the unconditioned).  Metaphorically, in Zen it is like a gate or a checkpoint that acts as a barrier.  It will not permit us to go through to the other side which is unconditioned called the “no-gate”.

In Zen we come to face this gate with a special word of phrase like “Mu” or “One has it, the other hasn’t.”  It could even be Jōshū’s, “Go wash your bowl.”  We could repeat Mu for a lifetime and never would we be able to pass through the barrier gate to the no-gate.  Likewise with the various mysterious other phrases and gestures.

In working with these mysterious words and phrases that come from the Zen masters it’s like we are butting our heads against an invisible barrier.  No matter how hard we try—no success.  It’s also like we are approaching the edge of a dark and terrifying abyss, fearing to fall into it.  At this point, no one can help us.  We have become our own obstacle. 

The next phase is to further delude ourselves and imagine that we’ve solved a koan or at least can understand the sense of it.  Ironically, this is where most beginners are stuck making no advance whatsoever.  No matter how many koan books they've read even with good translations they are no closer to the no-gate.

We cannot gain access to the no-gate by words and concepts.  This means our ordinary understanding cannot enter.  This includes our intellect, too.  Not even a single thought can enter or silence and stillness.  If this is disheartening it is meant to be.  In Zen we are supposed to give up our presuppositions not cling to them.  You can have nowhere to run and no place to hide.  In truth, there is only one koan: See pure mind.

We are afraid of the light

The Buddha in the Pali Nikayas said that whatever is well spoken is the word of the Buddha (A. iv. 164).  Although found not to be the words of Plato, these following words are well spoken:

“We can easily forgive a child who is afraid of the dark; the real tragedy of life is when men are afraid of the light.”

The context seems to be “spiritual light” or just spirit.  Spiritual light is known in both Buddhism and Christianity but certainly ignored in many contemporary forms of Buddhism and Christianity (Christianity acquired much of its spiritual knowledge from Buddhism thanks to Buddhist missionaries that came from India, at the command of the Buddhist king Ashoka [262–239 BCE] to places like Alexandria, Egypt).

Tragically, mankind seems to be afraid of the spiritual light these days which falls under the category of mysticism—a term not respected at all in the modern world which has taken a turn for the worse with respect to religious knowledge. 

Certainly, in my spiritual growth and development, spiritual light became central.  My first encounter with it was in 1969 then in 1976 in which I underwent what is called light of Mahayana, a term found in the Lankavatara Sutra.  This is nothing subjective.  It is a transfiguration of a spiritually blind person into one who sees and understands the spiritual world in its various contexts.

I see nothing unusual about a child being afraid of the dark and welcoming, each morning, the light of the sun.  But for an adult who practices Zen to set out and deliberately attack something like spiritual light, because the notion makes them feel uneasy, is a bit strange.  Here is something that makes them uneasy.  It’s from Zen master Yuan-hsien:

"The spiritual light of living beings originally has no obstruction, yet deluded feelings arise in confusion.  From this there are six sense organs within and objects of the six senses outside:  with the opposition of organs and objects, false consciousness arises uncontrolled, producing good and bad, initiating virtuous and evil actions”(Cleary, The Teachings of Zen, p. 185).

And what about these words from Zen master Yunmen?

“Every person originally has the radiant light—yet when it is looked at, it is not seen: dark and obscure!”

There is much more I could present, especially, from the Avatamsaka Sutra, but suffice it to say without the ‘light’, this being the Buddha Mind which is beyond time and space (i.e., our limited human perception), we have a dead religion in front of us.

American Theosophist, Alvin Boyd Kuhn, in his book, The Lost Light, gave future generations a way to measure their religious/spiritual progress or the lack thereof.  He wrote:

“Every religion apparently has begun at a high level and become corrupted until it stood in need of reformation and purification. Religions decay through atrophy of spiritual vision. Their course is marked by a blurring of the original light.”

Not only has modern religion, taken as a whole, blurred the original light but the blur has turned into blindness and with it contempt and hatred for this light—if not fear.  What has replaced this light is the cult of personality.  But the godman is like brass which is hidden by a thin film of gold.  

You cannot conceive the unconditioned through what it is not

Two very important and major terms in Buddhism are the conditioned (saṃskṛta) and the unconditioned (asaṃskṛta) or, the same, the composed and the uncomposed.  For us, they stand in a kind of odd relationship. 

Since nirvana is unconditioned, our attempt to bring it into our conditioned world (samsara), together with our conditioned thoughts and concepts, as if to lay hold of it and examine it, ain’t working for us.  It’s not working because we are always attempting to conceive of the unconditioned through the conditioned then wonder why it all seems so asymmetrical—nothing fits or corresponds.  We repeat this pattern many, many times.  Yes, this is a most difficult habit to break.  But it must be broken.

To have any success, we have to be, personally, put into a position where the unconditioned speaks solely for itself.  It would be a moment when we have suddenly stopped our terrible habit of always trying to conceive the unconditioned by way of the conditioned.  This is as much as saying, you cannot conceive the unconditioned through what it is not. 

This reminds me of the Buddhist story about the turtle and the fish used illustrate nirvana. 

There was once a turtle who lived in a lake with a group of fish. One day the turtle went for a walk on dry land. He was away from the lake for a few weeks. When he returned he met some of the fish.

The fish greeted him, "Mister Turtle, hello! How are you? We have not seen you for a few weeks. Where have you been?”

Mr. Turtle said, "I was up on the land, I have been spending some time on dry land."

The fish were a little puzzled and said, "Up on dry land? What are you talking about Mr. Turtle? What is this dry land? Is it wet?"

Mr. Turtle said, "No, it is not.”

The fish continued, ”Is it cool and refreshing?"

"No, it is not,” said Mr. Turtle.

"Does it have waves and ripples?"

"No, it does not have waves and ripples,” said Mr. Turtle.

"Can you swim in it? asked the fish.”

"No you can’t,” replied Mr. Turtle.

Frustrated with Mr. Turtle's answers, the fish then said, "It is not wet, it is not cool, there are no waves, you can’t swim in it. So this dry land of yours must be completely non-existent, just an imaginary thing, nothing real at all."

Mr. Turtle said, “Well for you, that might be.” He left the fish and went for another walk on dry land.

This is somewhat like asking what concepts are required in order to have the proper concept of the unconditioned.  Do you see how absurd this demand is? Here “concept” is the world of the fish while the unconditioned is like the dry land. The simple fact is that we cannot really know the absolute through what the absolute is not.  To know the unconditioned is to give up the conditioned.

Buddhism's turn towards annihilationism?

If there is any real difference between primitive Buddhism and Brahmanism it is how each approached the absolute.  I hasten to add that the differences may not be all that great.  I would argue that Brahmanism may have approached the absolute by a cataphatic method (posit what the absolute is), but this is not entirely true since, for example, the Brahma Sutras state: Whenever we deny something unreal, it is in reference to something real.  This is certainly not completely cataphatic. 

Primitive Buddhism approached the absolute by the apophatic method (non-identification with conditioned things so as to reveal the unconditioned).  This is evident with regard to the conditioned psychophysical person which is a transmutation of material shape, feeling, perception, volition and consciousness, none of these constituents being my real self or ātman.  The Buddha taught his followers to reject what was not their self or ātman in order to be free from the perils of conditioned reality.

After the pari-nrivana of the Buddha and the subsequent rise of Buddhist sectarianism there came to be Anātmavāda this being the doctrine that there is no Ātman or the same, the doctrine that there is no absolute.  This seemed to be hardly different from ucchedavādā, the doctrine of annihilation, which was opposed by the Buddha.  By this, later Buddhism tried to differentiate itself from Brahmanism but at the risk of turning towards annihilationism.  

The dogma of Anātmavāda led to another problem, that of the doctrine of the empty or śūnyavāda which was supposed to mean that appearances are svabhāva-śūnya, that is, devoid of true or ultimate reality, being only configurations of true or ultimate reality.  By the same token, true or ultimate reality was prapañcha-śūnya, empty or devoid of pluralization meaning that true or ultimate reality was one and increate.

On the one hand, postmortem Buddhism masks ucchedavādā with Anātmavāda then later disguises a negative absolute in the form of emptiness doctrine or śūnyavāda.  However, after the Buddha's enlightenment he made no mention of either Anātmavāda or śūnyavāda.  In simplest words, the Buddha's awakening was the realization of the unconditioned, afterwards teaching the path leading to it (S. iv. 368).  It was also synonymous with the far shore, the deathless, the sublime, the amazing, nirvana, purity, the island, the shelter and the refuge (S. iv. 370–372).  Truth be told, Buddhism is very positive—a remarkable spiritual religion that would later send its missionaries to Alexandria Egypt and farther.  All this before the birth of Christ. (Later I hope to get into why much of Christianity stems from primitive Buddhism.)