Just for today,
I will let go of anger.
Just for today,
I will let go of worry.
Just for today,
I will be kind to my neighbour
and every living thing.
Just for today,
I will do my work honestly.
Just for today,
I will feel gratitude.
Just for today;
every day.
Principles of Reiko-Do (adapted)
Friday, September 24, 2010
Monday, September 13, 2010
Echart Tolle, Byron Katie: Born of Desperation?
I suppose most readers of this blog have also read something of Echart Tolle and Byron Katie and probably also noticed how very Zen-like their books, The Power of Now and Loving What Is are. I know quite a few individuals whose lives have been radically changed by reading these two books.
Well, what is also interesting is the similarity in the biographical prefaces to these two books. Both authors, according to testimony, were almost incapacitated by depression when they experienced their epiphanies: Byron Katie:
In the midst of an ordinary life -- two marriages, three children, a successful career -- Katie had entered a ten-year-long downward spiral into rage, paranoia, and despair. For two years she was so depressed that she could seldom manage to leave her house; she stayed in bed for weeks at a time, doing business by telephone from her bedroom, unable even to bathe or brush her teeth. Her children would tiptoe past her door to avoid her outbursts of rage. Finally, she checked in to a halfway house for women with eating disorders, the only facility that her insurance company would pay for. The other residents were so frightened of her that she was placed alone in an attic room.
Echart Tolle:
One night, not long after my 29th birthday, I woke up in the early hours with a feeling of absoute dread. I had woken up with such a feeling many times before, but this time it was more intense than it had ever been before. The silence of the night, the vague outlines of furniture in the dark room, the distant noise of a passing train -- everything felt so alien, so hostile, and so utterly meaningless, that it created a deep loathing in me: a deep loathing of the world. The most loathsome thing of all, however, was my own existence. What was the point in continuing to live with this burden of misery? Why carry on with this continuous struggle? I could feel that a deep longing for annihilation, for non-existence, was now becoming much stronger than the instinctive desire to continue to live. 'I cannot live with myself any longer.' This was the thought that kept repeating itself in my mind.
Were these authors' breakthroughs born of desperation? Certainly their testimonies are moments of sudden illumination, akin to Zen teaching that enlightenment can arrive suddenly, in an instant, not through long periods of study or even discipline. What appears to be important --as always-- is the burning desire to change, and the willingness to let everything go, to risk everything on that desire to change. Haaa! Enlightenment is not for the timid! [?] :)
Well, what is also interesting is the similarity in the biographical prefaces to these two books. Both authors, according to testimony, were almost incapacitated by depression when they experienced their epiphanies: Byron Katie:
In the midst of an ordinary life -- two marriages, three children, a successful career -- Katie had entered a ten-year-long downward spiral into rage, paranoia, and despair. For two years she was so depressed that she could seldom manage to leave her house; she stayed in bed for weeks at a time, doing business by telephone from her bedroom, unable even to bathe or brush her teeth. Her children would tiptoe past her door to avoid her outbursts of rage. Finally, she checked in to a halfway house for women with eating disorders, the only facility that her insurance company would pay for. The other residents were so frightened of her that she was placed alone in an attic room.
Echart Tolle:
One night, not long after my 29th birthday, I woke up in the early hours with a feeling of absoute dread. I had woken up with such a feeling many times before, but this time it was more intense than it had ever been before. The silence of the night, the vague outlines of furniture in the dark room, the distant noise of a passing train -- everything felt so alien, so hostile, and so utterly meaningless, that it created a deep loathing in me: a deep loathing of the world. The most loathsome thing of all, however, was my own existence. What was the point in continuing to live with this burden of misery? Why carry on with this continuous struggle? I could feel that a deep longing for annihilation, for non-existence, was now becoming much stronger than the instinctive desire to continue to live. 'I cannot live with myself any longer.' This was the thought that kept repeating itself in my mind.
Were these authors' breakthroughs born of desperation? Certainly their testimonies are moments of sudden illumination, akin to Zen teaching that enlightenment can arrive suddenly, in an instant, not through long periods of study or even discipline. What appears to be important --as always-- is the burning desire to change, and the willingness to let everything go, to risk everything on that desire to change. Haaa! Enlightenment is not for the timid! [?] :)
Wednesday, September 8, 2010
The Buddha's 'Flower sermon' (Transmission of Zen)
'The Buddha stood beside a lake on Mount Grdhakuta and prepared to give a sermon to his disciples who were gathering there to hear him speak. As the Buddha waited for his students to settle down, he noticed a golden lotus blooming in the muddy water nearby. He pulled the plant out of the water - flower, long stem, and root. Then he held it up high for all his students to see.
For a long time he stood there, saying nothing, just holding up the lotus and looking into the blank faces of his audience. Suddenly his disciple, Mahakashyapa, smiled. He understood! What did Mahakashyapa understand? Everybody wants to know. For centuries everybody's been asking, "What message did the Buddha give to Mahakashyapa?"'
When Mahakashyapa smiled, what was he smiling at? There have been many suggestions, but I think we can reject all the figurative, allegorical, speculative and fanciful ones like 'Buddha trinity', representation of the Chakras etc. If we think of the flower, we can see that it is perfect, it is a real flower. It didn't become a perfect flower through thinking about it or planning to be a flower; it didn't dream of becoming a flower; it didn't study hard to become a flower. It didn't chant or pray to become a flower. Becoming a flower was its essential nature; it flowered because it was a flower. Maybe you are thinking, 'oh, that's no big deal, it was just a flower.' But that is a big deal. It was just a flower. For, you know, in Zen, that small word "just" is a big word.
I don't know if you have ever been to Kruger Park, in South Africa. Kruger Park is as big as Belgium-- a park full of animals, not people. Most tourists who go there go there looking for the 'Big Five': elephants, lions, and so on. And they can see them,they can find them. But the first animals they will see there are usually these antelope they call impala or maybe the wild pigs known as warthogs. And usually, most tourists just drive straight past the antelopes and pigs, searching for the Big Five. You know, those impalas and warthogs are beautiful creatures, and they are perfect. But to tourists they are just impalas and just warthogs, so they don't stop and look at them. Their heads are full of the Big Five.
The Buddha held up a flower. That was his sermon, his wordless sermon. And Mahakashyapa looked; and Mahakashyapa understood. Because the flower was true to its essential nature, it was beautiful and perfect. It had real beauty and perfection-- the beauty and perfection that can't be written about or spoken of but the beauty of perfection that arises directly and spontaneously from truth.
What the Buddha was revealing was the flower's truth, the flower's essential nature, what we might call its 'buddha nature', if you like. Words can't reveal it or express it, such truth has to be perceived intuitively. And Mahakashyapa perceived this, and so he smiled. This was Zen's beginning, this was Zen's moment, its epiphany. And whenever we behold that smile and recognise it for ourselves, it becomes our smile too and so the transmission continues even as the world continues to turn.
For a long time he stood there, saying nothing, just holding up the lotus and looking into the blank faces of his audience. Suddenly his disciple, Mahakashyapa, smiled. He understood! What did Mahakashyapa understand? Everybody wants to know. For centuries everybody's been asking, "What message did the Buddha give to Mahakashyapa?"'
When Mahakashyapa smiled, what was he smiling at? There have been many suggestions, but I think we can reject all the figurative, allegorical, speculative and fanciful ones like 'Buddha trinity', representation of the Chakras etc. If we think of the flower, we can see that it is perfect, it is a real flower. It didn't become a perfect flower through thinking about it or planning to be a flower; it didn't dream of becoming a flower; it didn't study hard to become a flower. It didn't chant or pray to become a flower. Becoming a flower was its essential nature; it flowered because it was a flower. Maybe you are thinking, 'oh, that's no big deal, it was just a flower.' But that is a big deal. It was just a flower. For, you know, in Zen, that small word "just" is a big word.
I don't know if you have ever been to Kruger Park, in South Africa. Kruger Park is as big as Belgium-- a park full of animals, not people. Most tourists who go there go there looking for the 'Big Five': elephants, lions, and so on. And they can see them,they can find them. But the first animals they will see there are usually these antelope they call impala or maybe the wild pigs known as warthogs. And usually, most tourists just drive straight past the antelopes and pigs, searching for the Big Five. You know, those impalas and warthogs are beautiful creatures, and they are perfect. But to tourists they are just impalas and just warthogs, so they don't stop and look at them. Their heads are full of the Big Five.
The Buddha held up a flower. That was his sermon, his wordless sermon. And Mahakashyapa looked; and Mahakashyapa understood. Because the flower was true to its essential nature, it was beautiful and perfect. It had real beauty and perfection-- the beauty and perfection that can't be written about or spoken of but the beauty of perfection that arises directly and spontaneously from truth.
What the Buddha was revealing was the flower's truth, the flower's essential nature, what we might call its 'buddha nature', if you like. Words can't reveal it or express it, such truth has to be perceived intuitively. And Mahakashyapa perceived this, and so he smiled. This was Zen's beginning, this was Zen's moment, its epiphany. And whenever we behold that smile and recognise it for ourselves, it becomes our smile too and so the transmission continues even as the world continues to turn.
Monday, August 2, 2010
The Zen Smile!
The stupid person says, 'I know'; the intelligent person comes to know that 'I don't know.' But there is a transcendence of both when only silence prevails. [Osho, Ah This!, page 14]
Truly, gaining a University degree is only the beginning of knowing that you know almost nothing--it is not the end of learning but rather perhaps the start of the journey to wisdom. As a university-trained educator myself, I like to remember this and like to remind my students too. The Osho quote above reminds me of it, and it also reminds me of stories. It reminds me of course of the famous 'over-full teacup' story; and it reminds me too of the story of the origin of Zen, which is one of my very favourite stories:
It is told that Zen began with a smile. The Buddha was sitting with his disciples when a rich man, an important, influential man, asked him to explain Dharma. The Buddha had learned that Dharma-- ultimate truth or meaning-- can't ultimately be explained, for it is beyond words, it is beyond the mind, it simply is; Dharma can only be lived and, in the living, recognised. That is what is meant by satori, it is a breakthrough, it is a moment when the scales fall off the eyes, a moment of recognition; and so the Buddha simply held up a flower, only a flower; otherwise he remained silent. At that very moment, one of the Buddha's disciples, Mahakashyap, recognised; he understood; he smiled. And that smile was the beginning of Zen. It was and still is that smile-- not teaching, not rules, not a specific practice, not even zazen-- that was passed from Patriarch to Patriarch, from Master to disciple, from person to person. Zen is the transmission of a smile. And that's why laughter is always at the heart of Zen.
Truly, gaining a University degree is only the beginning of knowing that you know almost nothing--it is not the end of learning but rather perhaps the start of the journey to wisdom. As a university-trained educator myself, I like to remember this and like to remind my students too. The Osho quote above reminds me of it, and it also reminds me of stories. It reminds me of course of the famous 'over-full teacup' story; and it reminds me too of the story of the origin of Zen, which is one of my very favourite stories:
It is told that Zen began with a smile. The Buddha was sitting with his disciples when a rich man, an important, influential man, asked him to explain Dharma. The Buddha had learned that Dharma-- ultimate truth or meaning-- can't ultimately be explained, for it is beyond words, it is beyond the mind, it simply is; Dharma can only be lived and, in the living, recognised. That is what is meant by satori, it is a breakthrough, it is a moment when the scales fall off the eyes, a moment of recognition; and so the Buddha simply held up a flower, only a flower; otherwise he remained silent. At that very moment, one of the Buddha's disciples, Mahakashyap, recognised; he understood; he smiled. And that smile was the beginning of Zen. It was and still is that smile-- not teaching, not rules, not a specific practice, not even zazen-- that was passed from Patriarch to Patriarch, from Master to disciple, from person to person. Zen is the transmission of a smile. And that's why laughter is always at the heart of Zen.
Tuesday, July 13, 2010
Being Happy
Happiness is not something we achieve; happiness is our original state of being. We have to let the gloss and dross of our everyday world slip away from us, like heavy snow from the branch of a tree, and simply reclaim it.
If happiness is our original state of being, then why are so many so seldom happy? What is the problem?
The problem is our thoughts. Our thoughts get in the way. When you wake up in the morning, do you ever think, 'Oh, I'll do some thinking now. I'll generate some thoughts.' Of course not! You don't have to tell yourself to think--you wake up already thinking, your thoughts are already there. And you didn't even ask for them! Really, this is the problem. Thinking happens to us the same way as breathing. We don't have to tell ourselves to breathe, we are doing it automatically. In the same way, our thinking is automatic too.
But what are we thinking about? Mostly--99% of the time--we are thinking about something that happened or about something that we have (or want) to do. That is, our thoughts are of the past or of the future. But, really, there is no past or future: there is only now. We live in the now, the right here, right now; there is only ever the right here, right now. We live in the eternal present. We seldom achieve happiness because we are seldom living in the present moment; we are seldom aware; we are seldom awake.
This process begins when we wake up. We start thinking (that is, we are being thought) and we stumble through drinking our coffee, having a shower, cooking and eating breakfast, all the time thinking about something else--what happened yesterday and what we might do today. Consider: how many people actually eat their breakfast? That is, focus on the eating of it: the smell, the taste, where the food comes from, who helped bring it to the table, what it is doing to the body etc? Very few actually.
But, you say, there is pain in this world; how can we avoid pain? No, you're right, there is pain in this world, we can't avoid pain. But we can avoid suffering! There's a reason for pain. It warns us that something is wrong, it makes us aware, and so much more. It's good that we can feel pain. When I was a young boy, there was a boy in my class at school who was always fighting. He loved fighting, and he was usually victorious in fights. The reason he loved fighting was that he suffered from a rare nerve disorder and he couldn't feel pain. One day, he left his hand on a stove cooking ring and didn't realise until he smelled his hand burning. Needless to say, that boy didn't live very long. He died at about the age of ten years. he didn't even live long enough to become a teenager. There are good reasons for pain.
But we don't have to suffer. Pain we feel; but suffering comes because of our thoughts. We dwell on the pain, we multiply things in our minds and we cause ourselves to suffer. Consider: at every funeral there is weeping and wailing and gnashing of teeth. But for whom? For the dead person? No, of course not! The dead don't need our tears. The dead have passed beyond pain and suffering; often death is a joyous release from suffering. But the mourners suffer. Why? They are suffering for themselves. 'Oh, I won't ever see him again!' 'Oh, what will I do now?' 'Oh, oh, oh.'
No, happiness is our original state of being. To be alive, just to be alive, is such a privilege, such a blessing. To know at any moment that the universe is supporting us, that there is food, clothing, air to breathe, whatever... is such an amazing thing, such a wonder-filled adventure. Life is only ordinary if we have lost our sense of wonder. That is one reason why Jesus said we have to become again as little children. We have to regain our sense of wonder. That is one reason why the Zen masters say we have to recover a beginner's mind. The adult, the business CEO, the professor, their heads are so full of wood that they can never see the trees! We have to let our thoughts of what has happened and what could happen slip away from us like heavy snow from the branch of a tree, reclaim the present moment and enjoy it.
If happiness is our original state of being, then why are so many so seldom happy? What is the problem?
The problem is our thoughts. Our thoughts get in the way. When you wake up in the morning, do you ever think, 'Oh, I'll do some thinking now. I'll generate some thoughts.' Of course not! You don't have to tell yourself to think--you wake up already thinking, your thoughts are already there. And you didn't even ask for them! Really, this is the problem. Thinking happens to us the same way as breathing. We don't have to tell ourselves to breathe, we are doing it automatically. In the same way, our thinking is automatic too.
But what are we thinking about? Mostly--99% of the time--we are thinking about something that happened or about something that we have (or want) to do. That is, our thoughts are of the past or of the future. But, really, there is no past or future: there is only now. We live in the now, the right here, right now; there is only ever the right here, right now. We live in the eternal present. We seldom achieve happiness because we are seldom living in the present moment; we are seldom aware; we are seldom awake.
This process begins when we wake up. We start thinking (that is, we are being thought) and we stumble through drinking our coffee, having a shower, cooking and eating breakfast, all the time thinking about something else--what happened yesterday and what we might do today. Consider: how many people actually eat their breakfast? That is, focus on the eating of it: the smell, the taste, where the food comes from, who helped bring it to the table, what it is doing to the body etc? Very few actually.
But, you say, there is pain in this world; how can we avoid pain? No, you're right, there is pain in this world, we can't avoid pain. But we can avoid suffering! There's a reason for pain. It warns us that something is wrong, it makes us aware, and so much more. It's good that we can feel pain. When I was a young boy, there was a boy in my class at school who was always fighting. He loved fighting, and he was usually victorious in fights. The reason he loved fighting was that he suffered from a rare nerve disorder and he couldn't feel pain. One day, he left his hand on a stove cooking ring and didn't realise until he smelled his hand burning. Needless to say, that boy didn't live very long. He died at about the age of ten years. he didn't even live long enough to become a teenager. There are good reasons for pain.
But we don't have to suffer. Pain we feel; but suffering comes because of our thoughts. We dwell on the pain, we multiply things in our minds and we cause ourselves to suffer. Consider: at every funeral there is weeping and wailing and gnashing of teeth. But for whom? For the dead person? No, of course not! The dead don't need our tears. The dead have passed beyond pain and suffering; often death is a joyous release from suffering. But the mourners suffer. Why? They are suffering for themselves. 'Oh, I won't ever see him again!' 'Oh, what will I do now?' 'Oh, oh, oh.'
No, happiness is our original state of being. To be alive, just to be alive, is such a privilege, such a blessing. To know at any moment that the universe is supporting us, that there is food, clothing, air to breathe, whatever... is such an amazing thing, such a wonder-filled adventure. Life is only ordinary if we have lost our sense of wonder. That is one reason why Jesus said we have to become again as little children. We have to regain our sense of wonder. That is one reason why the Zen masters say we have to recover a beginner's mind. The adult, the business CEO, the professor, their heads are so full of wood that they can never see the trees! We have to let our thoughts of what has happened and what could happen slip away from us like heavy snow from the branch of a tree, reclaim the present moment and enjoy it.
Monday, July 5, 2010
Commentary on Thomas, Logion 60
Gospel of Thomas, logion 60:
They saw a Samaritan carrying a lamb on his way to Judea.
He said to his disciples, "Why does that man carry the lamb around?"
They said to him, "So that he may kill it and eat it."
He said to them, "While it is alive, he will not eat it, but only when he has killed it and it has become a corpse."
They said to him, "He cannot do so otherwise."
He said to them, "You too, look for a place for yourselves within the Repose, lest you become a corpse and be eaten."
The Dhammapada: Watchfulness is the path to immortality and heedlessness is the path to death. The watchful do not die, but the heedless are already dead.
This saying-teaching is focused on being awake, on living in the present moment, what Zen calls mindfulness. For far too many people, life is what happens while they are busy making other plans: "I'll do such-and-such when I get enough money"; "I'll be happy when I meet the man of my dreams"; "I'll get another job as soon as I find new accommodation"; and so on. But the only place we ever live is right here, right now. Dreams of a bright future are only delusions, for there never is any future; there is only right here, right now. The Samaritan is carrying a lamb. It is still a lamb; it is not a corpse, it is not meat--not yet, right here, right now. Perhaps the Samaritan will die, or lose his appetite for meat, or maybe the lamb will escape or someone else will buy it from the Samaritan. The lamb is not yet a corpse. We don't know if the Samaritan killed it or not. We can't foresee the future. We can't foresee the future because there is only right here right now. If we want a different life, then we must seek it in the present moment: we must look for 'a place within the Repose' right here right now, for this is all we have--this moment only, and this moment is ours in its abundance or its poverty: the choice is ours.
They saw a Samaritan carrying a lamb on his way to Judea.
He said to his disciples, "Why does that man carry the lamb around?"
They said to him, "So that he may kill it and eat it."
He said to them, "While it is alive, he will not eat it, but only when he has killed it and it has become a corpse."
They said to him, "He cannot do so otherwise."
He said to them, "You too, look for a place for yourselves within the Repose, lest you become a corpse and be eaten."
The Dhammapada: Watchfulness is the path to immortality and heedlessness is the path to death. The watchful do not die, but the heedless are already dead.
This saying-teaching is focused on being awake, on living in the present moment, what Zen calls mindfulness. For far too many people, life is what happens while they are busy making other plans: "I'll do such-and-such when I get enough money"; "I'll be happy when I meet the man of my dreams"; "I'll get another job as soon as I find new accommodation"; and so on. But the only place we ever live is right here, right now. Dreams of a bright future are only delusions, for there never is any future; there is only right here, right now. The Samaritan is carrying a lamb. It is still a lamb; it is not a corpse, it is not meat--not yet, right here, right now. Perhaps the Samaritan will die, or lose his appetite for meat, or maybe the lamb will escape or someone else will buy it from the Samaritan. The lamb is not yet a corpse. We don't know if the Samaritan killed it or not. We can't foresee the future. We can't foresee the future because there is only right here right now. If we want a different life, then we must seek it in the present moment: we must look for 'a place within the Repose' right here right now, for this is all we have--this moment only, and this moment is ours in its abundance or its poverty: the choice is ours.
Thursday, June 24, 2010
Commentary on Thomas, Logion 87
Gospel of Thomas, Logion 87: Jesus said: ‘Wretched is the body that depends on a body, and wretched is the soul that depends on these two.’
Wretched is the body that depends on a body. We live in an age particularly obsessed with sex and bodily image. Millions of people believe that the only way to be happy and fulfilled is to be ‘in love’-- and by ‘in love’, they mean a physical relationship. This belief is supported by thousands of movies, millions of songs, and is all over TV and the global mass media. It fuels hundreds of businesses and ‘love gurus’ and ‘sex therapists’ and Freudian, neo-Freudian and non-Freudian psychotherapists.
Thousands of women--young and old--starve themselves on diets because they think their bodies are too fat. Fat is indeed a feminist issue. But we have other words as well: anorexia nervosa and obesity. And how much do we spend on creams and deodorants and all of the rest?
I also remember some years ago when an R n B star decided to pose for some nude photos in a major Hip-Hop magazine. I don’t know why she decided to do it, but I do remember observing a couple of schoolboys in Swaziland browsing through the magazine in a store in town. They were looking at the photos of the singer and commenting on her body as if it were a piece of meat. Which of course it is: our bodies are suits made out of meat.
A focus on the body as meat is the foundation of the multi-million-dollar porn industry.
But true love is beyond the body; true love is beyond the mind; true love is beyond physicality, in another area altogether.
Wretched is the soul that depends on these two. That is, wretched is the soul that thinks love is to be found in the sexual union of two bodies. We know all about rape and bestiality and ‘casual’ sex. Actually no sex is casual, but here we are concerned with love. Love transcends bodies because it is about energies--living, moving, fusing energies, kinetic energies, not the potential stored energy of bodies. Love is intimately connected with male and female, yes, but it is energies, not sexuality. And it is found in the place where male and female cease to exist, in the place where there is no longer male and female but a blurring of the two. This place, the place where there is a blurring of the two, is the concern of Logion 22:
‘Jesus said to them... you will make the male and the female into a single one, in order that the male is no longer male and the female no longer female... then shall you enter the Kingdom.’
Wretched is the body that depends on a body. We live in an age particularly obsessed with sex and bodily image. Millions of people believe that the only way to be happy and fulfilled is to be ‘in love’-- and by ‘in love’, they mean a physical relationship. This belief is supported by thousands of movies, millions of songs, and is all over TV and the global mass media. It fuels hundreds of businesses and ‘love gurus’ and ‘sex therapists’ and Freudian, neo-Freudian and non-Freudian psychotherapists.
Thousands of women--young and old--starve themselves on diets because they think their bodies are too fat. Fat is indeed a feminist issue. But we have other words as well: anorexia nervosa and obesity. And how much do we spend on creams and deodorants and all of the rest?
I also remember some years ago when an R n B star decided to pose for some nude photos in a major Hip-Hop magazine. I don’t know why she decided to do it, but I do remember observing a couple of schoolboys in Swaziland browsing through the magazine in a store in town. They were looking at the photos of the singer and commenting on her body as if it were a piece of meat. Which of course it is: our bodies are suits made out of meat.
A focus on the body as meat is the foundation of the multi-million-dollar porn industry.
But true love is beyond the body; true love is beyond the mind; true love is beyond physicality, in another area altogether.
Wretched is the soul that depends on these two. That is, wretched is the soul that thinks love is to be found in the sexual union of two bodies. We know all about rape and bestiality and ‘casual’ sex. Actually no sex is casual, but here we are concerned with love. Love transcends bodies because it is about energies--living, moving, fusing energies, kinetic energies, not the potential stored energy of bodies. Love is intimately connected with male and female, yes, but it is energies, not sexuality. And it is found in the place where male and female cease to exist, in the place where there is no longer male and female but a blurring of the two. This place, the place where there is a blurring of the two, is the concern of Logion 22:
‘Jesus said to them... you will make the male and the female into a single one, in order that the male is no longer male and the female no longer female... then shall you enter the Kingdom.’
Wednesday, June 23, 2010
Thomas is Tantric, not Gnostic
As a scholar of ancient texts, it is my belief that the Coptic Gospel of Thomas-- banned by the church for political and gender-prejudiced reasons-- is prior to the gospels that we have in our New Testaments. There have been some convincing arguments proposed towards this thesis. Furthermore, it seems clear that Thomas (and John) represent the testimony most closely of Jesus' closest disciple, the first disciple to greet the resurrected Jesus, Mary of Magdala. Far from being a prostitute or a fallen woman, she was an enlightened disciple.(Download this very interesting essay)
The Gospel of Thomas has many characteristics that set it apart from the familiar gospels: there is no narrative; Mary plays an active role in it; many sayings of Jesus read like sayings of the Buddha; the sayings familiar from the NT gospels appear in an earlier form; and-- I am convinced of this-- there are traces of Tantrism in it.
However, I can't find gnosticism. I suspect the early church fathers and leaders gave the gospel the tag of gnostic simply so they could suppress it.
The Gospel of Thomas has many characteristics that set it apart from the familiar gospels: there is no narrative; Mary plays an active role in it; many sayings of Jesus read like sayings of the Buddha; the sayings familiar from the NT gospels appear in an earlier form; and-- I am convinced of this-- there are traces of Tantrism in it.
However, I can't find gnosticism. I suspect the early church fathers and leaders gave the gospel the tag of gnostic simply so they could suppress it.
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