“East is East and West is West, and never the twain shall meet.”
—Rudyard Kipling
The 1960s was a
period of time in which many important ideas were being questioned, many time
tried ways doubted and many new ideas brought to front stage. Three important
books spread their wide wings and left the press in the late 1960s. These three
books spoke a great deal about a contemplative and mystical way of knowing, and
the role of the East in teaching us about such a way of knowing and being.
These missives, in many ways, reflected different ways of approaching faith, a
mystical and contemplative way of knowing and the relationship between
contemplative Christianity and the contemplative traditions from the East.
Zen and the Birds of Appetite (1968), by Thomas Merton, walked the extra
mile to hear and heed what the Zen tradition had to teach the frenetic and
driven western Christian tradition that had lost its contemplative way. Zen and the Birds of Appetite was
divided into two sections, and each section probed and examined the deeper
meaning of Zen and what Christianity could learn from such an ancient mystical
way. Zen and the Birds of Appetite
did not compromise either the Christian or the Zen tradition, but Merton did
look for important points of convergence between such traditions. Needless to
say, there are essential points of discord and divergence, and Merton was not
blind to these. Merton, unlike Alan Watts, tended to remain firmly rooted and
grounded his tradition while being open to the insights of Zen. Watts started
well, lost his way in the maze, and left few solid waymarks to heed on the
journey. Merton, true to the Classical Christian tradition, had a generous and
gracious approach to reason, nature and philosophy while not abandoning the
primary role of faith, grace and mystical theology. The dialogue between Merton
and D.T. Suzuki (the Japanese Zen Scholar) broke down many a caricature and stereotype
of Zen Buddhism, and, rightly so, pointed out that the form Western
Christianity had taken in North America could do deeper, and Zen might assist
in this needful process.
The publication of The Making of a Counter Culture: Reflections
of the Technocratic Society and Its Youthful Opposition (1968), by Theodore
Roszak, took a conscious and deliberate turn to the East as a contemplative way
of saying a firm and defiant No to a West that had lost much of its deeper
mystical way. The American Beats (such as Ginsberg, Snyder, Kerouac and Whalen)
who had turned East were held high, and Roszak saw in the counter culture some
sources of hope. Roszak, sadly so, was rather weak on the Western mystical
tradition, although Blake did play an important role in his tract for the
times. The more reactionary Alan Watts is held high, and Merton tends to be
ignored in this tract for the times. This, it seems to me, is a serious fault
and failing in The Making of Counter
Culture, but, at least, Roszak, like Merton, longed for something deeper
and more profound from the religious quest than was being offered at the time.
Zen-Existentialism: The Spiritual Decline of
the West: A Positive Answer to the Hippies and Transcendental Meditation (1969), by Lit-sen Chang, very much reflected
and embodied an evangelical response to the needful challenges of
Existentialism, Zen and the Counter Culture of the 1960s. Chang’s pedigree,
line and lineage left no doubt as to where his research would take him: Gordon
Divinity School and Wheaton College are the great good places, and Carl Henry,
Roger Nicole and Gordon Clark the reigning masters and mentors. Chang sees
little of worth or merit in Zen, Existentialism or the Beats, Hippies and
Bohemians. In fact, for Chang, they are symbolic and symptomatic of the decline
of the West. It is most interesting to read Merton, Roszak and Chang together.
Chang tends only to see the negative and damaging nature of the Counter
Culture, Existentialism and the mystical aspects of the East, whereas Merton and
Roszak think both the Counter Culture and the East have much to teach the West.
These three books, Zen and the Birds of Appetite, The Making of
a Counter Culture and Zen-Existentialism:
The Spiritual Decline of the West, published so close together, can and do
tell us much about a way of understanding both the contemplative Christian
tradition, and how such a tradition approaches the contemplatives traditions
from the Orient. They also point the way forward to what was about to occur
throughout 1970s-1990s.
Tertullian, an early
Christian thinker, once rhetorically asked, “What has Jerusalem to do with
Athens? What has the Academy to do with the Church?” Lit-sen Chang tends to
stand within such a tradition, but such a dualistic way of thinking can both blind
and deafen us to much. Merton and Roszak would tend to oppose and question such
a tradition. Merton, it seems to me, walks a thoughtful and incisive way
between Chang and Roszak. Roszak tends to have a rather limited understanding
of the Christian contemplative tradition, and he tends to idealize and
romanticize the East. Chang merely thinks in the opposite direction. He tends
to idealize a limited understanding of the Christian Tradition (the Reformed
and Evangelical way), while taking a negative view of the East, Existentialism
and the Counter Culture of the 1960s. Merton walks the discerning middle way in
the Interfaith journey, and, as such, he has much to speak and say about the
contemplative tradition in both Christianity and the East.
The questions raised
in the 1960s by Thomas Merton, Theodore Roszak and Lit-sen Chang were not
likely to quit or go away. A spiritual hunger and longing was growing both in
intensity and focus, and the East seemed to be the place to turn to for depth
and insight, illumination and enlightenment. How would the Christian community
respond to such good challenges? Would they rhetorically ask, “What has the
West to do with the East? What has the Ashram to do with the Church?” Such a
dualistic and oppositional way of seeing the contemplative ways of East and
West, if followed and heeded, did not bode well. Such an approach did continue,
though, in the 1970s. The tradition of Merton, also, came as a critique of the
Tertullian, Chang, Reformed and Evangelical way.
I lived at L’Abri in
Switzerland in 1973-74 with Francis and Edith Schaeffer. When I was living
there, Timothy Leary and Mahareshi Mahesh Yogi were living there, also. They
had their followers and disciples. The Dust of Death: A Critique of the
Establishment and the Counter Culture—and a Proposal for a Third Way (1973), by Os Guinness, was published while I
was at L’Abri. Os lived a few chalets from where I lived in Huemoz,
Switzerland. L’Abri was a busy place in those days. Francis Schaeffer, Leary
and Mahesh Yogi (and the TM approach) did move in different directions. The Dust of Death had much to commend
it, and the issues raised spoke to both the failings of the establishment and
the counterculture, but Os stood, in a nuanced and subtle way, very much within
the Reformed, Evangelical and Intervarsity way. Os was less taken in by the
counter culture than was Roszak, but he had a greater appreciation for its
concerns than did Chang. There is a chapter in The Dust of Death, though, on Eastern religions, and Guinness tends
to miss some of the deeper challenges of such a tradition. “The East, No Exit”
has a tendency to caricature the East, and, as such, lacks the more sensitive
probes of Thomas Merton. Guinness, like Roszak, missed the approach of Merton,
and, as such, both misunderstood and failed to see the significance of
contemplative Christianity. Francis and Edith Schaeffer were the founders of
L’Abri, and the early history of L’Abri was recounted in L’Abri (1969), by Edith Schaeffer. There is no doubt where the Schaeffer’s
planted their flag. They were firmly and faithfully committed to the
Evangelical tradition within the context of the Calvinist Reformed heritage.
This approach, like that of Os Guinness, meant that both contemplative
Christianity and Interfaith issues were not seriously understood. Francis
Schaeffer, in fact, seems to have little or no understanding of the East in his
large book, How Should We Live? The Rise
and Decline of Western Thought and Culture (1976). Hinduism is portrayed in
its worst aspects, and a dogmatic and propositional approach to the faith
journey overrides the contemplative way. We can see, in short, how Schaeffer
and Guinness, like Chan and Tertullian, lacked a certain sensitivity to the
more illuminating possibilities of the Orient and its more meditative,
listening and hearing ways.
The line and lineage
of Thomas Merton was continued in the dialogue between Daniel Berrigan and
Thich Nhat Hanh. Just as Merton in Zen
and the Birds of Appetite had a warm relationship with the Zen scholar,
D.T.Suzuki, Berrigan had much the same sort of relationship with Thich Nhat
Hanh. The Raft is Not the Shore:
Conversations Toward a Buddhist/Christian Awareness (1975) carried on the
conversational tradition of Merton and Suzuki. Thich Nhat Hanh was a Buddhist
monk from Viet Nam, and, as most are aware, in the 1960s and 1970s, the USA was
destroying much of Vietnam. Berrigan was, as a Roman Catholic, appalled by what
his country (seemingly Christian) was doing to another country and people.
The dialogue between
Nhat Hanh and Berrigan took place during Holy Week, and many of the major
themes of Buddhism and Christianity were dealt with. There was no place for
caricaturing or distorting one another in this approach. Both Daniel Berrigan
and Thich Nhat Hanh wanted to taste the real thing just as Merton and Suzuki
did. If Christians and Buddhists are serious about encountering and engaging
one another (without compromising their inner core and essence), it is
important that both groups deal with the best and worst in both traditions.
Honesty and vulnerability must prevail. Triumphalism has little place in such a
setting and approach. Much can be learned from practice as can be learned from
academic theory. Merton and Suzuki and Berrigan and Thich Nhat Hanh tried to
approach Interfaith issues with this level of integrity and authenticity, and
the results have been good.. The tradition of Tertullian, Chang, Guinness and
Schaeffer failed to do this, and this is their limitation. This seems to be a
serious failing in the Evangelical and Reformed traditions. They tend to
distort and caricature what they are not for the purpose of apologetics and
conversion. The deeper meaning of conversion and transformation gets, sadly so,
lost in the process. It has been Roman Catholics, like Thomas Merton and Daniel
Berrigan, that have been more keen and willing to heed and learn from both
their own contemplative tradition and the contemplative traditions of the East
than have those like Chang and Schaeffer, and the fruit from such an approach
is much more healthy and nutritious. The depths of conversion and
transformation tend to be more demanding and go much deeper in such meditative
ways.
The ability to see
the fiction, false and illusory ego for what it is runs like a golden thread
through these discerning ways. The need to be still, slow down, sift the wheat
from the chaff, the dross of the ego from the wheat of the authentic self is
most needful and necessary. The fact that so many are imprisoned by their ego
(and all its fleeting and illusory impulses, thirsts and transient longings),
and the fact that few are willing to break this spell, means we need those who
can say the word that takes us to deeper, more demanding places. The Christian
contemplative tradition and Zen Buddhism have some things in common in this
area, and they can take us to greater clearings if we dare to follow such leads
and guides.
The ever-unfolding
drama of contemplative interfaith dialogue is wisely and sanely embodied in The Ground We Share: Every day Practice,
Buddhist and Christian (1996), by Robert Aitken and David Steindl-Rast.
Aitken has been called ‘the unofficial American dean of Zen”, and Steindl-Rast
is a Benedictine monk. Both men are committed to the contemplative and mystical
traditions within their Traditions, and both men see important points of
convergence and concord between their traditions at both an intellectual and
practical level. There are times in The
Ground We Share in which Steindl-Rast is looking so hard for places of
unity and similarity that he fails to see there are important and essential
points of discord and disunity between the two Traditions. There are those in
the contemplative journey who only see points of concord and convergence at the
mystical and contemplative levels. This approach tends to distort and demean
all traditions. The more Evangelical and Reformed traditions tend to be so
propositional and dogmatic that important points of convergence and concord are
missed between the West and the East. There is a desperate need for
contemplative dialogue on these important issues that avoids the syncretistic
and the confrontational approach.
There two types of
contemplative interfaith dialogue that need to be nudged further. The first
type ignores that hard political questions entirely. This approach borders on
the Gnostic, and such a way tends to retreat from the public fray. Gratefully
so, this is not the way of Merton and Suzuki, Berrigan and Thich Nhat Hanh,
Aitken and Steindl-Rast. The second form of contemplative interfaith dialogue
from which Merton,
Berrigan,
Steindl-Rast, Suzuki, Nhat Hanh and Aitkin emerge has a concern for the
political and justice, but such an approach never rises much beyond protest and
anarchist politics. It is this rather limited and reductionistic approach to
politics that is a serious fault and failing within this second approach. Those
who take their politics with some seriousness realize that protest and
anarchist politics is a very limited and at times indulgent way of engaging the
public place and square. There is a need to do advocacy work, and more to the
point, formal party politics. It is at this higher level of formal party
politics that the deeper and more substantive structural changes are made. It
is to this third level that contemplative interfaith dialogue must go if such
insights are ever to be taken serious at a political level. Those like Mahatma
Gandhi, Desmond Tutu or the Dalai Lama are better leads in the area of marrying
and merging the contemplative and active at a deeper and more active level. So,
for that matter is Markings, by Dag
Hammarskjold.
Needless to say, the
encounter between Christianity and other philosophies and faith traditions goes
back to the birth and beginning of Christianity. Oriental Enlightenment: The Encounter Between Asian and Western Thought
(1997) tracks and traces some of this tale. Christianity of the early
apologists and Church Fathers (Latin West and Greek East) tended to have two
distinct approaches to faith and other traditions. The syncretistic and
pluralist approach (so trendy then and now) was avoided. It was seen as too
simplistic and neither true nor faithful to the core and centre of all
traditions involved. There was, though, the more confrontational and dualistic
approach of Tertullian and those who followed him. Much of the Reformation (of
which the Evangelical and Reformed traditions are legitimate children) took
this approach to both the historic church and other faiths. The Classical
Christian tradition of the East and West was deeply contemplative and mystical.
This meant that whenever and wherever other contemplative traditions were
encountered, they was a certain degree of affinity. This is why the Fathers of
the West and East were drawn to Plato. The core of Platonic thought is deeply
mystical, and the ascent to truth can still teach and tell us much about the
spiritual journey one and all must take. The Alexandrian tradition of Clement
and Origen were committed to both a contemplative of being, and an allegorical
way of interpreting the Bible. This was not a literalist
way. It was the Alexandrian path that was followed by much of the Patristic era
of the church. The attitude towards Plato and other Eastern faiths was heeded
and heard. There was no unkind or ungracious demeaning or debunking. This did
not mean, though, the Fathers thought all religions and mystical philosophical
traditions were, at core level, saying the same things. In fact, the
differences between Classical Patristic contemplative tradition and the
mystical Gnostics of the time is part of Christian lore and legend, history and
drama.
The most honest
approach to Interfaith dialogue is to avoid the extremes of pluralism and
syncretism, on the one hand, and a confrontational and dualistic approach, on
the other hand. There is, in the Christian Tradition, a nimble, thoughtful,
insightful and deeply committed contemplative way. It is this middle way that
we find in the Orthodox, Roman Catholic and Anglican traditions. This is the
soundest and firmest path to be on. Scholars such as R.C. Zaehner, Geoffrey
Parrinder and Frederick Copleston embody such a way.
In fact, the
thoughtful and incisive work of Parrinder, Zaehner and Copleston can come as
companions to those like Merton, Berrigan and Steindl-Rast. Zaehner’s Gifford
Lectures (1967-1969), Concordant Discord:
The Interdependence of Faiths were delivered at the same time when Merton
was doing some of his best work. In fact, Merton and Zaehner did much of their
work on Interfaith issues at the same time, and more work needs to be done on
Zaehner and Merton. The weaknesses of Merton can be checked and corrected by
the more thorough work of Zaehner, and Merton’s contemplative probes can come
as corrective to some of Zaehner’s more academic way. Parrinder’s Mysticism in the World’s Religions
(1976) gives the lie to the notion that, at a mystical and esoteric level,
religions converge and are one. Copleston’s Gifford Lectures, Religion & the One: Philosophies East
and West (1980) does much the same thing as Zaehner and Parrinder. All
three have a sensitivity to the best in the East and the weaknesses and
limitations of the West, but they are not willing to argue that all religions,
at the deepest and most contemplative levels, are truly one. The demanding
intellectual rigor of Zaehner, Parrinder and Copleston can come as a necessary
and needful corrective to Merton, Berrigan and Steindl-Rast. The mood of our
time, though, tends to be either contemplative unity or stark dualistic
confrontation. Merton Berrigan and
Steidl-Rast tend to
be popular to the unity, concord, convergence clan for the simple reason they
are often not as clear about differences as Zaehner, Parrinder and Copleston.
If the Christian contemplative tradition is ever to move forward, in good
faith, in the future, Merton, Berrigan and Steindl-Rast will need to be heard,
but so will Zaehner, Parrinder and Copleston.
rsd