In this weeks readings, we face an interesting dichotomy--two philosophers who take different approaches to explaining the infinite, and by that I mean God and Nature. One would rather try and describe what cannot be described (which can only result in mumbling futility), using colorful simile intended symbolically; another expresses his feelings and interpretations in an attempt to tug the heartstrings of the reader. It is up to each individaul to decide which of these methods is more effective.
Frankly, I get bored with the former. I have mentioned this in class and among friends, but philosophy means much more to me when it helps to see the great beauty in life, or when it makes practical and applicable suggestions that I can integrate toward fulfillment. In this regard, I am much more apt to appreciate the writings of Tzu-Ssu.
What brilliance in:
"...the mature person looks into his own heart and respects what is unseen and unheard."
"The mature person pays attention to what is happening in his inmost self."
"Once we find the center (of arisen pleasure, anger, sorrow, and joy)* and acheive harmony, heaven and earth take their proper places, and all things are fully nourished.'
This I can apply to my life. Seek balance of emotion by avoiding extreme states. To seek balance, look inward. Wonderful.
I am reminded of the Buddhist in New York City, who purchases a five dollar hot dog from a street vendor. Although he pays with a twenty dollar bill, he gets no money back.
When asked about the disparity, the vendor replies, "You of all people should know--change must come from within."
--------------------------------------
As to Tu-Shun, I can appreciate the beauty of a good simile, "life is like..." But, I tire quickly of this type of observation. Often the speaker has worked out so detailed a model that his invention lacks spontenaity. I would much rather a man speak from his heart in trying to capture a vision of life than develop a grand illusion for the sake of literary competence. I laud brevity, in conversation and in wit.
To the end of the passage, Tu-Shun borrows from ancient wisdom in stating "a simile is the same as not a simile." I get it, the net is all inclusive, yet it isn't a net. No crystal in the net is different from any other crystal in the net. All things are connected, all people are connected, all is one. The net describes this oneness of many parts.
This is the same example as the ocean metaphor in that every drop of water is necessary yet each drop is identifiable. Valid but not helpful.
In this case, Tu-Shun is like an arsonist who tosses his cigarette into a forest fire--why bother?
* Parentheses are mine.
Thursday, September 25, 2008
Tuesday, September 23, 2008
On Chuang-Tzu
I had a friend years ago, Dave, who annoyed me to no end. He had the ability to answer any question with the inverse of it's terms, as in, "Did you turn on the lamp, or did the lamp turn you on?" I am under the impression that he had been reading Chuang-Tsu, the trickster of Chinese philosophy.
What better way to describe the indescribable than to speak with poetic absurdity? Even more effective is the absolute and childlike simplicity of the inverse statement, which he uses to masterfully explain the non-linear, Dao. Chuang-Tsu recognizes the impossibility of trying to explain this existence with language that is ill-suited for universal description. He understands more than most that no manifestation of Dao can be written of with any direct verbiage; much like the statistician attempts a probability solution, Dao can only be described by what it is not.
"And someday there will be a great awakening when we know that this is all a great dream. Yet the stupid believe they are awake, busily and brightly assuming they understand things, calling this man ruler, that one herdsman--how dense! Confucius and you are both dreaming! And when I say you are dreaming, I am dreaming too."
As the world unfolds, it does so with no expectation of understanding. Thus should we be: simple, alive, witnessing the world rise, enfolding us as we enfold the world. We know nothing if we learn anything.
Dammnit. I have become Dave. Or has Dave become me?
What better way to describe the indescribable than to speak with poetic absurdity? Even more effective is the absolute and childlike simplicity of the inverse statement, which he uses to masterfully explain the non-linear, Dao. Chuang-Tsu recognizes the impossibility of trying to explain this existence with language that is ill-suited for universal description. He understands more than most that no manifestation of Dao can be written of with any direct verbiage; much like the statistician attempts a probability solution, Dao can only be described by what it is not.
"And someday there will be a great awakening when we know that this is all a great dream. Yet the stupid believe they are awake, busily and brightly assuming they understand things, calling this man ruler, that one herdsman--how dense! Confucius and you are both dreaming! And when I say you are dreaming, I am dreaming too."
As the world unfolds, it does so with no expectation of understanding. Thus should we be: simple, alive, witnessing the world rise, enfolding us as we enfold the world. We know nothing if we learn anything.
Dammnit. I have become Dave. Or has Dave become me?
Thursday, September 18, 2008
On Selections from the Bible
(Disclaimer: This post is very personal, yet I have no fear in sharing about my life as I hope someone may find wisdom, strength, or hope in my words. I would ask that your comments are applicable to my opinions only, not my personal history.)
--------------------------------
What a wonderful book to be enjoyed by each man to himself. What a tragedy that man feels compelled to make others see things his way.
I have dreamt of time machines, of helping history along. If I could have only been there to help men see the deeper truth of the Bible, to understand metaphor and myth, to personalize rather than organize. If I could have been the catalyst to prevent war, genocide, and fervor. But that would make me equally as culpable...
--------------------------------
I have read the Book a number of times, at different places in my life, for different reasons. Early in my life, I wanted very much to be part of a religion so that I could have social identity. I pulled away from Catholicism and joined a Church of Christ. I left them as well when my best friend and I had an argument. I went to Mormon tabernacle for a while, although my motives were simpler--seek approval for sex before marriage (I was "in love" with a Latter Day Saint). Soon after, I immersed myself into Judaism. Living in a small town, I was running out of religions to turn to...
Later in life, I turned to the Bible for analysis. I had abandoned the idea of God and, as a good atheist, needed ammunition with which to defeat Christianity. This was easy as the Book is filled with outrageous stories and a history that fall short under scientific scrutiny. I pored over the text, cover to cover, building an arsenal of barbs, logic, and hypocrisy. I was a good atheist.
Later in life, I found myself hopeless--drunk, suicidal, incarcerated. This time I sought the Book, hoping to find a Santa Claus-like foxhole prayer. "God, if you get me out of this one, I'll believe in you. Heck, I'll become a preacher!" Once again I found myself reading and reading, yet the salvation I needed came at the hands of attorneys, favors from wealthy contacts, and an overcrowded penal system.
I missed a lot.
If you have followed my blogs to this point, you have probably realized that I have a fairly clear idea of what my higher power is. Somewhere between Hinduism and Buddhism lies the concept of an everythng, or nothing, that this world is merely a manifestation of. I seek love and kindess, peace and serenity, humility and grace, and offer the same in turn. These are the traits common to all healthy faiths, regardless of denomination. Still, I belive the ego is a manifestation all it's own, and is hell-bent on destruction. Like a parasite, it thrives on discomfort and disease.
I read the Bible one last time recently, only this time I sought wisdom. I have come to terms with the fact that all men of loving faith have found some level of comfort with their existence. This time, I sought similarities instead of looking for differences. Much of what I came to love out of that Book is printed in The Enlightened Mind. Much of the sacred text can be interpreted in numerous ways. I truly believe that a man should seek his own understanding of the Bible, so he can apply the lessons and truths to his own life.
I offer a few examples of my interpretation for your consideration.
"And God looked at everything he had made, and behold! It was very good." Gen 1:31
and
"God has made everything beautiful in its time, and has put eternity in our hearts." Ecc 3:11
Mirror statements like these are so wonderful. Time and time again, the message is simple--this world is wonderful because everything in it is of God. That includes us puny humans! Eternity as a concept is very human, not recognizing time is a virtue.
"Be still, and know that I am God." Psa 46:10
Is this a command to sit quietly because God is in charge, or does this statement imply that each person is manifested of one Godhood? I choose to think the latter...
"I form light and create darkness. I make peace and create evil." Is 45:7
A statement of holy power, or two statements of duality? All things exist in a world of oneness, thus every duality exists in God...
Finally, the single unifying tenet of all love-based faith:
"Love your neighbor as you would yourself." Lev 19:18
Enough said.
--------------------------------
What a wonderful book to be enjoyed by each man to himself. What a tragedy that man feels compelled to make others see things his way.
I have dreamt of time machines, of helping history along. If I could have only been there to help men see the deeper truth of the Bible, to understand metaphor and myth, to personalize rather than organize. If I could have been the catalyst to prevent war, genocide, and fervor. But that would make me equally as culpable...
--------------------------------
I have read the Book a number of times, at different places in my life, for different reasons. Early in my life, I wanted very much to be part of a religion so that I could have social identity. I pulled away from Catholicism and joined a Church of Christ. I left them as well when my best friend and I had an argument. I went to Mormon tabernacle for a while, although my motives were simpler--seek approval for sex before marriage (I was "in love" with a Latter Day Saint). Soon after, I immersed myself into Judaism. Living in a small town, I was running out of religions to turn to...
Later in life, I turned to the Bible for analysis. I had abandoned the idea of God and, as a good atheist, needed ammunition with which to defeat Christianity. This was easy as the Book is filled with outrageous stories and a history that fall short under scientific scrutiny. I pored over the text, cover to cover, building an arsenal of barbs, logic, and hypocrisy. I was a good atheist.
Later in life, I found myself hopeless--drunk, suicidal, incarcerated. This time I sought the Book, hoping to find a Santa Claus-like foxhole prayer. "God, if you get me out of this one, I'll believe in you. Heck, I'll become a preacher!" Once again I found myself reading and reading, yet the salvation I needed came at the hands of attorneys, favors from wealthy contacts, and an overcrowded penal system.
I missed a lot.
If you have followed my blogs to this point, you have probably realized that I have a fairly clear idea of what my higher power is. Somewhere between Hinduism and Buddhism lies the concept of an everythng, or nothing, that this world is merely a manifestation of. I seek love and kindess, peace and serenity, humility and grace, and offer the same in turn. These are the traits common to all healthy faiths, regardless of denomination. Still, I belive the ego is a manifestation all it's own, and is hell-bent on destruction. Like a parasite, it thrives on discomfort and disease.
I read the Bible one last time recently, only this time I sought wisdom. I have come to terms with the fact that all men of loving faith have found some level of comfort with their existence. This time, I sought similarities instead of looking for differences. Much of what I came to love out of that Book is printed in The Enlightened Mind. Much of the sacred text can be interpreted in numerous ways. I truly believe that a man should seek his own understanding of the Bible, so he can apply the lessons and truths to his own life.
I offer a few examples of my interpretation for your consideration.
"And God looked at everything he had made, and behold! It was very good." Gen 1:31
and
"God has made everything beautiful in its time, and has put eternity in our hearts." Ecc 3:11
Mirror statements like these are so wonderful. Time and time again, the message is simple--this world is wonderful because everything in it is of God. That includes us puny humans! Eternity as a concept is very human, not recognizing time is a virtue.
"Be still, and know that I am God." Psa 46:10
Is this a command to sit quietly because God is in charge, or does this statement imply that each person is manifested of one Godhood? I choose to think the latter...
"I form light and create darkness. I make peace and create evil." Is 45:7
A statement of holy power, or two statements of duality? All things exist in a world of oneness, thus every duality exists in God...
Finally, the single unifying tenet of all love-based faith:
"Love your neighbor as you would yourself." Lev 19:18
Enough said.
Wednesday, September 17, 2008
On Dov Baer of Mezritch
Can it be that the favored son of rabbinical Hasidism could be a closet Buddhist? A Hindi? An Upanishad? More on that later...
"When you gaze at an object, you bring blessing to it. For through contemplation, you know it is absolutely nothing without the divinity that permeates it. By means of this awareness, you draw greater vitality to that object from the divine source of life, since you bind that thing to absolute nothingness."
Let me first say that as I understand it, there are really two types of religionists: the first are those who believe all existence is God, of God, a part of God, a manifestion taking place within God; the second type, primarily Judeo-Christian-styled sects, believe (although not so explicitly) that God creates anew, meaning man and all other physical forms are separate and under God's watchful eye. This allows for wonderful stories of intervention, chosen-ness, sacrifice, and punishment.
As I read this selection, I get the impression Dov Baer sees the world through a similar lens to mine--that God is merely a word used to describe a concept. I fully expected to read methods of prostration, obedience, and identification. Instead, I was pleasantly surprised to see a man of Religion propound God as nothingness, divinity as vitality. To hear that viewing any object as separate cuts that object from its truthful nature is satisfying, yet I think it doesn't go quite far enough. I need one more sentence added to the end, to the effect of:
"To view oneself as separate from that object in fact separates him from the divine source of life."
Moving forward, yet within the same concept, Baer speaks of ego, my favorite subject (pun intended). To liberate oneself from the ego, and in doing so become silent is a lofty goal. Indeed, how can one possibly hear the voice of the universe if that person can still hear the single voice from inside himself? "The moment you begin to hear what you yourself are saying, you must stop." Although Dov relates this to prayer, how appropriate does this message seem to any situation.
How can I hear the voice of the universe if I can only hear the voice of ego? How can I hear the voice of my friends, if I can still hear the mumbling din of my own self monologue? How can I possibly learn anything if my mind questions everything?
Aha.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Thus I return to the first sentence of this post, in which I wonder if Baer is not truly Hasidic, by saying he is none of the above. Although most men of faith and/or enlightened thinking tend to be boxed into one particular faith, all men who practice spirituality based in love, tolerance, honesty, humility, and serenity are more than simple religionists. These are men who raise the consciousness of all they come into contact with, and through words not dissimilar, display reverence in thought and deed. The man who respects other men as parts of the same whole, and who recognizes he cannot know the unknowable, rises above human classification and religious order. This is the man of true reason, and not religion. This is the voice of the God.
"When you gaze at an object, you bring blessing to it. For through contemplation, you know it is absolutely nothing without the divinity that permeates it. By means of this awareness, you draw greater vitality to that object from the divine source of life, since you bind that thing to absolute nothingness."
Let me first say that as I understand it, there are really two types of religionists: the first are those who believe all existence is God, of God, a part of God, a manifestion taking place within God; the second type, primarily Judeo-Christian-styled sects, believe (although not so explicitly) that God creates anew, meaning man and all other physical forms are separate and under God's watchful eye. This allows for wonderful stories of intervention, chosen-ness, sacrifice, and punishment.
As I read this selection, I get the impression Dov Baer sees the world through a similar lens to mine--that God is merely a word used to describe a concept. I fully expected to read methods of prostration, obedience, and identification. Instead, I was pleasantly surprised to see a man of Religion propound God as nothingness, divinity as vitality. To hear that viewing any object as separate cuts that object from its truthful nature is satisfying, yet I think it doesn't go quite far enough. I need one more sentence added to the end, to the effect of:
"To view oneself as separate from that object in fact separates him from the divine source of life."
Moving forward, yet within the same concept, Baer speaks of ego, my favorite subject (pun intended). To liberate oneself from the ego, and in doing so become silent is a lofty goal. Indeed, how can one possibly hear the voice of the universe if that person can still hear the single voice from inside himself? "The moment you begin to hear what you yourself are saying, you must stop." Although Dov relates this to prayer, how appropriate does this message seem to any situation.
How can I hear the voice of the universe if I can only hear the voice of ego? How can I hear the voice of my friends, if I can still hear the mumbling din of my own self monologue? How can I possibly learn anything if my mind questions everything?
Aha.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Thus I return to the first sentence of this post, in which I wonder if Baer is not truly Hasidic, by saying he is none of the above. Although most men of faith and/or enlightened thinking tend to be boxed into one particular faith, all men who practice spirituality based in love, tolerance, honesty, humility, and serenity are more than simple religionists. These are men who raise the consciousness of all they come into contact with, and through words not dissimilar, display reverence in thought and deed. The man who respects other men as parts of the same whole, and who recognizes he cannot know the unknowable, rises above human classification and religious order. This is the man of true reason, and not religion. This is the voice of the God.
Friday, September 12, 2008
On Ramana Maharshi
As there are just too many understandings from this reading, I am going to focus on a few of the selections that really spoke to me.
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"How can one real-ize or make real that which alone is real? All we need to do is to give up our habit of regarding as real that which is unreal." Then, "When we stop regarding the unreal as real, then reality alone will remain, and there will be that."
Sounds similar to the Upanishad "Perfect comes from perfect. Take perfect from perfect and the remainder is perfect." Only in the letting go of Maya is Atman free of identification with what is seen, and instead is identified as nothing more nor less than a part of wholeness, or, "the pristine state."
To place it more modern terms, Ramana Maharshi states, "Reality is simply the loss of the ego. Destroy the ego by seeking its identity."
"We keep seeking reality though in fact we are reality." As I have come to understand, the ego is my defense mechanism, brought about as my interpretive filters developed. As the world rose in front of me, and others exerted their will over me, my vulnerability prompted the forging of a shield wall, a protective cocoon, devised of separation, superiority, and loathing.
As I was not met with the type of love I felt I deserved or was entitled to, the ego was given room to blossom. The more I continue to think that I am any different (better or worse, than anyone else, the more I fan the flames of an egoic wildfire. The point is this: regardless of any view I may take of myself, I am still a part of all things, and thus connected to God-consciousness.
I am reminded of a fellow who once told me, "I have known many men who have told me their stories. Many of them say they have found a distance growing between themselves and God and I always ask them, 'Which of you moved?'"
Ultimately, I believe, it comes down to one choice: do I have the desire to find peace and "break free from life's sorrow?" Am I willing to grow along spiritual lines, to "long for the supreme spiritual bliss?" Am I willing to be the student?
-------------
"How can one real-ize or make real that which alone is real? All we need to do is to give up our habit of regarding as real that which is unreal." Then, "When we stop regarding the unreal as real, then reality alone will remain, and there will be that."
Sounds similar to the Upanishad "Perfect comes from perfect. Take perfect from perfect and the remainder is perfect." Only in the letting go of Maya is Atman free of identification with what is seen, and instead is identified as nothing more nor less than a part of wholeness, or, "the pristine state."
To place it more modern terms, Ramana Maharshi states, "Reality is simply the loss of the ego. Destroy the ego by seeking its identity."
"We keep seeking reality though in fact we are reality." As I have come to understand, the ego is my defense mechanism, brought about as my interpretive filters developed. As the world rose in front of me, and others exerted their will over me, my vulnerability prompted the forging of a shield wall, a protective cocoon, devised of separation, superiority, and loathing.
As I was not met with the type of love I felt I deserved or was entitled to, the ego was given room to blossom. The more I continue to think that I am any different (better or worse, than anyone else, the more I fan the flames of an egoic wildfire. The point is this: regardless of any view I may take of myself, I am still a part of all things, and thus connected to God-consciousness.
I am reminded of a fellow who once told me, "I have known many men who have told me their stories. Many of them say they have found a distance growing between themselves and God and I always ask them, 'Which of you moved?'"
Ultimately, I believe, it comes down to one choice: do I have the desire to find peace and "break free from life's sorrow?" Am I willing to grow along spiritual lines, to "long for the supreme spiritual bliss?" Am I willing to be the student?
Thursday, September 11, 2008
On The Upanishads
I am often surrounded by people of varying faiths in an environment that encourages by its tenets the dependance on a higher power, as each member understands his or her higher power. I find that during these assemblies, and despite the numerous differences in opinion from one person to the next, that all men of faith who practice as fully as possible the principles of joy, kindness, and charity, and who seek serenity by smashing the ego, can raise the "God-consciousness" of an entire group.
Through the years, I have stumbled from faith to faith because I somehow came to the conclusion that man's first job in this manifestation is to find out why he is here, and none really seemed to have an answer that made sense. Not ironically, attempting to develop a higher power that suits my egoic consciousness has mostly led to failure as I use the word 'I' in the context of a limited, identified self.
Then comes the Upanishad.
I first read these words in a time that I was not ready to understand or accept the non-linear. But today I am older and the idea of the Self and the self I can handle. I am reminded of the Beatles', "I am he as you are he as you are me and we are all together," and how that relates whatever "truth" may exist universally. I exist only as long I identify that I exist. I am truly not I, but i, a manifestation of I clouded by a self-defense mechanism called ego. The Upanishad ask, "How can a wise man, knowing the unity of life, seeing all creatures in himself, be deluded or sorrowful?" Easily, it turns out.
The self seeks to separate itself from the Self. The i wishes to be greater than, or independent from, the I. "Proud as you are of your own life," sums it up perfectly. I am reminded of something I heard Alan Watts say, and I am sure he was quoting someone else, that "if you look into the mirror, and see anything other than the face of Buddha staring back at you, your ego still lies to you." The Upanishad mirror this statement, albeit indirectly, in forwarding, "When you see that God acts through you at every moment, in every movement of mind and body, you attain true freedom." They do not specify what one gains freedom from, but I think I get it...
In the sake of openness and sharing, I offer you my meditation mantra--the words that bring me serenity daily:
i am a part of all things. All things are part of one thing. That one thing is God. i am a part of God. I is God.
I may be changing those words though, to this selection from the reading:
"That is perfect. This is perfect. Perfect comes from perfect. Take perfect from perfect, the remainder is perfect."
Post script.
I understand the ultimate futility of this rant because the more I wish to seek and understand, the less I will. "The ignorant think that God can be grasped by the mind." Humility and the intellect can coexist, provided humility comes first.
Through the years, I have stumbled from faith to faith because I somehow came to the conclusion that man's first job in this manifestation is to find out why he is here, and none really seemed to have an answer that made sense. Not ironically, attempting to develop a higher power that suits my egoic consciousness has mostly led to failure as I use the word 'I' in the context of a limited, identified self.
Then comes the Upanishad.
I first read these words in a time that I was not ready to understand or accept the non-linear. But today I am older and the idea of the Self and the self I can handle. I am reminded of the Beatles', "I am he as you are he as you are me and we are all together," and how that relates whatever "truth" may exist universally. I exist only as long I identify that I exist. I am truly not I, but i, a manifestation of I clouded by a self-defense mechanism called ego. The Upanishad ask, "How can a wise man, knowing the unity of life, seeing all creatures in himself, be deluded or sorrowful?" Easily, it turns out.
The self seeks to separate itself from the Self. The i wishes to be greater than, or independent from, the I. "Proud as you are of your own life," sums it up perfectly. I am reminded of something I heard Alan Watts say, and I am sure he was quoting someone else, that "if you look into the mirror, and see anything other than the face of Buddha staring back at you, your ego still lies to you." The Upanishad mirror this statement, albeit indirectly, in forwarding, "When you see that God acts through you at every moment, in every movement of mind and body, you attain true freedom." They do not specify what one gains freedom from, but I think I get it...
In the sake of openness and sharing, I offer you my meditation mantra--the words that bring me serenity daily:
i am a part of all things. All things are part of one thing. That one thing is God. i am a part of God. I is God.
I may be changing those words though, to this selection from the reading:
"That is perfect. This is perfect. Perfect comes from perfect. Take perfect from perfect, the remainder is perfect."
Post script.
I understand the ultimate futility of this rant because the more I wish to seek and understand, the less I will. "The ignorant think that God can be grasped by the mind." Humility and the intellect can coexist, provided humility comes first.
Tuesday, September 2, 2008
On Sa-Go-Ye-Wat-Ha
I recall being about seven or eight years old and asking my parish priest, "If God only created two people, Adam and Eve, and then stopped, where did all the rest of the people come from?" The great questions of God and faith often come from the simplest minds, those less complicated by passion, dogma, or exposure. This is what I was reminded of while reading this selection.
The speaker brilliantly summarizes the invasion by the Europeans, focusing equally on the native kindess of the numerous tribes and the burgeoning foreign imposition of settlers in need of land and resources. The real brilliance of the presentaion arises in the childlike inquisition of Christianity. Questions and statements which cannot be answered make for tantalizing response, and I can only imagine the bitterness that must have brewed in the minds of the missionaries while listening to the Chief speak. I know that Father Balker (appropriate name for a man who couldn't answer my queries either!) must have been just as frustrated by my own observations, some of which run parallel with Sagoyewatha's:
"...your religion is written in a book. If it was meant for us as well as for you, why hasn't the Great Spirit given it to us?"
"If there is only one religion, why do you white people differ so much about it? Why don't you all agree, since you can all read the book?"
"How can we know what to believe, when we have been lied to so often by the white people?"
I especially appreciate the inclusion of the greatest philosophical question ever posed, "You say that you are right and that we are lost. How do you know this is true?"
The poison that teems from organized religion is easily recognizable to children and the uninitiated (though being confounded by adults), maybe because it's members often behave like spoiled toddlers themselves. From Mitchell's introduction, the details of the events surrounding this rebuttal speech and the response of the missionaries it was intended for, were deplorable. Not liking what was heard, the Christian emmisary refused to shake hands and share a not-so-uncommon faith with Chief Sagoyewatha, thus condeming the indiginous tribesman and his clan to eternal damnation.
In effect: I'm taking my toys and going home.
The speaker brilliantly summarizes the invasion by the Europeans, focusing equally on the native kindess of the numerous tribes and the burgeoning foreign imposition of settlers in need of land and resources. The real brilliance of the presentaion arises in the childlike inquisition of Christianity. Questions and statements which cannot be answered make for tantalizing response, and I can only imagine the bitterness that must have brewed in the minds of the missionaries while listening to the Chief speak. I know that Father Balker (appropriate name for a man who couldn't answer my queries either!) must have been just as frustrated by my own observations, some of which run parallel with Sagoyewatha's:
"...your religion is written in a book. If it was meant for us as well as for you, why hasn't the Great Spirit given it to us?"
"If there is only one religion, why do you white people differ so much about it? Why don't you all agree, since you can all read the book?"
"How can we know what to believe, when we have been lied to so often by the white people?"
I especially appreciate the inclusion of the greatest philosophical question ever posed, "You say that you are right and that we are lost. How do you know this is true?"
The poison that teems from organized religion is easily recognizable to children and the uninitiated (though being confounded by adults), maybe because it's members often behave like spoiled toddlers themselves. From Mitchell's introduction, the details of the events surrounding this rebuttal speech and the response of the missionaries it was intended for, were deplorable. Not liking what was heard, the Christian emmisary refused to shake hands and share a not-so-uncommon faith with Chief Sagoyewatha, thus condeming the indiginous tribesman and his clan to eternal damnation.
In effect: I'm taking my toys and going home.
On Chief Seattle
Since you, my classmates and professor, don't know me yet, I should tell you that this speech hits home for me. As a reformed Catholic, too much of the Christian dogma, practice, and record of historical abuse leave me with a sour taste in my mouth. Despite having found a "higher power" for my own life, one that gives me serenity when I seek it, I still am prone to judge those who attempt selfishly to force, coerce, or sway others into buying what is being sold.
Thus, I found it difficult to read this selection without sensing real sarcasm on behalf of Seattle. Of course, my impression may be completely wrong, but as a cynical bastard I am quick to spot my own kind. Granted, Seattle speaks from a darker place than I can imagine, having witnessed the genocide of his own tribe and hundreds of others across the rapidly settled American continent. Still, the blatant "you are mistaken about God" response is both beautiful and biting:
"But how can that ever be? Your God loves your people and hates mine. He puts his strong arm around the white man and leads him by the hand, as a father leads his little boy. He has abandoned his red children."
"No, the white man's God cannot love his red children or he would protect them."
"Your God is prejudiced."
These statements are cunning and fierce; they can only be received coldly. Seattle knowingly stabs a ceremonial dagger into the heart of those who believe that the Christian God is loving and tolerant. He makes an argument that a loving God, by any name, should support all mankind and never play favorites. God is in the land, the sea, and the wind, treats all men fairly and equally, lives in mystery and can only be tested in love--yet some choose to place their faith in a God of hate, a God who separates race from destiny, a God who chooses some to be loved more than others.
Seattle recognizes the destruction of his ancestry and the limitation of his progeny by settlers bent on destruction and domination, then grudgingly accepts the relegation of his peoples to isolated, desolate reservation lands, yet he still musters one final offensive salvo. I use my own interpretation here, with some misgiving, but this is what I hear in the desperate closing lines: Sleep well, hypocrites, and know that death begets death--and the dead never sleep.
Thus, I found it difficult to read this selection without sensing real sarcasm on behalf of Seattle. Of course, my impression may be completely wrong, but as a cynical bastard I am quick to spot my own kind. Granted, Seattle speaks from a darker place than I can imagine, having witnessed the genocide of his own tribe and hundreds of others across the rapidly settled American continent. Still, the blatant "you are mistaken about God" response is both beautiful and biting:
"But how can that ever be? Your God loves your people and hates mine. He puts his strong arm around the white man and leads him by the hand, as a father leads his little boy. He has abandoned his red children."
"No, the white man's God cannot love his red children or he would protect them."
"Your God is prejudiced."
These statements are cunning and fierce; they can only be received coldly. Seattle knowingly stabs a ceremonial dagger into the heart of those who believe that the Christian God is loving and tolerant. He makes an argument that a loving God, by any name, should support all mankind and never play favorites. God is in the land, the sea, and the wind, treats all men fairly and equally, lives in mystery and can only be tested in love--yet some choose to place their faith in a God of hate, a God who separates race from destiny, a God who chooses some to be loved more than others.
Seattle recognizes the destruction of his ancestry and the limitation of his progeny by settlers bent on destruction and domination, then grudgingly accepts the relegation of his peoples to isolated, desolate reservation lands, yet he still musters one final offensive salvo. I use my own interpretation here, with some misgiving, but this is what I hear in the desperate closing lines: Sleep well, hypocrites, and know that death begets death--and the dead never sleep.
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