Thursday, February 15, 2024
Tuesday, we had a visit to a nearby Hindu temple, Rathnahereeswarar. I must admit from the outset, I do not know as much about the Hindu religion––the gods and goddesses and rites––as I do about the underlying philosophy. There was the fine teaching of Huston Smith that has influenced my approach right along: every religion can be approached from its devotional aspect (even Taoism, which is where I first ran into Smith’s distinction), from its philosophical aspect, or from its practice, its “yoga” if you will. The latter two interest me a lot. As for the first, the devotional aspect, while the ritual has some anthropological (and musical interest) with my background in liturgy (which Bruno said was my saving grace in approaching comparative religion), my main response is usually that I’ve been struggling for years to get behind my own mythological language to the phenomenological truths behind it. So it does not behoove me to add another layer of mythology and iconography on top of it. Just another mythical language that I would need to get past.
I’ve been having a series of intense conversations with a friend who lives in Europe about a wide range of topics––from classic rock n’ roll to mysticism, my two great loves––and his insights into the world situation are really good for my narrow perspective. He is not a Christian, but he asks me, not in a challenging way, a lot of things about Christianity and my own response to things as a monk-priest. It’s also good for me to clarify my own thoughts on things trying to explain myself. I had to confess to him that I could speak for orthodox Christianity or I could express my own opinions, which I am not sure always coincide with orthodox Christianity’s expression of some fundamental truths. Please notice how carefully I phrased that. Even when I “disagree” with my own tradition, I usually say something like “I am not sure I understand that, but this is what orthodox Christianity teaches,” or “I have a different way of describing that.” I think this is what I have been attempting to do in all four books I have written so far, along with speak both to the absolute unbeliever and to the orthodox believer, as I am always trying to do in homilies. One time one of our monks referred to what I was teaching the community as “speculative theology,” which I found interesting. Not sure I am to be taken seriously as a “real” theologian, but there it is, speculative theology. Va bene!
At any rate… I digress as usual. Toward the end of my idyllic Santa Cruz years, I was describing my ministry, my apostolate, if you will, as the evolution of consciousness, trying to evolve my own and encouraging others to evolve too. Very affected by Ken Wilber’s work obviously. Thomas Keating was somewhat there as well. One of the two books he encouraged me to read in 2017 (and I still haven’t finished my homework!) was Wilber’s The Religion of Tomorrow. And I go back to this quote of his often:
The primary issue for the human family at its present level of evolutionary development is to become fully human. But that means discovering our connectedness to God, which was repressed somewhere in early childhood.*
I had breakfast in Santa Cruz with two friends, who are both educators, just before I left for Asia. One of them was describing how in ancient myths characters are often named after their purpose. I speculated out loud that my name might be “Consciousness Evolver,” to which one of my interlocutors immediately responded, “A little pretentious, but okay.”
All that to say two things. First: in my conversations with my European friend I keep coming to the conclusion, thus far kind of inchoate in my own mind, that not only is that the mission I want to take up again (I even brought it up at my meeting in Singapore with the Tanglin folks), but it’s more urgent than ever given that among the children of Abraham, between extreme Zionist Israelis justifying their oppression and now slaughter of Palestinians on biblical grounds, conservative Christians supporting Donald Trump (who I consider to be the embodiment of evil, maybe even the Anti-Christ, at least anti-Christ) as if he were the Cyrus come to save Israel (and destroying the environment on the side, or at least fighting any attempt to protect it), and radical Islamists, it’s that magical/mythical mindset that is going to be the downfall of the human race. We’ve got to get a better understanding of the Divine, including we Christians who still have not caught up with the God of Jesus (the real subject of The God Who Gave You Birth).
And secondly: I am finally reading Wilber’s The Spectrum of Consciousness. What I already know about the book I have gleaned from his later writings, but I never have been able to make my way through it. But I ran into it here in the library at Shantivanam and, knowing the Bede thought very highly of it, I might just be reading his own copy.
Here are a few lines that got me.
The avowed aim of most Western approaches is variously stated as strengthening the ego, integrating the self, correcting one’s self-image, building self confidence, the establishing of realistic goals, and so on. …
… the central aim of most Eastern approaches is not to strengthen the ego but to completely and totally transcend it, to attain moksha (liberation), te (virtue of the Absolute), satori (enlightenment). These approaches claim to tap a level of consciousness that offers total freedom and complete release from the root cause of all suffering, that outs to rest our most puzzling questions about the nature of Reality… (22)
He is suggesting of course, with the image of the spectrum, that these are not opposing approaches but rather different areas of the spectrum, like various wavelengths. He would stress and I would agree, both are needed! A lot of my own pastoral approach has been the first, the remedial work needed by so many people, including myself, to build up a healthy sense of self that can face and function in the world without limping and hiding because of our wounds. But the second approach (so-called Eastern) is very much in keeping what I understand the contemplative path to be and very much in keeping with the spiritualty of Jesus. (Hence, again, The God Who Gave You Birth.)
We need to have an ego to get beyond the ego. You are marvelous. Now get over yourself.
All that to say… that’s one of the reasons I don’t really enjoy visiting Hindu temples––I’m only tangentially interested in the very complicated iconography and pantheon of Hinduism. Another reason added to that is that I am always very careful not to take part in temple rituals unless I am constricted to. I would never want to be perceived as worshipping other gods. (
Their drink offerings I will not pour out nor take their name upon my lips, as the psalm says.) A third reason is that, for all my time in front of people as a performer and teacher/preacher, I do not like to stick out in a crowd. And particularly deep in the south of India in the small cities where we are there are not a lot of white people. I don’t stick out as much as some––imagine being here with a 6’4” blond Pole named Roman who didn’t speak a word of English my first trip here in 2000. German Jeremias, on the other hand, is probably more conspicuous than I, tall and thin and he was wearing the kavi dhoti with his shawl wrapped around his head (as he had learned to do in the Holy Land). But when we were at the temple, he was stopping at every shrine along the way to meditate and pray and take pictures, heedless of the glances and comments about a white guy dressed as a swami in a Hindu temple. (I had opted to wear civvies, for the same above reasons.)
And then two other things added to my discomfort. One was the monkeys were very aggressive. They are known to steal anything you are carrying in hope to find food or to hold your possession ransom until you exchange it for food, including iPhones. They were particularly after our plastic water bottles which Dorathick had bought at a stand on the way in. He, like a good shepherd, wound up finding a large branch which he wielded to shoo them off when shouting at them didn’t work. He told us that they can bite and scratch, and if you are bit you have to immediately go to the doctor and get rabies shots. I had had run-ins with monkeys before in Malaysia while out jogging. I was told not to look them in the eye. I remember my skin crawling as I passed a whole family of them once watching this hairless ape with blue jogging shorts prance by. And the last thing is, I do not find the statues and images in Hindu temples at all consoling or edifying. Maybe fascinating but some of them strike me as terrifying and very primitive, wrapped in cloth with garlands around them and various marking on their foreheads.
It was a climb of 1100 steps and we were fortunate to have gone in the morning because it was already swelteringly hot. There were various shrines along the way. What made it somewhat easier was listening to Dorathick explain various aspects and symbols along the way. He is very knowledgeable about the Hindu tradition and especially seems rather proud of the particularly South Indian version of it. One of the things he reminded me of was that Shiva is acknowledged in three ways: with form, in a formless form, and formless, the latter aspect being the one that passes into the Tantric tradition of Kashmir Shaivism, the aspect that Abhishiktananda was particularly fascinated with and in honor of whom he wrote poems and prayers. It’s that latter aspect that also interests me.
We passed the place where people wrap colored cloths around a tree to pray for pregnancy; we passed the effigies of the seven virgins who dedicated their lives to praising Lord Shiva; we passed a wall that contained 1000-year-old Tamil script that even Dorathick had trouble reading. And finally, we were at the top. The whole place was generally not well kept––I am spoiled from pristine Ramanashram at Tiruvanamalai; there was garbage all over the place. And it wasn’t much better in the actual temple at the top: lots of broken equipment laying around besides garbage, and it was dank and there was a bad smell of old ghee and rotting flowers.
It being a temple of course there were Brahmin priests there, but they were just coming on duty so the shrine was not open to visitors yet . (The monkeys were there too, climbing straight up the sheer walls and trying to sneak into the inner shrine. The priests were just as aggressive trying to keep them out.) The holy of holies houses a rendering of the second way in which Shiva is acknowledged, the formless form of the lingam, basically unapologetically phallic in nature. This particular temple houses a famous broken lingam, that had been damaged by someone with a sword and had reportedly bled. Jeremias was entranced with this story (I suppose the broken phallus would have some resonance with a lot of men.) When they finally opened the shrine, we were treated like visiting dignitaries which, again, I do not enjoy. They urged us to go in first, they offered us garlands that we in turn gave to the priest who in turn placed it on the lingam for us. Our two garlands fell off almost immediately which I was told was actually a good augur, for some reason. We then toured the rest of the adjoining shrine rooms. There was one beautiful Nataraja––King Dancer, which I loved, but some of the other images I found very jarring. They were coming to my mind still in meditation this morning.
I couldn’t wait to get out of there, though I think I succeeded in hiding my discomfort from the others. Jeremias was meanwhile stopping at every possible shrine and meditating or praying and expressing his admiration. I am not sure what I feel about that, to be honest, but God bless his fearlessness.
As we headed back down, young Arvind, from Orissa, and I were way ahead of Dorathick and Jeremias, who both have a tendency to stop and talk which they were living up to. (Another quirk of mine: I do not like to stop and talk when I am walking. I either walk and talk or I sit down and talk.)
That’s when two of my discomforts came together. A monkey got very aggressive with me as I was now carrying the water bottle. I just shooed him a way, then yelled a little more loudly and waved my hands at him. But he would not go away and was hissing and reaching out his arms for my pant leg. A woman seated on the ground was speaking to me in Tamil and gesturing what I assumed to mean that I should give the monkey my water bottle. I did not want to let him win and so I kept up my shooing, but the monkey got more aggressive yet. She sort of yelled at me then and made a gesture like “Just give him the bottle!” And so I dropped the bottle on the ground. The monkey grabbed it, unscrewed the top (!) with his nimble little fingers and lifted it up just like a human would, drank, and then threw it on the ground so that the rest of the water spilled out and several other monkeys came to join in for the open bar. At that point, still trying to look nonchalant, and I think pulling it off pretty well, I realized that my legs were literally shaking, something I have never experienced before. Arvind did not look too pleased with the whole situation either and so we made it the rest of the way down and found a nice little shaded place to sit and wait for our confreres.
Unfortunately, that’s when I started drawing all kinds of attention. People passing by kept staring at me and asking me (I suppose) in Tamil, where I was from. Arvind doesn’t really speak Tamil since he is from Orissa, but he knew enough to say to them (I assume), “He doesn’t speak Tamil.” And then they would ask him something else and he would say (I assume), “I don't speak Tamil either.” And then I heard him say several times, “Shantivanam,” which seemed to be a satisfying explanation, and then, pointing to himself, say “Orissa” and pointing to me, “California USA” which folks found fascinating. Totally uninhibited to stop right in front of me and look at me, point at me and say things, including a group of young guys who I thought were about to make trouble for us, but didn’t. Finally, two women stopped who would not leave, and stayed all the way until Dorathick arrived first, and then Jeremias, who was in the meantime filming a procession on his iPhone. Dorathick explained everything to them in full. They then wanted to take a picture with us and even offered to take us out for tea. (Dorathick turned them down for that.)
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| Me, Arvind, and Jeremias flanked by our two curious lady friends. |
I was glad to be back in the car and back at Shantivanam. It really does feel like a little paradise in the midst of all this. The surrounding land is not at all beautiful. It’s dry and dusty and full of garbage everywhere, worse than in years past. The river is a mess from the excavating of sand and the construction of yet another bore well to take water from the river and send it to even drier places. The images of Bede taking his daily walks along the Cauvery are a thing of the past. I have just about given up taking walks in the afternoon. And of course, there seems to be hardly any place in this area where you don’t run into another little town, every one of which seems to bustle in the same way. This Forest of Peace on the other hand, now with high walls and guarded gates, seems more than ever like an oasis.
Jeremias was going to leave on Sunday but he decided that he wanted to see one more temple near Chennai. So, he and Dorathick, with Pinto driving, left at 4 AM to visit the temple and then drop Jeremias in Chennai where he will stay for a few nights before flying out. The other two may stay the night out as well since there is someone else they need to pick up in the morning from Trichy. I considered going with them and if it hadn’t been for the 4 AM departure, the thought of spending over eight hours in the car again and a night away, I might have gone, just to spend time with them. But I have happily opted to stay home, help shore up the community at prayer (there’s hardly anyone here!) and continue my Lenten retreat.
And try to deal with Lord Shiva who keeps creeping into my consciousness.
