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I finished James David Audlin's Circle of Life: Traditional Teachings of Native American Elders. I have three items.
1. On page 336, Audlin states:
"The
generations to follow us will be unlike us, the Two-Minded
Generation...They will not say one religion or ancestry is better than
another. They will not blindly insist on one or another way of doing
things. Rather, they will live fully as traditional people, in complete
harmony with each other and all living beings."
On page 338, Audlin draws from a variety of religious traditions:
"The Talmud of Judaism teaches (in Yalkut Shim'oni): 'G-d formed Adam of dust from all over
the world: yellow clay and white sand, black loam and red soil, so that
the Earth can declare to no race or color of humanity that they do not
belong here, that this soil is not their home.' In the Acts of the
Apostles, Peter the disciple of Jesus declares, 'I truly know that G-d
pays no attention to your face [i.e., race], but in every nation those
who fear G-d and do what is right are acceptable to G-d.' The Prophet
Muhammad, on whom let there be peace, is remembered for standing in
respect one day as a funeral went by; according to the Hadith,
when his disciples asked if he realized the deceased was a Jew, he
replied, 'Was he not a living spirit?' Lord Krishna says to Arjuna in
the Bhagavad-[Gita], 'Many are the paths of humanity, but they all in
the end come to me.' The Creator created us all, and not only humans,
but all living things."
I know how a number of conservative
Christian apologists would respond to what Audlin is saying. "Audlin
says that one religion is not better than another, but does not he
presume that his beliefs and way of doing things are better than
others?" "Audlin is quoting selectively from the religious traditions
that he mentions, cherry-picking the parts that accord with his own
ideology. There are exclusivist elements of Judaism, Christianity, and
Islam, which Audlin ignores." I've never actually heard these words
being used to critique Audlin, but I have heard or read similar words
being used to critique religious pluralism.
I think that the critiques are fair, but I don't dismiss religious pluralism. The
reason is that I believe that a number of religions have wisdom and
appear to advocate similar principles of spirituality, or getting in
touch with the sacred. It's important to remember that the religions
have differences among each other, too, and so they're not always saying
the same thing. But there also seem to be commonalities, and I enjoyed
reading Audlin because he traveled between religious traditions in
seeking to communicate profound spiritual points.
2. In
reading this book, I absorbed some things and not others. At some
times, I was passively reading words and was not paying too much
attention to what I was reading. At other times, however, I was deeply
absorbing what I was reading, and the pages went by quickly. This book reminded me of Madeleine L'Engle's Crosswicks Journals and Genesis Trilogy in that it had a lot of spiritual meanderings, and that's a big reason that I enjoyed it.
On some occasions, I needed to reread a section because I felt that I
had glossed over it and missed something profound. This was true of a
story that Audlin tells on pages 98-99.
In this story, there is a
hunter whom many women wanted to marry, and whom many grandmothers
wanted their granddaughters to marry, and yet the hunter was not
interested in marrying anyone. Rather, he was preoccupied with
hunting. One day, when he was out hunting in an unfamiliar area, he saw
a beautiful woman. He gave her some deer and they had a meal together,
and he also looked at what she was weaving. They spent the night
together. The next morning, however, the hunter looked beside him and
saw in the bed a dry and shrunken body, which seemed to have been dead
for a long time. The hunter took the weaving still and returned to his
tribe, wiser and sadder than he was before. He was now seeing in all
women the mystery of the woman whom he had met, and he was sensitized to
the transitory nature of life. He settled down with a woman and had a
family, but he still cried whenever he "took out a bit of old,
unfinished weaving".
I liked this story because of its bittersweet ending, but also on account of the man encountering a woman who lived years ago. I enjoy time-travel stories. Moreover, this story reminded me of an episode of The Dead Zone
from Season 1, "Shaman", in which Johnny interacts with a Native
American from the past in an attempt to save his tribe from a meteor (I
draw from wikipedia's language here).
3. I talked yesterday about Audlin's discussion of Native American eschatology. I should note that Audlin has a series, Seven Novels of the Last Days, some of which are about eschatology. I may read them sometime.
Showing posts with label Circle of Life. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Circle of Life. Show all posts
Thursday, March 14, 2013
Wednesday, March 13, 2013
Native American Eschatology
In my latest reading of Circle of Life: Traditional Teachings of Native American Elders,
James David Audlin talks about eschatology. In reading Audlin's
discussion of this, I thought about Rosemary Ruether's critique of
environmental apocalyptism in her book, Gaia and God. In my post here,
I say that Ruether "criticizes 'militant environmentalists' who expect
'Mother Earth' to rise up 'like a chthonic Jehovah to topple the human
empires and return the earth to precivilized simplicity when humans, in
small hunter-gatherer tribes, lived lightly off the land', apparently
unconcerned that 'most human beings would die in the process' (page
84)." I don't know if Audlin agrees with all of what Ruether criticizes
here, but he did talk about a Native American eschatology that presumes
that nature and the spirits are upset with what humans are doing to the
earth.
On page 332, Audlin refers to Hopi prophecies. He says: "The end is near, the prophecies say, when the House of Mica in the Lands to the East where world leaders meet to resolve issues and settle disputes ignore three times the message of peace and harmony with Nature (as the United Nations has done) and a 'gourd of ashes' is dropped upon the earth (nuclear war). Soon after that, all land and life could be destroyed...unless human beings remember first how to live in peace with each other and in harmony with Nature." This intrigued me because Audlin's interpretation of the Hopi prophecies actually wants for the United Nations to take an active role, a sentiment that you will not see in Tim Lahaye and Jerry Jenkins' Left Behind series (which holds that the UN will set the stage for the Antichrist one world government). But are the Hopi prophecies about the UN? I doubt this somewhat, for the prophecy says that the world leaders meet in the Lands to the East, whereas the UN is located in the west, in New York City.
I'd like to quote something that Audlin says on pages 332-333:
"Elders have told me that this future is all but unavoidable----but that that's not necessarily a bad thing. And that, in fact, it might be a bad idea (or at the least wasted effort) to try to stop it from happening. Just as we are taught not to try to heal someone whose time to die has come but only use palliative medicines to make their passing as comfortable as possible, we should do what we can to provide comfort and safety for all nations. We may need to let the washichu descend into nuclear war. It will be devastating and many people will unfortunately die (though remember there is no death, only a change of worlds, so they will yet live), but, as in homeopathic medicine, the [debacle] will cleanse the Earth of all chemical, mental and spiritual pollution. Mainstream modern culture may already be terminally ill; it may already be impossible to change the direction of this juggernaut enough to avoid annihilation, but its worst effects might yet be blunted somewhat. We can prepare for the time that will follow this nuclear winter, so that the teachings of the traditional ways, the descriptive law of how humans properly live, will still be remembered and taught and followed. That is why I must write this book."
That is a very disturbing passage, and it reminds me of the environmental apocalypticism that Rosemary Ruether was criticizing. I'd say that Audlin is a little more generous towards humanity than are the environmental apocalypticists, however, for he supports ways to blunt the effects of the catastrophe. But he does appear to envision a new beginning: after the earth is cleansed of pollution, people can follow the traditional ways of harmony with nature. Personally, I'd like to think that we can avoid the catastrophe altogether. Of course, the Christian apocalypticism with which I was raised would probably be skeptical that humans can effect any significant good at this stage, and so it looks for Christ to return to cleanse the earth and renew it.
On page 332, Audlin refers to Hopi prophecies. He says: "The end is near, the prophecies say, when the House of Mica in the Lands to the East where world leaders meet to resolve issues and settle disputes ignore three times the message of peace and harmony with Nature (as the United Nations has done) and a 'gourd of ashes' is dropped upon the earth (nuclear war). Soon after that, all land and life could be destroyed...unless human beings remember first how to live in peace with each other and in harmony with Nature." This intrigued me because Audlin's interpretation of the Hopi prophecies actually wants for the United Nations to take an active role, a sentiment that you will not see in Tim Lahaye and Jerry Jenkins' Left Behind series (which holds that the UN will set the stage for the Antichrist one world government). But are the Hopi prophecies about the UN? I doubt this somewhat, for the prophecy says that the world leaders meet in the Lands to the East, whereas the UN is located in the west, in New York City.
I'd like to quote something that Audlin says on pages 332-333:
"Elders have told me that this future is all but unavoidable----but that that's not necessarily a bad thing. And that, in fact, it might be a bad idea (or at the least wasted effort) to try to stop it from happening. Just as we are taught not to try to heal someone whose time to die has come but only use palliative medicines to make their passing as comfortable as possible, we should do what we can to provide comfort and safety for all nations. We may need to let the washichu descend into nuclear war. It will be devastating and many people will unfortunately die (though remember there is no death, only a change of worlds, so they will yet live), but, as in homeopathic medicine, the [debacle] will cleanse the Earth of all chemical, mental and spiritual pollution. Mainstream modern culture may already be terminally ill; it may already be impossible to change the direction of this juggernaut enough to avoid annihilation, but its worst effects might yet be blunted somewhat. We can prepare for the time that will follow this nuclear winter, so that the teachings of the traditional ways, the descriptive law of how humans properly live, will still be remembered and taught and followed. That is why I must write this book."
That is a very disturbing passage, and it reminds me of the environmental apocalypticism that Rosemary Ruether was criticizing. I'd say that Audlin is a little more generous towards humanity than are the environmental apocalypticists, however, for he supports ways to blunt the effects of the catastrophe. But he does appear to envision a new beginning: after the earth is cleansed of pollution, people can follow the traditional ways of harmony with nature. Personally, I'd like to think that we can avoid the catastrophe altogether. Of course, the Christian apocalypticism with which I was raised would probably be skeptical that humans can effect any significant good at this stage, and so it looks for Christ to return to cleanse the earth and renew it.
Tuesday, March 12, 2013
Spiritual Experiences: Discipline and Quiet
On page 286 of Circle of Life: Traditional Teachings of Native American Elders, James David Audlin talks about attitudes to avoid when one wants to receive a vision:
"If we decide in our own minds, 'I am never going to have a vision,' or 'I insist on having a vision,' we make it harder to have the vision that the Grandmothers and Grandfathers may want to bring to us. It's like telling yourself, 'I could never learn to play the piano' or 'I insist on learning to play the piano.' If you tell yourself either, it becomes much more difficult to learn to play the piano. Rather, chant[e] ishta, seeing with the heart, is learning to be quiet within and not make presumptions, so the vision, if there is to be one, may come to us. Gautama Buddha taught well that desire (including anti-desire, or fear) blocks us from progress. Zen Buddhism in particular teaches us how to be quiet within so the delicate wakan presence of a vision, like the sighting of a rare bird or of an albino deer, such as I once saw in Vermont, is not chased off by our loud desires or fears."
What I get out of the above passage is that sometimes we need to get out of our own way in order to have a spiritual experience. Does this accord with what I have seen, read, or heard? I'd say that many have told me that I need to work hard in order to have a spiritual experience. "Keep seeking the baptism of the Holy Spirit", a Pentecostal once told me. "You have to do the first eight steps of the twelve step program, then you will have the spiritual experience that Step Nine talks about", people in twelve-step recovery groups are told. The first century Jewish philosopher Philo of Alexandria believed that, in many cases, an ecstatic spiritual experience came after rigorous asceticism and contemplation. And James David Audlin himself, on pages 273-277, quotes a story about someone who fasted from the comforts of modern life (i.e., hamburgers, television, etc.) and repeatedly cried out to the Great Mystery, but he eventually felt great peace when he accepted the wilderness around him and, in turn, felt accepted by it.
I think that having a spiritual experience does require work, discipline, and preparation. Even James David Audlin says in the passage that I quoted at the beginning of this post that Zen Buddhism has a technique that helps practitioners to become quiet within. I'm sure that takes discipline! But it seems to be the case that the spiritual experience comes when we are at a state of quiet and peace, when we're just open----when we're not despairing that we will never have a spiritual experience, on the one hand, and we're not obsessed over having one, on the other hand. Sometimes, the spiritual experience may come when we're not expecting it. An old man once told me a story about how he was praying on his tractor and, out of the blue, just started speaking in tongues! C.S. Lewis at the end of Mere Christianity says that we will find Christ when we look to Him and not to ourselves.
We can take steps to make ourselves receptive, but when, how, and if we have a spiritual experience is the prerogative of God, as the spirit blows wherever it wishes. But, at the same time, I believe that God loves us, even if we don't have a spiritual experience. That realization can take off of me the pressure to have one, or the despair at not having one, and perhaps it can put me in the position of enjoying God for God's company and being open, whatever happens.
"If we decide in our own minds, 'I am never going to have a vision,' or 'I insist on having a vision,' we make it harder to have the vision that the Grandmothers and Grandfathers may want to bring to us. It's like telling yourself, 'I could never learn to play the piano' or 'I insist on learning to play the piano.' If you tell yourself either, it becomes much more difficult to learn to play the piano. Rather, chant[e] ishta, seeing with the heart, is learning to be quiet within and not make presumptions, so the vision, if there is to be one, may come to us. Gautama Buddha taught well that desire (including anti-desire, or fear) blocks us from progress. Zen Buddhism in particular teaches us how to be quiet within so the delicate wakan presence of a vision, like the sighting of a rare bird or of an albino deer, such as I once saw in Vermont, is not chased off by our loud desires or fears."
What I get out of the above passage is that sometimes we need to get out of our own way in order to have a spiritual experience. Does this accord with what I have seen, read, or heard? I'd say that many have told me that I need to work hard in order to have a spiritual experience. "Keep seeking the baptism of the Holy Spirit", a Pentecostal once told me. "You have to do the first eight steps of the twelve step program, then you will have the spiritual experience that Step Nine talks about", people in twelve-step recovery groups are told. The first century Jewish philosopher Philo of Alexandria believed that, in many cases, an ecstatic spiritual experience came after rigorous asceticism and contemplation. And James David Audlin himself, on pages 273-277, quotes a story about someone who fasted from the comforts of modern life (i.e., hamburgers, television, etc.) and repeatedly cried out to the Great Mystery, but he eventually felt great peace when he accepted the wilderness around him and, in turn, felt accepted by it.
I think that having a spiritual experience does require work, discipline, and preparation. Even James David Audlin says in the passage that I quoted at the beginning of this post that Zen Buddhism has a technique that helps practitioners to become quiet within. I'm sure that takes discipline! But it seems to be the case that the spiritual experience comes when we are at a state of quiet and peace, when we're just open----when we're not despairing that we will never have a spiritual experience, on the one hand, and we're not obsessed over having one, on the other hand. Sometimes, the spiritual experience may come when we're not expecting it. An old man once told me a story about how he was praying on his tractor and, out of the blue, just started speaking in tongues! C.S. Lewis at the end of Mere Christianity says that we will find Christ when we look to Him and not to ourselves.
We can take steps to make ourselves receptive, but when, how, and if we have a spiritual experience is the prerogative of God, as the spirit blows wherever it wishes. But, at the same time, I believe that God loves us, even if we don't have a spiritual experience. That realization can take off of me the pressure to have one, or the despair at not having one, and perhaps it can put me in the position of enjoying God for God's company and being open, whatever happens.
Friday, March 8, 2013
Frightening, Yet Liberating
On page 231 of Circle of Life: Traditional Teachings of Native American Elders, James David Audlin says the following about a Vietnam veteran's experience in a Native American lodge:
"I was told that one of my teachers took a Vietnam War veteran into the lodge, to help the man work through his deeply repressed anger. During the ceremony, his anger came bursting forth in a screaming rage. The vet told me later that, without thinking, he balled up his fist and swung it at our medicine man friend. He felt a hand grab his wrist, forestalling the blow, and hold it still with a great strength the vet could not break----until the anger slowly dissipated. After the ceremony, he asked the medicine man how he was able to see the punch coming in the dark and grab his wrist in time. The medicine man replied, 'I didn't.' Again, it was clearly the spirits."
A number of conservative Christians, were they to accept that story as having occurred, would probably say that the spirits were demons. But why should we assume that? Jesus denied that he was casting out demons through the power of Beelzebub because Beelzebub would not undermine his own kingdom by enabling Jesus to perform exorcisms. Well, in that story that Audlin tells, the spirits are helping a man to let go of his bitterness and anger. They are doing good, in short. Why would demons undermine Satan's own kingdom by helping a man to be released from his emotional pain? So how could one account for the spirits, from a Christian perspective. Perhaps they were angels.
That's not to say that I want to mess around with the supernatural realm, for I actually do fear demons. Perhaps that's because I was raised to do so, coupled with the frightening stories that I have heard about the supernatural. But Audlin talks at great length about how one should not approach the supernatural flippantly, for approaching the supernatural often entails protocol and cleansing, plus the supernatural is frightening. And yet, there is a freedom and a release that come when one experiences the supernatural (at least certain elements of it). Is that not like the God of the Bible, in certain respects? Could the same God be interacting with people of different religions?
"I was told that one of my teachers took a Vietnam War veteran into the lodge, to help the man work through his deeply repressed anger. During the ceremony, his anger came bursting forth in a screaming rage. The vet told me later that, without thinking, he balled up his fist and swung it at our medicine man friend. He felt a hand grab his wrist, forestalling the blow, and hold it still with a great strength the vet could not break----until the anger slowly dissipated. After the ceremony, he asked the medicine man how he was able to see the punch coming in the dark and grab his wrist in time. The medicine man replied, 'I didn't.' Again, it was clearly the spirits."
A number of conservative Christians, were they to accept that story as having occurred, would probably say that the spirits were demons. But why should we assume that? Jesus denied that he was casting out demons through the power of Beelzebub because Beelzebub would not undermine his own kingdom by enabling Jesus to perform exorcisms. Well, in that story that Audlin tells, the spirits are helping a man to let go of his bitterness and anger. They are doing good, in short. Why would demons undermine Satan's own kingdom by helping a man to be released from his emotional pain? So how could one account for the spirits, from a Christian perspective. Perhaps they were angels.
That's not to say that I want to mess around with the supernatural realm, for I actually do fear demons. Perhaps that's because I was raised to do so, coupled with the frightening stories that I have heard about the supernatural. But Audlin talks at great length about how one should not approach the supernatural flippantly, for approaching the supernatural often entails protocol and cleansing, plus the supernatural is frightening. And yet, there is a freedom and a release that come when one experiences the supernatural (at least certain elements of it). Is that not like the God of the Bible, in certain respects? Could the same God be interacting with people of different religions?
Thursday, March 7, 2013
Ceremony, Structure, and Mindfulness
On pages 211-212 of Circle of Life: Traditional Teachings of Native American Elders, James David Audlin talks about the importance of ceremony:
"Among traditional peoples worldwide, the philosophy is, as one Grandmother put it to me: 'Let everything you do be a ceremony. Let just the making of your bed in the morning be a ceremony, in this way to mark an ending and a beginning, giving meaning to the day.' Among observant Muslims and Orthodox Jews there are traditional prayers for just about every act each day----beginning with getting out of bed. The teaching is that everything we do is, or should be, a little ceremony. Even such things as urinating and deficating, for instance, are sacred acts if done respectfully, participating in the cycle of life. Within all the ordinary, washte events of daily life, the wakan is there----as Kabalistic Jews and Sufis know----and it is good for us to remember and respect this presence."
In my opinion, it's good to give days structure. Granted, there may be some days when you want to sleep in or otherwise let things be----a Sabbath, if you will----but it helps if one, on most days, has a reason to wake up. There are alcoholics I know or have heard about who let each day become a blur, and it's recommended that, once they sober up, they attend Alcoholics Anonymous meetings on a regular basis----even each day or multiple times each day. Why? So they can have structure. For a number of people, their jobs provide them with structure and purpose. And yet, it is possible for one to feel that one's job does not provide him or her with purpose. Karl Marx touches on this when he talks about alienation from one's work.
Presently, for me, there are a number of things that provide my days with structure. There is my weekly church attendance and my attendance at my church's Bible study (when my church is holding a Bible study, of course). There is my reading and my blogging. And there is my academic work. There are plenty of times when I wonder if what I am doing is bearing any fruit, in terms of helping people or helping myself to make contacts. Yet, my tasks do give each day meaning and structure.
But I don't think that Audlin is just talking about providing each day with structure, for he's also discussing seeing significance in the tasks of everyday life. This, in my opinion, includes being mindful and grateful for people, places, and things that we often take for granted.
"Among traditional peoples worldwide, the philosophy is, as one Grandmother put it to me: 'Let everything you do be a ceremony. Let just the making of your bed in the morning be a ceremony, in this way to mark an ending and a beginning, giving meaning to the day.' Among observant Muslims and Orthodox Jews there are traditional prayers for just about every act each day----beginning with getting out of bed. The teaching is that everything we do is, or should be, a little ceremony. Even such things as urinating and deficating, for instance, are sacred acts if done respectfully, participating in the cycle of life. Within all the ordinary, washte events of daily life, the wakan is there----as Kabalistic Jews and Sufis know----and it is good for us to remember and respect this presence."
In my opinion, it's good to give days structure. Granted, there may be some days when you want to sleep in or otherwise let things be----a Sabbath, if you will----but it helps if one, on most days, has a reason to wake up. There are alcoholics I know or have heard about who let each day become a blur, and it's recommended that, once they sober up, they attend Alcoholics Anonymous meetings on a regular basis----even each day or multiple times each day. Why? So they can have structure. For a number of people, their jobs provide them with structure and purpose. And yet, it is possible for one to feel that one's job does not provide him or her with purpose. Karl Marx touches on this when he talks about alienation from one's work.
Presently, for me, there are a number of things that provide my days with structure. There is my weekly church attendance and my attendance at my church's Bible study (when my church is holding a Bible study, of course). There is my reading and my blogging. And there is my academic work. There are plenty of times when I wonder if what I am doing is bearing any fruit, in terms of helping people or helping myself to make contacts. Yet, my tasks do give each day meaning and structure.
But I don't think that Audlin is just talking about providing each day with structure, for he's also discussing seeing significance in the tasks of everyday life. This, in my opinion, includes being mindful and grateful for people, places, and things that we often take for granted.
Wednesday, March 6, 2013
Forgiveness, Dealing with Resentment, and Growing Spiritually
For my write-up today on Circle of Life: Traditional Teachings of Native American Elders, I'll comment on something that James David Audlin says on page 176:
"Sometimes, however, adversity comes upon us because of the actions of others, either their inadvertent mistakes or intentional malevolence. In the case of the former we bear the results without anger because no harm was intended, and remember that the person who made the mistake will learn from seeing the sad results. In the case of the latter too, we respond with patience. Many of us have had persons unjustly seek to impugn our honor with attacks on our reputations. These experiences are not evil but a wakan kind of good, for they strengthen us. Such experiences help build up the 'muscles' of our spirit. So we are foolish if we get angry or upset when such adversities come upon us. Instead, we should be glad for them. Jesus teaches, similarly, that we should love our enemies, and do good to those who would hurt us. Once I heard a Vajrayana (Tibetan Buddhist) lama say, 'I am glad when people persecute me! I give thanks to them for their generosity, because they have given me this opportunity to learn better, through practice, the sacred hearts of love and forgiveness.' He doubtlessly was thinking of the teachings of Gadamba Geshay Langritangba, about nine centuries ago: 'When others out of jealousy treat me badly with abuse, slander and so on, I will learn to take all loss and offer the victory to them. When one whom I have benefited with great hope unreasonably hurts me very badly, I will learn to view that person as an excellent spiritual guide.' Though Jesus and the two Vajrayana teachers come out of very different cultures, their understanding on this point is very similar to that of the traditional peoples of this continent."
I should clarify: Audlin does not believe that we should therefore hurt others to help them to spiritually grow, for he says later in the book that harm to others can knock things out of balance. But I do think that he has a point that people who dislike us can provide us with opportunities to grow spiritually. I have gotten upset about inadvertent mistakes, maybe because I worry about getting lost in people's perception and people not noticing me or remembering me, since being noticed and remembered is one way that people today advance. Consequently, when I am unintentionally slighted, I tend to beat up on myself, and I am also mad at the person who slighted me. As far as being intentionally slandered goes, I'm fortunate not to have experienced that (as far as I know!). But I do get upset when people reject me.
Just speaking for myself, forgiveness is easier said than done. I don't want to love my enemies. But I know that taking revenge is not the answer, for it makes things worse----for myself and also for others. One suggestion that people have made is that I should pray for my enemy's well-being every day for two weeks----that I should wish for him the same things that I wish for myself----and then my resentment will go away. They testify that this has occurred in their own lives. I usually have not had the will to undertake such a task, for I do not want my enemies to prosper, after they have hurt me (which is not to say that I will actively work to undermine their prosperity, for I won't). But I can see how the task could help to alleviate resentment, for it puts me into the position of regarding my enemy as a human, with his or her own desires, hopes, and fears. And I'm not praying that he might prosper while I do not, but rather that both of us might prosper.
I do try to see any affliction that I experience or feel as an opportunity for me to exercise my spiritual muscles. Whenever I feel inward desolation, I see that as an opportunity for me to pray and to read my Bible more, for that relaxes me. I would rather attempt to alleviate my bitterness with God's help rather than without it, for I myself am not a spiritual giant. I'm not a Mohatma Gandhi, with the ability to transcend my emotions through a regard for the well-being of humanity. I am where I am. I'm sure that religionists could stand in line and tell me that's not good enough, but the reality of where I am remains. I need God for support as I seek to love others and to forgive.
A number of Christians say that being in Christian community presents opportunities for us to grow, as we get on each other's nerves. Perhaps. I tend to think, though, that being in some communities is like beating a dead horse. If you are in a community and you neither fit in nor find acceptance, then I think that it's perfectly acceptable to try out another community. No community will be perfect, but some may be less toxic for you.
"Sometimes, however, adversity comes upon us because of the actions of others, either their inadvertent mistakes or intentional malevolence. In the case of the former we bear the results without anger because no harm was intended, and remember that the person who made the mistake will learn from seeing the sad results. In the case of the latter too, we respond with patience. Many of us have had persons unjustly seek to impugn our honor with attacks on our reputations. These experiences are not evil but a wakan kind of good, for they strengthen us. Such experiences help build up the 'muscles' of our spirit. So we are foolish if we get angry or upset when such adversities come upon us. Instead, we should be glad for them. Jesus teaches, similarly, that we should love our enemies, and do good to those who would hurt us. Once I heard a Vajrayana (Tibetan Buddhist) lama say, 'I am glad when people persecute me! I give thanks to them for their generosity, because they have given me this opportunity to learn better, through practice, the sacred hearts of love and forgiveness.' He doubtlessly was thinking of the teachings of Gadamba Geshay Langritangba, about nine centuries ago: 'When others out of jealousy treat me badly with abuse, slander and so on, I will learn to take all loss and offer the victory to them. When one whom I have benefited with great hope unreasonably hurts me very badly, I will learn to view that person as an excellent spiritual guide.' Though Jesus and the two Vajrayana teachers come out of very different cultures, their understanding on this point is very similar to that of the traditional peoples of this continent."
I should clarify: Audlin does not believe that we should therefore hurt others to help them to spiritually grow, for he says later in the book that harm to others can knock things out of balance. But I do think that he has a point that people who dislike us can provide us with opportunities to grow spiritually. I have gotten upset about inadvertent mistakes, maybe because I worry about getting lost in people's perception and people not noticing me or remembering me, since being noticed and remembered is one way that people today advance. Consequently, when I am unintentionally slighted, I tend to beat up on myself, and I am also mad at the person who slighted me. As far as being intentionally slandered goes, I'm fortunate not to have experienced that (as far as I know!). But I do get upset when people reject me.
Just speaking for myself, forgiveness is easier said than done. I don't want to love my enemies. But I know that taking revenge is not the answer, for it makes things worse----for myself and also for others. One suggestion that people have made is that I should pray for my enemy's well-being every day for two weeks----that I should wish for him the same things that I wish for myself----and then my resentment will go away. They testify that this has occurred in their own lives. I usually have not had the will to undertake such a task, for I do not want my enemies to prosper, after they have hurt me (which is not to say that I will actively work to undermine their prosperity, for I won't). But I can see how the task could help to alleviate resentment, for it puts me into the position of regarding my enemy as a human, with his or her own desires, hopes, and fears. And I'm not praying that he might prosper while I do not, but rather that both of us might prosper.
I do try to see any affliction that I experience or feel as an opportunity for me to exercise my spiritual muscles. Whenever I feel inward desolation, I see that as an opportunity for me to pray and to read my Bible more, for that relaxes me. I would rather attempt to alleviate my bitterness with God's help rather than without it, for I myself am not a spiritual giant. I'm not a Mohatma Gandhi, with the ability to transcend my emotions through a regard for the well-being of humanity. I am where I am. I'm sure that religionists could stand in line and tell me that's not good enough, but the reality of where I am remains. I need God for support as I seek to love others and to forgive.
A number of Christians say that being in Christian community presents opportunities for us to grow, as we get on each other's nerves. Perhaps. I tend to think, though, that being in some communities is like beating a dead horse. If you are in a community and you neither fit in nor find acceptance, then I think that it's perfectly acceptable to try out another community. No community will be perfect, but some may be less toxic for you.
Friday, March 1, 2013
The Anonymous God and the Separation of Church and State
For my write-up today on Circle of Life: Traditional Teachings of Native American Elders, I'll use as my starting-point something that James David Audlin says on page 134:
"When the chiefs of the Hodenasaunee (Iroquois Confederacy) responded to the 'Founding Fathers'' request for advice, they said the newcomers' idea of freedom of religion was just fine but the idea of separation of church and state would only lead to difficulty. For the original peoples, no such separation is possible. The individual or nation is always at the center of all things and the Creator; this attitude helps these people to see all things as living, sacred and filled with the presence of G-d, and all Creation as numinous."
I enjoyed Audlin's discussion of how certain Native American tribes view the Creator: that the Creator is a parent of creation and communicates to people through visions, dreams, and nature (i.e., we learn about God's omniscience from the eagle, which soars the highest and sees the farthest, and we learn about wisdom and devotion to family from the bear).
Can one believe that God is present in all of life, while still being committed to the separation of church from state? I believe so, in a sense. Joseph did not try to cram the worship of the Israelite God down the Egyptians' throats, but he still represented God by ruling justly and wisely. God is not even mentioned in the Book of Esther, and yet God still appears to be present. A pastor once told me that the lesson of the absence of God's name from the Book of Esther is that you don't have to explicitly mention God to represent him, for you can represent God by being a loving person or a good worker, and God can be at work, even when God's name is absent.
But wouldn't it be better to mention God explicitly than to beat around the bush? When God is not explicitly mentioned and people are simply doing good deeds, why would anyone's mind turn to God? It's like people's knowledge of God is incomplete: they see good deeds, but they are not told about the God who is the author of those good deeds and exemplifies them. They are looking at God through a veil. Consequently, I can sympathize somewhat with the Native Americans whom Audlin discusses: Why not just cut to the chase and allow the authorities to explicitly honor God, without feeling a need to keep religion separate from official society?
That may work in a Native American tribe, where there is probably consensus about religion (or such is my impression). In the early days of America, however, that was not the case, at least not as much. Granted, most white Americans were Christians, but there were different denominations, and there were certain Founding Fathers who would most likely fail the tests of Christian orthodoxy or orthopraxy. The roots of white America were in Europe, which had experienced a number of bloody religious wars, and there emerged a belief that, for the peace of society and out of respect for people's consciences, the government should be neutral about religion, and people should be free to practice whatever religion they wish. Was the United States consistent on this? Not really. There was still a national (and sometimes even official) respect for the Christian religion, and Thomas Jefferson supported state money going to missionaries to the Native Americans. The religious right is not always pulling its narrative out of the clear blue sky! But there was still some fear in the early days of the United States that the government, by embracing a religion, would seek to shove that religion down people's throats and thereby violate people's consciences. That's why James Madison opposed Congress having a chaplain, and it may have been why John Quincy Adams swore on a law-book rather than the Bible.
In a society that has different religions and belief-systems, perhaps separation of church and state is the way to go. But that does not bracket God from the government, for God still exists, as do God's principles of love, compassion, justice, mercy, and wisdom. When it comes to the state and state-funded entities, God in the United States may need to be represented anonymously: leaders can stand for God's principles, and they as individuals can pray to God for his blessing and guidance of America, but they cannot try to impose Christianity on people.
"When the chiefs of the Hodenasaunee (Iroquois Confederacy) responded to the 'Founding Fathers'' request for advice, they said the newcomers' idea of freedom of religion was just fine but the idea of separation of church and state would only lead to difficulty. For the original peoples, no such separation is possible. The individual or nation is always at the center of all things and the Creator; this attitude helps these people to see all things as living, sacred and filled with the presence of G-d, and all Creation as numinous."
I enjoyed Audlin's discussion of how certain Native American tribes view the Creator: that the Creator is a parent of creation and communicates to people through visions, dreams, and nature (i.e., we learn about God's omniscience from the eagle, which soars the highest and sees the farthest, and we learn about wisdom and devotion to family from the bear).
Can one believe that God is present in all of life, while still being committed to the separation of church from state? I believe so, in a sense. Joseph did not try to cram the worship of the Israelite God down the Egyptians' throats, but he still represented God by ruling justly and wisely. God is not even mentioned in the Book of Esther, and yet God still appears to be present. A pastor once told me that the lesson of the absence of God's name from the Book of Esther is that you don't have to explicitly mention God to represent him, for you can represent God by being a loving person or a good worker, and God can be at work, even when God's name is absent.
But wouldn't it be better to mention God explicitly than to beat around the bush? When God is not explicitly mentioned and people are simply doing good deeds, why would anyone's mind turn to God? It's like people's knowledge of God is incomplete: they see good deeds, but they are not told about the God who is the author of those good deeds and exemplifies them. They are looking at God through a veil. Consequently, I can sympathize somewhat with the Native Americans whom Audlin discusses: Why not just cut to the chase and allow the authorities to explicitly honor God, without feeling a need to keep religion separate from official society?
That may work in a Native American tribe, where there is probably consensus about religion (or such is my impression). In the early days of America, however, that was not the case, at least not as much. Granted, most white Americans were Christians, but there were different denominations, and there were certain Founding Fathers who would most likely fail the tests of Christian orthodoxy or orthopraxy. The roots of white America were in Europe, which had experienced a number of bloody religious wars, and there emerged a belief that, for the peace of society and out of respect for people's consciences, the government should be neutral about religion, and people should be free to practice whatever religion they wish. Was the United States consistent on this? Not really. There was still a national (and sometimes even official) respect for the Christian religion, and Thomas Jefferson supported state money going to missionaries to the Native Americans. The religious right is not always pulling its narrative out of the clear blue sky! But there was still some fear in the early days of the United States that the government, by embracing a religion, would seek to shove that religion down people's throats and thereby violate people's consciences. That's why James Madison opposed Congress having a chaplain, and it may have been why John Quincy Adams swore on a law-book rather than the Bible.
In a society that has different religions and belief-systems, perhaps separation of church and state is the way to go. But that does not bracket God from the government, for God still exists, as do God's principles of love, compassion, justice, mercy, and wisdom. When it comes to the state and state-funded entities, God in the United States may need to be represented anonymously: leaders can stand for God's principles, and they as individuals can pray to God for his blessing and guidance of America, but they cannot try to impose Christianity on people.
Wednesday, February 27, 2013
On Seeking a Better Fit
For my write-up today on Circle of Life: Traditional Teachings of Native American Elders, I'll highlight something that James David Audlin says on page 61:
"If you perceive a problem in your relationship with someone, then there is a problem. It is a modern question, not a traditional question, to wonder if there 'really' is a problem or if 'I'm just perceiving one.' Let's say you're married to someone you think is lazy. A traditional person married to this individual would realize that the problem is real simply because he or she perceives it. If another person were married to this individual, the other person might not perceive this individual as lazy. But that only means the laziness wouldn't be a real problem for the other person. All there is is perception, so the very fact that you perceive a problem makes the problem real."
I think that it's a good idea for one to search for people, places, and jobs with which he or she is compatible. Does that mean that a person should bail at the first signs of trouble, however? I wouldn't go that far, for there is no perfect person, place, or situation, and so everyone would have to bend or adapt at least a little bit, even in good situations. In determining whether or not one should bail, one would have to decide what he or she can take, if he or she can work things out, if he or she has any viable alternatives, and if he or she would hurt others by bailing. Moreover, while it's not beneficial to one's mental health to conclude that he or she will never find friends, a significant other, or a decent job because he or she has botched things up in the past, and it is beneficial to remember that some people, places, and situations may be better fits than others, I think that it's also a good idea to try to learn from your mistakes: What did you do wrong that you could have done better? Granted, it's possible for some of you to look back at certain people and conclude that you would have never been able to please them, regardless of what you would have done or wouldn't have done. Fine. That's their problem. But look at your side of the street. Was there anything that you could have done differently or better?
Also, if you do find a good fit, be sure to be appreciative!
"If you perceive a problem in your relationship with someone, then there is a problem. It is a modern question, not a traditional question, to wonder if there 'really' is a problem or if 'I'm just perceiving one.' Let's say you're married to someone you think is lazy. A traditional person married to this individual would realize that the problem is real simply because he or she perceives it. If another person were married to this individual, the other person might not perceive this individual as lazy. But that only means the laziness wouldn't be a real problem for the other person. All there is is perception, so the very fact that you perceive a problem makes the problem real."
I think that it's a good idea for one to search for people, places, and jobs with which he or she is compatible. Does that mean that a person should bail at the first signs of trouble, however? I wouldn't go that far, for there is no perfect person, place, or situation, and so everyone would have to bend or adapt at least a little bit, even in good situations. In determining whether or not one should bail, one would have to decide what he or she can take, if he or she can work things out, if he or she has any viable alternatives, and if he or she would hurt others by bailing. Moreover, while it's not beneficial to one's mental health to conclude that he or she will never find friends, a significant other, or a decent job because he or she has botched things up in the past, and it is beneficial to remember that some people, places, and situations may be better fits than others, I think that it's also a good idea to try to learn from your mistakes: What did you do wrong that you could have done better? Granted, it's possible for some of you to look back at certain people and conclude that you would have never been able to please them, regardless of what you would have done or wouldn't have done. Fine. That's their problem. But look at your side of the street. Was there anything that you could have done differently or better?
Also, if you do find a good fit, be sure to be appreciative!
Tuesday, February 26, 2013
The Don Juan Man, and the Shy Man
For my write-up today on Circle of Life: Traditional Teachings of Native American Elders,
I'll quote something that James David Audlin says on page 37. The
context is a story about a Messenger from the Creator who appears as a
beautiful woman, and a Don Juan sort of man and a shy man respond to her
in different ways.
"Both boys in this definitive moment went to the extremes of their wonted behavior. The one, overly bold with women to the point of turning them into objects for Conquest, here treats a Messenger from the Creator in a most dehumanizing way. The other, overly shy with women to the point of denying the humanity they share with him, fails to see the essential goodness of this Beautiful Woman. There's a particular lesson in all this for men: we men should treat woman in all her individual varieties as if she were the Beautiful One herself, and we also should attempt to get past the outer appearance of a woman to see her essential goodness, her essential humanity."
"Both boys in this definitive moment went to the extremes of their wonted behavior. The one, overly bold with women to the point of turning them into objects for Conquest, here treats a Messenger from the Creator in a most dehumanizing way. The other, overly shy with women to the point of denying the humanity they share with him, fails to see the essential goodness of this Beautiful Woman. There's a particular lesson in all this for men: we men should treat woman in all her individual varieties as if she were the Beautiful One herself, and we also should attempt to get past the outer appearance of a woman to see her essential goodness, her essential humanity."
Monday, February 25, 2013
Festival! Festival!
For my write-up today on Circle of Life: Traditional Teachings of Native American Elders, I'll use as my starting-point something that James David Audlin says on page 12:
"Among many nations, including the Hodenasaunee and Tsalagi (Cherokee), these [New Year] ceremonies were times of sacred chaos, of completely unrestrained behavior, and cleansing. At the New Year itself, the usual patterns of appropriate behavior were suspended. All debts were forgiven. All those punished were released from punishment. Inebriation, sexual activity, and other bawdy behavior were the 'rule' rather than the exception. The purpose of the chaos was to cleanse the psychological detritus from the previous year, so the new year could begin with a clean slate. The newcomers to this continent still have a lingering cultural memory of this ancient worldwide tribal tradition in the exuberant behavior they exhibit on New Year's Eve and Mardi Gras----though it is, ironically, now limited by law and custom, forbidding the healthiest and most purgative kinds of chaotic behavior, such as sexuality, and limiting revelers to the most unhealthy kinds of license, such as drunkenness and rowdy behavior."
Are there any parallels between this and what we see in the Pentateuch? I'd say yes, on some level. The Pentateuch has Yom Kippur, which takes place soon after the Fall New Year, and it is a time of new beginnings, as the Israelites' sins are forgiven and the sanctuary is cleansed (Leviticus 16). At the same time, in contrast to certain other cultures' New Year's festivals (as Audlin describes them), Yom Kippur is not a day of license and partying for the purpose of purgation, for what accompanies the atonement on that day is the Israelites' affliction of their own souls (Leviticus 16:29, 31; 23:27, 32; Numbers 29:7).
But the Feast of Tabernacles is a time of rejoicing and partying, when the Israelites can use their second tithe for "whatsoever thy soul lusteth after, for oxen, or for sheep, or for wine, or for strong drink, or for whatsoever thy soul desireth" (Deuteronomy 14:26, in the KJV). And the Feast of Tabernacles may have been the original new year's festival, since Exodus 34:22 says that the Feast of Ingathering occurs at the coming around (the NRSV renders it "turn") of the year. Do we see in the Feast of Tabernacles a remnant of the ancient tribal tradition that Audlin talks about? Perhaps, but it's worth noting that there is no explicit indication in the Pentateuch that the rejoicing on the Feast of Tabernacles has a purgative purpose; rather, its purpose could have been to celebrate God's role in providing Israel with a bountiful harvest.
On that note, what I thought about when I read that passage in Audlin's book was the festival in the Star Trek episode "The Return of the Archons", though I doubt that the cultures that Audlin talked about had a festival as chaotic as what is on that episode (see here)!
"Among many nations, including the Hodenasaunee and Tsalagi (Cherokee), these [New Year] ceremonies were times of sacred chaos, of completely unrestrained behavior, and cleansing. At the New Year itself, the usual patterns of appropriate behavior were suspended. All debts were forgiven. All those punished were released from punishment. Inebriation, sexual activity, and other bawdy behavior were the 'rule' rather than the exception. The purpose of the chaos was to cleanse the psychological detritus from the previous year, so the new year could begin with a clean slate. The newcomers to this continent still have a lingering cultural memory of this ancient worldwide tribal tradition in the exuberant behavior they exhibit on New Year's Eve and Mardi Gras----though it is, ironically, now limited by law and custom, forbidding the healthiest and most purgative kinds of chaotic behavior, such as sexuality, and limiting revelers to the most unhealthy kinds of license, such as drunkenness and rowdy behavior."
Are there any parallels between this and what we see in the Pentateuch? I'd say yes, on some level. The Pentateuch has Yom Kippur, which takes place soon after the Fall New Year, and it is a time of new beginnings, as the Israelites' sins are forgiven and the sanctuary is cleansed (Leviticus 16). At the same time, in contrast to certain other cultures' New Year's festivals (as Audlin describes them), Yom Kippur is not a day of license and partying for the purpose of purgation, for what accompanies the atonement on that day is the Israelites' affliction of their own souls (Leviticus 16:29, 31; 23:27, 32; Numbers 29:7).
But the Feast of Tabernacles is a time of rejoicing and partying, when the Israelites can use their second tithe for "whatsoever thy soul lusteth after, for oxen, or for sheep, or for wine, or for strong drink, or for whatsoever thy soul desireth" (Deuteronomy 14:26, in the KJV). And the Feast of Tabernacles may have been the original new year's festival, since Exodus 34:22 says that the Feast of Ingathering occurs at the coming around (the NRSV renders it "turn") of the year. Do we see in the Feast of Tabernacles a remnant of the ancient tribal tradition that Audlin talks about? Perhaps, but it's worth noting that there is no explicit indication in the Pentateuch that the rejoicing on the Feast of Tabernacles has a purgative purpose; rather, its purpose could have been to celebrate God's role in providing Israel with a bountiful harvest.
On that note, what I thought about when I read that passage in Audlin's book was the festival in the Star Trek episode "The Return of the Archons", though I doubt that the cultures that Audlin talked about had a festival as chaotic as what is on that episode (see here)!
Friday, February 22, 2013
Primeval Religion
I'm having a hard time getting into Milton Steinberg's As a Driven Leaf, so I may save my reading of that for another time. Instead, I'll be blogging through another book: James David Audlin's Circle of Life: Traditional Teachings of Native American Elders.
In this post, I'll use as my starting-point something that Audlin says on page ix:
"Another elder, despite growing up poor in the rural Ozarks, educated himself magnificently and became an expert on the religions of the world, studies that convinced him that Native American spirituality is but one expression of the true faith of all the Original Peoples."
This reminded me of the scholar Edward Causaubon's attempt in George Eliott's Middlemarch to find the original religion that is behind all of the world's religions. Is this even possible? Was there really a primeval religion----"the true faith of all the Original Peoples"? I remember a professor telling us what she believed was the difference between the University of Chicago's approach to religion and Yale's approach. Yale, according to her, looked at the distinct manifestations of religion throughout history, whereas the University of Chicago sought a primeval religion. I'm not sure how true this is. My impression (from looking at catalogs and the writings of faculty from those institutions) is that both schools look at the distinct manifestations of religion within their historical contexts. It was interesting to me, however, that a professor of mine who got his degree from the University of Chicago began his class on religion by seeking to define what religion was, and by looking at terms that apply to a number of religions. It's like we were going from general to specific rather than focusing primarily on the specific (which was what my Yale-educated professor did----focused on the specific), or at least that we were seeking what various religions had in common.
In terms of primeval religion, I suppose that scholars can look at evidences for the earliest religions that were in the world. There was cave-man spirituality, for example. It was probably very rudimentary, though, in terms of lacking the moral advancement that later religions attained. That being the case, would we even want to embrace the "true faith of all the Original Peoples"?
There are a number of Jews and Christians who believe that the commonalities among certain religions of the world indicate descent from a common religion. If you were to point out the similarities between themes in the Hebrew Bible and themes that appear in ancient Near Eastern religions, for example, many of them would tell you that this is not evidence that the Hebrew Bible merely copied stuff from other religions at the time. Rather, they'd contend, there was a primeval religion, and it got corrupted in the other nations, while the Hebrew Bible preserves it in its purity. I can't really disprove that claim. I wouldn't be surprised if ancient Near Eastern religions had commonalities because they descended from a common source. But I also wouldn't preclude the possibility that there were times when one culture influenced another, and vice-versa. Life can get pretty messy.
In this post, I'll use as my starting-point something that Audlin says on page ix:
"Another elder, despite growing up poor in the rural Ozarks, educated himself magnificently and became an expert on the religions of the world, studies that convinced him that Native American spirituality is but one expression of the true faith of all the Original Peoples."
This reminded me of the scholar Edward Causaubon's attempt in George Eliott's Middlemarch to find the original religion that is behind all of the world's religions. Is this even possible? Was there really a primeval religion----"the true faith of all the Original Peoples"? I remember a professor telling us what she believed was the difference between the University of Chicago's approach to religion and Yale's approach. Yale, according to her, looked at the distinct manifestations of religion throughout history, whereas the University of Chicago sought a primeval religion. I'm not sure how true this is. My impression (from looking at catalogs and the writings of faculty from those institutions) is that both schools look at the distinct manifestations of religion within their historical contexts. It was interesting to me, however, that a professor of mine who got his degree from the University of Chicago began his class on religion by seeking to define what religion was, and by looking at terms that apply to a number of religions. It's like we were going from general to specific rather than focusing primarily on the specific (which was what my Yale-educated professor did----focused on the specific), or at least that we were seeking what various religions had in common.
In terms of primeval religion, I suppose that scholars can look at evidences for the earliest religions that were in the world. There was cave-man spirituality, for example. It was probably very rudimentary, though, in terms of lacking the moral advancement that later religions attained. That being the case, would we even want to embrace the "true faith of all the Original Peoples"?
There are a number of Jews and Christians who believe that the commonalities among certain religions of the world indicate descent from a common religion. If you were to point out the similarities between themes in the Hebrew Bible and themes that appear in ancient Near Eastern religions, for example, many of them would tell you that this is not evidence that the Hebrew Bible merely copied stuff from other religions at the time. Rather, they'd contend, there was a primeval religion, and it got corrupted in the other nations, while the Hebrew Bible preserves it in its purity. I can't really disprove that claim. I wouldn't be surprised if ancient Near Eastern religions had commonalities because they descended from a common source. But I also wouldn't preclude the possibility that there were times when one culture influenced another, and vice-versa. Life can get pretty messy.
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