Confucianism: “Self as Creative Transformation”

 

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Confucius, statue in Shanghai, China. © philipus/Fotolia

My Reflections on Confucianism

The goal of the Confucian project is to become fully human. Kung Fu-tzu (Confucius) understood the self as a “node” rather than an entity, a “meeting place where lives converge.” (Smith, 1991).

This resonates with my theories of the gift circle. In my PhD dissertation (when I eventually write it….) I argue that the Western concept that all possessions can be alienated from oneself is based on a system of property rights, rather than the way people really interact.

There are parts of ourselves, embodied sometimes in objects, which are sacred, which are “kept-whilst-given,” which cannot be alienated. When they are given, they simply enchain us one to another ever more strongly.

I saw that my feeling about the way people exist in relation to each other may have very old, Chinese roots. Perhaps my mother’s sub-conscious influence, through her emphasis on family, selflessness and generosity to others? Although, like China, my mother sometimes interpreted these values in sinister ways, emphasising respect for her as a parent without earning this respect. But the fundamental principles were there, and I think they continue to inform the way I see the world as a system of relationships in which people expand when they are filled with love and contract when they are filled with hate. A little Mohism (which is also quite a lot like Christology), a little Confucianism, and you get my gift theory of human relations ;-).

I have copied below some of the Confucian sayings from the Analects which resonated with me. They are largely all about learning, the importance of humility and keeping an open mind. These passages also reminded me of Duane Bidwell’s advice to spiritual counselors to take a position of “not knowing” when engaging in spiritual direction. This is an attitude of open-minded curiosity, a respect for the other and a fundamental acceptance of the unknowability of God and the ways in which others experience God, leading to a permanent sense of learning throughout life (Bidwell, 2004).

 

‘I will not grieve that men do not know me; I will grieve that I do not know men.’ (The Analects 1:16) This is a good example of Kung Fu-tzu’s humility and openness always to learning.

‘Learning without thinking is useless. Thinking without learning is dangerous.’ (The Analects 2:15). This saying felt very apposite in the current political times.

‘When you see a man of worth, think how to rise to his level. When you see an unworthy man, then look within and examine yourself.’ (The Analects 4:17). Another reminder to be humble and always learning rather than judging.

‘If a man does not ask himself, “What am I to make of this? What am I to make of that?” – there is nothing whatever I can make of him.’ (Analects 15:15). I like the pithiness of this saying, and how it sums up in a humorous way the importance of always having an open mind.

‘The wise man does not appreciate a man because of what he says; nor does he depreciate what he says because of the man.’ (Analects 15:22). This saying reminds me not to “talk down” to people but to relate to people at the level of respect or “jen.”

‘When Tzu Kung asked what were the essentials of government, the Master replied, “Sufficient food, sufficient forces, and the confidence of the people.” “Suppose, rejoined Tzu Kung, “I were compelled to dispense with one, which of these should I forgo first?” “Forgo the forces,” was the reply. Suppose, said Tzu Kung, “I were compelled to eliminate another, which of the other two should I forgo first?” “The food,” was the reply, “for from of old death has been the lot of all men, but a people without faith cannot stand.’ (Analects 12:7).

‘The wise man is intelligently, not blindly, loyal.’ (Analects 15:36). There are several passages I came across in the Analects in which Kung Fu-tzu is quoted as reminding his disciples that you cannot blindly follow a master; that the virtue of loyalty is not a virtue if it is not also accompanied with constant thought and examination.

‘Love of kindness, without a love to learn, finds itself obscured by foolishness. Love of knowledge, without a love to learn, finds itself obscured by loose speculation. Love of honesty, without a love to learn, finds itself obscured by harmful candour. Love of straightforwardness, without a love to learn, finds itself obscured by misdirected judgment. Love of daring, without a love to learn, finds itself obscured by insubordination. And love for strength of character, without a love to learn, finds itself obscured by intractability.’ (Analects 17:8). This to me is a brilliant summation of the importance of always thinking, questioning and learning and avoiding dogmatic and definitive stances about anything at all. If you consider each of these imbalances which Kung Fu-tzu refers to, you can see probably 99% of the themes of fiction: the hero who has to learn to temper her willfulness with thoughtfulness; the hero who is honest out of ego instead of wisdom; the hero who is kind without thought to practicalities or reality.

‘He who does not know the force of words, cannot know men.’ (Analects 20:3). There is an earlier passage in the Analects in which Kung Fu-tzu wishes he did not have to speak, and instead he attempts to play music for someone who has come to seek his counsel. But most of the time, Kung Fu-tzu seems to accept and promote the importance of clear language and words. This saying is the last line of the Analects, and I thought it pretty much sums up the role of the teacher which Kung Fu-tzu first and foremost embodied.

Who was Confucius?

Kung Fu-tzu was born around 551 BC in Lu, which is now the Shantung province of China. He was from humble circumstances, brought up by his widowed mother (his father died when he was three years old).

After holding a few minor bureaucratic positions he set himself up as a tutor and attracted a loyal following of “disciples.” According to Huston Smith’s history of Confucianism, Kung Fu-tzu wanted to hold public office in order to reorder society, but rulers of the Chinese principalities were too wary of Kung Fu-tzu’s candour to appoint him. The ruler of his home state eventually felt compelled to give Kung Fu-tzu an honorary position, but once Kung Fu-tzu realised the hollowness of the appointment he resigned (Smith, 1991).

At the age of fifty, Kung Fu-tzu began to travel from state to state, offering unsolicited advice to rulers on how to govern better and seeking an official post from which to implement his principles. But it was never forthcoming and Kung Fu-tzu and his core of faithful disciples spent those years mocked by holy men and peasants alike.

Eventually there was a change in administration in his home state and he was invited to return. By then, Kung Fu-tzu was too old for office so he spent the last five years of his life teaching and editing the classics. At the age of 72 he died.

Huston Smith explains that Kung Fu-tzu was a failure as a politician, but was undoubtedly one of the finest teachers the world has known. He had an informal, Socratic method of teaching, conversing with his students, posing questions, citing texts. He never considered himself the “expert,” but instead behaved as a “fellow traveller,” always humble about how far he had himself progressed on the path of fully realising his humanity. He was known to be unwavering in his core values but tempered this with a sense of humour and realism.

After his death, Kung Fu-tzu’s influence increased. Huston Smith describes the historical context in which Kung Fu-tzu’s teachings gained influence. By Kung Fu-tzu’s time, the almost continuous warfare of the era (known as the Period of the Warring States) had degenerated from its erstwhile chivalrous rules of conduct to sheer brutality. Entire populations were mass executed. The social threads of custom were being destroyed by this barbarism, threatening anarchy.

Like Jesus of Nazareth, Kung Fu-tzu had a relatively unremarkable career when alive but upon his death, his messengers were effective and his ideas came at the right time. As a result of his teaching, a class of scholars arose in China. In 130 BC Confucian texts were made the basic education for government officials right up until 1905 AD. His teachings helped to cement the emphasis on family, society and community over individual; reverence for age, and a preference for the middle way of negotiation rather than the adversarial system of the West. The emphasis on wen can be seen in the contemporary Chinese government’s policy of “soft power.”

Unlike other major civilisations such as India or Europe, China did not require a person to be one religion or another. A Chinese person was Confucian in ethics and public life, Taoist in private life, Buddhist at the time of death, and engaged in shamanistic folk religion throughout. (Smith, 1991).

Realism and Mohism

Three main schools of thought can be discerned as responses to China’s Period of the Warring States:

  • Realism
  • Mohism
  • Confucianism

Realism

This was the dominant approach at the time of Kung Fu-tzu. The way to deal with humans was through a system of penalties and rewards. Similar to Hobbes’ conception of humanity, Realists acknowledged that ultimately, force was required to restrain humans from being completely selfish. They reasoned that a state needed a large and effective militia, clear laws and serious penalties for violations. Han Fei-tzu was one of the leading proponents of Realism and explained that laws had to be very clearly spelt out and penalties had to be heavy.

Realists believed that humans were ultimately greedy, selfish beings and that goodness had to be forced upon them. They also believed that most humans were too short-sighted to accept present sacrifices for long-term gain and that rulers had to force such policies upon them. Realists did not deny that noble sentiments existed, but argued that these would not be sufficient to keep people in check.

A realist of the fifth and sixth centuries BC was the prototypical, hard-headed Chinese mother (for those of you who have one, you know what I mean ;-). Life is hard. Deal with it.

Mohism

At the same time as the realists dominated policy making, Mo Tzu (or Mo Ti) proposed that universal love (chien ai) was the solution rather than force.

“Mutual attacks among states, mutual usurpation among houses, mutual injuries among individuals, these are [among’ the major calamities in the world. But whence do these calamities arise? They arise out of want of mutual love….individuals have learned only to love themselves and not others. Therefore they do not scruple about injuring others…How can we have the condition altered? It is to be altered by the eay of universal love and mutual aid.” (Yi-pao, 1929).

Mo Tzu believed that Shang Ti (a personal god) and Heaven “loves the whole world universally. Everything is prepared for the good of human beings.” (Yi-pao, 1929: 145).

Confucianism

Kung Fu-tzu rejected the Realist approach because it was too much outside of people’s ordinary lives and could not inspire people’s day to day ways of behaving in relation to others. The Realist approach could not inspire intrinsic motivation and purpose in people. At the same time, he thought that the Mohists were too utopian. The Realists thought that governments could enforce peace, whilst the Mohists thought that personal commitment could bring about peace. Both approaches were unrealistic.

For Kung Fu-tzu, tradition was the key. Tradition shaped people’s attitudes, ethics and actions. Kung Fu-tzu saw tradition as a powerful means of improving contemporary behaviour by harking back to the norms of the “Age of Grand Harmony.” This was a period in China’s past when China was passing from the second millennium BC into the first millennium BC, and the Chou Dynasty was at its peak. Kung Fu-tzu may have romanticised this era as a time when the Chinese were still community members before they were individuals. To apply this to his era in the sixth century BC, Kung Fu-tzu realised that he would have to create deliberate tradition supported by conscious and purposeful attention.

Kung Fu-tzu wanted a society which embodied the following five principles:

  • Jen
  • Chun tzu
  • Li
  • Te
  • Wen

Jen

This refers to the relationship between two people which is based on a feeling of humanity, respect and a sense of the dignity of human life. This leads to generosity and good faith. In public life it leads to conscientiousness, and in private life it leads to politeness, considerateness and empathy.

Chun tzu

This is the mature person, the person who is fully grounded about herself and at home in the universe. As a result, she can be a good hostess: graceful, confident, authentic and gracious. This is the “gentleman” or “gentlewoman.”

Li

This has two meanings: propriety, or the right way of behaving; and ritual; or rites which systematize social life.

LI AS PROPRIETY

Kung Fu-tzu focused on five main arenas for right behaviour: The Rectification of Names, the Doctrine of the Mean, the Five Constant Relationships, Regard for the Family and Age.

The Rectification of Names refers to making sure that everyone has a shared, right understanding of what words mean. In this way, everyone can be of shared meanings.

The Doctrine of the Mean is the “way that is constantly in the middle” between unrealistic extremes. It refers to the Confucian value of moderation in all things.

The Five Constant Relationships are the relationships between:

  • Parent-child
  • Husband-wife
  • Elder sibling-junior sibling
  • Elder friend-junior friend
  • Ruler-subject

Kung Fu-tzu described how each role should be fulfilled.

“Parents should be loving, children reverential; elder siblings gentle, younger siblings respectful; husbands good, wives “listening”; elder friends considerate, younger friends deferential; rulers benevolent, subjects loyal.” (Smith, 1991).

Regard for Family and Age

Kung Fu-tzu was building on the Chinese belief that the family is the basic unit of society. Respect for parents could also be extrapolated to respect for elders generally.

LI AS RITES

Kung Fu-tzu also understood the importance of rites and rituals as means of routinizing and embedding the mores of a society at the individual, family and social level. Rites included public rites such as the way the Emperor would three times a year answer to Heaven, and private rites about how you serve tea to a visitor.

Te

This translates as “power,” but for Kung Fu-tzu it refers primarily to a ruler’s “power of moral example.” (Smith, 1991). If the ruler is a good, righteous person, then this will seep down to local leaders and the wider populous. If people can trust and admire their leader, this leads to the “morale without which nations cannot survive.” (Smith, 1991). Such rulers must not have personal ambitions or be led by their ego, but must want to rule because they have good values. As Thomas Jefferson said, “the whole art of government consists in the art of being honest.”

Wen

This refers to the “arts of peace” – music, poetry, art and culture, as opposed to the “arts of war.” Kung Fu-tzu valued the arts because of art’s power to easily inspire people to be good. He also believed that the nation with the greatest culture would ultimately win hearts and minds.

The Goal of a Confucian Life

For Kung Fu-tzu, the individual’s purpose in life was the become ever more fully human in the context of the social group. There is no “self,” just a centre of relationships constructed through interactions with others (Smith, 1991). “Confucius saw the human self as a node, not an entity; it is a meeting place where lives converge.” (Smith, 1991).

A person becomes a “chun tzu,” a mature or fully realised human being, by infinitely expanding her empathy/sympathy, or “heart-mind,” hsin. As this expands from oneself, to include the family, community, nation, and eventually all of humanity. This shift of one’s empathy from self to family,

“transcends selfishness. The move from family to community transcends nepotism. The move from community to nation overcomes parochialism, and the move to all humanity counters chauvinistic nationalism.” (Smith, 1991).

One could add that the move beyond humanity to encompass Heaven also transcends the finite with the infinite nature of being. At the same time, the self grows deeper and richer through reflection and self-examination in this ever-broadening idea of self-in-society.

The Religious Context of Confucianism

At the time of Kung Fu-tzu, Chinese generally believed that they lived in a continuum of Heaven and Earth. The people who made up Heaven were the ancestors (ti) and they were ruled over by a supreme ancestor (Shang Ti). Heaven was far more important. Earth spoke to Heaven through sacrifices, sharing their goods with the ancestors through sacrificial fires. The ruler of China was thought of as the Son of Heaven, and oversaw the nation’s sacrifices to the ancestors.

Heaven spoke to Earth through signs and omens such as the weather, the stars, animals or bodily expressions such as rashes, twitches, stumbling, buzzing in the ears. People could also use divination techniques to seek out the ancestors’ advice.

Kung Fu-tzu taught a largely pragmatic approach towards this cosmology. He did not engage in discussions about Heaven and Earth, but simply advised people to accept that they did not know many things that were beyond Earth’s understanding. He encouraged people to look after the living first and foremost whilst still respecting and revering the dead.

Sources

Confucius. (1995). The Analects: Dover Thrift Editions. Dover Publications: New York.

Bidwell, Duane. (2004). Short-Term Spiritual Guidance. Fortress Press: Minneapolis.

Smith, Huston. (1991). The World’s Religions: Out Great Wisdom Traditions. HarperCollins: Epub.

Yi-pao Mei. (1929). Motse, the Neglected Rival of Confucius. Reprint. Hyperion Press: Westport CT, 1973.

Tu Wei-ming. “Confucianism.” Our Religions. Ed. By Arvind Sharma. HarperCollins: EPub.

Surrender Without Submission

200314Surrender Without Submission: Reflections on Chapter 1 of Leonard Felder’s The Ten Challenges

Anokhee Yud-Hei-Vov-Hei, Eloheykha, Asheyr hohtseitikha mei-eretz mitzrayim, me-beit avadeem.

I am the mysterious and unknowable name of God (the one who is and will always be your God), who [can] bring[s] you out of a narrow way of seeing things, out of your enslavement and worries.” (Felder, 1997: 17).

Reading the first chapter of Felder’s book, The Ten Challenges, I felt as if I were in a deep contemplative state brought about by Felder’s humble guidance. I realized that I still had a number of blocks to a spiritual life:

  • I still did not have a name for God, a name that I was comfortable with, and this lack was holding me back from being able to pray
  • I still had a somewhat skeptical response to the idea of the God who appeared to Moses in the desert in book 20 of Exodus, due to a childhood version of God I was still subconsciously protecting myself from

Felder asks the reader to imagine what response s/he would have had if s/he were in the desert when Moses went to the top of the mountain and s/he, along with a few others, also felt the voice of God in her heart. I realized that my response would have been “A. I don’t know who you are or what you want for me. Is this some kind of magic trick?” I would have been skeptical and scared of being caught out believing something that turned out to be a lie. I realized that I am still embarrassed of my spirituality, and my spiritual questing.

And I am scared. I am scared that I am going to be caught out as a fool, the gull who believed in a false hope, a silly little girl who believed in God and then found out that there was no such thing, only meaningless day after day after day, in a world where only the dog who eats all the other dogs gets ahead.

Part of me is still that little girl who believed in a God that would take care of me and my family, and then found out that I was on my own and there was no sense to my sister Allison’s suffering and eventual death.

I don’t want to be caught out like that again. Even though I have announced to the world that I am on this path and taking my interfaith studies, there is still a part of me that is holding back.

And as I write this, I feel the need to say this out loud: I honour this part of me and I appreciate what this part of me is trying to do. It is trying to protect me from being hurt in the deepest most sensitive part of myself: my heart. And I want to reassure that part of me, not in a patronizing way, but in an authentic way: I want to promise it, to promise myself, that I will not do anything to allow myself to be hurt like that again. I will be careful this time.

This does not mean I will hold myself back from God. Because there is another part of me that sees the green buds of hope. There is the chance of love, Divine Love. There is a possibility that, as the Taoists write, the Tao is ultimately benevolent. That life has meaning even if it is without goals or points. The meaning is in the living, being, doing. Not the arriving or the getting or achieving.

I make this promise to myself: I will surrender, without submission.

Divine Love. This phrase came to me as I was reading the Felder chapter and it filled me with a sense of warmth and love. Yes, that is my term for God. The words to do with singularity or “One” don’t sit right me with because it is important to me to express the multiplicity in the oneness, the constant change in the eternal. Divine Love fills me with spirit because it is true for me: it expresses the idea of benevolence, sacred plenitude, constant giving and refreshing of the well, an infinite supply of heart.

Reading Felder gave me a name for God. Now I can pray.

Felder includes the Amidah or Standing Prayer of Judaism:

“Blessed are you the Eternal One, God of our ancestors, God of Abraham, God of Isaac, God of Jacob, God of Sarah, God of Rebecca, Rod of Rachel, God of Leah.” (1997: 25).

I think I can adapt this to my own use:

“Blessed be the Divine Love, the Divine Lover and Beloved of our ancestors, Lover of Leo, Beloved of Mary, Lover of John, Beloved of Siew Eng, Lover of Shanghai, Beloved of Rose.” I have substituted my parents and grandparents names here, to personalize this prayer to me. It makes me feel connected across time, and to remind myself in a meditative sense that despite our differences, these ancestors of mine were all humans caught in the same spiral that I am turning blessed.

Felder quotes Christ in the Book of James (2:14): “…faith by itself, if it is not accompanied by action, is dead.” (Felder, 1997: 29). This is affirming to me as well, because I strongly believe that faith is both an attitude of hope towards life and acknowledgement of mystery, as well as an active state towards others. Love is a doing word, and so is faith.

My next steps arising from reading this chapter:

  1. I plan to construct a method of prayer which works for me on a regular basis. Something I feel comfortable with and which reaches out to Divine Love and calls myself to be present in this world and this life. Now that I have a name to pray with and to, I think I can do this. I feel uplifted and hopeful and invigorated and not to skeptical.
  2. Try more spiritual communities. The section on a spiritual community was a call to action for me. I have not found a community with which I feel comfortable to pray. But I need to keep looking. I am inspired by the book to next visit the Baha’is, and perhaps the Friends, to keep looking for a community for spirituality which I can be a part of locally and regularly.
  3. Be open to the universe connecting me with a spiritual guide, counselor or mentor if I need one. Reading this chapter and discovering the blocks I still have around trying to protect myself from a very old, deeply painful betrayal by my childhood version of God, I recognize that I may benefit from external support to connect with a more mature, adult version of God as Felder describes it.

Sources: Leonard Felder. (1997). The Ten Challenges. Three Rivers Press: New York.

My Crib Notes on Taoism

1200px-Yin_yang.svgThere is a being, wonderful, perfect;

It existed before heaven and earth.

How quiet it is!

How spiritual it is!

It stands alone and it does not change.

It moves around and around, but does not on this account suffer.

All life comes from it.

It wraps everything with its love as in a garment, and

Yet it claims no honour, it does not demand to

Be Lord.

I do not know its name, and so I call it Tao,

The Way,

And I rejoice in its power. (Tao Te Ching)

What is Tao?

According to Huston Smith, author of the excellent book, The World’s Religions: Our Great Wisdom Traditions,Tao has three meanings.

Tao is the way of ultimate reality. According to Huston Smith, ‘This Tao cannot be perceived or even clearly conceived, for it is too vast for human rationality to fathom.’ (Smith, 1998).

“The Tao that can be spoken is not the true Tao.” (Tao Te Ching). The author/s of the Tao Te Ching recur to this theme: the ineffable, the transcendent, the primary mystery, “the mystery of all mysteries (Smith, 1998).

Tao is also immanent: it is the way of the universe, the “norm, the rhythm, the driving owner in all nature, the ordering principle behind all life. Behind, but also in the midst of all life, for when Tao enters this second mode it assumes flesh and informs all things.” (Smith, 1998). It is also benign; infinitely generous, open and flowing.

According to Huston Smith, “Charles Darwin’s colleague, George Romanes, could have been speaking of it [Tao] when he referred to the ‘integrating principle of the whole – the Spirit, as it were, of the universe – instinct without contrivance, which flows with purpose.’”

Tao is the way of human life when it meshes with the Tao of the universe…” (Smith, 1998).

Three Forms of Taoism

In China, three forms of Taoism have arisen:

  • Philosophical Taoism
  • Religious Taoism (Popular Taoism)
  • Active Taoism (Smith calls these the “Vitalising Taoisms”)

Philosophical Taoism is not organised as a religion, but essentially is “an attitude towards life” (Smith, 1998). The core principle is that humans should live in a way that conserves life’s vitality by not wasting it through friction and conflict. The concept of wu wei, literally “inaction,” in Taoism means “pure effectiveness” or “creative quietude” (Smith, 1998). Friction is minimalised. The aim is that we align our daily lives with the Tao, “to ride its boundless tide and delight in its flow.”

Creative quietude unites supreme activity with supreme relaxation. The ego yields to the Tao. According to Smith, this is the opposite of Confucianism. “Confucius turned every effort to building a pattern of ideal responses that might be consciously imitated. Taoism’s approach is the opposite – to get the foundations of the self in tune with Tao and let behaviour flow spontaneously. Action follows being; new action will follow new being, wiser, stronger being.”

Taoists reject competition and self-assertiveness, instead promoting humility and disinterest in worldly ambitions. Taoists extend this to nature; humans should not be aggressive towards each other or nature, seeking attunement with nature rather than dominance.

Taoists also adopted the Chinese yin/yang symbol which describes relativity and balance, in which supposed opposites are just phases in an endless cycle in which each eternally turns into its opposite and vice versa. Life does not follow a linear vector, but “bends back upon itself to come full circle to the realisation that all is one and all is well.” (Smith, 1998). Taoists even see good and evil as relative: “He who feels punctured must once have been a bubble.” (Tao Te Ching).

Life and death as complementary cycles in the Tao.

There is the globe,

The foundation of my bodily existence.

It wears me out with work and duties,

It gives me rest in old age,

It gives me peace in death.

For the one who supplied me with what I needed in life

Will also give me what I need in death. (Tao Te Ching)

Active Taoists aim to increase the amount of Tao that they can access. They talk about ch’i, which literally means breath but refers to the power of the Tao that practitioners experience flowing through them or being blocked. Practitioners aim to further the flow of ch’i.

Active Taoists work with matter, movement and mind. Practices have arisen such as acupuncture, meditation, Chinese medicinal herbs, and t’ai chi chuan. This last united yin yang philosophy, martial art and meditation to draw ch’i from the cosmos and remove internal blocks to the flow of ch’i.

Taoists meditators attempt to empty the mind so that the Tao can enter the self. Physical postures and mental techniques are not dissimilar to those of the Hindu raja yoga. In China, Taoists wanted to focus the ch’i they gathered through meditation and yoga, and transmit it psychically to the community.Meditators aim to cleanse and purify their minds and bodies of emotional disturbances and desires in order to reach the mind’s original purity and stillness. They aim in this way to realise the Tao, the ultimate truth. This would be experienced as a sense of joy: everything falling into place.

Religious Taoists built on China’s folk religious practices and Buddhist influences. The Tao Chiao, “Church Taoism” or “Taoist Teachings,” emerged in the second century AD, with Lao Tzu as one of the three originating deities from whom sprung sacred texts which outline rituals for channeling the life force in ways which could be called “magical.”

My Reflections on the Tao

The Tao that can be told

Is not the eternal Tao.

The name that can be named

Is not the eternal Name. (Tao Te Ching)

When I first read these words, they came home to me, they resonated with me.

‘The Tao that can be told is not the eternal Tao.’ I really like how the Tao Te Ching, right up front, acknowledges the unnameability of spirit. The writer gets to the heart of what it means to be talking about something that is beyond and within, that escapes language because it came before language.

It reminds me of the Huston Smith chapter about the indigenous spiritualities of the First Peoples. Smith talks about how significant it is that in, for example, Aboriginal Australian culture, spirituality was experienced in a non-written way. This intrigued me – how would we see the world if we did not write the words down? Then I reflected upon how different this is to the Christian new testament: ‘In the beginning was the Word, and Christ is the Word made flesh.’

There was something formless and perfect

Before the universe was born.

It is serene. Empty.

Solitary. Unchanging.

Infinite. Eternally present.

It is the mother of the universe.

For lack of a better name,

I call it the Tao. (Tao Te Ching)

But back to the Tao Te Ching, which strips things right back to their inner nature. When you do this with the universe itself, what do you have left? Nothing. Literally, no thing. So how do you talk about it? ‘For lack of a better name, I call it the Tao.’

I love this line. It is so direct, and I really like how it has been written in the first person voice, which is really different to say, the Christian bible or the Quran, which are written from a third person narrative voice which gives it an aura of authority, you know, the objective voice of history. In this passage from the Tao Te Ching, the use of first person really brings it home that this is just a regular human being writing these words, doing her best to communicate something which it is impossible to communicate. The basic humour of that is something which I think really colours Taoism, with its crazy riddles and joking monks. There is something earthy about it which really resonates with me, and also something which reminds me of my Chinese ancestry – there is a matter of fact-ness, a down to earthiness, a laughing pragmatism about the Taoist way of relating to the world which I just love.

I think I also see in this use of first person the importance of developing my own personal voice and narrative when it comes to interfaith ministry. It is a profoundly uncomfortable act for me as a female, and an Australian with our deeply culturally ingrained British reserve, to talk about myself. But I am coming around to seeing how useful it will be to find a way to speak in the first person, as the author of the Tao Te Ching did.

 

The Tao gives birth to all beings,

Nourishes them, maintains them,

Cares for them, comforts them, protects them,

Takes them back to itself,

Creating without possessing,

Acting without expecting,

Guiding without interfering.

That is why love of the Tao

Is in the very nature of things.

I love this passage because when I read it, to me it sounded like an excellent set of directions for how to parent – to be like the Tao – and quite possibly, I imagine, how to minister. ‘Create without possessing, act without expecting, guide without interfering.’ That is the best way to parent a child, and I can see myself coming back to this as a guide to how to be an interfaith minister.

References

Arvind Sharma, ed. Our Religions. (New York: HarperCollins, 1993).

Huston Smith. The World’s Religions. (1998).