Christian living, Jesus, World Religions

Christian Reflections on the Taoist Way of Water

Nothing in the world is softer and weaker than water;
But, for attacking the hard and strong, there is nothing like it!
For nothing can take its place.
That the weak overcomes the strong, and the soft overcomes the hard,
This is something known by all, but practiced by none.

Tao Te Ching 78, Lao Tzu, translated by John Wu, 1961

When I lived in Hawaii, I used to walk along a beach that had beautiful beige sand interspersed with the occasional outcropping of black lava rock.  As I would walk, I would hear the soothing sound of the crashing waves and watch the waters wash in and out on the shoreline.  The water was constantly giving way to the hard shore, crashing down on the beach before yielding and retreating.  Or so it appeared to me in the moment.  If I had a longer perspective, however, and could stand at that location for several millennia, I would see the shoreline slowly erode and dissolve into the unrelenting sea.  In fact, the sandy beach on which I loved to walk was actually created by the unrelenting waves pounding the lava rocks, coral reefs, and shells.  Ultimately, I would watch the island disappear entirely under the ocean’s constant advance and retreat, yet the sea itself would remain.  The soft overcomes the hard.  The rigid falls to the yielding.

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As the Tao Te Ching says, everyone knows water gains its power from its yielding nature.  We wash food off pots and pans with water.  We spray down homes or cars to remove dirt and grime.  We should know the way of yielding is powerful, that the weak eventually overcomes the strong.  So why do we seek “power” in the rigid, in the uncompromising, in the illusory “solid”?  Why are we so quick to fight for our “rights” or our vision of how the world should be?  Worse still, why do we double down when others make it clear that our view of reality is askew or our accusations against others are false rather than confess or mistake?  It is so hard for us to yield, much less to deny ourselves.  Speaking of sand, the Tao’s thrust can also be seen in the truth that you can hold more sand in an open hand than in a clenched fist.  The harder you try to cling to a loved one, the more you push them away.  The open hand is the beneficial way of truth, fairness, and goodwill that builds better friendships and achieves more through love and trust than the clenched fist ever will through control.

The only clenching of the fist, for a Christian, should be to grasp firmly onto your cross as you follow after Jesus.  The Taoist statement fits well with Jesus’ emphasis on dying to self, turning the cheek, going the extra mile, and loving your enemies.  We are called to be the yielding yet unrelenting presence of love.  This is the way ultimately to achieve justice in the world.  Consider Martin Luther King’s open handed work in the Civil Rights Movement.  He learned it from the Gospels and from Mohandas Gandhi’s open handed work to liberate India from British rule.  Gandhi learned this from Jesus’ Sermon on the Mount as well as the Jain concept of Ahimsa.  Interestingly, the Jain symbol of Ahimsa is the open palm!

The prophet Amos used this imagery of water overcoming rocks to communicate what God desires from us.  Amos says worshiping God isn’t through sacrifice or beautiful music.  True worship is when we let “justice roll on like a river, righteousness like a never-failing stream!” (5:24, NIV)

When someone makes false accusations against us, we instinctually respond with fight or flight.  But we need to engage them in love, quietly endure the accusations, and trust others to defend you.  Too many Christians are hardening themselves into culture warriors, yet Jesus wept for Jerusalem for just that issue.  He knew his fellow Jews wanted to overthrow the Romans through force and foresaw that this would destroy their city, their witness, and many of their lives.  

It will be interesting to see what happens in Iran.  The government is approaching the people’s outcries with hardened clenched fists.  Will the peaceful protests overcome?  Will they devolve into hardened tactics?  Likewise, Putin keeps hardening his position against Ukraine.  Putin sees himself as a defender of Orthodox Christianity against a corrupt West, but does he walk the way of Jesus, denying himself and taking up his cross?  The same chapter of the Tao Te Ching tells us the way of water for politics.  “To bear the calamities of a country is to be the prince of the world.”  This sounds more like Volodymyr Zelensky’s wartime leadership to date.  Yet can he practice true weakness or will the Ukrainians eventually harden in their fight with Russia and commit the same types of atrocities inflicted upon them?  The way of water is “known by all but practiced by none.”  None, perhaps, but Jesus, who took the calamities of his people upon himself and has become the King of Kings.

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Yes, that is one of my own photos.

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.

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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).

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