Detachment

This is a parable from One Minute Wisdom, by Fr. Anthony de Mello, S.J.

It intrigued the disciples that the Master who had lived so simply would not condemn his wealthy followers.

"It is rare but not impossible for someone to be rich and holy," he said one day.

"How?"

"When the money has the effect on his heart that the shadow of that bamboo has on the courtyard."

The disciples turned to watch the bamboo's shadow sweep the courtyard without stirring a single particle of dust. (83)

Consider the lilies...

So do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will bring worries of its own. Today's trouble is enough for today. (Matt 6.24-34)

In her book With or Without God, which I reviewed a few weeks ago, Gretta Vosper alludes to this teaching, which she cites as one example of Jesus's teachings that we can no longer accept as valid. Her argument is that we cannot be "reckless about the future."

But what is Jesus really counselling here? Is he really saying that we should only think about the present, and not give any thought whatsoever to the future?

The verb that is used throughout today's gospel reading (Matt 6.24-34), merimnao -- translated here as "worry" -- means exactly that. It does not mean that we should not give any thought to the future, only that we shouldn't worry about it.

There is no upside to worrying: it never makes things better, but it often makes things worse.

The problem, though, is that being told not to worry rarely helps us stop worrying. We don't have a lot of direct control over our worrying. But the good news is that worrying is the result of other things that we do have control over.

Worrying and Desire

The Second Noble Truth of Buddhism is that suffering is caused by desire. In other words, reality is one way, but I want it to be another way. When this is true, suffering is the result.

I think Jesus's teaching about worrying is related to this. I want things to turn out one way, but it appears that things are going to turn out another way, so I worry. But what is this worrying? Is it not merely the suffering that results from my desire for things to be other than they are?

To end my worrying, I need to end my desire for things to be a particular way. This doesn't mean I sit passively and avoid working to attain the things that I need. It just means I don't form any emotional attachment to any particular end, or, where an attachment already exists, I let it go. The desire doesn't help, and worrying doesn't help. On the contrary, worrying often undermines our performance of doing what we have to do in order to attain the end we seek.

Anthony de Mello tells a great story, attributed to a Chinese sage named Tranxu (aka Chuang Tzu):

When the archer shoots for no particular prize, he has all his skills; when he shoots to win a brass buckle, he is already nervous; when he shoots for a gold prize, he goes blind, sees two targets, and is out of his mind. (Awareness 58)¹

Or, in other words, keep your eyes off the prize, and focus on the task at hand.

Notes

[1] The wording in de Mello's book is very similar to that found in Thomas Merton's Way of Chuang Tzu, and I suspect that is where he got it from.

Questions About Authority

In my last post I sort of discussed the theoretical possibility of determining if a person is englightened or not. The problem is different, of course, depending on whether or not we are enlightened ourselves.

There was a passage from Anthony de Mello’s book Awareness that I wanted to quote, but couldn’t at the time because my copy was on loan to a friend. But I got it back and found the passage, and realised that what I wrote last week was really quite irrelevant.

Here is the passage:

Somebody came up to me with a question… He asked me, “Are you enlightened?” What do you think my answer was? What does it matter!

You want a better answer? My answer would be: “How would I know? How would you know? What does it matter?” (34)

If I were enlightened and you listened to me because I was enlightened, then you’re in big trouble. Are you ready to be brainwashed by someone who’s enlightened? You can be brainwashed by anybody, you know. What does it matter whether someone’s enlightened or not? But see, we want to lean on someone, don’t we? We want to lean on anybody we think has arrived. (35)

We’re used to relying on authorities in our day to life. It’s unavoidable. I lack the competence to diagnose my own illnesses, so I rely on a doctor. When I need legal advice, I go to a lawyer. Etc. But these people can be held accountable. Religious authorities, not so much.

Some people are quite content to confer authority on someone for no reason other than the fact that they hold a particular office – i.e., the pope, bishops, etc.[1]

We find very different models of authority in the New Testament, however. John P. Meier writes,

One aspect of Jesus’ family background was so obvious to his Jewish contemporaries that, as far as we know, neither he nor they ever commented on it during his lifetime. Yet this aspect has been so overlooked or misunderstood by later Christians that it needs to be emphasized. It is the simple fact that Jesus was born a Jewish layman, conducted his ministry as a Jewish layman, and died a Jewish layman. (Marginal 1.345)

Jesus had no “official” authority. And yet in the Gospel of Mark, we find a story about Jesus teaching in the synagogue at Capernaum. The people were “astounded at his teaching, for he taught them as one having authority, and not as the scribes” (Mark 1.22). The scribes did have “official” authority, in a sense, since they were professional religious teachers.

With Paul we find the same thing. He strongly insists that his authority does not come from the "official" leaders of the church.

Br. David Steindl-Rast, a Benedictine monk, wrote this in a fascinating article about Jesus entitled “A Revolution of Authority”:

Jesus Christ brought a complete revolution of the understanding of authority. This is, I think, the Christian tradition’s most central insight and potentially its greatest contribution to spirituality in the world. It occurred in two ways. First, Jesus placed the authority of God, which was always seen as external, in the very hearts of his hearers. The core teaching of Jesus is not, “I am going to tell you all,” or anything like that. No, he presupposes you know it all. “Don't you know it? I'll remind you of it. You know it all.” This is his typical voice. This question opens many of the parables, “Who of you doesn't know this already?” It's not sufficiently emphasized nowadays in Christian teaching, but the moment you are alerted to it you see it. (online)

Jesus had authority precisely because he was persuasive. He understood that the ultimate norm by which we make judgments is always and unavoidably our self. Authentic authority does that.

As a religion teacher, I know that I have a lot more credibility with my students – and therefore greater authority – if I let them voice their doubts and challenge what I have to say, instead of insisting that they simply take my word for it. I also have more credibility if I admit when I’m wrong, or that I don’t know something (which I’ve had to do). And it seems to me to be self-evident that this is true for religious authority as well. So why does the Vatican act in exactly the opposite way, and why do so many people play along?

Notes

[1] I discussed the inevitably circular arguments used to support this model of authority in a previous post.

Works Cited