What the Buddha Taught:

First, I must indulge in a pointed rant regarding the pronunciation of Buddha, Buddhist, Buddhism. It is one of my pet peeves, and I liken it to fingernails on a chalkboard. It is not pronounced BOO-duh. Or BOO-dizem, or BOO-dist; like they are meditating on the impermanence of booty or something. (I wish I had an impermanent booty...) It is Bu as in good, not Bu as in food. And while we're on the subject, he is not the "Dolly" Lama. He is the "Deh-lie" Lama. Thank you. I just had to get that off my chest. Or booty. Or, whatever...

You know that expression, "leave your problems at the door?" I wish we had a similar one for my World Religions class. Or all of Seminary, actually: leave your Christianity at the door. Today was the third day of our discussion of Buddhism. We started out gently with the biography of Prince Siddhartha/Gautama Buddha and then some introductory material; sort of the broad strokes of Buddhism. For today, we jumped into Theravadin Buddhism feet first, with one of the most difficult and profound writings on Buddhist thought; the Buddhadhamma: Natural Laws and Values for Life (Buddhadhamma refers to the corpus of the Buddha's teachings) by Thailand's pre-eminent Buddhist monk and scholar Phra Prayudh Payutto.

I love this professor, by the way. She is gentle and sincere and very enthusiastic about the material; especially Hinduism. She wrote her dissertation on a comparison between Ramanuja (a Classical Hindu philosopher) and St. John of the Cross. But she is also very confident in her teaching abilities (she lectures without notes, and writes Sanskrit without cheat sheets) and she knows her stuff. No question. Good thing, too. She was taking fire from many sides today. These sweet, little, American, not-terribly-worldly MDiv students are having a very difficult time wrapping their heads around these very foreign concepts. I think that if they ever managed to retain and understand some of this their heads might actually explode.

I had fun today. Real fun; like I haven't in a long time. I felt alive; every nerve was tingling. You couldn't shut me up. And the professor was thoroughly enjoying this, too. Not that I was coming to her defense; she certainly didn't need it. I prefer to think of it as more of a tag-team operation.

Let's set the scene: Jane Godley is behind me, sighing and huffing and mumbling, "o.k...what?! I'm so confused. I don't understand" etc. It was all I could do not to turn around and slap her. A few kept banging their heads against the brick wall that separates their American enculturation, Christian indoctrination, and Western education (such as it is) from the whole of Eastern thought, and kept asking terribly inept and ill-formed questions. Most were just staring straight ahead and trying not to move or even breathe for fear of drawing unwanted attention, and God forbid they be asked a question like, "what do you think?" (Um...they don't.)

Their biggest problem was dealing with the concept of no-self. A basic tenet of Buddhism is the belief in the impermanence of things. Every thing in this world, including humans, is in constant flux. When we fail to recognize this and live in ignorance we cling to things and/or people, and then suffer needlessly when those things/people are gone from us. All life is suffering. To end suffering one must be free from attachment. This includes an attachment to self, what we today would call ego. Or, what the "Kids in the Hall" (not the Canadian variety show; scroll down. You'll know what I mean.) would call soul. They simply cannot set aside their belief in a creator God, an eternal soul or their modern concept of self for one second in order to attempt to grasp what the Buddha is teaching.

Now, I have no way of knowing what most of these people studied (or didn't study) in their undergrad work. I get the impression most of them majored in Marriage and Family, or Feelings, or Fluffy Little Animals. I have a strong background in philosophy. It was a large component of my major. Which, I concede, probably gives me a better than average advantage. And in order to participate in today's discussion you really needed at least some experience with philosophical thought, method, and process.

My favorite moment came when John Godley threw this bomb: "Now, I have a friend who was taking a philosophy class, and at the end of the class he stood up and challenged the professor by saying, 'prove that I exist.' to which the professor replied, 'if you didn't exist, I would ask who or what just asked that question?' Would the Buddha (BOO-duh) answer differently, since according to him we don't exist?" Without missing a beat, the professor responded, "well, the Buddha would probably say that would depend on what you mean by 'I'. In every language we have a utilitarian way of talking about self, but that is just so we can communicate with each other and function on a very superficial, perfunctory level. It doesn't speak to the higher truth." He had nothing in return, demoralized and silenced for the moment.

Jane Godley pipes up: I don't understand how there can be no concept of self. I mean, I recognize that we are all different, have different talents, different memories. So, how can they say there is no self, when obviously we are different. And the professor returns the serve: Buddhism does not deny that we are all different. We are; and they recognize that we are unique. But there is no essence, no eternal soul in Buddhism. When you die, your existence is transported to another life and another reality. But in this life, your form, the one we all recognize as Emily, is conditional. It depends on all these other things and people being here and recognizing and mentally reassembling your aggregate parts. But you are always in flux.

John Godley, having recovered (sort of...) said: I guess I'm just asking a Western question for which their is no Eastern answer. By far, the most insightful thing I have ever heard him utter. I could stand it no longer. I knew I had already monopolized much of the time, but NOTHING the professor and I, and a couple of other MTS students who were clearly understanding this but were probably a little battle-weary, were saying was sinking in. I addressed John's issues first: I think that you are right in saying it is a Western question for which there is no Eastern answer. But more than that, it is anachronistic. Our concept of self is a very recent development. It has come to us from Enlightenment thinking and Modern Psychology. They would have had no concept of self that would be in any way recognizable to us, and vice versa.

And now to Jane: And I think you can grasp the concept of the impermanence of self on a very practical and concrete level. You are not, in fact, the same person you were yesterday or even five minutes ago. Your hair is longer, your nails are longer, you have lost brain cells and dead skin cells, you have lost and gained knowledge and memories. To which the professor said, "yes, I think that's exactly right. And that is the kind of example the Buddha would have used; something from nature that was visible and demonstrable to his students. He just took it much further, to the entire universe and beyond." I scored major points with her. And John and Jane probably think I'm an even bigger freak than previously imagined. All in all, a very successful day.

Random Musing

I have found out what Jane Godley's real name is. Emily. But of course it is...just precious. Still don't know John Godley's real name. It's probably Eric. Or Kevin. Or...John.

Let's Play "Spot the Atheist":

Whenever I can't sleep I imagine I'm standing in the middle of the courtyard, between the classroom building and the chapel, and count the closet atheists. Sometimes it works, and I nod right off. Sometimes, well...there are just too many of them to count. Seminary just beats the God right out of you. Well, the Church anyway.

I am not a closet atheist. I came out. In a spectacular way, in front of my Sociology of Religion class. I have no idea what possessed me to say this. It certainly wasn't the Holy Spirit. Our first assignment is to research the doctrine/beliefs/whatever and observe the activities of a faith tradition not our own, with a demographic different from ours. For instance, if you're a WASP-y Presby from Connecticut, you might want to visit an African Methodist Episcopal Church, or a Holyness Tabernacle. Those are the Snake Handlers, by the way. I can't imagine anything scaring the shit out of a sheltered Ivy League town girl more...can you? If so, I'd love to hear it. I'm always looking for new ideas.

Anyway, I'm interested in doing my paper on the Baha'i Faith. My stylist is Baha'i, and so is my former Honors Mentor/Academic Advisor at my undergrad institution. Neither was raised in the Baha'i faith; not many are. They come to it in their adulthood. My stylist is Persian, my professor is Dutch. Calvinist. (Talk about beating the God right out of you.) My stylist's husband is also a college professor. And not knowing who else is a part of their devotional group, I am a bit concerned that most of them are also educated professionals and academics, which would put me smack-dab in the middle of that demographic. So, I raised this concern with the professor. "Are you Baha'i?" he asked. "No," I said. "I'm a non-practicing nothing, which pretty much leaves my options wide open." The walls of the classroom seemed to expand and then contract sharply as everyone took this in, registered shock, and then gasped.

The professor didn't seem the least bit surprised, or shocked, or offended, or concerned. (I love this guy.) He then asked, "well, were you raised in a particular tradition?" I responded, "yes. Methodist. I have absolutely no interest in revisiting that." Another gasp. O.K. huge clue time: this is a UMC Seminary. Most of the MDiv students who are on the ordination track will become United Methodist ministers. I just offended and alienated more than half the class. In less than a minute. Damn, I'm good.

Footnote:

Yes, I know Holiness is spelled incorrectly. In the outside world. But that is how most of them in this state spell it. The Pentecostals of this particular sect, usually called "Holiness Church," in Canada and other Northern states spell it with an i. For those who are unfamiliar with the practice of snake handling, and drinking water laced with arsenic or strychnine, and engaging in glossolalia (speaking in tongues), The Holiness believers base their entire church around apocryphal verses in Mark: "And these signs will accompany those who believe: by using my name they will cast out demons; they will speak in new tongues; they will pick up snakes in their hands, and if they drink any deadly thing, it will not hurt them; they will lay their hands on the sick and they will recover." Mark 16: 17-18, NRSV


That should tell you something right there...an entire dogma built around two verses of Scripture taken entirely out of context. Maybe they're on to something here. I should proof-text a tiny, obscure verse and start my own church. No doubt it will be something from Revelation. Because nothing gets a cult going better than the End of Days. As they say...there are no atheists in the foxholes.

Pointed Rant

(Or, maybe it's a Random Rant. It certainly isn't a Random Musing.)

So here I am, sicker than a dog, stuck in my bed with nothing else to do except read, read, read. I haven't been this on top of my reading since I returned to academia. Anyway, I'm popping Tylenol Cold Head Congestion, Severe like it's candy. The caplets have this "Cool Burst" coating, which is sort of a sweet minty flavor. I hate it. Cool burst? All it does is give me heartburn. I'd hardly call that "cool."

That's all. I just had to share that with you. Perhaps I should go back to bed.

It has been two weeks since my last blog entry, so I thought I would write to tell you all that there isn't much to tell. I live an action-packed life, don't I? Actually, I've been spending more time at home than I have on campus lately. I have been struck down by a nasty little flu bug, and haven't felt comfortable being too far away from my bed. I have been keeping up with the hundreds of pages of reading; I have nothing else to do.

Yesterday, I got out among 'em to stand in line for one hour to then stand in front of a voting terminal for fifteen seconds. While I was in line, I spiked another fever and almost passed out. All this for a guy who thoroughly destroyed his competion in the state. But my vote counts, dammit!! I shouldn't be sarcastic. It was quite a momentous occasion, and I rather relished being a part of history. I have never voted for a candidate who's campaign slogan ended in a preposition. But then, I suppose "Change in which we can believe" just isn't as snappy, is it...

Hopefully I'll be back in action soon and have something a little more interesting to report. For now, I'm going back to bed.