Christian living, religion, World Religions

Christian Reflections on Kabbalah and the Hasidim

Kabbalah has a long tradition, with origins stretching back at least a century prior to Jesus.  One influential leader was the Medieval Rabbi Isaac Luria, known as Ari (the Lion), who lived in the 1500s.  The Ari said that at creation the divine light filled ten vessels, some of which shattered under the weight of such glory.  Fragments of light from these shattered vessels scattered throughout creation, along with fragments of darkness.  It is now the responsibility of humans to help end chaos by gathering together these divine sparks of holiness in an effort to help repair the world (tikkun olam).

Subscribe to receive email notifications of new posts

This is very similar to John’s view of the pre-incarnate Logos, the Word that became flesh in Jesus (1:14).  He was the light that was coming into the world to enlighten every human (1:9).  John (or Jesus) even said that, when the full light comes (the good news of Messiah Jesus), those who have lived by the truth (the light they have received) will step into the light so all can see the works they have done were because of the Logos (3:19-21).  Second century apologist Justin Martyr further developed John’s Logos Christology in a way similar to the Ari’s scattered fragments of light.  Justin said the seeds of the Logos are scattered throughout creation.  Wherever we discover truth (or goodness) in the world—whether in the Bible, in culture, or even in another religion—it is there because it is a seed of the Logos.

Unlike the Ari’s view that there were only ten vessels for this light, Paul says in 2 Corinthians 4 that, through the gospel of Jesus, the light of creation shines in the darkness of our hearts.  We do not need to fear that we are damaged “jars of clay,” however.  The stress cracks, the flaws, even the brokenness of our lives—they are all simply opportunities for the light of Christ to stream out of us.  In our weakness, all can see that his light and life are the true source of our strength and our hope (2Co 12:7-10).  Elsewhere, Paul tells us the world groans for the sons and daughters of God (that is, the kings and queens of the kingdom) to be revealed.  Creation cries out for us to be ever more conformed to the image of Jesus, so that our actions reflect his and we join him as co-creators in the work of restoring the world (Rom 8:14-30) and redeeming the beauty and truth scattered throughout all cultures (Rev 5:8-10).

While the Ari saw this gathering of the light centered in the individual, through ascetic practices, prayer, and Torah observance, two centuries later Rabbi Israel ben Eliezer took these ideas in a different direction.  Called the Baal Shem Tov (Master of the Good Name, abbreviated Besht) by his followers, he led many Jews to embrace Hasidism (ecstatic piety) in the midst of anti-Jewish riots and severe poverty.  Without denying Torah observance, rituals, and rules, the Besht emphasized the importance of embracing the inner, mystical Torah.  This loving embrace of God could come from any Jew, whether they were a Talmud scholar or not.  Because God is immanent, he taught we can worship God through our everyday actions, whenever these acts are done in joyful thanks to God and loving service to others. 

As Elie Wiesel notes, the Besht took the Ari’s idea of gathering the scattered sparks and turned it into a communal experience.  When we are isolated and alone, we can study the Torah and observe it well, but all that is nothing if it is not for our neighbor, for our community (Souls on Fire, 32-33).  Just as embers die out when separated but kindle hot and bright when gathered together, the Besht emphasized the need for community.

Certainly, Christians can hear the call of Paul to love one another and overcome selfish ambition (Phil 2:1-5), as well as Paul’s emphasis that gifts are nothing unless they are used in service for the community (1Co 13).  We can also agree that everyday tasks can be acts of worship, for the most mundane tasks of life are transformed into moments of worship by Jesus.  The drudgery of walking along a road became a new way of thinking that caused two disciples’ hearts to burn (Lk 24:13-32).  The daily task of drawing water from a well became one woman’s opportunity to find living water (Jn 4:1-30).  A routine task of mending fishing nets became a lifelong calling to follow Jesus (Mk 4:21-22).  The same Jesus who encountered these people is living and active in each of us through his gift of the Spirit (Eph 3:14-21).  Paul’s invitation to give our lives as living sacrifices is not a call to grandious actions (Rom 12:1-2).  We are to consider every moment a moment of prayer, a moment of service, just as he sang praises in a dark prison cell after being beaten with rods (Ac 16:22-25).  But where the Besht seemed to limit this community to fellow Jews, Jesus pushes us far beyond our own community.  He calls us to love enemies (Mt 5:43-48) and reconcile divisions (Col 3:11-17).

So let us be co-creators with God, making the world a better place.  In humility, we should love our neighbors and rejoice in our labor.  May we pray that God’s kingdom come on earth, and may we do our part to bring all things under the feet of King Jesus.  “Let your light shine before others, that they may see your good deeds and glorify your Father in heaven” (Mt 5:16). 

Subscribe to receive email notifications of new posts

Christian living, religion, World Religions

Christian Reflections on the Tirthankara

In Jainism, the central figures are twenty-four Tirthankaras.  The word Tirthankara means “ford-maker,” one who creates a path through the river of death and rebirth (samsara) to the shores of Jain heaven (siddha-sila).  They are seen not as gods or redeemer figures, but as pioneers who discovered and taught the path that all Jina (conquerers) can follow.  Jains revere the statues of Tirthankaras, they meditate on them, reflecting on their life and manners in order to discover how to follow after them.  Mahavira, the final Tirthankara, was the son of a king, who renounced his royal luxuries and adopted poverty and an ascetic lifestyle to attain liberation from the cycle of death and rebirth.

Subscribe to receive email notifications of new posts

Jesus’ life is similar in many respects to Mahavira’s.  Like Mahavira, Jesus was the son of a king.  But his father was not the king of a realm in India; his father is the King of Loka (the universe).  Like Mahavira, who renounced his plush life for a humble life of homeless poverty and insult, we are told that Jesus, “did not consider equality with God something to be used to his own advantage; rather, he made himself nothing by taking the very nature of a servant” (Phil 2:6-7).  Both men had a small group of disciples with whom they wandered the countryside, preaching and teaching parables about “the beauty of poverty, of spirit, of meekness, of righteousness, of mercy, of purity, of peace, and of patient suffering. . . [and] how much greater a thing it was ‘to be’ than ‘to do’, and how perilous ‘to have'” (Stevenson, The Heart of Jainism, 1915, 291-92).  Whereas the Tirthankaras pioneered a path through the river of samara, Jesus alone has the most accurate knowledge of how to ford the river beyond this life, for he alone has made the journey twice, from heaven to earth and from earth to heaven.  Therefore, he is the True Tirthankara.  Through his double-crossing, he is not only a pioneer but also a perfecter of this crossing (Heb 12:2).  In fact, he himself is the Tirtha, the Ford (John 14:6).

A key concept of Jainism is that we do not see all of reality.  There is a manypointedness (anekantavada) to ultimate reality that is far beyond our human comprehension.  Christianity has always viewed the cross of Christ as a manypointed act beyond our full understanding.  It is sacrifice, substitution, ransom, satisfaction, victory, example.  One view of the cross is the moral influence theory of Peter Abelard.  Abelard saw the cross as the great demonstration of God’s love that enkindles a similar response of love within us.  This is similar to the Jain approach to the Tirthankaras.  As Paul Dundas notes,

Ancient tradition . . . is emphatic that worship of the fordmakers does not actually elicit a response from them but rather brings about an internal, spiritual purification in the worshipper[.] . . . So, while it might be the case that worship destroys karma, such an effect is regarded as having been brought about by the inner transformation which worship effects.

Paul Dundas (The Jains, 1992, 180)

How much greater Jesus is to both inspire and respond? A scribal addition to the Jain text Tattvarthadhigama (1.1) states, “I bow to him who is the guide on the path to liberation, the destroyer of mountains of karmas and the Knower of the principles of the universe, so that I may attain these qualities belonging to him.”  This could be a prayer of any Christian to Jesus, “the pioneer of their salvation [who was made] perfect through what he suffered” and so he can now “bring many sons and daughters to glory” (Heb 2:10).  Although Jains see the Tirthankara as an example and not a redeemer, still they can pray, “Lord, you’ve become almighty, omniscient.  I want to be just like you.  Give me the power and the wisdom to do this, so I can leave this world and attain salvation” (Salgia, Areopagus 7:3, 1994, 36).  This almost sounds like Paul’s admonition to Christians to continue working out their salvation with fear and trembling by becoming more and more like Jesus, who has been exalted to the highest place (Phil 2:1-13).

While Christians affirm that Jesus was fully human and learned obedience from his suffering (Heb 5:8-9) and that through this he has made a ford to the shores of liberation (moksha), we cannot agree with Jains that there is not a higher being who can assist us with attaining this liberation.  The cross has always been a confrontational object to every group of humans, whether as “a stumbling block to Jews, foolishness to Gentiles,” (1Co 1:23) or weakness to Jains.  The supreme ethic of Jainism is ahimsa, non-violence to all creatures.  The second is aparigraha (non-attachment), because the chief problem that keeps me (my jiva or “self”) from attaining liberation is “attachment”: the desire for things or longing for relationships.  Yet the story of the cross reveals a desire for own ways that is achieved through violence.  We humans put to death the very one who came from heaven to reveal the ford back to the Father, the path to the shores of liberation.  All of us—Jain or not—in one way or another have violently rejected his forgiveness and love.  We have clung to the self, to our own selfish desires.

The resurrection, however, reveals Jesus as the Conqueror (Jina) over sin, death, rebirth, and any other enemy that keeps us from liberation.  Through his rising from the dead, Jesus demands recognition not only as the human Tirthankara of Tirthankaras but also as the Living Kara, the Creator of the universe.  Anyone who would follow this one to the shores of moksha must be willing to fully practice aparigraha by letting go of that to which she or he is most attached: the self and its preservation.  “Those who belong to Christ Jesus have crucified the flesh with its passions and desires.  Since we live by the Spirit, let us keep in step with the Spirit” (Gal 5:24-25).

Subscribe to receive email notifications of new posts

religion

Revising the World Religions Course

flowers in forestThomas Guthrie described the difference between the Bible and theology using floral imagery.  He compared the formal organization of catechisms and confessions to the organized rows of flowers you would find in a botanical garden and the Bible to a walk through the woods where one can spot the various plants here or there in a haphazard fashion.[1]  (Linked full on bottom of page.Alister McGrath elaborated on the comparison, arguing the arrangement of flowers by species in the botanical garden helps one study each species more easily.  The garden (theology) is not an end in itself, however, but a tool to help one better clarify similarities and differences between species and more easily recognize and enjoy flowers encountered in the wild (the Bible).[2]

botanical gardenAfter two weeks of readings. lectures, and discussions in the World Religions and World Religions Discourse summer institute funded by the National Endowment for the Humanities, I would propose a new way forward in the study of world religions using a modified application of Guthrie’s analogy.  A problem with most textbooks is that they present the religious traditions primarily in a botanical garden format.  This helps the student study “the Hindu” or “the Buddhist,” but it creates the impression that the rows of separated, differentiated species (“Hinduism” or “Buddhism”) are the “real world” (Hindus or Buddhists) and not simply a tool for better encountering the real world.  In the real world, life is messy and disjointed.  It isn’t a garden but a forest, sometimes overgrown and wild.  Often the chapters attempt to show the “wild side” of the religions, but students get lost in the weeds of too many historical facts or confused how a described but detached practice or movement actually connects to the lived tradition.

But what if we gathered up these lost students out of the forest, took them to a botanical garden for a fairly quick tour to gain some working reference points, then took them back to the forest for a guided tour of the same flowers in their natural habitat?  Would that give them a better understanding of the forest (the actual lived religions)?  What if, after the forest exploration we then introduced the students to a second type of artificial encounter with the flora, not the striated rows of different species in the botanical garden but variegated groupings carefully selected and arranged?  bouquetWould these bouquets (topical discussions) give the students yet a greater appreciation of the beauty and diversity of the flora encountered in the forest when left on their own?

A course following this threefold concept (with intro and conclusion) would do the following:

  • Lost in the Woods: Introduction to the study of religions.
  • Touring the Garden: The first part of the study would introduce students to some basic worldview concepts and practices of each religion, so that they have a basic concept of what a Hindu “is” in relation to a Buddhist.
  • Exploring the Forest: The middle part of the study would provide a historical discussion from the ancient past to the present, giving students a taste of how religions develop and change over time. What is the impact of cultural changes, historical events, political policies, or interaction with other religious traditions?
  • Picking Bouquets: The final section of the study would then help students consider some similarities and differences among the religions by talking about selected topics, such as missionary encounters, government responses, violence, or mysticism. The method would delve into selected events, writings, or lives across traditions.
  • At Home in the Wild: Closing reflections from a Christian perspective.

I would love to hear feedback on such a rearrangement of the subject.  While no format is perfect, I think such an arrangement would help students gain a greater appreciation for the variety of faiths and practices.  Is there something I am missing, need to remove, or rearrange?  Or am I missing the forest for all of the trees?

[1]Thomas Guthrie, Gems of Illustration from the Sermons and Other Writings of Thomas Guthrie (New York: Funk & Wagnall, 1882), 42, accessed July 25, 2017, https://books.google.com/books?id=EYxBAQAAMAAJ.

[2]McGrath, Studies in Doctrine (Grand Rapids: Zondervan Publishing House, 1997), 249.

Any views, findings, conclusions, or recommendations expressed in this blog do not necessarily reflect those of the National Endowment for the Humanities.