I would like to make a clarification concerning this blog and all past and future blog posts. While at times it may seem that my posts claim to state an absolute truth, that is the wrong impression. In reality, all of my posts are merely my opinion. In fact, they could be completely false.
So, if I say in a future blog post "this is so", realize that I do not actually mean what I write. I am always open to the possibility that I could be wrong. Keep that in mind.
Saturday, March 31, 2012
Monday, March 5, 2012
One Eye: Meister Eckhart and D&C 76
Eckhart von Hochheim, also known as Meister Eckhart, was a German mystic and theologian who lived in the 13th and 14th centuries.
Highly controversial in his own time, his ideas are a beautiful interpretation of the time's Christian faith. One of the my favorites of these ideas is as follows:
“The eye through which I see God is the same eye through which God sees me; my eye and God's eye are one eye, one seeing, one knowing, one love.”
This wonderful quotation expresses an idea I hold very close to my heart, that God experiences what we do. He thinks our thoughts, hears the things we hear and sees the things we see. Interestingly enough, the D&C expresses almost exactly the same idea in Section 76 (verse 94):
"Those who dwell in his presence are the church of the Firstborn; and they see as they are seen, and know as they are known, having received of his fulness and of his grace."
This expresses that those who dwell in God's presence shall "see as they are seen" and "know as they are known". These expressions, although they may seem cryptic, are actually quite clear. For what does it mean to "see as you are seen"? I would imagine that it signifies my potential ability able to see through God's (or anyone else's) eyes and look at myself. Because I potentially perceive the world through the eye with which God is already looking, we would have "one seeing".
"Those who dwell in his presence are the church of the Firstborn; and they see as they are seen, and know as they are known, having received of his fulness and of his grace."
This expresses that those who dwell in God's presence shall "see as they are seen" and "know as they are known". These expressions, although they may seem cryptic, are actually quite clear. For what does it mean to "see as you are seen"? I would imagine that it signifies my potential ability able to see through God's (or anyone else's) eyes and look at myself. Because I potentially perceive the world through the eye with which God is already looking, we would have "one seeing".
The above scriptures also has another implication. Namely, if we "see as we are seen", the vision "in-to-out" and "out-to-in" are the same. This means that inside and outside are really just two ends of the same thing. This scripture magnificently unifies subject with object, signifying that they are one. This personally brings me immense comfort, as I oftentimes feel cut off from the rest of being.
Thank you for reading. Please comment!
Sunday, February 26, 2012
Mere Christianity, Zen, and Being Saved After All that We Can Do
Lately, I've been really impressed by C. S. Lewis.
Though I read the Chronicles of Narnia a long time ago, I have refrained from reading his more adult-oriented books for a long time. This is partially out of laziness and partially because I was suffering under the delusion that an orthodox theologian and author could not be profound. I could not have been more wrong. I read the Screwtape Letters first, and was shocked. What I thought would be satirical moralizing was actually full of penetrating spiritual insights. I soon become hooked on Lewis. Ravenous for more, I began Mere Christianity. I was initially disappointed, as its beginning was surprisingly un-profound. However, I soon discovered that it was due to Lewis' covering of the basics. As soon as he swam into "deeper waters", the amazing spiritual insights came back. Just before I began writing this, I came across one that was so amazing that felt compelled to share it and the connections I made with it. That's what this blog post is about.
The stupendous spiritual insight about which this post concerns can be found in the two chapters where Lewis discusses the phenomenon of faith. In the first chapter he gives a fairly practical definition, namely that faith is "the art of holding on to things your reason has once accepted, in spite of your changing moods". A little un-profound, eh? No matter. He spends the next one-and-a-half chapters defining faith in a second, greater way. He begins by making the following observation:
"The main thing we learn from a serious attempt to practise [sic] the Christian virtues is that we fail."
In other words, the inevitable result of an attempt to follow the Christian virtues to the letter is failure. We will fall short, one way or another. However, this does not mean that we should give up at the get-go. On the contrary, the realization of our inadequacy and the tireless effort that results in it are integral to our spiritual development. Lewis explains how in the next passage:
"All this trying leads up to the vital moment at which you turn to God and say, 'You must do this. I can't.'"
We give up. The ultimate result of your continued trying and the subsequent realization of your shortcomings is that you stop trying to be virtuous (in a sense) and instead "leave it to God". This does not mean that you cease to be a virtuous person. Instead, if you have really handed yourself over to God, it means that you are trying to be virtuous in a new, less worried way. In Lewis' words, "not doing these things in order to be saved, but because He has begun to save you already". Furthermore, this giving up means that you put all your trust in God, trusting that Christ will share his perfect obedience with you and make you a man more like himself.
Essentially, Lewis observes that if you give yourself up to God after trying as hard as you can and inevitably failing, God will act through you to make you a virtuous person. This struck me as incredibly familiar, in two ways. One of them will probably be familiar to any practicing Mormon, but I'll treat that second. First, this reminded me of the teacher-student interactions in Zen Buddhism (as I understand it from the various Alan Watts lectures I have listened to). In Zen, the goal is to eliminate the illusion of the ego. However, Zen acknowledges (perhaps implicitly) that nearly everyone will cling to their ego-hood no matter how much you try to persuade them that it doesn't exist. It is like a a person who is convinced beyond all doubt that the world is flat. How do you convince them otherwise? You can't persuade them, so the only way to show them the error of their belief is to actually walk them around the circumference of the world. Similarly, a Zen master tries to show the student the ego is illusory by demonstrating it to him. He does this by presenting him with double-binds (as Watts terms them), such as a challenge "to be spontaneous". Obviously, the attempt to be spontaneous is directly opposed to actual spontaneity. The idea is that after you have engaged in this futile struggle for too long, you will realize that the whole game is based on the idea of the ego. It is the ego that is trying to be spontaneous, and it is impossible to try to be spontaneous because the ego doesn't exist! So as soon as the Zen student sincerely gives up on the double bind, he realizes the illusion of his ego. I trust you see the similarity. Just as the Zen student's giving up on the impossible double-bind leads to the realization of his ego's illusion, the Christian's giving up on the impossible quest to follow Christian virtues leads to his salvation.
If one recognizes some truth from Zen, (which I do) we can make some important connections. First, we realize that Christian virtues can be seen as a double-bind. It is impossible to follow them exactly, so perhaps they have some purpose behind them other than simply the quest to obey. That brings us to the second connection. Perhaps there is something in common between realizing the ego is an illusion and letting Christ take over. Here is my postulate: Christ atoned for the entire world. One could say that he experienced everything that can be experienced. It all has its commonality in Christ, as he brings everything together in his infinite atonement. Thus, we cannot say that anything exists separately from anything else. However, if one tries to perform Christian morals, inevitably your first attitude is opposed to that truth: we all see ourselves as alone. So when we give ourselves up to Christ, we acknowledge the connection that binds us to God, and realize that we cannot do anything without God doing it as well. But here's the key: we must labor under the delusion that we try to perform virtuous acts on our own because there is no escaping it by evasion. We must labor through it until the very impossibility of the quest reveals the escape to us. Furthermore, perhaps that is what the commandments are for: they are a gauntlet through which we lose our isolationist delusions.
The second connection that Mere Christianity spiritual insight (and the Zen connotations it has in my mind) has is a oft-repeated Mormon aphorism that "we are saved after all that we can do". I used to not like this phrase, as to me it reeked of moralism and earn-your-way-to-heaven theology. I now understand that does not merely consist of God deciding what is "all that we can do" and then rewarding us accordingly. Instead, it means that, in this life or the next, our tireless effort directly causes the realization that leads to our salvation. Indeed, I believe that C. S. Lewis's spiritual insight is precisely what this aphorism is talking about: when we have tried as hard as we can, the inevitable realization that we cannot possibly achieve salvation alone causes us to give ourselves up to God.
Though I read the Chronicles of Narnia a long time ago, I have refrained from reading his more adult-oriented books for a long time. This is partially out of laziness and partially because I was suffering under the delusion that an orthodox theologian and author could not be profound. I could not have been more wrong. I read the Screwtape Letters first, and was shocked. What I thought would be satirical moralizing was actually full of penetrating spiritual insights. I soon become hooked on Lewis. Ravenous for more, I began Mere Christianity. I was initially disappointed, as its beginning was surprisingly un-profound. However, I soon discovered that it was due to Lewis' covering of the basics. As soon as he swam into "deeper waters", the amazing spiritual insights came back. Just before I began writing this, I came across one that was so amazing that felt compelled to share it and the connections I made with it. That's what this blog post is about.
The stupendous spiritual insight about which this post concerns can be found in the two chapters where Lewis discusses the phenomenon of faith. In the first chapter he gives a fairly practical definition, namely that faith is "the art of holding on to things your reason has once accepted, in spite of your changing moods". A little un-profound, eh? No matter. He spends the next one-and-a-half chapters defining faith in a second, greater way. He begins by making the following observation:
"The main thing we learn from a serious attempt to practise [sic] the Christian virtues is that we fail."
In other words, the inevitable result of an attempt to follow the Christian virtues to the letter is failure. We will fall short, one way or another. However, this does not mean that we should give up at the get-go. On the contrary, the realization of our inadequacy and the tireless effort that results in it are integral to our spiritual development. Lewis explains how in the next passage:
"All this trying leads up to the vital moment at which you turn to God and say, 'You must do this. I can't.'"
We give up. The ultimate result of your continued trying and the subsequent realization of your shortcomings is that you stop trying to be virtuous (in a sense) and instead "leave it to God". This does not mean that you cease to be a virtuous person. Instead, if you have really handed yourself over to God, it means that you are trying to be virtuous in a new, less worried way. In Lewis' words, "not doing these things in order to be saved, but because He has begun to save you already". Furthermore, this giving up means that you put all your trust in God, trusting that Christ will share his perfect obedience with you and make you a man more like himself.
Essentially, Lewis observes that if you give yourself up to God after trying as hard as you can and inevitably failing, God will act through you to make you a virtuous person. This struck me as incredibly familiar, in two ways. One of them will probably be familiar to any practicing Mormon, but I'll treat that second. First, this reminded me of the teacher-student interactions in Zen Buddhism (as I understand it from the various Alan Watts lectures I have listened to). In Zen, the goal is to eliminate the illusion of the ego. However, Zen acknowledges (perhaps implicitly) that nearly everyone will cling to their ego-hood no matter how much you try to persuade them that it doesn't exist. It is like a a person who is convinced beyond all doubt that the world is flat. How do you convince them otherwise? You can't persuade them, so the only way to show them the error of their belief is to actually walk them around the circumference of the world. Similarly, a Zen master tries to show the student the ego is illusory by demonstrating it to him. He does this by presenting him with double-binds (as Watts terms them), such as a challenge "to be spontaneous". Obviously, the attempt to be spontaneous is directly opposed to actual spontaneity. The idea is that after you have engaged in this futile struggle for too long, you will realize that the whole game is based on the idea of the ego. It is the ego that is trying to be spontaneous, and it is impossible to try to be spontaneous because the ego doesn't exist! So as soon as the Zen student sincerely gives up on the double bind, he realizes the illusion of his ego. I trust you see the similarity. Just as the Zen student's giving up on the impossible double-bind leads to the realization of his ego's illusion, the Christian's giving up on the impossible quest to follow Christian virtues leads to his salvation.
If one recognizes some truth from Zen, (which I do) we can make some important connections. First, we realize that Christian virtues can be seen as a double-bind. It is impossible to follow them exactly, so perhaps they have some purpose behind them other than simply the quest to obey. That brings us to the second connection. Perhaps there is something in common between realizing the ego is an illusion and letting Christ take over. Here is my postulate: Christ atoned for the entire world. One could say that he experienced everything that can be experienced. It all has its commonality in Christ, as he brings everything together in his infinite atonement. Thus, we cannot say that anything exists separately from anything else. However, if one tries to perform Christian morals, inevitably your first attitude is opposed to that truth: we all see ourselves as alone. So when we give ourselves up to Christ, we acknowledge the connection that binds us to God, and realize that we cannot do anything without God doing it as well. But here's the key: we must labor under the delusion that we try to perform virtuous acts on our own because there is no escaping it by evasion. We must labor through it until the very impossibility of the quest reveals the escape to us. Furthermore, perhaps that is what the commandments are for: they are a gauntlet through which we lose our isolationist delusions.
The second connection that Mere Christianity spiritual insight (and the Zen connotations it has in my mind) has is a oft-repeated Mormon aphorism that "we are saved after all that we can do". I used to not like this phrase, as to me it reeked of moralism and earn-your-way-to-heaven theology. I now understand that does not merely consist of God deciding what is "all that we can do" and then rewarding us accordingly. Instead, it means that, in this life or the next, our tireless effort directly causes the realization that leads to our salvation. Indeed, I believe that C. S. Lewis's spiritual insight is precisely what this aphorism is talking about: when we have tried as hard as we can, the inevitable realization that we cannot possibly achieve salvation alone causes us to give ourselves up to God.
Alan Watts' Behold the Spirit: Connections and Ruminations
On Christmas of 2010 I received an extremely interesting book as a present.
It is entitled Behold the Spirit: A Study in the Necessity of Mystical Religion and is written by my favorite philosopher, Alan Watts. I've mentioned Watts in an earlier post, but let me recap for those who don't want to look for it. Alan Watts (1915-1973) was a British-American philosopher and student of comparative religion, famous for popularizing and interpreting Eastern religions for a Western audience. Late in his life, he espoused the view that you are God and the universe, endlessly manifesting yourself through a divine game of hide-and-seek. However, he was not as radical when he was young. This book, originally published in 1947, serves as a great example of his less-extreme younger views. Its main purpose is to show that the intuitive religion of the East can be reconciled with orthodox mainstream Christianity, something it does quite well. This post is my "review" of the book, in a sense. Here, I will give some of the ideas from my reading that I found interesting and show that they can be applied to Mormonism, beginning with the following.
In the section entitled The Being of God, Watts says the following:
"If the union [of man with God] is to be perfect, God must be in the most intimate and inseparable union not only with the soul but also with its entire experience of life and the world. But if that with which the soul is united is to be God, he must at the same time be infinitely above, beyond and other than the soul and the world. Furthermore, if God is the source and height of liveliness and creative power, he cannot be anything less than a person, since a law or principle is simply an automatic, mechanical and dead mode of behaviour. On the other hand, if God is the ultimate Reality, the one source of all things, he must be free from the limitations of personality as we know it, and must not be subject to the mutability and the limitations of the forms in which his creative activity is expressed.”
Here Watts states to a tee the problem that every mystic faces. If man's life is to mean anything, God must be immanent (within the universe, man, etc.). However, if God is to be God, he must be transcendent as well (infinitely above the universe). Furthermore, God must be both a person (all Mormons are familiar with arguments as to why) and a non-person (so that he can be identical with Reality). These four requirements for the nature of God seem vastly contradictory. However, in his brilliance Watts comes up with a solution. The following passage begins to explain it:
"[...] If the unity of God is truly all-inclusive and non-dual, it must include diversity and distinction as well as one-ness; otherwise the principle of diversity would stand over against God as something opposite to and outside him.”
This reasoning makes several assumptions. First, it assumes that God, in his unity, includes all things. Contrary to appearances, this is not in fact contradictory to Mormon doctrine. In fact, D&C 88 states of God that "all things are before him; and all things are round about him; and he is above all things, and in all things, and is through all things [...]". Secondly it assumes that God is non-dual. Elsewhere in the chapter, he clarifies that by "non-dual" he means that God has no opposite. This too is scriptural, as Isaiah states messianically that "I am the Lord, and there is none else, there is no God beside me [...]". Using these assumptions, Watts states that because God includes everything and has no opposite, he must include what makes things distinct and separate as well. This may seem odd, but in reality it is the key to the whole mystery. If this were not true, all separation between God and the world would be an illusion. The world and God would be simply identical, meaning that one minus the other would equal zero. The problem with this way of thinking is that this "oneness" is not non-dual; it has multiplicity as an opposite. However, if one does not exclude multiplicity from our vision of God and the world, it would cease to oppose God. God would become non-dual again. Watts expounds on this and goes a bit further in the following quotation:
“The state of union, like God himself, has no opposite; it is all-inclusive, for which reason any experience may participate in it. Therefore, we discover the union of ourselves and of the creation with God through the very realization that they are themselves and not God. His very transcendence effects his perfect immanence, for ‘he ascended up far above all heavens, that he might fill all things.’ [Ephesians 4:10] The distinct, individual reality of all things is the very measure of their union with God, of their fulfillment and expression of his freedom to include diversity, to love and be what is other than himself. For this reason, and not because he is a pantheist, the mystic apprehends all things as one with God. He does not see the reality of God behind the illusion of the creature; he sees God in the very reality, entity and uniqueness of the creature, in its very distinction from God.”
The wonderful thing about realizing that God's relationship with the universe includes multiplicity is that man's reality distinct from God is not a bad thing. Instead, the more you are a distinct and unique individual, the more you are affirming your union with God, and in a sense, the more you glorify him. This is especially insightful for a Mormon, as Mormonism's vision of Reality is full of the distinctions: of man with man, of man with God, and of man/God with the world. Instead of viewing these distinctions as absolute, or else absolutely rejecting the distinctions in favor of complete oneness, one can see them as manifestations of God's non-duality. My separateness from God or from my neighbor is God's way of being complete, his way of avoiding the lopsidedness of simple oneness. For through this separateness we and God become part of a greater oneness that cannot be expressed in words.
Incidentally, this is precisely the point of view that God expresses in Moses 1:39: "For behold, this is my work and my glory - to bring to pass the immortality and eternal life of man".This essentially says that the struggle that results in immortality and eternal life, involving separateness and limitedness, actually glorifies God.
The second and final idea from Behold the Spirit that I'd like to relate concerns ritual. Ritual is a conundrum for anyone who tries to reconcile mysticism with any orthodox Christian religion, as it seems very un-profound. Alan Watts counters this idea with the following passage, which I shall explore piecemeal:
"Christian liturgy [public worship/ritual] has three characteristics. Firstly, it is corporate [pertaining to a group] because Christ has not been given to one but to many, and the many have thereby been made one Body."
In this passage, Watts first references the New Testament idea that the members of the Church are "one body in Christ" and then explains how we partake of that unity through ritual. Reading this passage brought to mind the activity of group prayer. When we bow our heads as a group to pray, (to ask a blessing on food, to open and close a church meeting, etc.) each member of the group listens to the words of the prayer. Ideally, no one is thinking of (or doing) anything different from the next person. This is also true in the ritual of the Sacrament. Everyone thinks of Christ (or spirituality in general) and eats and drinks at roughly the same time. For these rituals the participants are, in a very real sense, of one heart and one mind.
Watts continues with the second characteristic:
"Secondly, it employs formal words, that is, a ritual, both because they express formally religious thoughts and because liturgical worship is not something which we on the one hand do towards God on the other, but something which God does through us. Thus liturgy uses, not our own words, but the words of scripture understood as the words of God."
This passage makes a rather remarkable connection. Since scripture is the word of God, whenever we recite it we are letting God act through us. This would understandably apply more to other Christian sects, where a large part of ritual is recitation of scripture, but this is also applicable to the LDS faith. Consider the sacrament prayer: it has to be recited word for word precisely as it is in the scriptures. If a person makes any mistakes, they have to redo it. Here, Behold the Spirit tells us, the concerned priesthood holder is acting in the place of God, letting God act through him. This also applies, as far as I am able to tell, to the temple ceremonies. Though I am not yet endowed, I understand that the components of the endowment are of divine origin. I postulate that because of this divine origin, by participating in these elements a person partakes of the divine nature.
Finally, Watts explains the third characteristic:
'Thirdly it involves formal actions because worship is not something done with the mind alone but with the whole man; like the love between man and woman, it includes both mind and body."
Placed at the end of the list, this characteristic is arguably the most important. Consider again the ritual of the sacrament. In it, we do two very physical things: eat and drink. According to Alan Watts, part of the reason we do this is because it testifies of the physical nature of God and of our souls. Prayer too is supposed to be physical, as we are told that we need to actually kneel down and/or fold our arms. This is not prudish religiosity. On the contrary, encouraging formal actions with prayer is a way to involve the whole body in worship. To focus just on the mind leans toward the world-denying tradition in religion that Joseph Smith was so opposed to.
All in all, Behold the Spirit is brilliant. If I could, I would provide a commentary for the entire book, as it is one of the first books I have read that is both profound and orthodox. I highly recommend it.
The wonderful thing about realizing that God's relationship with the universe includes multiplicity is that man's reality distinct from God is not a bad thing. Instead, the more you are a distinct and unique individual, the more you are affirming your union with God, and in a sense, the more you glorify him. This is especially insightful for a Mormon, as Mormonism's vision of Reality is full of the distinctions: of man with man, of man with God, and of man/God with the world. Instead of viewing these distinctions as absolute, or else absolutely rejecting the distinctions in favor of complete oneness, one can see them as manifestations of God's non-duality. My separateness from God or from my neighbor is God's way of being complete, his way of avoiding the lopsidedness of simple oneness. For through this separateness we and God become part of a greater oneness that cannot be expressed in words.
Incidentally, this is precisely the point of view that God expresses in Moses 1:39: "For behold, this is my work and my glory - to bring to pass the immortality and eternal life of man".This essentially says that the struggle that results in immortality and eternal life, involving separateness and limitedness, actually glorifies God.
The second and final idea from Behold the Spirit that I'd like to relate concerns ritual. Ritual is a conundrum for anyone who tries to reconcile mysticism with any orthodox Christian religion, as it seems very un-profound. Alan Watts counters this idea with the following passage, which I shall explore piecemeal:
"Christian liturgy [public worship/ritual] has three characteristics. Firstly, it is corporate [pertaining to a group] because Christ has not been given to one but to many, and the many have thereby been made one Body."
In this passage, Watts first references the New Testament idea that the members of the Church are "one body in Christ" and then explains how we partake of that unity through ritual. Reading this passage brought to mind the activity of group prayer. When we bow our heads as a group to pray, (to ask a blessing on food, to open and close a church meeting, etc.) each member of the group listens to the words of the prayer. Ideally, no one is thinking of (or doing) anything different from the next person. This is also true in the ritual of the Sacrament. Everyone thinks of Christ (or spirituality in general) and eats and drinks at roughly the same time. For these rituals the participants are, in a very real sense, of one heart and one mind.
Watts continues with the second characteristic:
"Secondly, it employs formal words, that is, a ritual, both because they express formally religious thoughts and because liturgical worship is not something which we on the one hand do towards God on the other, but something which God does through us. Thus liturgy uses, not our own words, but the words of scripture understood as the words of God."
This passage makes a rather remarkable connection. Since scripture is the word of God, whenever we recite it we are letting God act through us. This would understandably apply more to other Christian sects, where a large part of ritual is recitation of scripture, but this is also applicable to the LDS faith. Consider the sacrament prayer: it has to be recited word for word precisely as it is in the scriptures. If a person makes any mistakes, they have to redo it. Here, Behold the Spirit tells us, the concerned priesthood holder is acting in the place of God, letting God act through him. This also applies, as far as I am able to tell, to the temple ceremonies. Though I am not yet endowed, I understand that the components of the endowment are of divine origin. I postulate that because of this divine origin, by participating in these elements a person partakes of the divine nature.
Finally, Watts explains the third characteristic:
'Thirdly it involves formal actions because worship is not something done with the mind alone but with the whole man; like the love between man and woman, it includes both mind and body."
Placed at the end of the list, this characteristic is arguably the most important. Consider again the ritual of the sacrament. In it, we do two very physical things: eat and drink. According to Alan Watts, part of the reason we do this is because it testifies of the physical nature of God and of our souls. Prayer too is supposed to be physical, as we are told that we need to actually kneel down and/or fold our arms. This is not prudish religiosity. On the contrary, encouraging formal actions with prayer is a way to involve the whole body in worship. To focus just on the mind leans toward the world-denying tradition in religion that Joseph Smith was so opposed to.
All in all, Behold the Spirit is brilliant. If I could, I would provide a commentary for the entire book, as it is one of the first books I have read that is both profound and orthodox. I highly recommend it.
Tuesday, December 20, 2011
Understanding the Body of God: One Place at One Time
My second source for understanding the body of God is the well-known doctrinal statement that God is "in one place at one time". Such a statement is very problematic to anyone who tries to reconcile mystical ideas with Mormon doctrine, mainly because is extremely alienating. If I am only one person among an infinity of people, places and things that exist throughout the universe, why would God ever choose to visit me? Obviously this is not much of a problem in this life, as next to no one here is blessed with a visitation from God's body. However, this is very much a problem when we consider Celestial existence. Consider the following image:
This picture is the quintessence of countless similarly schmaltzy pieces of art that all depict Jesus either hugging a person or exhibiting his love for him/her in another way. However, these works of art reference a generally understood principle within the church that that we too will have such an intimate encounter with Christ. This idea is all well and good. There are even references to it in scripture (going back for the lost sheep, etc.). However, it seems to blatantly contradict the principle about which this post is concerned. How can a single personage who can only be in one place at one time connect so intimately with so many people? In the spirit of the holidays, this is essentially the same problem that makes the existence of Santa Claus impossible. Just like a single person cannot visit all of the houses in the world in one night, it is unfeasible that a Christ who is in one place at one time could meaningfully connect with every person. Of course, unlike Santa Claus, there is no time limit. But consider the following argument. If it takes about 30 minutes to make a meaningful connection with someone else (an extremely tentative assumption) and if the total population of people who have ever lived is around 100 billion (http://bit.ly/Y7d7E) and if the second coming were to occur tomomrrow, it would take 5.7 million years to get around to everyone. Needless to say, this is a very long time, longer than most people would be willing to wait. I don't know about you, but if I had to wait in line this long, constituting a mere 0.000000001% (an actual calculation) of Christ's attention, I would feel pretty unimportant. Considering this feeling of insignificance, we must make a choice concerning our approach to God. The first option is to believe both that God is literally in one place at one time and that you will experience very little of him in the life to come. However, there is a second choice. It is to believe that God's being in one place at one time has a non-conventional meaning, and thus that we are able to experience him abundantly in the next life. Being an aspiring mystic, who actually seeks oneness with God, I naturally choose the second option. I expect that anyone who actively seeks to know God will do the same.
Consider the following passage:
"The angels do not reside on a planet like this earth; but they reside in the presence of God, on a globe like a sea of glass and fire, where all things for their glory are manifest, past, present, and future, and are continually before the Lord." (D&C 130: 6-7)
To understand the above quotation, we must first understand that the term "place" has certain connotations. We can only say that someone is in a specific place because of the things that surround him or her. For instance, a person that is surrounded by trees is in a forest, while a person who is surrounded by buildings is in a city. Furthermore, we say that a person is in a specific location (e.g. England) because of its proximity to a given point. If that person is too far away, we say that they are somewhere else. This principle is so powerful that it is actually impossible to determine an entity's location without referencing something else. However, for this location to be at all meaningful the location must reference some things more than others. For instance, if we say that a person is "in the universe" we are no further to determining their exact location than we were before the utterance. So, if we take Joseph Smith at his word when he says that in the presence of God and the angels "[...] all things for their glory are manifest, past, present and future, and are continually before the Lord", and we also accept the principle that we came to in the previous paragraph to be true, then the natural conclusion is that by the normal definition God is not in one place at one time. My reasoning for this is simple. All things are before God. This means that everything that ever existed, exists or will exist is enjoys a presumably equal spatial relationship with him. Therefore, since the scripture makes no distinction between the various places in the universe that are before God, we cannot meaningfully say that God is in one specific place.
The reader may protest that I am destroying doctrine. In fact, I am doing no such thing. I am merely claiming that this particular piece of doctrine (that God is in one place at one time) is not true as it is conventionally interpreted. In other words, God being "in one place at one time" is true in a sense. However, what most people fail to realize is that God never leaves this place, and that this place is simultaneously all places at once. This may sound insane, as it seems to suggest that, at least for God, all places are the same place. This is actually not as crazy as it sounds. To show this, I invite you to participate in an experiment. Look at something in your immediate vicinity. It could be a patch of wall, a Christmas tree or even your computer screen. Once you have picked something, contemplate what you are really seeing when you look at said object. After sufficient thought, the natural conclusion is that you are seeing this object through a variety of "lenses", by which I mean any entity through which the light from an object can pass. Among these lenses are the air that permeates the room, the surfaces of your eyes, or your brain. Thinking more will reveal that, simply because of the distance between you and any given object, it is impossible to see anything without some kind of lens. Now, I believe that an object is distorted by any lens through which it is seen. After all, magnifying glasses magnify, eyeglasses sharpen and even air reduces visibility. So, if that is true, then do we experience anything without distortion? I would say that we do. Right here and right now, inside your skulls, can be experienced directly and fully. In fact, I would say that this fullness of that experience actually defines the word "here". This point is crucial, so let me explain my reasoning. space itself is a lens, whose distortion results from perspective (like how a car gets smaller the farther away it drives from the observer). Therefore, if there was no space between you and an object, you would be able to observe it without distortion. In other words, at least for every person that lives on Earth, anything that one views without distortion (which admittedly isn't much) and the word "here" is synonymous.
But how does this apply to God's being in one place at one time? To answer that question, let me pose another: what would happen if all the lenses through which you saw the world were perfectly transparent and didn't distort at all? I believe you would be able to see the entire universe. This is because the distortion due to space is the only thing that really stops you from seeing far away things.Furthermore, all things would be "here". This is understandably my biggest leap, but I think it is justified. As demonstrated above, at least in any situation we've encountered, "here" can refer to whatever you see without distortion. So, to tie it all back to my original point, this applies to God for the following reasons. God sees the world through a lens (the glass globe). Because he can see everything through the lens, he must do it without distortion. Furthermore, because he sees everything without distortion, everything must be "here" for him. So, because everything is "here" for God, we can justifiably say that the "one place" referred to by the "one place at one time" doctrine can definitely refer to all places at once.
The previous two paragraphs (concerning lenses and whatnot) open up a philosophical can of worms that I can't explore here.It has implications with, among other things, the nature of the Self and the distinction between individuals. I'll explore that in another post, hopefully to come soon. That's it for my post. Please comment!
Consider the following passage:
"The angels do not reside on a planet like this earth; but they reside in the presence of God, on a globe like a sea of glass and fire, where all things for their glory are manifest, past, present, and future, and are continually before the Lord." (D&C 130: 6-7)
To understand the above quotation, we must first understand that the term "place" has certain connotations. We can only say that someone is in a specific place because of the things that surround him or her. For instance, a person that is surrounded by trees is in a forest, while a person who is surrounded by buildings is in a city. Furthermore, we say that a person is in a specific location (e.g. England) because of its proximity to a given point. If that person is too far away, we say that they are somewhere else. This principle is so powerful that it is actually impossible to determine an entity's location without referencing something else. However, for this location to be at all meaningful the location must reference some things more than others. For instance, if we say that a person is "in the universe" we are no further to determining their exact location than we were before the utterance. So, if we take Joseph Smith at his word when he says that in the presence of God and the angels "[...] all things for their glory are manifest, past, present and future, and are continually before the Lord", and we also accept the principle that we came to in the previous paragraph to be true, then the natural conclusion is that by the normal definition God is not in one place at one time. My reasoning for this is simple. All things are before God. This means that everything that ever existed, exists or will exist is enjoys a presumably equal spatial relationship with him. Therefore, since the scripture makes no distinction between the various places in the universe that are before God, we cannot meaningfully say that God is in one specific place.
The reader may protest that I am destroying doctrine. In fact, I am doing no such thing. I am merely claiming that this particular piece of doctrine (that God is in one place at one time) is not true as it is conventionally interpreted. In other words, God being "in one place at one time" is true in a sense. However, what most people fail to realize is that God never leaves this place, and that this place is simultaneously all places at once. This may sound insane, as it seems to suggest that, at least for God, all places are the same place. This is actually not as crazy as it sounds. To show this, I invite you to participate in an experiment. Look at something in your immediate vicinity. It could be a patch of wall, a Christmas tree or even your computer screen. Once you have picked something, contemplate what you are really seeing when you look at said object. After sufficient thought, the natural conclusion is that you are seeing this object through a variety of "lenses", by which I mean any entity through which the light from an object can pass. Among these lenses are the air that permeates the room, the surfaces of your eyes, or your brain. Thinking more will reveal that, simply because of the distance between you and any given object, it is impossible to see anything without some kind of lens. Now, I believe that an object is distorted by any lens through which it is seen. After all, magnifying glasses magnify, eyeglasses sharpen and even air reduces visibility. So, if that is true, then do we experience anything without distortion? I would say that we do. Right here and right now, inside your skulls, can be experienced directly and fully. In fact, I would say that this fullness of that experience actually defines the word "here". This point is crucial, so let me explain my reasoning. space itself is a lens, whose distortion results from perspective (like how a car gets smaller the farther away it drives from the observer). Therefore, if there was no space between you and an object, you would be able to observe it without distortion. In other words, at least for every person that lives on Earth, anything that one views without distortion (which admittedly isn't much) and the word "here" is synonymous.
But how does this apply to God's being in one place at one time? To answer that question, let me pose another: what would happen if all the lenses through which you saw the world were perfectly transparent and didn't distort at all? I believe you would be able to see the entire universe. This is because the distortion due to space is the only thing that really stops you from seeing far away things.Furthermore, all things would be "here". This is understandably my biggest leap, but I think it is justified. As demonstrated above, at least in any situation we've encountered, "here" can refer to whatever you see without distortion. So, to tie it all back to my original point, this applies to God for the following reasons. God sees the world through a lens (the glass globe). Because he can see everything through the lens, he must do it without distortion. Furthermore, because he sees everything without distortion, everything must be "here" for him. So, because everything is "here" for God, we can justifiably say that the "one place" referred to by the "one place at one time" doctrine can definitely refer to all places at once.
The previous two paragraphs (concerning lenses and whatnot) open up a philosophical can of worms that I can't explore here.It has implications with, among other things, the nature of the Self and the distinction between individuals. I'll explore that in another post, hopefully to come soon. That's it for my post. Please comment!
Thursday, April 21, 2011
Faith, Non-Attachment and Wu Wei
As you can probably tell, I love to make connections. It's sort of my thing. I especially love to make connections between the various religions and philosophies of the world. I have been able to do this relatively successfully, but until last February, there was one big exception. Non-attachment (or Nekkhamma) is one of the highest virtues of the Buddhist religion. Essentially, it means that one should give up all desire, craving or attachment to anything (including God) in order to achieve the highest state of happiness. This principle is quite possibly the most important one in Buddhism, and is therefore very problematic for a person like me. There seems to be no parallel in Christianity or Mormonism.We are taught that we need to cleave to God and that we are supposed to be bound to our families for eternity. So I was at a loss as to what to do. Then, a miracle happened.
Last February, while I was reading my Statistics textbook for homework, I realized something. I understood nearly every principle in the chapter, but only superficially. Or rather, I understood that they worked, but not how or why they worked. I wanted to keep reading, so that I could understand every rule and formula inside and out, front and back. But I didn't have enough time to both do that and my other homework. So, purely out of a desire for efficiency, I at least temporarily refrained from a complete understanding and for a while, I was content with understanding only on a surface level. To my surprise, this did not lead to me falling behind in Stats, but rather to me soaring ahead. Without my desire for a complete and total understanding bogging me down, I was able to progress a great deal in getting my homework done and in doing well on tests. And unexpectedly, the how and the why came naturally later, on its own. In my journal, I originally called it a leap of faith, but I later I realized it was something else as well. I suddenly understood that I was letting go of or detaching myself from the Statistical principles, just as the Buddha himself would have wanted me to.
This led to what I think may have been the most important connection that I have ever made: Faith is letting go. To have faith is to be non-attached. This may seem a shocking conclusion to come to, and perhaps may even seem heretical, but bear with me. A person with faith goes through life free of any concern. They have faith that God will work out everything in the end. Similarly, a person without ties fettering them to the world is free. They can live life to the fullest without worry, pain or sorrow because all of those things ultimately stem from unnecessary clinging. Providing yet another view to look at this idea, the Taoist principle of Wu Wei (as I discovered soon after) is the same concept to a tee. Wu Wei means roughly "going with the flow" and involves natural action, or "trying without trying". A person who practices Wu Wei gives up the futile struggle to change the world by individualistic actions, and like a person with faith or who practices Nekkhamma, can go through life freed from worry and sorrow.
All of these things have yet another thing in common. They all involve giving something up. For the Christian, it is the sure knowledge of any truth, including God. For the Buddhist, it is attachments to the world. For the Taoist, it is a person's ability to feel in control. But inevitably, when you give these things up, something even better comes to you, of its own accord!
In summary, to have faith, practice non-attachment or to live by the principle of Wu-Wei are the same thing. They all consist of looking beyond a here and now that is full of separateness, temporality and mortality to the source of everything that is good. The Christian looks forward, to the time when God will come and renew the Earth. The Buddhist looks inward toward the deathless Self at the heart of all things. The Taoist looks outward, to a world where everything that seems like conflict is actually harmony. But looking forward, backward, inward, outward, up or down all ultimately lead to the same place: the presence of God. These points of view all involve realizing that the physical world of mortality is in fact transparent glass, through which can be seen pure light.
This metaphor may seem to say that we should "look past" the physical world and only focus on the spiritual. This would be world-denying, and is against the tenets of the LDS faith. However, this is not what I mean. On the contrary, to see the light that shines through something is to fully appreciate that something for what it is: an extension of the light's source. The light of God (or Truth) fills everything that it comes into contact with.
On a final tangent, this is why it is perfectly fine for a mystic to believe in a personal God: the light of the undefinable and unspeakable God completely fills the God we can talk to and pray to, such that they are indistinguishable. To speak of one is to speak of the other. In fact, I would say that to not believe in God in this way, and to try to directly experience the ungraspable, incomprehensible God is tantamount to spiritual rape (the sin of the architects and laborers of Babel). Instead, we should realize that, whether in terms of belief or eternal progression, the road toward the infinite is never-ending. The journey is a marvelous, beautiful process: ever-improving and ever-growing. To participate in it is the ultimate act of faith: we will never actually reach the infinite, but if we can see rightly, we will perceive that its light is always shining upon us and filling us to the brim.
I hope this has been a delightful post for you. It certainly has been a joy writing it.
And if you read it and have something to say, please comment! I am always willing to learn more.
This led to what I think may have been the most important connection that I have ever made: Faith is letting go. To have faith is to be non-attached. This may seem a shocking conclusion to come to, and perhaps may even seem heretical, but bear with me. A person with faith goes through life free of any concern. They have faith that God will work out everything in the end. Similarly, a person without ties fettering them to the world is free. They can live life to the fullest without worry, pain or sorrow because all of those things ultimately stem from unnecessary clinging. Providing yet another view to look at this idea, the Taoist principle of Wu Wei (as I discovered soon after) is the same concept to a tee. Wu Wei means roughly "going with the flow" and involves natural action, or "trying without trying". A person who practices Wu Wei gives up the futile struggle to change the world by individualistic actions, and like a person with faith or who practices Nekkhamma, can go through life freed from worry and sorrow.
All of these things have yet another thing in common. They all involve giving something up. For the Christian, it is the sure knowledge of any truth, including God. For the Buddhist, it is attachments to the world. For the Taoist, it is a person's ability to feel in control. But inevitably, when you give these things up, something even better comes to you, of its own accord!
In summary, to have faith, practice non-attachment or to live by the principle of Wu-Wei are the same thing. They all consist of looking beyond a here and now that is full of separateness, temporality and mortality to the source of everything that is good. The Christian looks forward, to the time when God will come and renew the Earth. The Buddhist looks inward toward the deathless Self at the heart of all things. The Taoist looks outward, to a world where everything that seems like conflict is actually harmony. But looking forward, backward, inward, outward, up or down all ultimately lead to the same place: the presence of God. These points of view all involve realizing that the physical world of mortality is in fact transparent glass, through which can be seen pure light.
This metaphor may seem to say that we should "look past" the physical world and only focus on the spiritual. This would be world-denying, and is against the tenets of the LDS faith. However, this is not what I mean. On the contrary, to see the light that shines through something is to fully appreciate that something for what it is: an extension of the light's source. The light of God (or Truth) fills everything that it comes into contact with.
On a final tangent, this is why it is perfectly fine for a mystic to believe in a personal God: the light of the undefinable and unspeakable God completely fills the God we can talk to and pray to, such that they are indistinguishable. To speak of one is to speak of the other. In fact, I would say that to not believe in God in this way, and to try to directly experience the ungraspable, incomprehensible God is tantamount to spiritual rape (the sin of the architects and laborers of Babel). Instead, we should realize that, whether in terms of belief or eternal progression, the road toward the infinite is never-ending. The journey is a marvelous, beautiful process: ever-improving and ever-growing. To participate in it is the ultimate act of faith: we will never actually reach the infinite, but if we can see rightly, we will perceive that its light is always shining upon us and filling us to the brim.
I hope this has been a delightful post for you. It certainly has been a joy writing it.
And if you read it and have something to say, please comment! I am always willing to learn more.
Thursday, April 7, 2011
Divine Comedy
A few days ago, I came to a very interesting conclusion. When I was getting ready for P.E. in the locker room, there was a really annoying seventh-grader making really annoying seventh-grade jokes. My peers were there with me, and they expressed to me their frustration with him. However, I was hesitant to join them in putting him down, for the following reasons:
- I remembered being a seventh-grader and having seventh-grade humor. It seemed hilarious at the time, though I realize now that it was stupid.
- I realized that just as we considered him immature, there were older people who considered us immature and probably had a more "advanced" level of humor than we did.
These things combined made me point out to my peers that all humor is ultimately relative: someone always has a more (and less) advanced style of humor than you do. When they heard this, a particularly clever member of the bunch responded (semi-jocularly): "Okay, then what is God's humor like?". This post is my attempt to answer that question.
I've heard people say that God must necessarily have no sense of humor. Not only is humor not "appropriate" for a celestial monarch, but humor depends on a lack of knowledge, and God knows everything. God would therefore know the punchline to every joke before it has been told. I disagree. In my opinion, God sometimes imposes limitations on himself, on purpose. For example, God could ensure Celestial glory for everyone, but he's not going to. If he did, there would be no point: it's the "getting-there" that's the most important. In exactly the same way, God limits his knowledge so that he, like us, can enjoy a good joke.
That answers how God can have a sense of humor. But it still doesn't answer my friend's question: what type of jokes does he tell? I thought about it for a while and then came up with another question that I hoped would lead me to the answer: what makes some jokes funnier than others? I decided that it is how unexpected the punchline is. The worst jokes you can see coming. The best jokes are unexpected. They have their punchlines hidden deep below the surface so that when they finally emerge, it happens in a way that you could have never anticipated. Because of this, the best jokes are those whose punchlines are thoroughly obscured and seem to have no point, like meta-jokes, surreal humor or even Seinfeld.
Now, getting back to God, it is only a natural to say that, just as my humor is more advanced than that seventh-grader, God's humor is infinitely more advanced than mine. And if we accept my proposition in the previous paragraph as true, then it naturally follows that God's jokes have the most obscure punchlines of all. To me, this means that God's jokes are so well-crafted that the punchline must be virtually invisible, so that when we get it, it is the funniest thing we have ever heard. I pondered on this for a while, and then came to a startling conclusion: since God's humor must be so well-designed that the point of a joke has to be hidden to all, what better to fit the bill of the ultimate joke than the universe itself? To put it simply: we are a part of the funniest joke ever told.
To me it makes perfect sense. God's joke is infinitely subtle. Though it may seem to have no point at times and may even become boring or long-winded, ultimately we realize that those failings were intentional, and actually serve to enhance its humor: the ultimate meta-joke. Its punchline is so well-preserved that until the joke is finished and the punchline is revealed (a.k.a. Christ's second coming to the Earth and its subsequent renewal), only a select few can predict its outcome. The Buddha was one of them. So was Laozi. In fact, that's what having a mystical experience is: seeing the outcome of a joke and realizing the punchline before it happens. This is why many people who have true spiritual experience are so light-hearted. They see the world for what it really is: hilarity, hidden by a sheathing of seriousness.
Some people may say that this is a morbid and even offensive way to look at the universe. How can something like the Holocaust be part of a giant joke? It necessarily trivializes everyone who suffers in the world. May I offer a counterpoint? I don't see viewing the universe as a comedy as trivializing at all. I merely see it as another way of saying that the suffering is for "but a small moment". If we endure it well, we shall see that there is a much greater and more wonderful reality behind all of it. And what better way to look at that wonderful reality than as humor?
If it helps at all, the movie Life is Beautiful is a very powerful example of how something can be both filled with suffering and be humorous at the same time. It beautifully combines the two, showing that humor and happiness can exist side by side with pain and sorrow, and will in fact eventually triumph over it. I'm sure that there are many more examples, but I trust you get the point.
To reinforce my point, I will also argue from authority. Here are two quotes by two great authors/philosophers:
"God is a comedian playing to an audience too afraid to laugh."
-Voltaire
"[The angels sounded] like the laughter of the universe"
-Dante Alighieri (The Divine Comedy)
Now, I need to point out that this is only a lens through which to see the nature of God. I am not precisely defining God's reason for creating the world. I am just providing a new way to look at it. I do not mean to exclude other ways of looking at God. I just wanted to share with you a view that I enjoy.
And so I say goodbye for now, hoping that we all someday will get the joke!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)