Bliss & Struggle: Is it worth it?

In my last blog, I mentioned how both St Teresa and Buddhism stressed the importance of Wisdom and Compassion in a mature and balanced spiritual practice. These two roles remind us that we live in a real-world that includes other people. Wisdom and Compassion offer a way to channel our spiritual energy, released by a mature and focused spiritual practice. They also remind us that while we may enjoy moments of bliss in our meditation or prayer practise, they raise two dangers. The first is to seek these experiences. The second is to regard them as signs of spiritual growth and maturity. Rather than a gift we may (or may not) receive to encourage us to persevere in our spiritual practice.

I remember, for example, as a young university student, of recounting a recent awakening experience to my spiritual director. I felt he might be impressed by my Spiritual growth and maturity! He replied that "It was no more than a little grace God gave to encourage me. Accept it as such, and be thankful for it, then let it go". At the time, I felt a bit shattered by his lack of enthusiasm. In retrospect, I was naively misinterpreting an experience as a sign of spiritual growth and maturity.

Lama Surya Das offered similar wisdom; and so did St Teresa. Surya Das tells us not to get caught up in such experiences. They may be valid, or they may be just a projection of our desires. Let them go and move on because "The genuine lessons we learn, stay with us, but the special effects will quickly disappear." 1

I mention this because if your commitment to growing a spiritual practice (whether it be Buddhist or Christian), is not to be taken lightly. You will have times when you will need all the encouragement these 'pleasant' moments may offer. This is because the next step on our inner journey will inevitably involve a decisive self-surrender. The Dalai Lama referred to it in this Prayer of Dedication:

"May I become at all times, now and forever:
A Protector for those without protection,
A Guide for those who have lost their way,
A Ship for those with oceans to cross,
A Bridge for those who have rivers to cross,
A Sanctuary for those in danger,
A Lamp for those without light,
A Place of Refuge for those who lack shelter,
And a Servant to all in need." 2

While the sentiment of this Prayer of Dedication may sound inspiriting, St Teresa reminds us it will involve a progressive death of our ego - a dying to self – or A' laying down of our life' as Jesus mentioned in the John 5:13. Both Jesus, Buddha and Teresa acknowledged that this will cause us pain. However, they assures us, we will discover the simplicity and inner stillness for which our souls long. I will say more about this in my next blog.

Kia mau te rongo me te pai ki a koe i to haerenga

May you find peace and good will on your journey.

Phil

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1 Lama Surya Das, Awakening to the Sacred, Harmony,2007, p 61.

2 Hearn (2007) Daily Puja, "Prayer of Dedication" by His Holiness the 14^th Dalai Lama, p 40.

St Teresa and the Buddha help us to meditate and pray.

When we sit to meditate or pray, I am sure you too struggle to keep your mind focused on what you are doing. The Buddhist Retreat I attended gave us several ways to help train our minds to deal with what is commonly known as 'Wandering Thoughts'!

One suggestion I found helpful was to first find a comfortable place, free of interruptions. Then to begin by focusing on our breathing body. When distracted, to note the sense organ (or door) through which the distraction entered our being. For example, while I was sitting quietly, breathing, a bird in a nearby tree burst into song. I had a choice. I could stay focused on my breathing, or I could enjoy the bird song. As lovely as that moment would be, our inventive minds need training. Instead of identifying the distraction, we were asked to note the sense organ (or door) through which the distraction came. 'Hearing' would be the one I used in the above example. The other sense doors would be 'looking', 'smelling', 'tasting'.'thinking' or 'feeling''. We were also asked to keep repeating the name of the sense door through which the distraction came until we had re-centred our attention on our breathing. This will make more sense and is easier to do with practise.

The reason we name the activity of our mind is that it will calm our wayward thoughts and at the same time identify the things that distract our attention. It will also help to slowly change our attitude and our perception of the world in which we live – a key reason for engaging in a meditation practice.

What I found interesting, is both St Teresa of Avila and Buddhism encouraged us to become aware of our feelings and experiences and to name them. They also both advised us not to cling to our feelings because they are transient. While the good and pleasurable ones will delight us, and the difficult and unpleasant ones will challenge us, both will pass away. Nothing ever stays the same. We are to enjoy the the pleasurable experiences and learn from the difficult ones - then move on.

The reason both Buddhism and St Teresa encourage us to do this is that we will have times when life is difficult and challenging to the extreme. We may find these situations take everything we have to offer. We may be tempted to give up our spiritual practice because it causes more confusion than it solves. We may even cease to know what to say or how to pray or why we meditate.

Teresa used the metaphor of a silkworm to help us understand such times. She reminded us that in its life-cycle, there comes a time when the caterpillar has to spin a cocoon around itself and wait in hidden silence because all effort has become pointless. She suggested when prayer, God and/or meditation no longer make sense, “we are in fact spinning a cocoon around ourselves”. Buddhism uses different words to describe a similar wisdom. It recognises a time will come when we discover our mind and our identity, key human qualities we regarded as essential to our identity, actually have no substance. Our mind is like the open sky in which thoughts are no more than clouds that arise and pass away.

When this happens, both Teresa and Buddhism encouraged us to have patience and wait – in the cocoon of our re-formation – because this time will pass. Nothing ever stays the same. During this time of waiting both traditions encourage us to refocus our attention on doing something for others. Teresa, for example, suggested while we may doubt existence of God, there is still one thing we can be sure of, and that is offering help to another person. The more we do this, Teresa suggested, the more we will re-discover the love of God.

Buddhism uses different words but refers to a similar wisdom and compassion:

However innumerable beings are, I vow to meet them with kindness and interest.
However inexhaustible the states of suffering are, I vow to touch them with patience and love.
However immeasurable the Dharmas are, I vow to explore them deeply.
However incomparable the mystery of interbeing, I vow to surrender to it freely.
From this day forth, with Wisdom and Compassion as my lamp and staff,
I dedicate all my life energies to the welfare of all beings. ⁽¹⁾

Kia mau te rongo me te pai ki a koe i to haerenga

May you find peace and good will on your journey.

Phil

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(1) Taken from “A Daily Puja”, Wangapeka Books,available at https://greendharmatreasury.org/

Was St Teresa of Avila a Buddhist?

When I began my 3-month Study Leave Retreat, I choose to take St Teresa of Avila's book, The Interior Castle as my retreat companion. This was because others had also discovered both Teresa and the Buddhist traditions appeared to share a similar well of wisdom while guiding us along two parallel spiritual paths. So, while attending the daily classes and focusing on the work of the 3-month retreat, on the one hand, I also slowly read through Teresa's Interior Castle.

Teresa presumably had no knowledge of Buddhist teaching. She also lived and wrote under the shadow of the Inquisition. Yet her book describes a seven-stage reflective progression of discovery that guides us how we can“enter within” and find God, in “the little heaven of our souls”. In this way, both The Interior Castle and the Anapanasati Sutra, begin with a similar goal in mind. Both seek to lead us on a practical path to spiritual awakening. By providing a series of directions that require us to engage in a process if we wish to make much sense of their instructions.

Both teachers begin with simple instruction. Teresa recommends we begin, by learning to enter into ourselves because our Interior Castle is already within us and enter through the door of 'prayer and meditation'. The Buddha recommends we sit under a forest tree, or in an empty hut, and mindfully begin focusing on our breathing. However, both traditions realise it won't be long before we discover we are easily distracted. The India Guru Ramakrishna suggests our mind is like a “tree full of monkeys, all chattering away”. And Teresa suggests, “As we enter the castle, we are liable to bring with us a whole host of other creatures with us” – our self-regarding habits and preoccupations that stop us from any kind of self-awareness. This is because the knowledge and experience we seek is not an intellectual one. It is a practical familiarity that comes with experience. Very similar to the knowledge we gain when we learn how to ride a bicycle or bake a loaf of bread.

The second thing both traditions recognise is that it is usually not long before the novelty of prayer and meditation begins to fade, and we discover first-hand that our enthusiasm to begin to meditate or pray is insufficient to hold us. It takes both discipline and will-power. However, both traditions recognise that if we are willing to put in the effort and time, we will be soon rewarded with many of the following discoveries:

“Increasing calm, clarity of mind and increasing absorption.
We may also notice our breathing will gradually slow down and settle”. (1)

Our inspiration to begin this inner journey and our willingness to persevere, not only results in a sense of increasing calm but also the willingness to learn detachment from the things we regard to be ours. These may be material possessions or the desires of our hearts or minds. This is not an easy lesson, but one that both Teresa and the Buddha recognised. In fact, they say it is a necessary requirement if we wish to advance very far into inner stillness. Part of this mystery of choosing the inner journey is that we need to discover first hand, that simply to have lived with ourselves does not mean we know ourselves. This form of knowing St Teresa suggests often comes through times of hardship, struggle, suffering, or loss. 

  

A corresponding lesson is also taught by the Buddha. All things are transient. Any hope we hold that is based on the transient nature of life will prove ill-founded. Even our physical breathing body, despite its wonder-full nature, will also pass away. Nothing exists in reality outside the present moment. The past and future are illusions. To cling to the past or grasp after what has not yet come can give neither peace nor security. To live in the awareness of this truth is to be able to rest in the “idea of spacious openness where things are rising and passing.”

 

The human body, at peace with itself, is more precious than the rarest gem.
Cherish your body - it is yours this time only.
The human form is won with difficulty, it is easy to lose.
All worldly things are brief, like lightning in the sky;
This life you must know as the tiny splash of a raindrop;
A thing of beauty that disappears even as it comes into being.
Therefore set your goal; make use of every day and night
To achieve it.”(2) 

 

To return to my opening question, 'Was St Teresa of Ávila a Buddhist?' The answer of course is 'No'. However, as I continue this Blog reflection you will discover there is a similarity of imagery and methodology that gives the impression, to use a Teresian metaphor, of drawing from the same inspirational well.

To be continued.

Kia mau te rongo me te pai ki a koe i to haerenga

May you find peace and good will on your journey.

Phil

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1. Tarchin Hearn, Satipatthana, Available at https://greendharmatreasury.org/

2. Tsongkhapa: from: ‘Readings From The Refuge Tree of the Western Buddhist Order', Available from https://aucklandbuddhistcentre.org/event/buddha-day-may-15

Learning to Meditate using our Five Physical Senses

In my last blog, I discussed how using our breath is a simple and natural way to meditate. I found the more I used this simple technique, the easier it became. Furthermore, it is the basis of many forms of meditation.

Why is meditation important? There are many answers, but one reason is based on the Buddhist concept shin'en – translated as “heart/mind-monkey”. It refers to the restless free-flowing uncontrollable thoughts that run through our minds, holding us hostage and leading us down the path of unproductive fear, anxiety, and negativity. I am sure you will know what I mean! Learning to calm and control our mind is the most important step we can take to experience the inner peace a meditation practice can bring us. For this reason, breathing meditation was the foundation of everything we learnt during our three-month retreat.

Having learnt to use our breath, to experience a degree of stillness, our next lesson was to mindfully use our 5 physical senses. Here, we were asked to practice focusing solely on the sensations we experience through each of our five physical senses, focusing on one sense-door at a time.

Buddhism recognises our five senses are entrances into our being. This means that each of our physical senses needs to be mindfully guarded because they continually feed our mind with new information. If you are like me, the monkey-mind loves to name, classify, think, remember, judge, and worry about many things. Usually, in never-ending circles, all relating to the past or to the future; robbing us of the gift of the present moment. The Christian monastic tradition has taught a similar practice called custody of the eyes, ears and thoughts. Both traditions recognise we so easily go astray unless firmly fixed on a goal.

We were encouraged to begin with our sense of sight. I found this the easiest, to begin with, as I re-learnt to look and see what was in front of me without naming what I saw. For example, our retreat day often began before daylight. 4 am found me struggling out of bed and heading for the electric jug for the first hot drink of the day. I then sat on the old couch on the front porch, sipping the tea quietly, as I watched the dawn slowly transform the night sky. Being so far away from civilization, the darkness of the night was absolute and the stars were brilliant. It was awe-inspiring watching night being transformed into daylight! Having spent time with the sense of sight, I moved to the sense of hearing as I listened to the sound of birds or animals breaking into the profound silence of the early morning. Again, without trying to name what I heard but simply enjoy the experience of the moment.

Later in the retreat, we were encouraged to use our other senses, as we explored the fragrances carried in the air; or experienced the rich flavours of the food we ate; or the subtleties of sensation caused by the things we touched or walked on. I found all these explorations could not be rushed if I wanted to delight in the rich sensations our five physical senses have to offer.

Whenever we discovered our mind had wandered off into thinking, or dreaming, or worrying about all the inconsequential things that so readily crowd in upon us, we were asked to return to the sensation of our breathing. Then having re-established our still centre, to continue with our sensory meditation and inquiry.

This simple and engaging exercise can also be used when taking a meditation walk, for example, or as a mindfulness exercise when eating a meal, or while lying in bed, awaiting sleep.

I still work at developing these skills because they contain deep wisdom. The more proficient I become, the greater is my ability to live spaciously and with greater clarity. This, in turn, enables me to view life more objectively, and respond with greater awareness, with more skilful wisdom, and to treat others with more easily non-clinging compassion. It also helps me to enter more freely into the profound mystery of knowing God.

To be continued in my next Blog.

Kia mau te rongo me te pai ki a koe i to haerenga
May you find peace and goodwill on your journey.

Phil

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Adapted from my book, Pathways to the Fountain: A Christian-Buddhist Exploration, Tawera Press, 2015

Pathways to the Fountain: Insights from a Christian-Buddhist Exploration - 1

I have been attracted to meditation since childhood. Then in 2003I had the opportunity to attend a three-month Buddhist retreat. 

I was little prepared for the rigours that lay ahead as I joined sixteen other people who came from six different countries. 

Buddhists are often surprised to hear that Christianity has a long tradition of meditation that is over 2000 years old. This includes both the use of silence and the repetition of a prayer-word or mantra. St. Paul, for example, his readers to "Pray without ceasing" (1 Thessalonians 5:17 ) and the Lord's Prayer was collated from a series of one-line sayings of Jesus and is still used as a repetitive prayer. In the 4th Century CE, John Cassian, a Christian monk and theologian, also taught the use of a short prayer word or mantra that was continually repeated. He said:

"Let sleep come upon you still considering this verse, till having been moulded by the constant use of it, you grow accustomed to repeat it even in your sleep. When you wake let it be the first thing to come into your mind, let it anticipate all your waking thoughts." 1

Using our breath is another form of Buddhist meditation that has a long Christian tradition. The Hebrew word for breath is 'ruah' and associates our breath as flowing from the Divine breath (Genesis 2:7). Using the breath as a tool for stillness and prayer was not developed in the New Testament, but is found in later writings. 

For example, Gregory of Palamas was a monk of Mount Athos in Greece. He later became the Archbishop of Thessaloniki. He suggested we are to focus our attention on our breathing belly because that is where the soul is located.2 Certainly I have found extending my abdomen on inhalation and then pull it back on an exhalation creates depth and subtlety in my meditation practice. One of the physiological reasons is that deep breathing stimulates the parasympathetic nervous system, which in turn promotes a sense of calmness.3 This also gives new meaning to the words of the Jesuit priest, Anthony de Mello:

" Your breathing is your greatest friend. Return to it in all your troubles, and you will find comfort and guidance." 4

John Selby, a contemporary psychologist and former Presbyterian minister, promoted de Mello's use of the breath in his book, 'Jesus for the rest of us'.5 He developed a simple seven stage process he called 'The Jesus Spiral'. 

Selby's method leads us first into a place of stillness then invites us to make a series of associations between our breath and God "who is breathing me". He suggests this process could be continually repeated as it takes us ever deeper into an experience of the Divine presence. We finally end the meditation by committing ourselves to take the sensations of "light and love and peace" into our daily activities. 

This simple method is very flexible. It can be used either as a morning practice or to fill in a few moments while waiting at the traffic lights, in a shopping queue, or waiting for an appointment. The method relates closely to another comment made by Fr John Main: 

"The essence of Christian prayer is not dialogue but union, oneness... coming into fullness with the energy that created the universe." 6

To be continued in my next Blog.

Kia mau te rongo me te pai ki a koe i to haerenga

May you find peace and goodwill on your journey.

Phil

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1 Cassian, J, The Second Conference Of Abbot Isaac. On Prayer. Chapter 10. Available at http://www.newadvent.org/fathers/350810.htm Accessed 5/8/16

2  Kadloubovsky and Palmer (1992) Writings from the Philokalia on Prayer of the Heart, UK, Faber & Faber. Vol 4 p 255, St Gregory of Palamans, Introductory Note.

3  See http://www.stress.org/take-a-deep-breath/ Accessed 26/8/16.

4  de Mello, SJ Sadhana, A Way to God, India: Gujarat Sahitya Trakash Anand, 1987, p23.

5 Selby, J,: Jesus for the rest of us, Hampton Roads Publishing Co.,2006.

6 Main, J OSB, Moment of Christ: The Path of Meditation, Darton, Longman & Todd. (1984) p 20.

46. Jesus was a Carpenter

In Mark's Gospel we are told that Jesus 'was a carpenter' (6:3). Matthew 13:54 says he was 'the son of a carpenter'. 

Both are most probably accurate and in my mind, I am reminded of the prayer that The Rev Bob Lowe often prayed at our Sunday evening Church Service:

O Jesus, Master Carpenter of Nazareth,
who on the cross through wood and nails didst work our whole salvation:
Wield well thy tools in this thy workshop;
that we who come to thee rough-hewn
may by thy hand be fashioned to a truer beauty and a greater usefulness;
for the honour of thy holy name. Amen.

The unknown author of this prayer imagined Jesus at work in the small agricultural village of Nazareth, helping Joseph to make fine furniture and farming tools. For this reason, Joseph is remembered as the Patron Saint of Carpenters, as well as many other titles. Jesus would have acquired similar skills.

Work no doubt their work regularly took the family to the beautiful, wealthy city of Sepphoris, about an hour's walk from Nazareth. It was a major Roman city,  built on a major crossroad, and the capital and heart of Galilee. It was also a centre of trade.

While the Greek word tekton is used in the Gospels to describe Joseph's trade, it is usually translated as 'carpenter'. However, it can also mean artisan, craftsman builder in wood, stonemason or metal. That being the case, it is sobering to understand he belonged to the lowest class of marginalized labouring peasants in first-century Palestine.  Even so, they were highly skilled and versatile, well-used to building and repairing whatever work they were called to do – and this is where I feel a special connection with both Joseph and Jesus.

One of my childhood memories was raiding my father's toolbox for saws, hammer, and nails to make and build things from toy guns to tree huts. While my father learnt to keep his toolbox inside the house, to control my enthusiasm and to safeguard his tools, those tools crafted in me a love for making things. I still have my childhood box for holding small treasures. As a teenager, I couldn't afford a guitar, so I built one that worked fine. Over the years, my skills developed. Now I help repair furniture donated to our local St Vincent de Paul Society.

Those of you who share the delight creativity brings to our lives, and the joy we experience as we share those skills and knowledge with others, will appreciate the comment once made by the German mystic, Meister Eckhart: 'We are heirs of the fearful creative power of God'.

It is as we give birth to the creative capacity we have within us, we become co-creators with the Divine Presence, who is waiting to assist us in the ongoing creativity of the universe.

We are all expressions of this Divine creative longing. 

May we learn to 'wield well the tools in the workshop of our lives, so that we who come 'rough-hewn' may by the Divine hand be 'fashioned to a truer beauty and a greater usefulness'. 

Kia mau te rongo me te pai ki a koe i to haerenga
May you find peace and goodwill on your journey.

Phil

 

45. Church Music

 Music in Church Services has always been controversial. It dates back to the earliest centuries and still remains an issue for a whole series of reasons. One of the more unusual reasons was the recent ban on hymn singing during the COVID-19 Lock-down because it might spread the virus.

Christianity grew initially from within Judaism, and the earliest Christians hymns originated from the Jewish chanting of psalms, hymns and spiritual songs from their Hebrew Scriptures. However, hymns and spiritual songs, as we understand them, along with the musical accompaniment, were not part of a normal Church service until the 10th century. Their reception was very mixed. This was partly due to their power to stir human emotions, and partly because musical instruments were generally regarded as “symbols of lasciviousness and debauchery”. 

This view continued to dominate social thinking until 1820 when the Church of England finally and officially approved the singing of hymns. However, some of the more Protestant Churches continued their resistance, controversy, opposition, and ultimately division to the introduction of hymns and musical instruments, into the 20th century!

Why I am interested in this discussion is because I have been closely involved in Church music for most of my life. My father was an Anglican Minister and an accomplished organist. He gave me my first piano lesson when I was 8 years old. As my ability progressed, I was often called on to play the small foot-pumped reed organ at his Church services.

I was a teenager when the Beatles hit the world stage, and wanted – like many teenagers – to copy them. I soon had my first guitar and played with a small group of mates from school. We thought we were great – even if we were hopelessly out of tune!

A little later on, I was introduced to the exquisite sound of Renaissance and Baroque choral music while studying music composition and theory as an adjunct to my Psychology degree. The choral music won my heart far beyond the twangs of my guitar. Although, a few more years later my guitar found its place again in the flood of new hymns and Christian songs from the post-Vatican II reforms and the Charismatic Renewal Movement. While many of these songs suffered from poor musical composition and repetitive lyrics, they were easily sung by a willing congregation, and my guitar found regular use – sometimes to the chagrin of the local organist and the more senior members of the congregation. 

A lot of time has passed since then... and now I find myself looking more like one of those more senior members of the congregation than I would like! I also find myself greeting those old hymns with renewed appreciation, especially when expected to learn a new song with odd rhythms and limited musicality. I am more sympathetic now to the comment made by the late and venerable and most eminent Rev. John Wesley, a lover of music and an elegant poet. When asked for his opinion of the new Christian music being introduced into the chapels of the Methodists. He replied in his terse and powerful manner, ‘I have no objections ... provided they are neither heard nor seen'.

Kia mau te rongo me te pai ki a koe i to haerenga

May you find peace and goodwill on your journey.

Phil