Some rumblings from my Bangkok hermitage.
27 January 2024.
This is not an argument for or a defense of the thesis that there is a universal creed under all the vagaries of the religious expressions of humankind. That's an old theosophical trope. I refuse to engage its tired argument or bask in its self-justifying cliches though I’d like to make a joke if I could. I always hope that the right words will coalesce at an opportune moment but my jokes are usually pretty lame. Regardless, all day yesterday and this morning I have been tossing around odd impressions and telltale fragments from three conversations that have cleared the horizon of my recent thinking.
The first thread of this conversation is Joan Didion, a woman writer whose creativity and imagination and skill we have rarely seen on our American continent. I was watching a documentary about her on Netflix. She said that in the 50’s when she got her first job out of college and moved to New York from California to take the coveted position as a staff writer at Vogue, she could easily identify the women executives who made the decisions at the magazine. They all wore hats and gloves. The “girls” who did the work, the staff writers, secretaries, stylists, copy editors, and mailroom clerks did not wear hats except when the weather dictated. Having just researched Saint Charles Borromeo for another piece, and seen his gold mitre and stole, I thought there might be a universal dress code embedded in human nature: you know who’s in charge by their hats.
The second thread of conversation has to do with the theological term transubstantiation. Perhaps it has been elevated to the level of doctrine, but it’s certainly not a term that would even have been recognized among early Christian believers, not even the Grecophile Paul. My twisted mind flashed to Og Mandino’s characterization of Paul as “The Greatest Salesman in the World,” without whom, according to the Think and Grow Rich crowd, the gospel would have languished in the backwaters of Judea. But I think that the credit has been misappropriated: the honor belongs to Aristotle who, mixed in with a few Neo-Platonists, really deserves credit for promoting the Jesus sayings, stories and beliefs in the predominant culture. A simple test proves my point. Would you say that in the seminary curriculum post Reformation and certainly in the Jesuit Ratio, was Thomistic theology given equal weight with textual study of the gospel texts? Clearly more. We learned more, or spent more time studying Aristotle's notion of substance than we did about the possible early forms of liturgy. This is a snapshot of Aristotle’s chokehold on our thinking, locking in definite notions about the nature of God, the divine characteristics of the Lord Jesus as Son of God as well as the continued presence of the Lord in our midst. Q.E.D Maybe Jesus and Aristotle deserve equal doses, but actually, Aristotle gets the upper hand because he allowed for science and logic to sneak in the backdoor..
And the third strand of this thread comes from a conversation that I had with my Zen teacher Ed Oberholtzer a few weeks ago. He said that he felt that our thinking about theological matters is hedged in by imagined people, places, times and events. We think that without the Lord Buddha sneaking out of his father’s castle on or about 563 B.C.E., we would not have the possibility of being enlightened. Then he said it is entirely possible, even probable that some group besides Buddhists would hit on the right conditions to produce that insight that is liberating, “maybe even that group of former Jesuits you talk about.” It is probable that this insight is reproducible, and given the realm of human possibilities, that it has already been replicated. We just haven’t heard about it. Do I nominate Bob Kaiser, Bob Brophy, Pope Francis, or Marko Ivan Rupnik for Zen Master?
Bad jokes aside, where does this lead and what are the conditions that make this experience of enlightenment or liberation possible?
The first condition has to do with those hats. It’s not that an examination of past decisions is not interesting, important or even valuable to our exploration, but let’s not be distracted by fancy hats. They are just culturally conditioned fashion. The colorful signs of power were among the first things that the Reformers cut when their movement gained traction about 500 years ago, but it was not too long before a new style was in vogue and captured the imagination of the people they wanted to win over. So in any case beware hats. Don’t hesitate to wear a rainhat in monsoon or a toque when your ears might freeze. And give the drag queens a lot of leeway. They keep us honest, but recognize that the texts that made it to the inked pages were put there by the women who wore the hats.
The second condition has to do with the limitations of human thinking. It’s always difficult to thread the needle isn’t it? It’s more difficult when you’re wearing a straight jacket but think it’s a Roman toga. So much of what I currently “think about thinking” or even “non-thinking” has to do with my work with the concepts derived from the Nagarjuna School of Buddhism that I feel a bit tongue tied. I often think that I don’t have enough time left to fully appreciate the contribution that this revolutionary thinker made in the development of the Mahayana, and that makes me feel like I’m probably missing something important. Still the lessons that I’ve learned by trying to understand the thinking of the Mahayanist, and especially the Zen guys I spend most of my time with, changed my life. I did the most difficult training, the one that I undertook in a rigorous way that young people usually do when they first start to ask the hard questions about life in a system that pretended to be open when in reality it was designed to answer objections rather than explore. That in itself allowed me to see its limitations. Following a line of thought is just that. It doesn’t lead to the discovery of truth with the big “T.”
I also really appreciate that this use of the brain is groupthink, and I don’t mean the usual negative connotation of the phrase, but rather thinking together in a group of men and women to really get it. This makes me appreciate the many parts of managing an open conversation with lots of people contributing.
And the third condition is the one that Ed alluded to. It was in the context of some koan work that we've been doing for several years, but his point was that even if all the great Masters of the non-dual way were extinguished and their writings disappeared, it would not be forever before some other humans discovered this unique and powerful way of looking at our world, ourselves, and our interactions. Although not immediately recognized or available, It is not divinely revealed, and its discovery is not confined to a particular time and place. Given that there are hundreds, perhaps even thousands of men and women, possibly including some Jesuits, who have demonstrated that they are themselves Buddhas, well you get my point.
The joy and promise of this fact about Buddhism is often hidden or disguised. It is very hopeful. The implications of it are revolutionary: we only have this moment and this place in these particular circumstances to work with which is why the day that I have fretted over writing this and making it sound rational and cogent and persuasive might have been a waste of time, but I had some fun which is not a forbidden pleasure,
