Void?

I got in a conversation with my friend Kristin the other day about agnosticism. Here's the gist of what I was telling her:

I think deep down I am an agnostic. I think there are a lot of different levels that the term can apply to. The general sense that we use the term generally refers to those who believe that whatever is Absolute cannot be known. Therefore, all our religions aiming at salvation are mere guesses at a reality so far beyond us that there's no hope of truly having any true understanding of it all. I also think that often there is a separation between apathetic agnostics who just don't care and don't like being forced to think hard, and intellectual agnostics who have considered as many angles as possible and given up at the complexity of the whole thing. I think I lean towards the latter. The more I learn of other faiths, of history, and of human experience, the more I feel resigned to this hopeless state. I find myself with this sad thought that maybe all our religion and striving after salvation (however we understand that term) is some kind of means to distract ourselves from the haunting silence we hear in the realm we would like to believe is filled with "God".

The book I just finished reading talked about how Buddhism is a religion that heard that same haunting silence and embraced it. Ultimately, it showed that Buddhism's idea of nirvana has no concern for a 'self' or individual soul and what happens to it in the metaphysical realm beyond ours. Instead, Buddhism tries to deal openly and honestly with the eternal void. Instead of painting a mythic picture of a world beyond the world they accept the silence of the grave and claim salvation to be a return to this silence. Essentially I think Buddhism is a religion for intellectually motivated agnostics. It focuses on intangible, ineffable nature of the Absolute reality beyond ours, and seeks to find some kind of harmony in that unknown.

Talking with Kristin, I remembered the general attitude of the members of my church growing up. I would consistently be advised of who not to read and what not to listen to. Why? Because I would "lose my faith". I have no doubt that they would probably have informed me that seeking to understand Buddhism would be a detriment to my faith. Instead, I should read the Bible through 5 times a year, and read commentaries from 1930something by good doctrinally sound preachers who in reality knew the Bible in its original languages and still had no idea what it said. The basic idea was to surround oneself with a fabricated ignorance for the sake of drowning out all the outside influences that might make me question if my faith was true - like I had stumbled on faith and now I had to surround it with some stale formaldehyde belief system to preserve a faith that was real but not alive. Needless to say it didn't work. So, here I am, with who knows how many million others who tasted the forbidden fruit of "outside knowledge" and have thus slipped into agnosticism. All that, except . . . .

The truth is that the only true faith is living faith. Holding to faith in some formaldehyde jar is worthless, as is keeping a faith which is alive yet still caged up in a like a display in some denominational zoo, so as to say "here is what a good Baptist looks like . . ." So, to the many agnostics who have recognized such worthlessness and left it behind, I salute you. Yet, what of Jesus? Wasn't he one who showed an intrinsic disrespect for tradtion and mechanical doctrinal systems? In fact, I think the gospel has much to say to the situation of agnostics.

Think of Jesus, who grew up under oppression. Imagine the tension he must have felt hearing of a God who loved his people yet let them suffer under foreign rule. Maybe, Jesus too suffered from doubt. Imagine Jesus looking out over an eager Jewish militia ready to terrorize the Roman rulers, and realizing there was no hope that they could beat the Romans, even with God "on their side". Imagine in that Jesus who had a heart for the forgotten members of society, realizing the greed of God's people was the cause of the suffering of those whom God had seemingly forgotten. Imagine Jesus living his life for the sake of seeing the world set as God would have it . . . . and then as his reward, he is struck in the face by religious henchmen and the religious rulers themselves. The "holy" members of Israel's society spit on him. He suffers a flogging that would most likely have killed him, but before he could bleed to death from that, he is crucified to cause the last 6 hours of his life to end in agony that we cannot understand. . . . When Jesus is in the garden praying that all of this would not happen, when he is on the cross crying out, when Jesus "takes on the sins of the world", I am not satisfied with some shallow interpretation that he chose this. Instead on the cross, I see a man looking straight into the most horrifying doubt anyone could imagine. I see a man wrestling intensely with the very thing that religion would tell me to flee: the opportunity to lose faith.

If the members of my church had been right, then Jesus' death could have been much simpler. He could have live out his days well into his 80's with a family, a large school of disciples providing for his needs, and done his best to sheild himself from doubt at all costs. Instead, scorned by God himself, so it seemed, Jesus faced the void that Buddha chose to embrace. And, wrestling back and forth he ends his life with a statement of faith. "Father into your hands I commit my spirit." I don't see this automatically as a triumph. The cross was a defeat into victory. Also this statement, I can see as a hopeless proclamation of hope. An innocent man, an unreconizable Messiah wrestles with the silence of God in the face of his own suffering. Where was God? Why would he allow such a thing to happen? Forget all the attonement theories that didn't come about until decades later. Jesus faced the haunting silence of death, but never gave up. The gospel has plenty to say to agnostics!

And here's the kicker:
To have a faith that matters, we must face our doubts. Wrapping myself in some guise of doctrinal self-assurance may protect me from doubt, but it also proves a straight jacket for true faith. The best news I had heard in some time came a little over a year ago when someone told me that faith doesn't originate with me . . . . let that sink in a little. Faith is a gift. Faith is grace. It is given to us. As a Christian I am not saved by my faith, I am saved by Jesus' faith. He gives it to me. In the face of my gravest doubts, I never need give up. Nor do I need to fear. The greatest freedom that Christ provides us is that we need not be afraid of what we experience. No doubt can separate me from his love. Christ has set me free to face my doubts as he faced his, and still have an informed naivete that allows me to trust, to leave my spirit in God's hands even after I have no reason to believe God is present. He gives me his own faith, one that lives past its own death.

Christian faith sees the same void that agnostics and Buddhists do, but in even in its most obtrusive moments it is a void that only prepares our souls for the emerging symphony. Silence is the fire, the ashes that result are the fertile soil for the intimate harmony that results somewhere beneath what had previously been audible.

"Where others only heard an endless silence, the Jewish, Christian, and Islamic scriptures tell of a people being addressed and claimed by its God. Where others experienced unechoing space and the void, this people was allowed to discover for itself and others that the Absolute can [indeed] be heard and spoken to, that it is a mysteriously communicative and responsive Thou."

Doubt is not to be fled, but overcome. Silence is not cause for resignation, but anticipation that it will be filled. And faith is not projection, but a grace leading to power, freedom, and hope.

A Magnificent Understanding

For those of you who were wondering at the motivation for my last few posts, I've been reading this book that attempts an ecumenical dialogue between Christianity and Islam, Hinduism, and Buddhism. That's why I've been posting on them. I'm up to the final section on Buddhism now, but I have been reflecting a lot on something I learned in the Hinduism section, which, at least to me, seemed quite profound.

Hindus see all living creatures as vessels of spiritual substance. Whether cat, dog, bird or human, if it moves (and in some cases even if it doesn't) it is considered to be what we would basically think of as a "soul". For them all souls are in some sense equal. They are all subject to the "laws of existence" which amount to what we know as karma. This does not mean that all share an equal role, or that their individual lives are of the same value. Thus, not all Indians are vegetarians, because at least for some, their role as human includes eating some forms of meat. But, if one is seeking complete purity, one will try to eat as little meat as one can stand. This is why a tiger can kill people for his whole life, and still manage to not attain bad karma for every time he eats. Though, should a tiger kill an infant human say, then he has obviously stepped outside the limits of his role. Ultimately, all living creatures are seeking the same salvation: to no longer be separated from the Divine Ocean, finding peace in the fullness of Brahman.

Notice in this system that spiritually the animal kingdom is also in some sense "eternal". This could be why to some degree, at least until very recently, the Indian population has shown a much greater respect for the ecological integrity of our world. Where all good "Republican-Christians" would assume it ok to exploit all of the world's forests in the name of bigger mansions for the rich and powerful, Hindus would rather leave the wildlife with a home than chance being reborn as a monkey with no home at all the next go around. Is it any wonder that in America our liberal, ecologically-conscious "hippie" friends would emphatically choose the Bhagavad Gita for their kids to read over the Bible?

But, back to what I found to be profound . . . .
In Hinduism, humans are not different by God's proclamation. Nor does Hinduism does not make humanity distinct based on its cognitive ability. This sets them apart from Western forms of anthropological philosophy. Decartes' rationale of thought being the foundation of being does not apply in the Eastern world. In the east they would agree that we are animals that think, but that is not what sets humans apart. For though tigers and snakes may think differently, they still share the same consciousness, and the same spiritual matter. And, should their karma in the next life raise them to human level, they are capable of having their consciousness tell them of their past lives - even if it was as a butterfly who has no mind at all.

No, instead, humans are different for one reason: they sacrifice.

At first this is a deep meaning that can easily be lost, yet think about it: What other species seeks to communicate with that which is above it? Do chickens sacrifice to us to save their lives? In some ways other species may identify themselves with humans by being domesticated. Yet, none of these would seek such a relationship where they would attempt to appease us. No goat about to be slaughtered would make you some jewelry to sway you to spare it. Yet, this is what humans do. They seek to understand the gods (God) in order to achieve some kind of say in their own destiny. Humans seek to understand the laws that possibly even govern the gods themselves: karma . . . or if you're Christian: love!

Humans are not privilaged as some pinnacle of evolution. We are privilaged because we, more than even the gods themselves, have learned how to communicate for our own sake, and for the sake of anything we choose to care for!

And, maybe here, Jesus has something to offer Hinduism! A deeper understanding of sacrifice! I think without question that the faiths of India are on to something we need: a new concern for the world that we are responsible for. I think our flippant attitude toward the ecological responsibility that we own is a history for which Christians should be deeply ashamed. We need to repent openly, and join the ecological cause that we should have championed all along. Yet, for what we can learn from Indian religion, I think we can also offer an even fuller understanding of what sacrifice is. Sacrifice beyond altars and shrines. Beyond festivals. Beyond animal sacrifice. Beyond monetary contributions. Jesus and the disciples that followed after him offer a greater understanding of how to communicate with God. Instead of funneling our surroundings toward him, we start from within. Self-sacrifice is the primary way to win God's favor. Self-sacrifice is the way to alter ones destiny; to alter humanity's destiny. As we seek to make things as they should be, we serve our brother and sister, and therefore serve the God that is in them.

I think Hinduism's concept of God has taught me much of what it means for God to take on the sin of the world. I see that if God prevades everything, and is the breath in us (atman), then our pain is his pain. I see in Jesus, God teaching us what it is to communicate back to him: not sacrificing our externals as mere smoke to a distant God in the sky, but instead sacrificing our very essence to a God present in the face of our hopeless neighbor. The blood of sheep and goats doesn't cut it - that's not real communication! Instead as a disciple of the One who showed a better line of communication, as a member of a body/church that God himself cannot distinguish from the man who walked the shores of Galilee, I communicate with God by healing the sick, by freeing the oppressed, releasing prisoners, and caring for the uncared for. I know God, I talk to God, I walk with God - all to the degree that I work to redeem the broken humanity that he has incarnated himself in.


I wish that I could say I live up to the magnitude of what I feel at writing this post, but I don't. I've been one who has gotten caught up in the back-biting and bitterness of human existence so much that I fail to seek God in those I am around daily. I am humbled by what God has revealed to me. I hope that soon I will begin to understand more than just the theory of these truths, but have faith that becomes real in action. I hope to find or be found by a community who share this as their passion. I hope that this kind of discipleship goes beyond Sunday school theory and watered-down, pseudo-Christian consummerism, and becomes something beautiful worthy of the name of Jesus, and worthy of the redemption and salvation that we will be blessed contribute to, and experience.

Buddha and Salvation as Spiritual Euthanasia

One time Buddha took some leaves from a tree. Looking at the monks standing by he asked, “Which is more, these leaves in my hands, or all the leaves in the forest?” The monks answered, “The leaves in the forest.” Buddha replied, “It is just as what I have come to know and yet not told you. Why have I not told you these things? Because they would do you no good . . . they would not lead you to nirvana.”

Buddhism in many ways is a profoundly simple religion. There is one driving quest the Buddha sought: to free oneself from suffering. I think I never grasped this until recently. I had always been informed that Buddhism was some religious system competing against Christianity. I had assumed that Buddha had in some ways set himself up as godlike. I had assumed that Buddhism and Christianity were truly and completely incompatible. I now see that though they have strong differences that don’t yield easily to any synthesis, they are not in essence set up against each other.

The Buddha was first a “Hindu”. He was raised in a largely pantheistic culture. This was a culture in which gods existed, but only as extensions of the existence that all share. Ultimately the gods, or even God himself, were contained in the same cycle of existence, called samsara. God too was to repeat the cycle of being. This was the outgrowth of a thousand years of Indian philosophy. Their reflection had revealed that even God who dwelled in a state of joy, suffered from the endlessness of his reality. In this philosophy also, it is not impossible for a human achieving redemption through good karma to ascend to be a god, or one of the great gods, possibly even the God above all. Yet, they do not see this as being ultimately good. Even the gods at some point are reabsorbed into the ocean only to be reborn in the next cycle of existence.

For some time, the idea was that the origin of this cycle was Brahman, the super-personal Divine substance of experience (and different from Brahma, the highest of the gods). To “Hindu” thought, salvation was to return to this ocean. Salvation was being reunited with this source. This is still, more or less, the case today.

Yet, Buddha saw even in this the grim reality that returning to the ocean was not permanent. Eventually the cycle would start anew. Eventually Brahman would again be fragmented and the cycle of karma would start again. Or, if not, Brahman would still exist, and therefore in some way we exist too. Endlessness continues.

Buddha could not separate existence from suffering. He had no true category for endless joy. The laws of existence did not allow anything to remain truly permanent. Therefore all joy was temporary, and thus a short respite before one returned to suffering. Even in the “highs” of existence we experience a degree of anticipatory loss. Brahma himself in his absolute freedom and unending joy suffered the fact that the only way to experience the joy of “being full” was to first be emptied for a time. The cycle of existence propagated because Brahma could not rest content with an eternal joy of fullness, that left nothing to be awaited. The climax of "salvation" left an emptiness of their being nothing left to look forward to, but only to start the whole process over again.

So, to Buddha, a return to Brahman was not the answer. "Heaven" was only another of many temporary highs, that did not solve the problem that to exist is to suffer. So, what was the answer?

To not exist: Nirvana.

In essence all beings are stricken with the disease (read dis – ease, in essence: to suffer) of existing. To Buddha the ultimate salvation was to be euthanized, spiritually speaking. And his whole goal was to share this with humanity. Typically Buddhists believe that when Buddha was enlightened he became omniscient. Thus, we have the quote at the beginning where Buddha says that his knowledge is like the leaves of the forest, but he is only sharing with us the handful which he finds important. To him the only information that mattered was that which allowed one to escape from suffering. Questions of God, of epistemology, of what it all means for the world, of justice or truth, of society were all superfluous. All that matters is entering into nirvana, and escaping this cycle of pain. Buddha offered no explanation for nirvana. One can speak with a Buddhist and hear then speak of it as a continuing in discontinuity. It is a paradoxical place, and Buddha left it vague. And, even if our most pessimistic attitudes toward nirvana are true, in Buddha's opinion, it is still better than the harsh reality we live in where the only joy we have is seeking temporary highs to numb our misery.

And in understanding his point of view, I can at least empathize with his desire. If one sees no other way than to suffer, then a spiritual euthanasia is in the least understandable as a concept of salvation.

Yet, what of Jesus? In him we find that salvation is not just a freedom from suffering. Of the millions of saints who have followed him, all have suffered. Jesus’ path is not one of escaping suffering. It is one of enduring, even embracing, the world’s curse to achieve a salvation that is greater than a spiritual euthanasia.

Perhaps, Christianity has at least a partial synthesis between Buddhism’s options of suffering (existence) and non-suffering (nirvana): love. Not love as a temporary high. Love as a choice that chooses purposely to suffer because good is born of it. We hold that love is not just a precursor to further suffering, but instead is permanent. This idea is one I have no question a Buddhist would reject, but nonetheless would provide an interesting topic for dialogue.

Genocide and Redemption

"When the trumpets sounded, the people shouted, and at the sound of the trumpet, when the people gave a loud shout, the wall collapsed; so every man charged strait in, and they took the city. They devoted the city to the Lord and destroyed with the sword every living thing in it - men, women, young, old, sheep and donkeys." - Joshua 6:20-21

First let's get it out in the open: this is biblical genocide! Please let's not try and sugar coat this passage. Let's not stick to our cheesy felt-board Bible class images. If this event happened, it was a bloodbath of the kind that they can't show in rated R movies. We have here the report of God-sactioned genocide, killing not just men, but women, infants, and elderly without exceptions. Not only this, but also the livestock that would allow any escapees to start over. Not only this, but realize this is considered God's will! Israel is chosen (though in reality not considerably holier than those of Jericho) by God, and so, justified in committing horrendous attrocities of which Rwanda was a close parallel.

What does this say about God? I am repulsed by the shallow, fundamentalist interpretation that this was just. Killing an infant is never just. In the history of the world it never has been, nor will be just. I am likewise sickened by the triumphalist attitude that dehumanizes the Canaanites in this story. I don't care if it's in the Bible, it's wrong. This story is a story of shame. In my opinion it is a mythical depiction of all the lowest points in human history.

So, how is this God's will???

One thing I think we forget, is that this system of warfare was characteristic of the time period. The sad reality is that it was typical for any side to commit genocide in this time. The sad fact too, is that these groups were culturally and ethnically of extreme similarity. Most likely they shared very similar languages and customs. Historically it appears that the Israelites were so similar to Canaanites that they cannot accurately be distinguised from them in most cases. Again the parallel to Rwanda is shocking: the differences were not truly ethnic, but in most appearances just superficial labels between social groups vying for political/economic power. In all likelihood Jericho would have happened in this situation whether God had been involved or not. Genocide was going to occur with or without God.

Funny then that God actually plays the role of the protagonist all the way through Joshua and Judges. What is going on here?

I think that human history is one of becoming aware of the subtle God that transcends the messed up world we live in. Let's keep in mind that Joshua is not one of the "five books of Moses", and therefore is of lesser status. It is not the core of Judaism. In Joshua we see Israelites writing a mythic history of a God they are only gradually becoming aware of. It is biased. This book, like most of the OT, is written from a very ethnocentric, racist perspective. But, before we condemn it, let's consider what other perspectives were there at the time among this area of the world?

. . . And here is the amazing, untold story of the Bible: The process of Humanity's salvation!

Where else could God have entered into the bleak history of ancient Palestine? Should he have waited until there was peace? If so he never would have come. And, what would that say of God, to wait until things were perfect to show up? No, God is willing to start with a people even as they betray their own humanity. In the moments where we become less than animals, God is still present.

I would blame no one for rejecting Judeo-Christian religion based on the contents of Joshua . . . were that the end of the story. Yet, what does God do from there? He proceeds to call this people to a higher morality and a truly unique ethic. He demands it of them. He continually reveals and re-reveals his true character to them. The misconceptions and fanatacism of Joshua give way to the charitable call of justice, mercy, and redemption in Isaiah. The Bible begins to uncover the way in which God is mending humanity.

And here in is where I see a Divine Beauty: we are given the story of Israel, but we begin to see the story of Humanity as a whole. In this story we don't find God entering into a fleeting moment of peace to reveal his will. No, God's story begins in Palestine, a seething backwater of ethnic hatred and inhumanity. In essence, God gets to work cleaning up the s**t of our world. Of course his name is invoked for evil; had the Jerichoites been on the offensive they would have invoked their gods for the same purposes. The difference is the way in which YHWH transforms this people. Where other gods served their people, He redeems his.

This is what I find so completely unique to Jesus. In one man, God displays his character. Jesus does not invoke God to aid in a Jewish campaign of Roman genocide. Rather, he suffers inhumanity to make us human. God's work is finished in that he finally reveals what he intended from the start: to see hatred quenched, and us working toward Eden.

I find it challenging to read Joshua and say the Bible has no errors. Genocide is wrong regardless of what book it is recorded in. Yet, the authors of Joshua were seeing, if only dimly, who the main character of history is, and perhaps just beginning to grasp that this subtle, eternal being, had a will. There in the record of humanities darkness, we gain partial understanding of He who we most desire. The whole Canon proceeds in revealing Him more, and clearer. It reveals his dealings in and through us. The Bible records the process of Humanity's salvation: it gives us a history of God freeing our hearts to absorb evil, overcome it, and rebuild the Glory our spirits know has been lost.

Hinduism: A Religion That Doesn't Exist

Imagine if you will someone coming to Texas and seeing the variety of Christian faith in this state. We've got Catholics, Protestants, and a seeming overpopulation of Evangelicals. Upon seeing this, and seeing that we all share some beliefs in common, they declared all of us to be adherents to Texanism. They proceed to write books about it, and come up with methods of evangelizing all Texans (which has now become a religious term).

This is basically what Westerners have done with the religions of India. And, most Indians look think of us as being basically just as ridiculous as we would think someone who declared Texanism to be a religion.

Originally Sanskrit was the language of India. In Sanskrit, the name of the valley which birthed Indian culture was Sindhu. Later in world history this area was taken over by the Persians who couldn't say Sindhu very well, so they transliterated it to be the Hindu valley. Soon there after the Greeks who didn't speak Persian or Sanskrit, deemed it the Indos valley. And, a couple thousand years later, the English called it the Indus valley - which lead to the whole land being known as India.

When Islam began overrunning the Indian plain, they did not have much of a category for a pluralistic society. They expected that all religions would show some kind of basic doctrine, sort of like their own. Therefore Muslims could pick out the Buddhists who all shared the same basic beliefs, but they weren't quite sure what to do with everybody else. So, soon the Muslims had divided the people of India into Buddhists and non-Buddhists. Or Buddhists and everyone else in the land: and in borrowing the Persian name for the land, "everyone else" became Hindu.

Soon thereafter the colonial Brittish decided that they were tired of trading with India to get tea, and decided the best way to not have to trade was to take the whole place over. This lead to some interesting cultural encounters. And, this lead to one slight problem: since colonial Brittain wasn't known for esteeming cultures that they conquered, they didn't do a very good job of gaining a decent understanding of Indian culture or religion. Being the politically incorrect people that they were, they assumed the best place to get a working knowledge of Indian culture was from the Muslims whose belief system didn't strike the Brittish as being quite so horribly ridiculous as the gross paganism of the Indians. Soon all the English textbooks had adopted the Muslim opinion of Indian culture, and all religious non-Buddhist/non-Muslims in the area were deemed "Hindus".

Therefore, Indians didn't create Hinduism, Westerners did. And, when we speak of Hinduism, we may not realize it, but we are really speaking of a religion that doesn't exist. We made it up for our own ease, because in essence we're lazy and don't really care that much. Yet, unfortunately for us, our simplified categories do not necessarily share a direct correlation with reality.

When we speak of Hinduism, we are actually speaking or a conglomeration of hundreds of religions and philosophies that have accumulated over thousands of years in the Indus Valley. The interesting thing is that in spite of the varying religions, a similar culture is shared. This culture has a phenomenal capacity to integrate and absorb conflicting systems into one overarching paradigm. Of the hundreds of religions, most have some continuity in their origins, terminology, myths, piety, and guiding philosophies. But, that does not mean they are the same religion, or that they are all just sects of the same system. The "system" is a Western creation. We made it because we're too lazy to learn of the basics of 15 different major Hindu religions. It's much easier to say, "hey, they're all from the same spot, let's just lump them together".

So, the gist is: don't speak of Hinduism as though it is a religion. The term is established, and doesn't appear to be fading away. But, when using it realize you are mostly referring to geography and shared culture, not a religion.