Doing the Right Thing (Is. 66:10-14; Ps. 66; Gal. 6:1-6, 7-16; Lk. 10:1-11, 16-20)

The family is a funny institution. We make much of being related to each other, of sharing common ancestors, common history, common DNA. We speak of fierce loyalties with phrases like "Blood is thicker than water." As parents and children, brothers and sisters, we have bonds that go beyond words. We love each other even if we don’t particularly like each other. What’s funny is that in a culture in which having choices is viewed as a God-given fight, we have such strong ties to people we do not choose. Who our mother is, who our brother is, who our great-grandfather is -- these relationships are out of our control and our choosing. They are simply God’s gifts to us. We accept this as a part of life that gives us both pain and pleasure.

The Christian community is often called the family of faith. We call ourselves brothers and sisters in Christ. We understand ourselves bound together in a mystical way, not by blood, but by water -- the water of baptism. Just like biological families, we do not choose one another. Anyone who leaves the baptismal pool wet behind the ears is automatically in the family, and we are expected to act as family toward them. This means we love them (yes, even if we don’t particularly like them), we practice hospitality, speak words of forgiveness, perform acts of kindness and mercy. In other words, we get along!

Family relationships are often difficult because these people we did not choose, even if they are flesh of our flesh, can be so different from us -- worlds apart, sometimes in ideas and ideals. If this is true in each biological family, it’s overwhelmingly true in our baptismal family

The apostle Paul was the first to suggest that the gift of baptism be extended to those outside the family of Israel. This adoption by baptism allowed the family circle to stretch beyond the blood and covenant of the Jews. Paul took the gospel message, which had been birthed in rural Palestine, and carried it to the major cities of the Roman Empire. He preached Christ to people who spoke unknown languages, who subscribed to unknown philosophies and worshiped unknown gods. Suddenly the Christian family was filled with strangers with strange ideas. It was a lot to expect regular human beings to manage. Yet here we are, all part of the Pentecost family.

Paul’s letters to his mission churches reveal the pains and pleasures of being the family of faith. To the churches in the territory of Galatia we overhear Paul giving advice on how to be a functional family. So let us not grow weary in doing what is right,for we will reap at harvesttime, if we do not give up. We can almost feel Paul’s arm around our shoulders, giving us a squeeze, and his pastoral words of encouragement: Don’t grow tired of it all and for goodness’ sake, don’t give up!

Paul had been around the block a few times. He knew the problems in bringing together a multicultural, multiracial, multipolitical church and expecting it to be one big happy family. We have never quite managed it. Paul advises us not to grow weary in doing what is right.

The opportunities for growing weary of doing right are many. We think we are doing what is right when local clergy decide to plan an ecumenical Thanksgiving service for the entire community. What a wonderful symbol of unity this could be! But then they find themselves weary worship planners as differences over liturgy, music, appropriate service leaders and what to do about the offering come crashing in. We wonder why just believing in Jesus isn’t enough to gather us together. Sometimes we want to quit the family

Ethical issues and community debates which pepper the local and national news give us more opportunities to demonstrate publicly our differences within the family of faith. People quote scripture on both sides of an issue. One man will stand up at the microphone at a city council meeting and say, "I’m a good Christian person, therefore I’m opposed to this policy." The woman who follows says, "Because I’m a woman of faith I can’t imagine the council not passing this policy for the good of us all." It’s wearisome, as Paul warned us. He also encouraged us.

Paul was the first Christian to attempt doing the right thing in a pluralistic society. He not only attempted it, he believed it could be done. He believed in the family concept. He accepted the notion that very different people could coexist in one family; that they could love one another, and that they could work for a common good. He believed diversity was not a curse but a wonderful blessing of creation.

What makes us weariest, Paul teaches us, is not that we are different, but that we act as if our way of functioning in the body is the best way. This causes family fights like nothing else. We do right when we understand our differences as gifts of God and not devices of the devil. We do the right thing when we publicly acknowledge that left to ourselves we can do nothing right. We do right when we keep Christ in the center.

All of this is hard work. We crave the instant gratification of Christian consensus. It doesn’t come about in big splashes to make even the local news most of the time, but it does come. Think of the times in your family or your family of faith when the right thing was actually done, even if it was hard won. When you are weary and when you are ready to give up, think of the times when for a brief moment you glimpsed the kingdom of God. Let these moments preach to you, then feel your weary soul soar.

Stay and Follow (Ps. 22: 19-28; Lk. 8:26-39)

He was buried alive, this man of the Gerasenes. He was alive, but he lived in a graveyard among the tombs. Modern interpreters tell us that the people possessed by demons in the Gospels probably suffered from forms of mental illness.

Some mental illnesses can be effectively treated, others cannot. Many people suffer from depression, for example, but with a little medication can function quite well as a physician, accountant, pastor or father. Others are possessed by what seems to be a legion of demons. What afflicts them is difficult to manage. Regular living proves overwhelming, and finally a family decides to force the afflicted one out of normal society and into institutions created to house the mentally ill. The Gerasenes’ mental institution was the village graveyard.

Jesus always seems to find those who have been separated. from the community. Luke tells us story after story of how Jesus encounters someone who lives outside the covenant community, removes what separates them and then sends them back home where they’ve longed to be.

Because Jesus has no fear of being ritually contaminated, because he seems to have absolutely no fear of becoming an outcast himself, Jesus often ministers along the margins of society. There he finds the lepers hiding, the blind begging, the possessed raging and the sinful cowering. The gift Jesus brings to those on the margins is to take away the things that separate them and restore them to the heart of the community.

The story of the Gerasene demoniac is yet another one of these healing, restoration stories, but this one has a few intriguing details. Although the detail of the death of the pigs is odd, the best part is the second half, when the townspeople find the former mental patient sitting at the feet of Jesus.

The people have already heard the account of the healing from the herdsmen. They are not amazed or grateful, but afraid. Not knowing what to make of it and not sure they want to hear more, they insist that Jesus leave their neighborhood at once. Jesus, with his "shake the dust off your feet" evangelism philosophy, gets back into the boat without a word and prepares to set sail.

Then it happens. The man who sat at Jesus’ feet and who learned from him wants to go with them. Look at his options! He is standing on the beach with Jesus, with the disciples in the boat in front of him and the townsfolk who banished him to the graveyard at his back. He wants to go with the one who healed him, the one who wasn’t afraid to come near him, who didn’t walk on the other side of the street. He wants to go with his new teacher and Lord and learn more about the kingdom of God. He’s ready to follow Jesus. There’s room in the boat, and he’ll leave without looking back -- there’s no one to say good-bye to. But Jesus says no.

To others along the way Jesus issues the invitation, "Come, follow me, but to this one he says, "Return to your home, and declare how much God has done for you." At the very end, we see what kind of story this really is. It isn’t simply a story of one man’s healing, but a story of one man’s calling. Jesus does bid the man to follow, but in this case the following, the call to ministry, involves staying rather than leaving. Jesus does not reject the man’s application for discipleship, but accepts it fully. I even have a first appointment all lined up for you, Jesus says from the boat. Your congregation is standing right behind you. Now, go and tell. The Gerasene demoniac is ordained the first Gerasene preacher. According to Luke’s one-liner at the end of the story, the man fulfills his task and does it well.

The disciples, those official ones named in scripture, are silent during this account of restoration and call. Do they understand that this nameless man is as much a disciple as they, who one day will have churches named after them? Though Jesus says, "Come" to some and "Stay" to others, do they understand that all are called to follow -- with different assignments? Do they realize that he is the only person in the village with enough clout to preach the Jesus story? After all, who can understand the coming power of the resurrection better than someone who has lived as a dead man but is now alive in Christ?

Our God, who is constantly in the process of reshaping the community, issues a variety of calls in a variety of places. No matter where we are sent or what we are called to do, each of us is a disciple of Christ and equal member of the one body. When we are called, where we are called and how we are called are part of God’s great design. The Gerasene preacher desperately wants his call to take him far, far away, but Jesus says, "Stay."

We wonder what he is thinking as he turns away from the boat and faces the fearful crowd, the men, women and children of his new congregation. Perhaps as he leads them back to the village he sings the verses of Psalm 22:

Be not far away, 0 Lord; you are my strength; hasten to help me. I will declare your name to the people; in the midst of [even this] congregation will I praise you.

So Explain It To Me (Prov.8:1-4,22-31;Ps.8;Rom.5:1-5;John 16:12-15)

For those Christians who live their lives within the rhythm of the liturgical year, and for those preachers who are disciplined by the common lectionary, this is the only day of the year that calls us to ponder a teaching of the church rather than a teaching of Jesus. The scriptural readings for the day are carefully chosen to reflect the Three-in-One doctrine: God as Creator, Christ and Holy Spirit. The scriptural readings provide Biblical backup for a nonscriptural word: Trinity.

Although this mystery of God revealed in three ways is the core belief of Christianity, many struggle to explain it. Monotheistic Christians do backflips explaining why such a belief doesn't make them polytheists. Water has often been called forth as a witness. This common earthly element exists on this earth as a gas, a liquid and a solid. Three forms, one substance, get it?

At the age of three I had a memorable experience of the three-in-one, I was watching my grandmother sleep during her afternoon nap. As I contemplated her existence, I thought wisely, "That's Grandmamma, Mamma and Odelle." She smiled in her sleep as I called her by the names used for her by her grandchildren, her daughter and her husband, Three names, three relationships -- and yet the same person. Amazing!

Within our Christian community these days, the doctrine of the Trinity is called many things besides amazing. Some call it archaic, obsolete or patriarchal. Some, believing that ancient confessional statements and doctrines no longer serve us, have abandoned trinitarian language for something less musty sounding.

Some have chosen a favorite member of the Trinity and have put all of their theological eggs in one basket. Some, concerned that the Trinity expressed as Father, Son and Holy Spirit portrays the Godhead as overly male, have worked to change the language. Some opt to ignore the Father-Son relationship and speak only of the functions of the three: Creator, Redeemer, and Sanctifier. Others are outraged that Christians, especially Christian leaders, tinker so casually with the ancient language of the faith, the faith in which we baptize. No doubt the conversation and the debates will continue, and well they should.

Yet how important is it to explain the mystery of God revealed to us in three distinct ways? Mysteries explained cease to be mysteries, don't they? Perhaps the doctrine of the Trinity challenges our secret wish to know God fully and eliminate all mystery. This, after all, was the burning desire of our first parents in the Garden, a desire that ultimately caused them to fall from grace. Does this temptation to dispel all mystery still burn within us?

It seems to me that instead of to explaining how these three things are really one things, we must try to do what the doctrine of the Trinity was originally formulated to do: give words the faith. As Christians in mission, we must be ready to witness to others about what we believe and why we believe it. The early Christians, living in a hostile world, needed to put some definitive language to what they believed Christ had revealed to them. For the sake of unity they needed a. common language, a common confession. In our hostile world, our witness demands the same thing.

To speak of the Trinity, the One God who is made known to us as the Creator of all, the redeeming Christ and the life-giving Spirit, is to use a shorthand way of expressing the depths of the faith. Without the Trinity holding us accountable, we might be tempted to worship a one-dimensional deity. This full view of God lifts up a God who is more than a Creator who made the world out of nothing, more than the God of the big-bang theory who began the universe and then left it to run on its own -

We do not worship a process, but a provider who continues to create and move among us. Each day is a new day, thanks to the Spirit of God in our midst. God's work in Jesus is the prime example of God's continuing creative and redeeming work among us and despite us. The Trinity gives language to our strongest belief that our God is not merely a God of history, performing mighty acts only in Bible times, but a powerful, on-the-move God of the present and of the future. That's what the Trinity wants us to understand in our heart of hearts.

How is this possible? We don't understand it, need not try and need not apologize for God's mysteries. What we do need to explain, in language articulate and faithful, is what God has done among us, what God is doing now and what God promises will be accomplished.

For many Christians, the language of the Trinity has been a useful unifying tool for such proclamation. We faithful must always have such a tool. We must be ready to make Jesus known, to articulate the faith to those who have not heard but who during those serendipitous moments in life approach us and ask: I understand you're a Christian. Can you explain it to me?

Asian Religions — An Introduction to the Study of Hinduism, Buddhism, Islam, Confucianism, and Taoi

The study of a religion other than one’s own is a modern, and Western, phenomenon. The earliest reference to "the religions of the world" that Wilfred Cantwell Smith could find after a diligent search (discussed in his recent The Meaning and End of Religion) was in 1508 in Dyalogus Johannis Stamler Augustñ. de diversarum gencium sectis et mundi religionibus. That was followed a century later, in 1614, by Brerewood’s Enquiries touching the diversity of languages, and religions through the chiefe parts of the world, which ran through some thirteen editions in the seventeenth century, in English, French, and Latin. The Enlightenment showed an interest in Asian religions, but it was not until the second half of the nineteenth century, beginning with Max Muller in 1867, that serious scholarly study of the religions of the world, of religions other than the scholar’s own, was undertaken. The first article on Buddhism in the Encyclopaedia Britannica appeared in the ninth edition, in 1875.

By the beginning of the twentieth century there were chairs devoted to the study of the history of religions, or comparative religions, in about a dozen European universities, and today research in at least some of the Asian religions is being done in most of the universities of Europe and America. A recent survey showed that there are over four hundred college professors in the United States giving undergraduate courses in the religions of the world. Opportunities for graduate study and research in the religions of Asia have expanded rapidly in the United States and Europe since the war, using the techniques of linguistics, history, literary criticism, sociology, anthropology, psychology, the arts, theology, and philosophy.

There has been no such development in Asia. Japanese scholars have greatly expanded their studies within the Buddhist context, covering Tibet, China, and the Buddhism of India and Southeast Asia, but have done little with Hinduism, Judaism, Islam, and Christianity. Some work has been done in India, courses have been offered in religions other than Buddhism in Ceylon, there was a chair of comparative religions for a time in Turkey, but in general the scholars of Asia have not turned to a study of religions other than their own.

Various reasons have been given for the interest in the religions of the world. Some suggest that the very idea of religions, in the plural, came from a pluralistic society with a democratic form of government. Some attribute the interest to improved methods of communication and transportation, together with more widespread education, saying that the desire to know more about other religions is inevitable when educated people have frequent opportunities to observe their differences and similarities throughout the world. Some of the studies seem to have been motivated by a desire to establish an underlying unity in all religions, or to prove the superiority of one religion over the others, or to develop more effective methods for conversion.

The time is past for easy comparisons, oversimplifications, stress on the exotic, or smug superiority in discussing religions other than one’s own. The information at our disposal now makes so evident the complexity, the diversity, of the religious aspect of human experience in all Asian cultures that we can no longer use easy generalizations or traditionally accepted patterns in talking about other religions. As Professor Smith pointed out in the work referred to above, "Normally persons talk about other people’s religions as they are, and about their own as it ought to be. . . . Those without a faith of their own think of all ‘religions’ as observably practiced. Hence insiders and outsiders use the same words while talking of different things" (p. 49). The aim in studying another religion should be to know it as it is and as its followers think it ought to be. It is a good rule always to speak of a religion other than one’s own as if the speaker were in the presence of a good friend who is a follower of that religion. And, obviously, comparative evaluations should not be made, until one is sure that he understands accurately and perceptively the religion other than his own which he is judging -- a level of understanding rarely attained by any of us.

We are concerned here with the place of Asian religions in the study of world history. When we study the history of Europe and America we can assume at least a minimal knowledge about the influence of Greek, Jewish, and Christian religious thought and practices, but for the study of the history of Asia we must prepare ourselves by gaining a sympathetic understanding of the quite different religious ideas and practices of that part of the world. We find ourselves guilty of errors of judgment and distortions of our sources when we apply to the history of Asia our own religious patterns and evaluations. This is to assume, as I do, that religious faith -- the ways men find meaning for their lives and evaluate their relations to the natural world, to each other, and to the transcendent -- is a factor of basic importance in shaping a culture and influencing the process of history; that religion is not just one of many aspects of the history of a people, to be taken up when, and if, convenient, but is fundamental to historical understanding; that it is a necessary, but not sufficient, basis for the interpretation of history. A knowledge of the religious background of the historical process under study will give meaning to much that would otherwise be obscure, will guard against possible misinterpretations, and might, even, lead to new perspectives on our own history and culture.

There is no easy way to get the background needed in Islam, Hinduism, Buddhism, Confucianism, and Taoism. It helps if one has a reasonably sophisticated and objective view of one’s own religious faith, for that makes it easier to guard against attempting to force the religion studied into familiar molds. The first task in studying an Asian religion is to try to see the religion as it is seen by a believer; obviously, our judgments will be invalid if we see the religion through the eyes of German, or French, or American scholars, colored by the biases of Christian, Jewish, democratic, colonial or anti-colonial scholarship. We will not be altogether successful in gaining the Asian perspective, but we must try. For that, our basic resources are history and anthropology, with recent anthropological research proving to be of increasing value. Such descriptive studies must be the prelude to the study of the scriptures, the sacred writings, which are received as revelations or accepted as spiritual guides. Then we must turn to the other religious writings accepted as authoritative within the religion, and to the art and music when they play an important role. It may be objected that art and music cannot be conceptualized and are not therefore usable as facts in presenting religious history; from the point of view of religion, however, it must be insisted that the art and music are data which must be understood if the history is to be accurate.

As in other aspects of historical study, there is no getting away from the necessity to learn the relevant geography, to study the maps until the events have been placed spacially as well as temporally. Another chore is the learning of a new vocabulary. It is discouraging to think that one must understand the meaning of words which cannot be translated, such as karma, avatara, bodhisattva, anicca, Tao, shari’a, ijma, and dozens more; must recognize such names as Jalalu ’l-Din Rumi, Avalokiteswara, Vivekananda, ’Ali, Ananda, Ramanuja; must know the significance of such places as Sarnath, Karbala, Borobodur, Anuradhapura, Ajanta, Bamiyan, Hardwar, Mohenjodaro -- but there is no short cut. One cannot understand the religions of Asia without having learned the basic religious concepts, the accepted religious writings, the important religious leaders, and the places which have sacred connotations for the people of Asia.

General

Unfortunately, there is no adequate, generally accepted introduction to the religions of Asia. The complexity of the field forces oversimplification when an attempt is made to cover all religions in one volume, and the attempt to be brief seems to create an irresistible tendency to force the religions into patterns. The classic in the field is History of Religions, by George Foote Moore, a scholarly introduction done some fifty years ago and still useful for factual material. The most widely used college textbook is Man’s Religions, by John B. Noss; the author’s preferences are frequently evident, and many passages would be questioned by followers of the religion under discussion, but it is widely used because of its extensive coverage and wealth of informative material. Readily available in paperback is The Religions of Man, by Huston Smith. It was not written as a textbook but as a response to a popular demand for an introduction to world religions after his brilliant television programs a few years ago. The Hinduism section gives the impression that Vedanta and Hinduism are synonymous, and the Buddhist section overemphasizes Zen, but the book is notable for the spirit of understanding of other religions expressed throughout. It is a good book to put in the hands of a beginner, for it gives much useful information with sympathetic insight and wise counsel on how to approach the study of a religion other than one’s own. E. G. Parrinder, Reader in Comparative Religions at London University, has recently published What World Religions Teach, designed for high school students introducing them to Hinduism, Jainism, Buddhism, Confucius, Taoism, Shinto, the Sikhs, Bahais, Theosophy, African religions, Zoroastrianism, Judaism, Christianity, and Islam. It has a strong Christian bias. Modern Trends in World Religions, edited by Joseph M. Kitagawa, is not a systematic introduction to world religions but is useful as a general introduction for it is a collection of essays on current trends and problems in the study of world religions as seen by competent scholars who have been reflecting on the results of their research.

Teachers of Asian religions tend to look upon general introductions to the religions of the world as useful only for quick reference, and to prefer books dealing with a specific religion, supplemented with readings from original sources.

Many, but not all, of the sacred writings of the religions of Asia are now available in English translations, but the most complete collection is still The Sacred Books of the East, edited by Friedrich Max Muller, and published from 1879 to 1910 in fifty-one volumes. They are now out of print but some of them are being reprinted by Dover Publications.

Some books deal with an area, discussing more than one religion without aiming to be a general introduction to world religions. Anyone concerned with the religions of Southeast Asia would find it helpful to refer to A History of South-East Asia, by Daniel G. E. Hall, for it gives much information about the religions not readily available elsewhere. Brian Harrison’s A Short History of South-East Asia is designed for high school students, giving less detail. Southeast Asia, Crossroad of Religions, by Kenneth Perry Landon, is a lucid, readable, somewhat simplified account of the Hindu and Islamic contributions to the culture of Southeast Asia. It is a fascinating story. The Wonder That Was India, by A. L. Basham, is a cultural history of India before the coming of the Muslims, with a great deal of information in small compass on the earliest culture, political history, social organization, the arts, language and literature, and over a hundred pages devoted to Hinduism and Buddhism. As a general introduction to the culture of India, it is widely used in American colleges. For Indian religions it is a convenient introduction to Harappa culture and the Aryans and gives a brief summary of Vedic and later Hinduism, Buddhism, and some other sects.

William Theodore de Bary and others have edited three volumes which are indispensable for students of Asian religions: Sources of Indian Tradition, Sources of Japanese Tradition, and Sources of Chinese Tradition. They have included explanatory sections by the editors, sections written by contemporary Asian scholars, and both classical and contemporary writings covering political, social, and literary aspects of the traditions of Hinduism, Buddhism, Sikhism, Jainism, Confucianism, Taoism, Neo-Confucianism, and Shinto. The editors and writers, basing their selections of topics and readings on their years of research and teaching, have brought together in these volumes valuable materials for the study of Asian religions which would not otherwise be readily available to teachers and students.

Hinduism

The people of India would never refer to their religious faith and practices as Hinduism except as a concession to Western thought, for the Western label implies a pattern of beliefs and practices which is alien to their way of life. It is used here in the sense of the religion of the people of India, as distinguished from the Buddhists, Christians, Muslims and others who diverge from the predominant religious trends of the subcontinent. The attitude of the Hindus toward what seems to them an attempt to oversimplify and to impose Western religious categories and concepts on their religion should be borne in mind when evaluating books about the religion of India.

Hinduism, with four hundred million followers, is the oldest of the contemporary world religions, dating from at least two thousand B. C. It is primarily a religion of India; although it was known in the countries to the west, its major influence outside India was in Southeast Asia where it at one time was the dominant culture as far east as Indonesia. While there are many sects within Hinduism, and numerous interpretations of the basic Hindu ideas, there would be general agreement that the world as we know it is an emanation from an original Source, Brahman, that ultimately the world as we know it will return to its Source; in the meantime, living beings go through numerous rebirths, their progress upward toward Brahman or downward toward material existence determined by the law of karma. Karma may be interpreted as a kind of cosmic justice, a moral law of cause and effect; or it may be seen as simply an orderly world in which every act has its inevitable consequence. For most Hindus, the final authority is found in the Vedas and the writings of great religious leaders capable of seeing the true nature of reality. There are many gods, all of them manifestations of the Supreme Being. Man’s place in society is determined by his actions in his previous life, and in this life he is preparing the consequences for future existences. Yogic practices are designed to free men from the attachments of material existence and to develop their spiritual faculties so they can move toward the divine source from which they came.

Charles Eliot published in 1921 a three-volume work on Hinduism and Buddhism which is still a standard reference and dependable scholarly guide to Hinduism. Hindus detect in his asides frequent evidence that the book was written by a pukkha sahib in colonial times, but join in admiration for his scholarship and insight. The index to the three volumes is an amazingly complete reference source for looking up new words, strange titles, and definitions of terms. Even those who find the books too detailed for an introduction to Hinduism will discover that they will be coming back to Eliot as questions arise in their reading. It is a westernized interpretation of Hinduism, but an unusually able, scholarly work.

Hinduism, by K. M. Sen, is a small paperback of about a hundred pages written by a Hindu to introduce Hinduism to Europeans and Americans. Although occasionally defensive and apologetic in tone, it is generally a simple, straight-forward description of Hinduism. It has the advantage that it presents the point of view of a follower of the faith. Another presentation of Hinduism by Hindus is The Religion of the Hindus, edited by Kenneth W. Morgan. After numerous interviews in India, seeking agreement as to what such a book should contain and who would be the most representative scholars to write it, the editor asked seven religious leaders to write on different aspects of the beliefs and practices of the Hindus. As they wrote, they made a conscious effort to present an accurate picture of contemporary Hinduism. The book contains a glossary of Hindu terms and a map showing the sacred places of the Hindus.

Sources of Indian Tradition, edited by William Theodore de Bary and others, has excellent sections on Hinduism written by two distinguished Hindu scholars, R. N. Dandekar and V. Raghavan, and readings from Hindu writings, carefully chosen to present Hindu beliefs and practices. It is one of the best available sources for becoming acquainted with the religion of the Hindus.

One of the best ways to gain an understanding of Hinduism is to study the Bhagavad Gita, especially if the reading of the Gita follows some introductory study of Hinduism so the ideas about Hinduism will be clarified and enriched as the Gita is mastered. Mahatma Gandhi found the basis for his faith in the Bhagavad Gita and found the inspiration and justification for non-violent direct action in its second chapter. One of the best editions of the Bhagavad Gita for the beginner is the translation by Swami Nikhilananda, for it is not only in good English but is provided with extensive notes, clarifying new concepts and giving a background for interpretation. The notes are Vedantic, and not all Hindus follow Vedanta, but with that warning in mind the commentary is one of the most useful available to Western students. For an understanding of Hinduism, it is better to have read a little introductory material and to have studied the Bhagavad Gita intensively than to have read more widely in secondary sources.

V. Raghavan’s The Indian Heritage makes available a carefully selected volume of the most important passages from Sanskrit literature, covering the Vedas, the Upanishads, the Dharma Sastra, the Yoga Sutras of Patanjali, the Bhagavad Gita, and a collection of prayers not readily available elsewhere. It brings together in one volume the passages of the Hindu sacred writings which are treasured by an intelligent, devout Hindu.

There are multi-volumed studies of Indian philosophy by Radhakrishnan and Dasgupta, but one of the clearest and simplest introductions to the philosophy of India is The Essentials of Indian Philosophy, by M. Hiriyanna. He first wrote Outlines of Indian Philosophy, a somewhat fuller treatment, and then rewrote it as the Essentials, clarifying some passages. Another book of considerable merit is An Introduction to Indian Philosophy, by Satischandra Chatterjee and Dhirendramohan Datta. Either of these books will give Western students a good introduction to the philosophy of India. Having read about Indian philosophy, the next step is to read some of the sources, and for that Charles A. Moore of the University of Hawaii and Sarvepalli Radhakrishnan, India’s philosopher President, have provided A Source Book in Indian Philosophy, a carefully selected collection of representative philosophical writings from Vedic to modern times.

To enrich the understanding of Hinduism, and to provide a dimension not found in the other writings, it is useful to read The Gospel of Sri Ramakrishna and Vivekananda, The Yogas and Other Works, both edited by Swami Nikhilananda. Ramakrishna played an important role in the revival of Hinduism in this century, and his work was carried on by his disciple Vivekananda, both in India and America. The stories of their lives and their teachings provide unique and illuminating source material for understanding contemporary Hinduism. Vivekananda’s writings on yoga are useful for understanding one of the interpretations of the role of yoga in Hindu religious life.

For the study of yoga, one of the best books available is Yoga: Immortality and Freedom, by Mircea Eliade. It includes a discussion of yoga in Buddhism and in its Tantric forms and shows the relation of yoga to Hindu beliefs. It is a balanced, critical study by one of the great religious scholars of our time. For a somewhat simpler introduction, Yoga, A Scientific Evaluation, by Kovoor T. Behanan, is available in paperback. Behanan, as a graduate student at Yale, became interested in yoga and returned to India to study yogic techniques as a basis for his thesis at Yale. It is a clear statement of the basic principles of yoga, written with a Western reader in mind. Those who are interested in yogic exercises, Hatha Yoga, will find ample information in the little book Yoga for Perfect Health, by Alain, with illustrations of the postures by Sachin Majumdar.

The student who seeks to gain a sympathetic understanding of Hinduism will find that an appreciation of Indian art, literature, and music will be most helpful. For Hinduism, The Art and Architecture of India, by Professor Benjamin Rowland of Harvard University, is more than a merely adequate introduction, yet not too expensive for personal use. There are many recent novels in English, written by Indians, which reveal new dimensions of Indian religious life and illuminate the historical, philosophical, and religious studies of Hinduism: R. K. Narayan is one contemporary novelist whose works have excited students to further study of Hinduism and Indian culture. (Narayan’s Financial Expert is the only one of his novels in paperback, but his other novels are now published in the United States.) For the theater, Theatre in India, by Balwant Gargi, gives an introduction to the traditional and the modern theater, with a wealth of information and perceptive interpretations. Indian music reveals much about Hinduism that is not conveyed by the written word or by reproductions of painting and sculpture; for an introduction to the music of India, Swami Prajnanananda has written Historical Development of Indian Music which, although it bristles with untranslated Sanskrit words, can be read with profit by anyone who has made enough of a study of Hinduism to be able to recognize its central concepts. Recordings with helpful explanatory notes can be purchased from Folkways (P431, with notes by Alain Danielou) and from Angel (35468 and 35283, with notes by Yehudi Menuhin). The student of Hinduism who becomes familiar with those records by hearing them several times, who reads several Indian novels, and who becomes acquainted with some of the best examples of Indian art, will find that he understands Hinduism better and brings new insight to his study of the history of India.

Buddhism

The Buddha was a Hindu prince who rejected the Hindu scriptures, rituals, austerities, caste, and the Hindu teachings concerning creation and the Self, but remained close to Hinduism in his acceptance of the belief that existence continues through many lives and is controlled by the law of karma. The Buddha means The Enlightened One; he is the man who found the path by which all men may free themselves from suffering and despair. He rejected useless speculations which go beyond human experience, such as speculations about creation, God, and the nature of the future life, and urged a pattern of conduct and meditation leading to enlightenment, to freedom from sorrow. That enlightenment brings the recognition that all is change, that change ends in sorrow, that there is no soul, that man is only a combination of elements controlled by karma, and that when man is free from the illusory attachment to this world he becomes free from rebirth --what happens then is beyond our powers to know.

That basic pattern of Buddhism (now known as Theravada and based on scriptures written in Pali) was taught in India in the sixth century B. C. and spread throughout much of India and Southeast Asia. By the first century A. D., another form of Buddhism, known as Mahayana, had arisen in northern India with new writings mostly in Sanskrit, with much more elaborate speculative teachings. Theravada is found today in Ceylon, Burma, Thailand, Laos, and Cambodia; Mahayana spread to China, Korea, Japan, and Tibet; there is little Buddhism left in India. Not counting China, where it is impossible to know the status of Buddhism, there are about 150,000,000 Buddhists in the world today. It should be remembered when evaluating sources of information about Buddhism that the division between Theravada and Mahayana Buddhism has meant that there has been little communication between them for centuries, giving most writings either a Mahayana or Theravada bias.

Western scholars have been writing about Buddhism for about a century, not altogether to their own satisfaction or that of the Buddhists. Theravada Buddhists now point to What the Buddha Taught, by Walpola Rahula, a Ceylonese Bhikkhu (monk), as the best introduction to the central ideas of Buddhism, whether Theravada or Mahayana. Mahayanists might not agree, but it is a good book to read for it presents Buddhism with the emphases one would hear if receiving instruction in Ceylon. Another book which seeks to present Buddhism from the point of view of the Buddhists is The Path of the Buddha, edited by Kenneth W. Morgan and written by eleven Buddhist scholars, three Theravada and eight Mahayana, who were recommended by Buddhists as the religious leaders best able to speak for them. Its map of Buddhist pilgrimage places and its glossary of Buddhist terms are aids to the beginner in Buddhist studies.

For general introductions, all that was said under Hinduism about Sir Charles Eliot’s Hinduism and Buddhism applies to the study of Buddhism, and de Bary’s Sources of Indian Tradition, Sources of Japanese Tradition, and the Buddhist section of Sources of Chinese Tradition are equally useful. Edward J. Thomas has written two widely used books, The Life of Buddha as Legend and History and The History of Buddhist Thought, which, although inevitably reflecting the perspective of Western scholarship and primarily concerned with Theravada, are notable for their clarity and accuracy. And a classic in the field, James Bissett Pratt’s The Pilgrimage of Buddhism, written thirty-five years ago, is still a dependable and thoroughly enjoyable introduction to Buddhism. He tells the story of the expansion of Buddhism, and with it the story of his own reactions as he traveled along some of the routes of that expansion. Thirty years after he made his own pilgrimage, as he calls it, many Buddhists in Asia remembered him and spoke of his friendly openness and understanding.

The complexity of the sacred writings of the Buddhists, both Theravada and Mahayana, discourages and puzzles the Western student who expects to find a clearly defined scriptural canon. One of the best introductory guides to the Buddhist sacred writings is Buddhism: A Religion of Infinite Compassion, edited by Clarence H. Hamilton, a collection which includes the stories of the life of the Buddha, the early teachings, the Dhammapada, and representative extracts from the Mahayana scriptures. For the beginner, it is helpful to concentrate on the stories of the life of the Buddha and the Dhammapada, a summary of the teachings of early Buddhism. Another readily available and useful selection from the Buddhist writings, also a paperback, is The Teachings of the Compassionate Buddha, edited by Edwin A. Burtt. A larger collection of only Theravada sources is found in Warren’s Buddhism in Translations. Edward Conze has recently published a Penguin paperback edition, Buddhist Scriptures, concentrating on the central tradition of Buddhism in an effort to bring together in one volume materials acceptable to all Buddhists. Somewhat earlier Conze published Buddhist Texts Through the Ages covering sacred writings from Theravada, Mahayana, and Tantric sources, arranged according to schools.

Much of the material basic to Buddhist philosophy can be found in the collections above, but Radhakrishnan and Moore in their A Source Book in Indian Philosophy included readings especially selected to illustrate Buddhist thought as it developed in India. In The Central Philosophy of Buddhism, A Study of the Madbyamika System, T. R. V. Murti of Banaras Hindu University makes a careful study of one of the most important schools of Mahayana philosophy. In reading that book it should be borne in mind that it is written by a Hindu and reflects the opinion that Buddhism is only a variant of Hindu ideas, an assumption not usually granted by Buddhist philosophers. Professor Murti has, however, undertaken a systematic exposition such as has not yet been made available in the West by Mahayana scholars. Although the exposition by the Japanese scholar Junjiro Takakusu is not by philosophic systems such as Abhidharma, Madhyamika, and Vijnanavada (or Yogacara), his The Essentials of Buddhist Philosophy is a standard guide to Mahayana thought. After a discussion of the fundamental principles of Buddhist philosophy, he discusses the chief sects of Japan: Kusha, Jojitsu, Hosso, Sanron, Kegon, Tendai, Shingon, Zen, Jodo, Nichiren, and New Ritsu. It is a concise and able introduction to Japanese Buddhist thought.

Since Buddhism has taken many forms and has adapted to different cultures in Asia, books dealing with limited areas are especially helpful as protection against too-easy generalizations. Thai Buddhism, Its Rites and Activities, by Kenneth E. Wells, for instance, by giving a general introduction to Buddhism in Thailand and then a description of the State ceremonies and the ceremonies in the temples and the homes, brings Buddhism in Thailand to life for the Western reader. Theravada Buddhism in Burma, by Niharranjan Ray, is a history of Buddhism with emphasis on Burmese-Indian relations, and written by an Indian, but it, too, conveys the special character of Buddhism in one Theravada country. For a description of Buddhism in Ceylon, which carries all the flavor of conversations in a Buddhist monastery and presents Ceylonese Buddhism as it is seen by the Bhikkhus of Ceylon, see Walpola Rabula’s History of Buddhism in Ceylon. There is also a recent journal article on Buddhism in Ceylon well worth the effort of looking up, not only for its insight into Buddhism in Ceylon but also for its value as an example of the contribution anthropology can make to the understanding of Asian religions. It is written by a Ceylonese anthropologist, Gananath Obeyesekere, and is one of the best explanations available of the relation between Buddhism and the customs of the country; it presents the Buddhism of the common people, not the Buddhism of the books: "The Great Tradition and the Little in the Perspective of Sinhalese Buddhism," The Journal of Asian Studies, February 1963.

Although Tibet does not now exist as an independent country, Tibetan Buddhism continues to be of special interest because it combines, more than anywhere else in the Buddhist world, the traditions of Theravada, Mahayana, and Tantra. Three popularly written books give an excellent introduction to Tibet: the Dalai Lama’s My Land and My People; the autobiography by his brother, Thubten Norbu, Tibet Is My Country; and Heinrich Harrer’s Seven Years in Tibet. The latter might be the first book to read since it gives a Western view of Tibet by an Austrian who lived there after escaping from a prisoner-of-war camp in India. Although the other two books deal primarily with recent events in Tibet, they manage to convey a great deal of information about the beliefs and practices of the Tibetans. The chapter in The Path of the Buddha on Tibet, by Lobsang Phuntsok Lhalungpa, an aide of the Dalai Lama, is a brief, systematic presentation of Tibetan Buddhism. A more arduous, but richly rewarding, path to an appreciation of Tibetan Buddhism would be a study of The Hundred Thousand Songs of Milarepa, recently translated by C. C. Chang. It is a classic Tibetan writing, full of stories and teachings which are part of the traditions of Tibet. For a more systematic description of the religious practices of Tibet, see Tibet and the Tibetans, by Tsung-Lien Shen and Shen-Chi Liu, two Chinese scholars who fled Tibet when the Communists arrived. It discusses the geography, history, organization of Lamas, government, customs and ceremonies of the Tibetans.

For a detailed history of Buddhism in China we will have to wait for Kenneth Chen’s book which should be published by the Princeton Press in 1964. In the meantime, Arthur Wright’s Buddhism in Chinese History gives a clear and discerning picture of the sweep of Buddhist history through the centuries and has a useful bibliography for further reading, especially in the journals. There are also two chapters in Wing-tsit Chan’s Religious Trends in Modern China dealing with the development of Buddhist thought and modern movements in Chinese Buddhism which give a great deal of information and insight in a few pages. For additional background which brings Buddhism in China to life, there are two fascinating, though rather specialized books: Reischauer’s Ennin’s Travels in T’ang China, and Waley’s The Real Tripitaka. Ennin was a Japanese Buddhist monk who traveled in China between 838 and 847 and wrote an account of his journey which our present ambassador to Japan has made available in English, an account that transports the reader to the Buddhist world of China in the ninth century. Tripitaka (or, Hsuan Tsang) was a Chinese Buddhist of the seventh century who traveled with great difficulty to India to learn more of Buddhism in its native land and returned to translate many of the scriptures into Chinese. The story of his adventures and observations reads like a novel, and in the sixteenth century was made into a novel, Monkey, by Wu Ch’eng-en. It has been translated by Arthur Waley, is available in paperback, and has awakened in many a student in our times an interest in Buddhism and Chinese history.

After World War II, the military headquarters recognized the need for some guide to the religious groups in Japan and asked the Religious and Cultural Division of the Civil Information and Education Section to prepare a concise description of Japanese religious organizations for the guidance of occupation personnel. The report was circulated in mimeographed form for some years, and then published as Religions in Japan, by William K. Bunce. It is a quick introduction, but was carefully prepared by competent researchers with the aid of many Japanese scholars and is still useful for reference. The classical introduction to Buddhism in Japan was written by Sir Charles Eliot, that fabulous British civil servant, titled simply Japanese Buddhism. The information is there, flavored with his sympathetic, but Western, point of view. For a study in more detail of one period, we have Japanese Religion in the Meiji Era, written in part and edited by Hideo Kishimoto; it gives the Japanese viewpoint by competent scholars who understand Western historical methods.

Those who find Zen the most interesting form of Mahayana Buddhism should bear in mind that it is only one small sect, considered by some Buddhists to be almost heretical, and frequently distorted in the West. One of the best introductions to Zen is The Practice of Zen, by C. C. Chang, a Chinese Buddhist who received his Zen training in China before going to study Buddhism in Tibet. It makes clear the rigorous nature of Zen training, and gives many apt illustrations from Zen literature. D. T. Suzuki, who has lived much of his life in the United States and is well-known for his writings on Zen, has published many books explaining Zen to Americans, of which his Zen Buddhism is representative. Readers of his works should be aware of the feeling of some Japanese Buddhists that he tends to Americanize his explanations. Sohaku Ogata, a Zen monk in Kyoto who has visited the United States and has had many American disciples in Japan, has written Zen for the West, an explanation of Zen with an anthology of Zen writings selected with Western readers in mind. Nancy Wilson Ross, after many years of study of Zen, has published an anthology of Zen writings and writings about Zen, bringing together all the material she has found most useful, under the title The World of Zen. William Briggs, who calls his book Anthology of Zen, has edited a book of writings about Zen by leading Japanese Zen scholars, with a few articles by Westerners; it is one of the most useful explanations of Zen thought. For Zen writings, the best book available is Zen Flesh, Zen Bones, a collection of Zen and Pre-Zen writings compiled by Paul Reps, and beautifully printed by Tuttle. There one finds the best of the Zen stories.

It is said that the Chinese were at first scornful of Buddhism -- can anything good come from India? until they saw examples of Buddhist art. Certainly Buddhism is not understood until there is some appreciation for Buddhist art. As a supplement to the reading of the stories of the life of the Buddha, and an aid to understanding the role of the Buddha in Buddhism, Anil De Silva-Vigier’s The Life of the Buddha Retold from Ancient Sources serves a unique function for it tells the life of the Buddha with illustrations of Buddhist art. For comprehensive treatment of Buddhist art, the three Penguin books on Asian art are most helpful: The Art and Architecture of India, by Benjamin Rowland; The Art and Architecture of China, by Laurence Sickman and Alexander Soper; The Art and Architecture of Japan, by Robert T. Paine and Alexander Soper. Langdon Warner’s The Enduring Art of Japan is a classic introduction by a great teacher and scholar. For superb reproductions of Japanese painting and sculpture, Yukio Yoshiro’s 2000 Years of Japanese Art should do all that any book can do to explain the influence that art has had in Buddhist history.

Music is not a part of worship in Theravada Buddhism, but is used in sophisticated forms in many Mahayana sects. In Japanese Music and Musical Instruments, by William P. Malm, there is a brief chapter on Buddhist religious music, and a little information can be gleaned from the notes accompanying recordings of Japanese music by Folkways (FR8980), but the study of music in the Buddhism of China, Japan, Korea, and Tibet has not yet been written.

Islam

When studying or teaching Hinduism or Buddhism, the Westerner soon becomes aware of the rather wide differences of perspective and meaning between the Judeo-Christian and the Hindu-Buddhist ways of viewing the nature of man and man’s relation to his world. The avatara of Hinduism is not the prophet of Judaism nor the Christ of Christianity; karma is not easily equated with destiny or divine will; tantric yoga differs noticeably from Sunday School exercises. The nature of the teachings and practices of Hinduism and Buddhism reminds the Westerner of the danger of trying to force new and strange ideas into familiar patterns. Rarely, and then only in contemporary writings, do Hindus or Buddhists refer to Christianity or Judaism, arousing defensive feelings which lead us to suggest that they would not have said what they did if they understood our religion better. But the situation is quite different when we come to Islam, for there the differences are not great, and may be missed, and there the references to Judaism and Christianity are frequent, and not always complimentary. Thus, although it should be easier to teach Western students about Islam than about Hinduism or Buddhism, for there is much in common, the burden of our neighborhood quarrels -- not always impartially recorded -- and the subtle differences of interpretation make Islam the most difficult religion to present fairly.

Muslims -- who do not like to be called Muhammadans because they think it implies a misunderstanding of the place of the Prophet in their faith -- have themselves tended to encourage oversimplification by claiming that Islam may be quickly grasped by accepting the Fundamentals and following the simple list of Consequences they imply. There is unity in Islam from Morocco to Indonesia and China, but there is also diversity which must not be slighted if the appeal of Islam to more than four hundred million followers is to be understood.

The Prophet Muhammad died in 632 A. D. after having received the revelations recorded in the Qur’an and having organized the Muslim community in Arabia. Following his death, Islam spread from Spain to the Indus river in India within a century, and by the fifteenth century had completed its expansion and major theological developments. One becomes a Muslim by repeating the Word of Witness, "I witness that there is no God but Allah and that Muhammad is His Prophet," and accepting the Fundamentals: belief in the existence and oneness of God, in Angels, in the Qur’an as the revelation of God, in the Prophets, in the Day of Judgment, and in the Divine Order. Those Fundamentals require the acceptance of the Consequences, also known as the required Worship: repeating the Word of Witness, observing the five daily prayers, giving a fixed percentage of income to the poor, fasting during the month of Ramadan, and making the pilgrimage to Mecca if possible. There is no ordained clergy in Islam; they have as leaders men who have established their ability to guide by their learning and piety. The daily life of Muslims is guided by an elaborate code of laws worked out over the centuries, based first on the Qur’an, then on the traditions concerning the Prophet, then the consensus of the Islamic community, and finally in a limited area on individual interpretation. Most Muslims are Sunnis, but in Iran and Iraq and a few other areas there are about 30,000,000 Shi’as who believe that the leadership of the Muslim community should rest in the descendants of the Prophet, particularly through his nephew Ali.

Mohammedanism: An Historical Survey, by H. A. R. Gibb, is the most widely read introduction to Islam in English. Many Arab scholars, who have great respect for Sir Hamilton Gibb’s scholarship, are a bit hesitant about giving the book unqualified approval because of its Western flavor: one young Arab who started to translate it into Arabic gave up when he found that the Mullahs who could not read English were very critical when they read his version. It is still the most readily available short introduction to Islam. A most interesting introduction to Islam is Kenneth Cragg’s The Call of the Minaret. The first 170 pages are an exposition of Islam by a Western writer with scarcely a phrase to which a Muslim could take exception, and the rest of the book is a guide to Christian missionary work with Muslims, with which they have little sympathy. Those first 170 pages are one of the best introductions to Islam in English, a model of writing about a religion other than one’s own.

Marshall G. S. Hodgson of the University of Chicago has prepared a three-volume syllabus with selected readings, Introduction to Islamic Civilization, which brings together a useful collection of readings, with scholarly introductions, covering the religious, social, and political aspects of Islam. Islam -- the Straight Path, edited by Kenneth W. Morgan, was written by eleven Islamic scholars from six countries -- scholars selected on the basis of the recommendations of religious leaders throughout the Islamic world -- as an introduction to Islam from the point of view of the Muslims. It has now been translated into five languages for use by Muslims. The definitions in the glossary were written by Muslims.

The Encyclopaedia of Islam is out of print but a new edition is being published and will be available in a few years; in the meantime, the articles concerned specifically with religion and law in Islam have been published in the Shorter Encyclopaedia of Islam and provide a useful reference source. For the geographical background of Islam, showing the spread by centuries and giving useful statistics, there are two good atlases: Atlas of Islamic History, by Harry W. Hazard, and Historical Atlas of the Muslim Peoples, by Roelof Roolvink.

Detailed studies of aspects of Islamic history are the next step after reading the general introductions. For the early period, the studies by W. Montgomery Watt are standard, especially his Muhammad at Mecca. Gustave E. von Grunebaum is an Islamic scholar who seeks to observe Islam objectively, neither as a Westerner nor as an Islamic apologist; his Medieval Islam: A Study in Cultural Orientation is a perceptive, and at times provocative, analysis of the period of development following the initial expansion of Islam. The book he edited on the Unity and Variety in Muslim Civilization is especially useful because of the papers on Iran, Spain, North Africa, Tropical Africa, and Turkey, as well as for the papers stressing the basic unity of Islam. His Muhammadan Festivals is the most convenient guide to the major holidays which play such an important part in all Muslim countries.

For Islam in modern times, Modern Trends in Islam, by H. A. R. Gibb, is a thoughtful survey by one of the most competent scholars in the field, giving the student the benefit of his extensive experience. Islam in Modern History, by Wilfred Cantwell Smith, is a study of what is happening to Islam in a time of rapid transition; it is a thoughtful, sometimes disturbing, book which should be read by anyone who is teaching about Islam. Its treatment of the major areas of the Islamic world is an aid to understanding the present diversity in Islam.

Among the many books dealing with Islam in specific areas, three are mentioned here because they are of more than geographic interest. Leonard Binder’s Religion and Politics in Pakistan is a study of the interplay of Islam and politics in modern Pakistan and as such is an aid to understanding Pakistan, but from the point of view of Islam it is a case study of the problem of creating an independent democratic state in harmony with the traditional law of Islam, a pressing problem throughout the Islamic world. The Shi’ite Religion, by Dwight M. Donaldson, is incidentally a study of religion in Iran and Iraq, but it is primarily a study of the Shi’as, whose widespread influence is often slighted in general studies of Islam. The Religion of Java, by Clifford Geertz, does not even claim to speak for all of Indonesia, but it is useful to the student of Islam because it gives in rich detail a description of Islam in one village in the Far East. Geertz is an anthropologist, and this book is a good example of the valuable contributions anthropologists are making to the work of the historians and theologians. The Religion of Java deserves careful reading, not only for what it tells about Islam in Java, but for its insights into the comparative problems raised by the study of religion as it is followed in distant parts of the world.

As with the other religions, books about Islam are not enough; there must be some study of the scriptures and religious writings if the perspective of a religion other than our own is to be understood. This is especially difficult in Islam for, although the Qur’an is the final authority and is constantly quoted in discussions with Muslims, Westerners have difficulty reading translated versions with sympathetic understanding. One useful way to approach the study of the Qur’an is, after having read about Islam in some of the sources recommended above, to make a detailed study of the Second Surah, looking for the Qur’anic basis for the Fundamentals and Consequences of Islamic faith. The translation most frequently recommended by Islamic scholars who know English is Mohammed Marmaduke Pickthall’s The Meaning of the Glorious Koran. It has the advantage of being available in an inexpensive paperback edition. Pickthall’s translation is largely dependent upon The Holy Qur’an, translated by Maulana Muhammad Ali, but since Ali is an Ahmadiyyah, and many of his notes express the unorthodox ideas of the Ahmadiyyahs, his translation is not often recommended by Sunni Muslims. Sunnis have been known to say, however, that if the reader will be on his guard when reading the explanatory notes, the translation by Ali is one of the best. The third translation which is now widely recommended as superior is The Koran Interpreted, by A. J. Arberry. Arberry agrees with the orthodox Muslim that the Qur’an is untranslatable, that "the rhetoric and rhythm of the Arabic of the Koran are so characteristic, so powerful, so highly emotive, that any version whatsoever is bound in the nature of things to be but a poor copy of the glittering splendour of the original" (p. 24). In his version, he sought to "imitate, however imperfectly, those rhetorical and rhythmical patterns which are the glory and the sublimity of the Koran" (p. 25). Anyone who is seeking to understand the Qur’an in English would do well to compare the three translations.

For other Islamic literature, the most useful guide is Reynold A. Nicholson’s A Literary History of the Arabs. Arthur Jeffery edited a useful anthology, Islam: Muhammad and His Religion, bringing together selections carefully chosen in consultation with devout Muslims to introduce important Islamic writings to Western readers.

Art is a special problem in Islam, for representation of any forms which might be suggestive of idolatry is forbidden. A Handbook of Muhammadan Art, by M. S. Dimand, is an excellent introduction to Islamic art. Painting in Islam: A Study of the Place of Pictorial Art in Muslim Culture, by Thomas W. Arnold, is a full discussion of the Muslim attitude toward portraying the living form.

The Religions of China

Without stopping to argue whether or not Confucianism or Taoism are religions, or even offering a definition of religion, it can be urged that an understanding of the history of China requires a good background in Confucian, Taoist, and Buddhist thought. We have discussed Buddhism in China above, but it is also included in some of the books mentioned here.

Religion in China, by E. R and K. Hughes, is a quick introduction in the Hutchinson University Library series, giving a general sketch of the religious background of Chinese history. Karl Ludvig Reichelt’s Religion in Chinese Garment, while also a small book, gives much more detail, covering animism, Confucianism, Taoism, Buddhism, and Islam in China, all in concise, introductory presentations. Religion in Chinese Society, by C. K. Yang, is a recent study of religion in the family, in economic and political life, as a moral force, as an institution, and in relation to Communism. For the contemporary picture, Wing-tsit Chan’s Religious Trends in Modern China is indispensable; in addition to the two chapters on Buddhism, mentioned above, it discusses Confucianism, Islam, and the religion of the masses and of the intellectuals.

Chinese Thought from Confucius to Mao Tse-tung, by H. G. Creel, is a widely used introduction which covers some of the religious background. For the philosophy of China, Fung Yu-lan’s Short History of Chinese Philosophy, a condensation of his two volume History of Chinese Philosophy, gives a clear discussion of Confucian, Neo-Confucian, Taoist, and Buddhist philosophy for the Western student who is trying to find his way. It is clear, without being oversimplified. And, again, de Bary’s Sources of Chinese Tradition provides a wide range of readings, with introductions, for filling in the background of the religions of China.

Special studies with relevance for understanding Confucianism and Taoism include Arthur Waley’s An Introduction to the Study of Chinese Painting and Laurence Sickman and Alexander Soper’s The Art and Architecture of China, for to an unusual degree the understanding of the arts is necessary for an understanding of the religions of China. Arthur Waley’s Translations from the Chinese, an anthology of Chinese poetry, adds another dimension to the understanding of Confucian, Taoist, and Buddhist thought in Chinese culture. Of more specialized interest are some of the essays in Studies in Chinese Thought, edited by Arthur Wright, especially the articles by Derke Bodde on Harmony and Conflict in Chinese Philosophy, by W. Theodore de Bary on A Reappraisal of Neo-Confucianism, by David S. Nivison on The Problem of "Knowledge" and "Action" in Chinese Thought Since Wang Yang-Ming, and by Schuyler Cammann on Types of Symbols in Chinese Art.

Although the chief religious trends in China have been Buddhism, Confucianism, and Taoism, some attention should be given to the influence of Motse, the radical critic of Confucius. The general writings mention him, but for a fuller treatment the best sources are two books by Y. P. Mei: Motse, Rival of Confucius, a biography and systematic discussion of his thought, and The Works of Motse.

Confucianism

The dates usually accepted for Confucius are 551-479 B. C. He was a wise man who spent his life as a teacher who tried to reform the government of his time. He insisted that he was not an innovator, but only sought to return to the wisdom of the ancients and his interpretation of that wisdom is given in the Analects. He taught the way of the true gentleman, respect for family ties, the importance of ritual and music in developing moral character. For centuries, a knowledge of Confucian teachings was required for advancement in government service in China. Mencius was his first great disciple.

Confucius and the Chinese Way, by H. G. Creel, is the most widely used biography of Confucius, written with understanding and admiration. For a short, brilliant interpretation of Mencius, the disciple of Confucius, see Waley’s Three Ways of Thought in Ancient China. Arthur Waley has done a masterly translation of The Analects of Confucius with a more than adequate introduction and notes. A thorough knowledge of the Analects is a prerequisite for an understanding of Chinese religion, philosophy, and culture. There is also a translation of the Analects by James R. Ware, The Sayings of Confucius, available in paperback, and he has translated The Sayings of Mencius. Both the Analects and Mencius are translated by E. R. Hughes in Chinese Philosophy in Classical Times, an Everyman edition which has the advantage of including the writings of Taoism, of Mohism, and other writings Hughes found useful in his courses in Chinese thought, together with his introductory notes.

Taoism

Taoism is based on the Tao Te Ching, dating from about the sixth century B. C. and attributed to an imaginary Lao-tse. Tao cannot be translated satisfactorily but can be understood in the context of the Tao Te Ching; it is interpreted to mean: the Way, course, method, order, norm, right conduct, reason, providence, the moral order, the physical order. It is like water, seeking the lowest place, yet penetrating the hardest substance. It is the way to be followed by those who achieve without striving; it is unassertive, inconspicuous, lowly, incomplete. Taoism teaches the way of harmony with nature, and has been the inspiration for much of the landscape painting of China. In its organized, cultic form, Taoism deteriorated in later years into a form of magic, seeking good fortune and long life, but even today the Tao Te Ching is an important element in Chinese and Japanese thought, especially in relation to Zen.

One of the best introductions to the Tao Te Ching, as well as the translation preferred by many, is found in Arthur Waley’s The Way and Its Power. This is not an easy religious writing to master, but it is one of the most haunting, provocative, and rewarding of the writings of the religions of Asia. No one translation will exhaust its possibilities and for the Westerner who cannot read Chinese it is desirable to compare as many translations as possible. Many years ago, Paul Carus, aided by an unknown young Japanese scholar, D. T. Suzuki, published a translation called The Canon of Reason and Virtue, choosing that title as their interpretation of the meaning of Tao Te Ching. R. H. Blakney has a translation, published by Mentor; and Witter Bynner published a poetic translation, which is at times a graceful interpretation, called The Way of Life According to Laotzu.

For Chuang Tzu, one of the early disciples of Taoism, there is an excellent introduction in Waley’s Three Ways of Thought in Ancient China, and the writings of Chuang Tzu are found in Hughes’s Chinese Philosophy in Classical Times and in a recent reissue of Chuang Tzu, Taoist Philosopher and Chinese Mystic, by Herbert A. Giles. The writings of Chuang Tzu are a help in understanding the Tao Te Ching. The Parting of the Way: Lao Tzu and the Chinese Movement, by Holmes Welch, is an informative interpretation of Taoism, especially useful since the latter half of the book treats of the later developments in Taoism.

Conclusion

Those whose interest in the religions of Asia has been aroused to the point that they want to consider some of the comparative problems raised by the study of religions other than one’s own will find thoughtful and searching discussions in two books recently published: World Religions and World Community, by Robert Lawson Slater, and The Meaning and End of Religion, by Wilfred Cantwell Smith. Slater discusses problems of unity and diversity and of the developing of a "science" of religions, with applications to major Asian religions. Smith traces the use of the word "religion" in the West and argues that much of the difficulty in communication between religious groups is due to ambiguities arising from lack of discrimination in the use of the adjective "religious" and the noun "religion." It is a thoughtful book in which Smith reflects on the problems raised by the study of the religious thought and practices of the people of Asia, problems of historical method, of literary criticism, of language, of social organization, and of the values and standards by which men guide their lives.

Jesus Talks (Exodus 17:1-7; Romans, 5:1-11; John 4:5-42)

 

Jesus talks longer to the woman at the well than he does to anyone else in all the Gospels--longer than he talks to any of his disciples, longer than he talks to any of his accusers, longer than he talks to any of his own family. She is the first person he reveals himself to in the Gospel of John. She is the first outsider to guess who he is and tell others. She is the first evangelist, John tells us, and her testimony brings many to faith.

Jesus’ choice of her is a curious one, because when I say outsider, I mean outsider. The woman at the well was a triple outsider. In the first place, she was a Samaritan, which made her a half-breed and full pagan as far as the purists were concerned.

She was also, of course, a woman. In Jesus’ time, women were not what you would call liberated. They were not even allowed to worship with men, whose morning devotions included the prayer, "Thank God I am not a woman."

Women had no place in public life. They were not to be seen or heard, especially not by holy men, who did not speak to their own wives in public. One group of pious men was known as "the bruised and bleeding Pharisees" because they closed their eyes when they saw a woman coming down the street, even if it meant walking into a wall and breaking their noses.

She was a Samaritan and a woman, but that was not all. She was also a fallen woman. Respectable women made their trips to the well in the morning, when they could greet one another and talk about the news. But this woman was one of the people they talked about, and the fact that she showed up at noon was a sure sign that she was not welcome at their morning social hour. As Jesus soon deduced, she had been married as many times as Elizabeth Taylor and was living in sin at the moment, which made it all around less painful for her to go to the well alone, after the others had gone.

So imagine her surprise when she comes in the heat of the day with her water bucket balanced on her head and sees a strange man sitting beside the well. He could be anyone, but when he lifts his head and asks her for a drink, she sees the olive skin, the dark eyes, the strong nose. He is no half-breed. The man is a Jew, but what in the world is he doing there? Has he lost his way? Has he lost his faith, to be talking to her like that? The Jews have endless rules about what they may and may not eat and drink. She knows that much at least, and she knows that this man will be breaking the law if she lets him sip from her bucket.

So they talk about it, and while it is never clear whether they are on the same wavelength, the woman understands that she wants what Jesus is offering her. "Sir, give me this water," she says, which is when he tells her to go fetch her husband. It is an abrupt change of subject, to which she might object. She might say, "I thought we were talking about religion. Why are you getting personal?" Or she might lie. Instead, she squares her shoulders and looks him right in the eye.

"I have no husband," she says, and with that shred of truth from her, he tells her the rest of the truth about herself. Note that he does not pull away from her. If anything, he gets closer. He still wants a drink from her, and he wants to give her one too, only the intimacy of it all seems suddenly too much for her.

So she changes the subject back to religion again, trying to draw him back into an argument about Jews versus Samaritans. You can hardly blame her. If he knows about all her husbands, there is no telling what else he knows about her, and she decides she would rather not find out. It is time to introduce some mental static so that the man with the X-ray eyes cannot read her so well, time to step back from him and cover herself up again.

But it does not work. When she steps back, he steps toward her. When she steps out of the light, he steps into it. He will not let her retreat. If she is determined to show him less of herself, then he will show her more of himself. "I know that Messiah is coming," she says, and he says, "I am he."

It is the first time he has said that to another living soul. It is a moment of full disclosure, in which the triple outsider and the Messiah of God stand face to face with no pretense about who they are. Both stand fully lit at high noon for one bright moment in time, while all the rules, taboos and history that separate them fall forgotten to the ground.

By telling the woman who she is, Jesus shows her who he is. By confirming her true identity, he reveals his own, and that is how it still happens. The Messiah is the one in whose presence you know who you really are--the good and bad of it, the all of it, the hope in it. The Messiah is the one who shows you who you are by showing you who he is--who crosses all boundaries, breaks all rules, drops all disguises--speaking to you like someone you have known all your life, bubbling up in your life like a well that needs no dipper, so that you go back to face people you thought you could never face again, speaking to them as boldly as he spoke to you. "Come and see a man who told me everything I have ever done."

Pulpit Play

Book Review:

Discovering a Sermon: Personal Pastoral Preaching.

By Robert C. Dykstra. Chalice Press, 154 pp.



Whether you are a preacher of sermons or a listener to them, you know how much rides on that 15 or 20 minutes in the pulpit. Hungry people are waiting to be fed. A holy God is waiting to be proclaimed. The word is waiting to be made flesh again, and the preacher’s body is at least one of the vehicles available for the working of that miracle most Sunday mornings.

Sometimes it happens and sometimes it does not. When it does not, Robert Dykstra suggests, it is often because the preacher has surrendered curiosity for correctness, and has lost all appetite for playing with fire.

Dykstra, who teaches pastoral theology at Princeton Theological Seminary, approaches preaching from an unusual angle. His mentors are not Fred Craddock or David Buttrick but British psychoanalyst W D. Winnicott and Winnicott’s disciple Adam Phillips. People listen to sermons for the same reason that they seek pastoral counseling, Dykstra says: out of a deep and often unspoken desire for transformation. If they instead find themselves bored by what they hear, then something has gone grievously wrong.

According to Winnicott, being boring is a sign of severe emotional distress, since people generally become boring by working way too hard to manage their inner realities. Maintaining strict control over language and metaphor, boring people make sure that nothing dangerous or unexpected comes out of their mouths. The problem is that nothing authentic comes out either, so that it is all but impossible for transformation to occur, either for those who speak or for those who hear.

This is only the first of Dykstra’s unsettling points. Leaning on Winnicott’s observation that the human infant is born "an artist and a hedonist," Dykstra believes that preaching has suffered from the rejection of these identities by most clergy. While he is careful to distinguish between what happens in the privacy of the pastor’s study and what happens in the pulpit, he remains convinced that fewer sermons would be pronounced "boring" if preachers could allow themselves -- in their studies at least -- to behave like "biblical artisans" and "holy hedonists."

What is missing in much mainline preaching, he says, is the preacher’s own discovery of anything interesting and new. Bowing to expectations both internal and external, many preachers cope with the stress of their jobs by becoming compliant. "Compliant persons exhaust themselves and bore others by striving overmuch to screen their passions," Dykstra explains. Compliant preachers overly control the language of their sermons, "seeking to limit any surprising eruption of emotion or spirit or any challenges to familiar patterns of belief or practice."

They also shun the ancient Christian practices of silence and solitude for at least two reasons. First, because protecting time to be quiet and alone can seem like indifference to Christ’s call to serve; and second, because diving into such depths has always involved the risk of encountering God. Choosing instead to splash in the shallows of human experience, preachers who play it safe fetch up "monotonous words and metaphors ringing of inauthenticity [that] paralyze rather than elaborate or change human experience."

As a cure for this sick state of affairs, Dykstra leads his readers through four fields of homiletical play: playing with the text, playing witness to life, playing with strangers and playing with fire. In each of these four chapters, he focuses on a key theme of pastoral preaching -- which usually correlates with a lost capacity in the preacher’s life-and then offers resources for provoking it back to life. He includes one of his own sermons in each chapter as well, with extensive analyses of his process as practical guides for others.

The book’s first chapter serves as a kind of test. Using insight mined from psychoanalytic theory, Dykstra likens the biblical text to a transitional object that offers "intimacy without invasion and individuality without isolation." Preachers who allow themselves a playful measure of "pastoral omnipotence" over the text-as-object stand to discover things in and through it that elude their more timorous colleagues, he says.

If a reader can handle this challenging idea, then there is nothing to fear from Dykstra’s later counsel to preachers to "rejoin their words to bodies, to the passions of their preverbal depths," or to "kill the words of the canon to discover what survives." The God of this book is "the Saboteur of foregone conclusions, the Source of our delight," who is both created and found by those who are willing to engage the genuine risks of real change. Meanwhile, what other preaching text can you think of that makes reference to a book titled On Kissing, Tickling and Being Bored, or that makes neighbors of Maya Angelou, W H. Auden and Augustine of Hippo in its bibliography?

This is a brave book, in which Dykstra does what he counsels others to do. Refusing to add one more tame book on pastoral preaching to an already groaning shelf, he dives deep into the human psyche (which is to say, the human soul) to discover powerful and therefore dangerous resources for faithful transformation. These include the preacher’s own appetite, interest, curiosity and passion, as magnets for those same capacities in those who listen. Rich pastoral preaching depends less on giftedness for speech, Dykstra says, than on intensity of attention and love.

In the end, he suspects, "we are likely to find the One for whom we long less in the clouds of spiritual heights than far down the mountain in the soulful depths -- in the mundane particularities, the fierce complexities, the simple pleasures of everyday life." While Dykstra’s book is full of such complexities and pleasures, that is not the best thing one may say about it. The best thing one may say is that Dykstra passes his own test. This book is never boring.

Never-Ending Story

As a preacher and teacher, I make my living telling stories. While I know people who say that they "use" stories to make important points, I am one of those listeners who consistently remember the stories and forget the points. That is because the points tend to be perfectly clear and well behaved, as very little in my life ever is, while the stories (at least the good ones) star flawed characters with muddy motives whom I recognize at once.

So when it is my turn to talk, I generally skip the points and get right to the plot. Narrative is not a choice I make when it comes time to tell the truth; it is the way that truth comes to me -- not in crisp propositions but in messy tales of encounters between people and people, between people and creation, between people and God.

For most readers of these pages, the central story is the biblical one, told for millennia around campfires, altars and ordinary supper tables by parents, teachers, preachers and friends. If it is different from the other stories that shape our lives, then that is because it was not written by George Lucas or J. B. R. Tolkien but by a whole host of people struggling to speak of things that were beyond them. Their collective efforts were so luminous in one way or another that the keepers of tradition bound them together and called them sacred, declaring that no humans could have written them without a lot of divine help. What this means is that the biblical story is not only our story but also God’s story, which places an extra burden on those who are stewards of it. Not only are we called to tell it well, but we are also called to tell it all, and not just the parts that serve our own purposes.

If you use your Bible very much, then you can pick it up, look at it from the side, and tell what your own sacred scriptures really are. See the pages that are darker than the others? They are dark with the oil from your own fingertips, which have searched out the parts of the story that are most meaningful to you. But if your Bible looks anything like mine, then there are lots of pages with very few fingerprints on them. Spent much time with the book of Joshua lately? How about Ezra and Nehemiah, or the middle section of Revelation?

There are good reasons not to go there. There are whole chapters of John’s Gospel that I would like to snip right out of the book so that no child ever has to read what John said Jesus said about Jews. But as long as Bibles keep coming out with those passages in them, then I have a responsibility to address them, if only to explain how they ever became part of the story in the first place. I still remember the student who said that she left church for good when she was 12, right after she read the Bible for herself and discovered what a colossal snow job her Sunday school teachers had done on her. Most of us can recall our own versions of her disillusionment, but since I count the loss of illusion as a good thing, I have to rejoice for her and for all of us whose illusions about God are routinely exposed by stories in the Bible.

Lately I have been tracking the illusion that God favors my group to the exclusion of all other groups -- which is fairly easy to maintain, depending on which stories I choose to tell. Since the Bible contains the foundational stories of two distinct Faiths it is chock full of attacks on those outside the fold. Sometimes the attacks are sanctioned by God and other times they erupt from pure human meanness, but In either case they come as no real surprise. When any group of people is trying to discover who they are, they usually begin by declaring who they are not: we are not Canaanites, not Samaritans, not Pharisees, not Romans, not Greeks, not them.

These are satisfying parts of the story to tell around the campfire, because they reinforce the boundaries of the group as well as its rightness. Sarah orders Abraham to cast Hagar and Ishmael out into the desert so that Isaac’s inheritance is sure. The Egyptians are drowned in the sea. Jesus turns over tables in the temple. No one comes to the Father but by me. If these stories are beloved, then at least one reason is because they guarantee the privileges of those who tell them.

But the truly astonishing thing about the Bible is that it also includes stories from outside the fold, where God seems determined to work through those whom the community of faith has cast out. God visits Hagar in the desert and promises to make a great nation of Ishmael. God anoints the Persian King Cyrus to end the Babylonian exile. Samaritans star in at least two of Jesus’ own stories, and he almost gets killed in Capernaum for reminding his own people that God sometimes skips right over them to go take care of people who don’t share their Faith.

As disturbing as such news may be, it is our assurance that God’s plot is always larger than the ones we weave to reassure ourselves, and that even when we say the story’s over, the story’s not over. As long as anyone is alive to play a part or talk about it afterwards, the sacred narrative continues -- at least until the day we wake from sleep to find that there is room in God’s story for us all.

Caution: Bible Class in Session

It is Columbus Day, and I am halfway through the Bible survey course that I teach every other year. Twenty students signed up this time, although one dropped out after I asked him to rewrite his paper on the canonization process. The rest have declared "Septuagint" the coolest new vocabulary word, despite the fact that there are few opportunities to use it outside of class. One girl who tried it on her pastor reported that he was not amused, especially since she had to explain to him what it meant.

As usual, we are racing through the material. We covered the Pentateuch in two hours, the historical books in two more and all of the prophets in three. Next week we will spend an hour on wisdom literature (with 20 whole minutes for Job) before making the transition from Malachi to Matthew. I justify the rush on the grounds that a glimpse of the Big Picture helps those with biblical myopia.

Most of my students profess to live by the Bible without ever having read more than 50 pages of it. Their knowledge of what is in it comes from their parents, their preachers and their Bible study leaders, as well as from movies such as Left Behind. There is no one thing that can be said about all of these interpreters, except that they all have more power than the text.

When I ask students to read what is actually on the page, most see what they have been taught to see. The story of Adam and Eve is the story of original sin. The snake is Satan, the apple is disobedience, and Eve is the seductress who leads men astray. If I send them back to locate "sin," "Satan" and "apple" in their Bibles, some are generally astonished to find that the words are not there. Whether they know it or not, they are on the edge of a dangerous decision. They are either going to hang on to their interpretations and do whatever they have to do to make the text fit, or else they are going to let the text lead them to expand their interpretations.

The danger arises partly because many of them come from communities that censure nonconformity. If they begin asking the wrong kinds of questions at church, they may find themselves at the center of quite a lot of pastoral concern (if they are lucky) or shunned (if they are not). If they persist, some may even find themselves estranged from their own families. But even those who are free of such constraints are not safe in my classroom.

Until six weeks ago, one young woman confessed, she honestly believed that the Bible was a journal. "I just thought, you know, that people wrote down what happened each day" Now she knows otherwise, and while she is still not sure what she thinks about the documentary hypothesis, she has read the two creation stories in Genesis for herself. She also knows about the differing accounts of David in Chronicles and Kings, and she has noticed the way that Isaiah’s writing style changes dramatically at chapter 40.

As interesting as these things are, they call a great deal into question. How reliable was the oral tradition? What was lost in translation? Where there are two accounts, which one is true? Who decided what would be in the Bible and how dependable were those people? In one form or another, these are all questions about the trustworthiness of the Bible, and they lead to the one question that no college course can answer: Is this the Word of God or not?

No wonder people steer their fledglings away from me. "Major in education," one student’s preacher told her, "and get your religion at church." If he and I are working against each other, then it is because we believe the same thing: that how people read and interpret scripture is the single most important factor in how they practice their Faith. Every church fight I can think of right now, as well as every clash between Christians and non-Christians, rests on some interpretation of scripture. While I do not expect this ever to end, I do welcome the opportunity to introduce even 20 students at a time to the rich complexities of the Bible. When they pay attention to what is actually on the page, they generally find that scripture does not so much support their religious ideology as call it into question, leaving them nowhere to turn but to the God beyond their concepts of God.

The problem with blessing the questions is that I don’t have any place to send students who want to keep asking them when their one religion class is over. Even in churches that support free inquiry, Bible studies tend to serve up more for the heart than for the mind. It is hard to find anyone who cares about the effect of Hellenization on biblical texts, or whether Paul really wrote those letters to Timothy and Titus. Such questions are far from irrelevant, especially as they inform Christian attitudes toward women and Jews. I just don’t know of any local churches that are addressing them.

Meanwhile, I take my job so seriously that some days I hate doing it. Like my precursor the snake, I work near that tree in the middle of the garden, but unlike him I hiss a warning to those who approach. "Think hard about staying in this course," I tell my students at the beginning of the term, "because once you know things you cannot ever go back." Then I do my best to care for those who stay, believing that God is with them even as they fall -- from innocence toward the promise of a deeper life of faith.

Expecting the Second Coming

 

But of that day and hour no one knows, not even the angels of heaven, nor the Son, but the Father only. . . . Therefore you also must be ready; for the Son of man is coming at an hour you do not expect (Matt. 24:36, 44).

Years and years ago, way back in the early ‘70s, I had a vision of the end time. It was probably no coincidence that the world itself was looking pretty terminal at that point. John and Bobby Kennedy had both been buried by then, along with Martin Luther King Jr. Boys I knew were so afraid of being drafted for Vietnam that their hands shook when they dialed the combinations on their mailboxes at the campus post office. Meanwhile, the rest of us were making all the noise we could, taking over administration buildings and marching in the streets. A girl our age had been shot dead by National Guardsmen during a protest at Kent State. We had all seen the picture.

One night in the middle of all this there was a terrific thunderstorm. I lay on the bed in my dorm room watching the sky light up with blast after blast of raw electricity. Even though it was way past midnight, the sky was luminous, with all the nightlights of Atlanta hitting the low clouds and thudding back down again. The color was greenish brown -- not a right color for the sky to be, which made me feel a little queasy inside.

I could not sleep. I had not slept well in weeks. I did not know what I wanted to be when I grew up. I did not even know if I wanted to grow up in such a violent, crazy world. Then I heard myself say, "Come, Lord Jesus" -- just like that -- and then I said it again: "Come, Lord Jesus." I remember thinking I should be afraid to say something like that, but I wasn’t. I was relieved to go ahead and ask for the end. Please come back and finish this thing up. We are no good at it. We have never been any good at it. Come, Lord Jesus, and don’t delay.

Then I looked out the window and saw (imagined?) a bright spot in the sky that grew bigger and bigger, with clouds boiling all around the center of it like big curling waves. Then the head of a beautiful white horse pushed through them, then the front legs, then the chest, until finally this gleaming creature was galloping right toward me with a rider on its back who was too bright for me to see. There was a lot going on in the background too, like the wake behind a giant speedboat, but I never got a good look at that because I could not take my eyes off the horse and rider.

It lasted only for a second or two. Then I stopped imagining (seeing?) and the thunderstorm moved on. I fell asleep, survived college, grew up, got a job -- but that vision of the end remains vivid for me. It is embarrassingly literal, I know. In my part of the country, it might be called a vision of the rapture, and there are plenty of people who would be happy to tell me exactly where it comes in the final lineup of events.

They do not get their information from the Bible, however. Whether they know it or not, they owe most of their eschatology to a renegade Anglican priest from Ireland named John Nelson Darby, who spent a large part of the 19th century preaching something called "premillennial dispensationalism." According to Darby, human history is divided up into seven ages, or "dispensations," all leading up to the end of time. We live under the "dispensation of grace," when people are judged according to their personal relationship with Jesus Christ, but between now and the "dispensation of the millennial kingdom," things are going to get ugly.

There is going to be a Great Tribulation, which those whom Jesus recognizes as his own will not have to endure. God will remove the elect by means of the rapture before judging the earth. Then Israel will be restored, according to Darby, as God’s primary instrument in history, the wicked will be destroyed in the final battle of Armageddon, and Christ will begin a 1,000-year reign on earth.

Even I, who am not one of Darby’s followers, was surprised to learn that the word "rapture" never occurs in the Bible, but at least one curious side effect of his scenario has been the political alliance between Christian evangelicals in this country and the Likud Party in Israel, both of whom -- for their own reasons -- want to see Israel, not Palestine, in charge of the Holy Land. Did you know that Israel bought Jerry Falwell a Lear jet in 1979, or that evangelical Christians gave almost $5 million to the United Jewish Appeal in 1997?

The only reason I go over all of this is so that you know where it comes from. It comes from Darby and his followers, not from scripture, but since it answers a lot of questions that scripture doesn’t it is very popular right now, especially among people who do not like surprises. Some of these folks are informed. They know who will be saved and who will be lost. They know who the Antichrist is and where the Messiah will appear. These are the people who have bumper stickers on their cars that say, "Warning: In case of the rapture, the driver of this car will disappear." Lately I have been seeing some others that say "When the rapture comes can I have your car?"

Matthew might not have been quite that flip but he definitely belonged to the second crowd. He was not concerned with reading signs and keeping timetables, at least partly because he knew how preoccupied people could get with those things. Before long they cared more about their calculations than they did about their neighbors. Once they had figured out who God’s 144,000 elect were, they did not waste any time or courtesy on the damned except perhaps to remind them just how hot hellfire was going to be. Meanwhile, God’s chosen had plenty else to do: flee the cities, arm themselves against the enemy, purify themselves for their journey to heaven. Once they had gotten themselves all worked up about this, Matthew found it just about impossible to impress them with the fact that there were widows and orphans in the community going hungry because no one was signing up for the soup kitchen, or that there were still some people in jail who needed visiting, as well as some sick people at home who still needed looking after. But what did any of that matter, when the end was right around the corner?

Ironically, Matthew had the same problem with those who had given up looking for the end. They had stayed pretty focused for the first ten or 20 years, when there were still people around who had actually seen and heard Jesus, but once his disciples began to die off and the eyewitness reports about him became second- or third hand stories, people’s ardor began to cool. If the stories were true, then where was he? If he was so full of love, then why hadn’t he come back?

Things had never been worse in Palestine. The chosen people were scattered, the Temple was destroyed, the promised land was a province of Rome, and there was no relief in sight. "Truly I say to you, this generation will not pass away till all these things take place" Jesus said, but something had obviously gone wrong. Most of the generation that heard him say that had passed away, and the ones who were still alive had beards down to their knees. God’s alarm clock must not have gone off. Or had God forgotten? A third possibility: there never was a God at all.

With questions like that in mind, Matthew made sure to include Jesus’ disclaimer that even he did not know when the end would come. "No one knows," Jesus said, "not even the angels of heaven, nor the Son, hut the Father only" (24:36).That left only one practical alternative, which served as Matthew’s bottom line: "Watch therefore, for you do not know on what day your Lord is coming" (24:42). If Jesus doesn’t know when, then you sure don’t know when, so why don’t you stop obsessing about when and pay attention to what is happening around you right now?

In a way, the 24th chapter of Matthew’s Gospel reads like a three-act play about the end time. Starting with the first verse, each act lasts about 15 verses. Each contains a description of events still to come, and each ends with a renewed call to discipleship in the here and now. That makes Matthew a pretty good psychologist as well as an evangelist. He knows that while anxiety and apathy may look like two different disorders, they both respond to the same treatment, which is a focused assignment of some kind. So in each of his acts he describes a virtue that believers may practice whether the sun is falling out of the sky or not.

In act 1, the virtue is enduring love, in act 2 it is discernment, and in act 3 it is alertness, or mindfulness -- the moment-by-moment willingness to stay awake to all that is. Any of you who have ever tried to meditate -- or even to say the Lord’s Prayer all the way through without letting your mind wander off -- know how difficult this is. The present moment is just too slippery for most of us to hang on to. As hard as we try, we tend to slide off into what happened yesterday or what we have to do an hour from now, and whether our problem is preoccupation with the future or disillusionment with the past, the end result is that very few of us live our lives while they are actually happening to us. We are cut off from the present. God cannot get to us through all the layers of regret and expectation that we have swaddled ourselves in.

For instance, I am so mired in the past that I almost never meet anyone new. Or more to the point, I rarely give anyone a chance to be new. When someone I do not know walks up to me with a hungry look in her eyes, then I treat her like the last person I met who looked like that. This woman may have an entirely different story. She may be an angel of God sent to tell me something I desperately need to know, but I cannot even see her. All I can see is the last person whom she reminds me of, which means that this new person does not have a chance to get through to me.

I have a similar problem with the future, which is the closet where I store all my good intentions about the people in my life whom I am going to treat better one day real soon. I am not always going to be this busy and unfocused, I tell myself. Any moment now I am going to have time to do the things I have always meant to do and say the things I have always meant to say. I am going to be a better godparent. I am going to pray more. I am going to make my life count. In the meantime, this vision of the future gets me off the hook today. I can even fool myself into believing that my splendid intentions make me a better person right now, and that time will forever expand to meet my needs.

These are my own personal delusions, but they affect communities and nations as well. According to Matthew, it is time to wake up. No matter where Jesus is, it is time to stop living in the past and in the future and to start living right now, because whenever the end comes, that is when it will come -- in the now -- and meanwhile, our best chance at discovering what abundant life is all about is to start living into it right now, not only one by one but also all together.

I remember something one of my professors told me once, about how the second coming of Christ was an idea cooked up by some church father with only two fingers. The truth, he said, is that Christ comes again, and again, and again -- that God has placed no limit on coming to the world, but is always on the way to us here and now. The only thing we are required to do is to notice -- to watch, to keep our eyes peeled.

"Therefore you also must be ready, for the Son of man is coming at an hour you do not expect." How do you deal with a piece of advice like that? Well, why not be ready all the time, not only for the end but for whatever the moment brings? Every morning when you wake up decide to live the life God has given you to live right now. Refuse to live yesterday over and over again. Resist the temptation to save your best self for tomorrow. Do not put off living the kind of life you meant to live. There is no time for that no matter how much time is left.

Go ahead and make the decision, write the letter, get the help you need, find someone to love, give yourself away. Why waste your time making preparations for an end time you cannot predict? Live prepared. Live a caught-up life, not a put-off life, so that wherever you are -- standing in a field or grinding at the mill, or just going about the everyday business of your life -- you are ready for God, for whatever happens next, not afraid but wide awake, watching for the Lord who never tires of coming to the world.

Who knows? Ours may be the generation that finally sees him ride in on the clouds, or we may meet him the same way generations before us have -- one by one by one, as we close our eyes for the last time. Either way our lives are in God’s hands. Either way, God leaves the living of them to us. To God be all honor and glory, now and forever.

Table Manners

P>I saw them eating and I knew who they were. That is a Middle Eastern proverb that Jesus probably knew. It does not make much sense in our own age of fast food and family suppers around the tube, but in Jesus’ day what you ate and whom you ate it with were critical matters.

This was especially true among the Jews, for whom eating together was -- literally -- a religious experience. To eat together was to celebrate their faith, which included very specific rules about what happened around the table. Cleanliness was paramount: clean food, clean dishes, clean hands, clean hearts. A proper Jewish meal was a worship service in which believers honored God by sanctifying the most ordinary details of their lives.

Jesus offended a lot of people with his table manners. He ignored the finger bowl by his plate. He ate whatever was put in front of him. He thought nothing of sitting down to eat with filthy people whose lives declared their contempt for religion. People saw him eating and they knew who he was: someone who had lost all sense of what was right, who condoned sin by eating with sinners and who might as well have spit in the faces of the good people who raised him.

In those days, sinners fell into five basic categories: people who did dirty things for a living (such as pig farmers and tax collectors), people who did immoral things (such as liars and adulterers), people who did not keep the law up to the standards of the religious authorities (such as you and me), Samaritans and gentiles.

So if I were putting together a sinners table at the Huddle House, it might include an abortion doctor, a child molester, an arms dealer, a garbage collector, a young man with AIDS, a Laotian chicken plucker, a teenage crack addict, and an unmarried woman on welfare with five children by three different fathers. Did I miss anyone? Don’t forget to put Jesus at the head of the table, asking the young man to hand him a roll, please, and offering the doctor a second cup of coffee before she goes back to work.

If that offends you even a little, then you are almost ready for what happens next. Because what happens next is that the local ministerial association comes into the restaurant and sits down at a large table across from the sinners. The religious authorities all have good teeth and there is no dirt under their fingernails. When their food comes, they hold hands to pray. They are all perfectly nice people, but they can hardly eat their hamburger steaks for staring at the strange crowd in the far booth.

The chicken plucker is still wearing her white hair net, and the garbage collector smells like spoiled meat. The addict cannot seem to find his mouth with his spoon. But none of those is the heartbreaker. The heartbreaker is Jesus, sitting there as if everything were just fine. Doesn’t he know what kind of message he is sending? Who is going to believe he speaks for God if he does not keep better company than that? I saw them eating and I knew who they were.

While this seems to be a different story from the one about the man with two sons (Luke 15:11-32), it really is not. The 15th chapter of Luke begins with a complaint about Jesus table manners. "This fellow welcomes sinners and eats with them," the religious authorities grumble, and everything that follows is Jesus’ reply to them.

Jesus seems to understand the man with two sons, who cannot get his family to sit down at the same table either. The younger son is so warped by his sense of unworthiness that he is prepared to eat the rest of his meals in the bunkhouse with the hired hands. The older son is so inflated by his sense of entitlement that he will not eat with anyone who has not earned a place at the table. Both sons suffer from the illusion that they can be in relationship with their father without being related to each other. What is a father to do?

What this father does is to prepare a meal for both of them and let them figure out what to do about each other. This is fairly easy for the younger son, who is so glad to be back at the table again that he is not about to cause trouble for his older brother or anyone else. It is more difficult for the older son, who isn’t even told when dinner is ready. By the time he shows up and finds out who has come slithering home, he is convinced that he has been displaced. It is as if there were only two chairs at the table, as if no one father could love two such different sons. In spite of his fathers assurance that everything the old man has is his, the story ends with the older son standing in the yard, while the father goes back inside to sit down with the sinner.

Any way you look at it, this is an alarming story. It is about hanging out with the wrong people. It is about throwing parties for losers and asking winners to foot the bill. It is about giving up the idea that we can love God and despise each other. We simply cannot, no matter how wrong any of us has been. The only way to work out our relationship with God is to work out our relationship with each other.

Like I said, Jesus told this story to the ministerial association that was complaining about his dinner parties. He told them he could not hear them all the way across the restaurant, that they should come over and pull up some chairs. Because he saw them eating and he knew who they were -- so clean, so right, so angry -- he wanted to help them too, so he said, "Come meet my friends. Dessert is on me!" And as far as I know, he is still waiting to see how the story ends.