“To everything there is a season, and a time to every purpose under heaven.” A well known phrase from Ecclesiastes, oft spoken by preachers of various persuasions at funerals, by philosophers and world-weary skeptics, and even sung by folk-rock musicians. To everything, turn, turn, turn . . . there is a season . . . . And what of this season, advent? In the Christian liturgical calendar this is the season of watchful waiting, of mindfulness, of preparation of the mind and heart for the great good news of the incarnation. As winter creeps into home and hearth, as darkness descends, we enter the season of hope and peace. Except, of course, for the blaring Christmas carols, the insistent call to shop, and the Ho Ho Ho’s. Other than that, December is a very peaceful month.
It so happens that December 8 is Bodhi Day; the commemoration of the day on which Siddhartha Guatama sat down under the Bodhi Tree and vowed to meditate until he attained enlightenment. When he stood up again, he was the Buddha – one of the most enigmatic, charismatic, compassionate, and intelligent figures in religious history. On this Advent Sunday, I want to take a break from the religious celebrations of the dominant culture to honor Bodhi Day, and, along with the covenant groups, to reflect on the commonalities we share with Buddhism, as well as honoring the uniqueness of Buddhism.
Buddhism, like Christianity, was a movement that emerged out of the teachings of an extraordinary man. There are many similarities between the lives of Jesus and Buddha, but the two religions are very different. Buddhism is introspective, emphasizing silent meditation, simplicity, the unity of body, mind and spirit. It is practiced in simple settings without elaborate rituals. Buddhists view the world from a non-dualistic world-view that affirms reverence for all of creation.
Despite being the quintessential Eastern religion, Buddhism has always had an appeal in Western cultures. The Transcendentalists back in the 1830’s were attracted to its view of divinity in nature. More recently, the influence of Buddhism is evident in the writings of the Beat generation, the counter-culture of the 60’s and New Age writings. And Buddhist meditation groups, like the one here at South Church, thrive in many UU churches across the land.
When you look at “pure” Buddhism – based on the earliest texts attributed to the Buddha himself – you are struck by how appealing it is to the rational, individualistic orientation of Unitarian Universalism. This may seem paradoxical at first, given our penchant for talk and action rather than sitting in silence. Author Huston Smith identifies seven characteristics of pure Buddhism, all of which resonate with UU values.
The first is that it is empirical. The ultimate source of authority for what is true, what is useful, what is valid, what is right, is personal experience. Buddha urged his disciples to discard what they had been taught and learn things for themselves. “Do not,” he said, “go by what is handed down, nor on the authority of your traditional teachings. When you know of yourselves: ‘These teachings are not good; these teachings when followed out and put in practice conduce to loss and suffering’ – then reject them.” That is so very much in tune with our First Source: Direct experience of that transcending mystery and wonder, affirmed in all cultures, which moves us to a renewal of the spirit and an openness to the forces that create and uphold life.
Second, Buddhism is scientific; the Buddha’s teachings point to an understanding of the relationship between cause and effect. Buddha taught that we are each responsible for the state of our lives and souls; there was no all powerful and arbitrary Other out there judging or punishing or rewarding us. Buddha urges us to take the doctrine of karma to heart – to discover the cause and effect relationships that create the contexts of our lives.
Third, pure Buddhism is pragmatic. It is concerned with solving the real problems that real people struggle with. The Buddha rejected metaphysical speculation. When pressed about questions of mortality, eternity, after-life, and so on, he would insist that he was being asked the wrong questions. “The religious life,” he told a disciple, “does not depend on the dogma that the world is eternal; nor does it depend on the dogma that the world is not eternal. Whether the dogma obtain that the world is eternal, or that the world is not eternal, there still remain birth, old age, death, sorrow, lamentation, misery, grief and despair, for the extinction of which in the present life I am prescribing . . .”
Buddha intended for his teachings to be useful tools that would help people to alleviate their suffering by focusing on transcendent aspects of living. He diagnosed the root cause of misery in life as suffering caused by a desire for private fulfillment – and he had a prescription for that suffering: overcoming the craving for selfish desire by transcending the every day.
That brings us to the fourth characteristic of Buddha’s teaching: it was therapeutic. “One thing I teach: suffering and the end of suffering. It is just Ill and the ceasing of all Ill that I proclaim.” The prescription is not easy or simple; the Eightfold Path that he lays out is a life long journey. He believed, and many have since discovered, that to follow that path is to achieve the alleviation of suffering in the living of one’s life.
Mindfulness and concentration are what we are most likely to think of when we think of Buddhism – the various meditation practices designed to train the mind and expand awareness. This leads us to the fifth characteristic of Buddhism – it is psychological rather than metaphysical. Buddhism begins with human experience and the dynamics of coping with life. “Let persons of intelligence come to me, honest, candid straightforward; I will instruct them, and if they practice as they are taught they will come to know for themselves and to realize that supreme religion and goal.”
Sixth, Buddhism is egalitarian. Buddha broke caste and created a religious order open to people of all castes. On his death bed he said, “I have not kept anything back.” He condemned the Brahmin caste for keeping secrets, making learning inaccessible. “ . . . there is no such thing” he said, “as close-fistedness in the Buddha.” Extraordinarily for his time, he was quite clear that women could achieve enlightenment as well as men.
Finally, pure Buddhism is directed at individuals. Although Buddha himself founded an order, he stressed that its importance was to reinforce the resolve of each individual. “Therefore be ye lamps unto yourselves. Rely on yourselves and do not rely on external help. Hold fast to the truth as a lamp. Seek salvation alone in the truth. Look not for assistance to anyone besides yourself.”
In the centuries after Buddha achieved enlightenment, Buddhism has become diverse in practice and belief. But the essence of Buddhism is still the essence of what the Buddha himself taught and practiced: a combination of clear thinking and compassionate actions.
Buddhism holds in common with Christianity the celebration of an important day in December. That is why I chose this sermon for this Sunday. But there are other commonalities as well. Stories about the Buddha and stories about Jesus resonate with similar themes. There are the birth stories – mythic tales told after their deaths – filled with angels and strange foretellings, mothers visited by heavenly messengers, supernatural phenomena involving light. Both men were expected to become kings – of some sort. The Jews of Palestine were expecting a new King David, a military and political genius who would lead them out of their vassal state to political and economic freedom. There is no doubt that Jesus was a very different kind of king than the one they expected. So too the wealthy and influential family and advisors of Siddhartha Guatama anticipated a worldly king – skilled in administration and military strategy. He, too, confounded expectations.
Both Jesus and Buddha, at the beginning of their ministries, withdrew from family and society to seek discernment about the nature of their call. Both were presented with temptations, and both experienced an affirmation of their chosen paths.
Jesus and Buddha started out to be reformers, not founders of new religions. Jesus intended to reform Judaism, Buddha Hinduism. They each preached a pure and simple form of their particular religious practice. And both ended up, after their deaths and in spite of their best efforts to the contrary, being worshipped as gods. According to religious historian Huston Smith, only two men in history have inspired their followers to ask the question, “What are you?” “Not ‘Who are you?’ with respect to name, origin or ancestry, but ‘What are you? What order of being do you belong to? What species do you represent? Not Caesar, certainly. Not Napoleon, or even Socrates. Only two: Jesus and Buddha.”
Finally, both Jesus and the Buddha are said to have come in the fullness of time. Another biblical phrase. The fullness of time has varied meanings both mystical and practical. It could refer to a time that is divinely chosen and ordained. It could mean a time when events come together to create the conditions for change, for visionary leadership, for a significant turning of the human community. It could mean a time when some group of people – a nation, a tribe, a clan, a congregation, a global social network – makes a decision to be mindful, attentive, and intentional about the ways that they interact together. A group of people who do not need any particular alignment of stars, or any particular miraculous sign. All they need is the invitation to enter together into a special spiritual place. “Come with me and be fishers of men.” “Be ye lamps unto yourselves.”
In the fullness of time, inspired words of leadership, like sown seed, falls on fertile soil. Those inspired words are heard by inspired people who ‘go and do’ in response. In religious history there have been such times; but in human history there have been many more. We remember some in particular, mostly because we have turned the inspired leaders who were central to those times into gods. Jesus, who constantly pointed away from himself to his heavenly father. The Buddha, who constantly pointed away from himself towards the seekers of wisdom who walked with him. They came in the fullness of time, they spoke and acted. People listened and heard. And then came the mythic retelling of their storied lives, the institutionalization of their teachings.
Jesus was fond of saying that the Kingdom of God is at hand. I like to think that he was saying that we always live in the fullness of time. There are always words of inspiration being spoken; sometimes whispered rather than shouted, but still there for the hearing. There are always people with ears to hear, hearts to love, hands to serve. There is always the possibility that by paying attention, being mindful, and acting intentionally, we can alleviate suffering and usher in a new way of being together in peace and in love. In honor of Bodhi Day, in the spirit of Advent, let us treat this as such a time. I want to close with a story.
Waldemar Argow tells of the following conversation. A Buddhist said, “Tell me, what is this day you cherish so, that you call Christmas?” And the stranger from the West said, “Christmas is not a day, really. It is light, I think. It comes when days are shortest and darkest and hearts despair, and it reminds us that winter death is a temporary thing and that light and life are eternal. And it is hope. For it demonstrates how kind and generous and self-forgetting human beings can be. And we know that what people can be sometimes, they can, if they will, be most times. And assuredly it is love. Its symbol is a newborn babe, warm and safe in his mother’s arms. To be sure, he was born a long, long time ago. Yet through the ages his influence as he became a man and the truths he taught and the love he incarnated have proved stronger and dearer in matters that matter most than all the kings and armies and governments of history. Oh, whatever else it may be, Christmas indeed is love.”
“I think I understand,” the Buddhist said. “Christmas is like a lotus blossom. When it blooms, it holds, as in a chalice, the beauty of the world.”
“Yes, you do understand,” said the Stranger from the West. “When it comes, Christmas brings the light that redeems us from darkness, the hope that casts out fear, and the love that overcomes the world. ‘It is Christmas!’ We rejoice. And suddenly, the lotus blooms . . .”
Be ye mindful for the blooming of the lotus in your lives this week.