Divergence, convergence: Buddhist-Christian encounters. (includes related article on a meeting between Thomas Merton and the Dalai Lama, and on other meetings between Buddhists and Christians)(Cover Story)
Leo D. Lefebure
The Christian Century Vol.113 No.29 Oct 16, 1996 pp.964-971
COPYRIGHT @ 1996 Christian Century Foundation
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A Zen Buddhist teacher sets a statue of Jesus on an altar alongside
the Buddha and lights incense to both. A Catholic priest sits
cross-legged in meditation and attends to his breathing as he has
been instructed by Zen teachers. Increasingly, Buddhists and
Christians are borrowing from each other's traditions, and the
results present new opportunities and new questions for both
religions.
Generations of Christian missioners journeyed to Asia to proclaim
the gospel of Jesus Christ. Some discovered in the religions they
encountered there an experience of meditation so powerful that it
changed their lives. Buddhist teachers, in turn, came to Europe and
the U.S. to share the wisdom of the Buddha, and some found their own
practice transformed by the witness of jews and Christians. The
effects of these encounters have been felt across the world, as many
Westerners have turned to Buddhist and other Asian forms of
meditation, seeking peace and personal integration in a frenetic and
fragmented world. Buddhists, in turn, have pondered the meaning of
social justice and action - partly in response to questions from
Christians.
The encounter of Christianity and Buddhism is affecting members of
both religions, and Buddhism is leaving more and more traces even on
secular American culture. Phil Jackson cites his use of Zen
practices as coach of the Chicago Bulls. In 1993 Bill Moyers's
television series and book Healing and the Mind featured stress
reduction programs that use techniques of Buddhist meditation and
yoga as part of holistic health care programs. In one interview,
John Kabat-Zinn, author of Full Catastrophe Living: Using the Wisdom
of Your Body and Mind to Face Stress, Pain, and Illness, described
his attempt to take the art of cultivating awareness from Buddhist
and Hindu meditation and make this available to Americans. Recent
scientific research has confirmed many of the beneficial physical
and psychological effects of sitting and walking meditation, whether
these practices are done in a religious context or not.
Westerners have turned to Buddhism for a variety of reasons. For
some, Buddhist meditation practice offers a concrete, pragmatic
method for facing anxiety, healing emotional wounds, dwelling in the
present, and developing a deeper sense of peace and loving-kindness.
People alienated from the traditional theistic beliefs of
Christianity or judaism may be attracted to a frame of reference
that does not include a creating and redeeming God. Some converts to
Buddhism have complained that Christianity merely talks about a
loving God, whereas Buddhism offers effective strategies to change
one's awareness and cultivate a peaceful, loving attitude.
The appearance of Zen and other forms of Buddhism in Christian
prayer raises questions about the relation between Buddhist practice
and Christianity, especially the Christian mystical tradition. Do
the two traditions converge in a profound way, or are they radically
different? Is it possible to appreciate the distinctiveness of each
tradition and also find a common basis for understanding and action?
Is it possible to practice both religions at the same time while
maintaining religious integrity?
Christian understandings of creation set the framework for aR
aspects of Christian faith and theology. Christian language about
sin and grace, redemption and forgiveness, assumes a God who created
a world that is different from God yet intimately related to God.
For Buddhists, everything in the universe is interdependent, and
there is no creating God who radically transcends the world. While
Buddhists have many different perspectives on cosmology, they agree
that everything arises in mutual relation to everything else. Amid
the variety of Buddhist symbols and expressions for the
unconditioned or the ultimate, the principle of nonduality asserts
that ultimate reality is not other than this world. Ultimate reality
is just this present moment, as it is related to all other moments.
Some have claimed that the experience of the ultimate is
fundamentally the same in both religions and that the difference
between Buddhist and Christian perspectives is merely a conceptual
distinction. Others stress@rightly, I would say - that the concepts
and symbols used by a religion profoundly shape the experience of
its followers, and thus cannot be dismissed as unimportant. While
some hold that both religions share a common mystical core and
others claim that the religions are so different that there is no
basis for mutual understanding, it seems more likely that there is a
complex intertwining of similarities amid differences.
One of the pioneers in the 20th-century Christian encounter with
Buddhism was a German Jesuit priest, Hugo Enomiya-Lassalle, S.J.
(1898-1990). He established for many Christians the tone and
framework for approaching Buddhism. In 1943 Lassalle, who would
later be a survivor of the bombing of Hiroshima, decided to study
Zen so that he could understand Japanese culture more deeply and
evangelize it more effectively. He went through rigorous training
under Zen monks in Japan, and was acknowledged by his Zen teachers
as a master. Lassalle became convinced that Christians could
experience satori or enlightenment and that they should integrate
that experience into Christian life and practice. While Lassalle
tended to regard the experience of the Zen Buddhist and the Catholic
mystic as identical, he always remained firmly rooted in his own
Catholic faith.
After the publication of his first book, Zen: Way to Enlightenment
(published in German in 1958, in English in 1968), Lassalle was
ordered by Rome not to publish anymore on this topic. Though his
Jesuit superiors acknowledged that he had to obey the order, they
also encouraged him to be faithful to the values he had discovered
on his spiritual path and "just go on quietly sitting." Meanwhile,
Buddhists wondered about the legitimacy and meaning of Lassalle's
experiment, some judging it be a heretical form of Zen.
With the Second Vatican Council a new atmosphere of openness and
dialogue arose in the Catholic Church. Lassalle wrote additional
books and journeyed across the world, leading Christians in intense
Zen retreats called sesshins. Toward the end of his long life,
Catholic authorities again expressed concern about the use of
Eastern techniques of meditation in Christian prayer. In 1989, when
Cardinal Joseph Ratzinger issued a letter to the Catholic bishops of
the world, warning them against abuses of Christian prayer through
Eastern forms of meditation, many Catholics in Asia were disturbed.
Lassalle recounted his earlier experience of being silenced and
advised: "Just go on quietly sitting."
What is most striking from a broader historical perspective is not
that Ratzinger expressed reservations about Christian-Buddhist
interaction but that the cardinal prefect of the Congregation for
the Doctrine of the Faith accepted many basic premises of Lassalle's
practice. Ratzinger's primary aim was to safeguard the integrity of
Christian prayer to the triune God through Jesus Christ. Although
his tone toward Buddhist and other Asian methods of meditation was
largely suspicious, Ratzinger expanded upon the principle of Vatican
II: "Just as the Catholic Church rejects nothing of what is true and
holy in these religions Vatican II, Declaration on the Relation of
the Church to Non-Christian Religions, n.2], neither should these
ways be rejected out of hand simply because they are not Christian.
On the contrary, one can take from them what is useful so long as
the Christian conception of prayer, its logic and requirements are
never obscured" ("Letter to the Bishops of the Catholic Church on
Some Aspects of Christian Meditation," n. 16).
Ratzinger's central concern was that the structure of Christian
prayer not be compromised and that the natural effects of physical
techniques not be mistaken for the signs of grace. While much of the
ensuing discussion focused on the admonitory tone of the letter,
Ratzinger explicitly accepted the legitimacy of Catholic Christians
employing meditation practices from the great non-Christian
religions. One can imagine his stern predecessor, Cardinal Alfredo
Ottaviani, turning over in his grave at this.
The questions that surrounded Lassalle's practice hover around the
recent works by a Vietnamese Zen Buddhist monk and an Irish Catholic
jesuit priest. Thich Nhat Hanh and William Johnston, S.J., have
examined the resources of the other tradition and consider
themselves enriched by the experience. Moreover, each author moved
from his native land to live for decades in a culture shaped by the
other religious tradition.
Johnston, who was born in Belfast in 1925, joined the Society of
jesus and went to Japan in 1951. He taught for many years at Sophia
University in Tokyo, where he was director of the Institute of
Oriental Religions. For Johnston, the move was transforming. "Had I
remained in my native Ireland instead of coming to the East," he
reflected in 1971, "I might now be an intolerant and narrow-minded
papist hurling bricks and bottles at my Protestant adversaries in
the cobbled streets of Belfast. Contact with Zen, on the other hand,
has opened up new vistas, teaching me that there are possibilities
in Christianity I never dreamed of."
In his early studies johnston concentrated on the medieval mysticism
represented by The Cloud of Unknowing, a work that prepared him to
appreciate Zen practice. During the years before Vatican II,
Johnston became interested in Buddhist practice and thought, and he
practiced Zen meditation under the direction of Buddhist monks. When
he began, it was still unusual for a Catholic priest to attend a Zen
retreat, and he later recalled that Japanese Christians were
"vaguely pleased but vaguely puzzled."
Johnston came to understand Buddhism under the direction and
discipline of Japanese Zen masters who challenged and prodded him to
experience reality directly, apart from concepts and images. While
Johnston does not place the Buddha on a par with Jesus, he does
consider his experience of Christian prayer to have been deepened by
his Zen teachers. He expressed the fruits of his encounter in his
writings and became well-known as the author of The Still Point:
Reflections on Zen and Christian Mysticism (1970) and Christian Zen
(1971).
Johnston rejects the distinction sometimes made between the
"prophetic" monotheistic religions and the "mystical" Asian
traditions. The biblical tradition itself, especially in such
figures as Isaiah, Jeremiah, Ezekiel, Elijah, John and Paul, is the
source of Christian mysticism, and the Christian,s ultimate goal and
norm is dying and rising with Jesus Christ. For Johnston, the
experience of Buddhist meditation led him not away from the Bible
but into a deeper appreciation of the mystical element in the
biblical witness itself.
Thich Nhat Hanh was born in Vietnam in 1926, and at the age of 16 he
entered a Zen monastery. The war in Vietnam changed his life,
convincing him that Buddhist monks and nuns had to be involved in
relieving the suffering of the people. He and his colleagues
organized a movement known as Socially Engaged Buddhism because it
stressed the responsibility of Buddhists to be practically engaged
in addressing social questions. Since he and his followers refused
to take sides, they were looked on math suspicion by both communists
and Americans.
In 1964 Nhat Hanh founded the School of Youth for Social Service,
Vanh Hanh University, the La Boi (Palm Leaves) printing press, and a
new order of Zen Buddhism, the Tiep Hien Order (the Order of
Interbeing). Then in 1966 he came to the U.S., hoping to influence
American leaders and public opinion to end the war. His book
Vietnam: Lotus in a Sea of Fire (1967) sought to change the
awareness of the American public by introducing Vietnamese culture
and tradition as the background of the conflict. He later became the
leader of the Buddhist delegation at the Paris peace talks, and
after the war he was involved in helping refugees and boat people.
When the Vietnamese government did not allow him to return to
Vietnam, he settled in France. He is currently the leader of the
Plum Village monastery near Bordeaux.
Nhat Hanh's earliest impressions of Christianity were shaped by his
negative experiences with Christian missioners who sought to
eradicate Buddhism from Vietnam. His later understanding of
Christianity was decisively shaped by American Christians such as
Martin Luther King Jr., Thomas Merton and Daniel Berrigan. He shared
many of their concerns and values, and thanks to their influence he
came to consider Jesus a spiritual ancestor. He now has statues of
Jesus and the Buddba together in his room at Plum Village, and he
lights incense to both figures.
Nhat Hanh is aware of the centrality of God in Christianity, but he
does not believe in God. For him, the Christian experience of
resting in God is "the equivalent" of what Buddhists experience in
touching nirvana. Thus he sees differences in emphasis between
Buddhism and Christianity, but no insoluble conflicts. The concept
matters little if one has the experience.
Both Johnston and Nhat Hanh locate the primary area of dialogue
between the two traditions in religious experience. Both authors are
steeped in the Buddha's instructions on breathing and walking
meditation and in later Zen Buddhist meditation practice; both cite
Gregory of Nyssa and Basil the Great, the early Christian desert
fathers, Eastern Orthodox mystics who attained to a sacred quiet
through prayer and meditation, and later Christians mystics who gave
practical instructions to their disciples on persevering in the life
of prayer.
Both Johnston and Nhat Hanh are somewhat distrustful of concepts and
turn to the mystical, apophatic tradition in Christianity as a point
of contact with Buddhism. Both insist that what is most important is
not to define ultimate reality but to experience it and allow it to
transform one's life.
Johnston finds this principle exemplified in the teaching of St.
John of the Cross on the dark night of the soul, in which all images
and concepts disappear and God is experienced as nada (nothing).
Following the path of John of the Cross, Johnston advises Christian
mystics to stay with reasoning and thinking as long as these
processes are fruitful, but to be ready to abandon all such natural
activity at a certain stage to allow "the silent inflow of the
Spirit." Christian emptiness is an experience of absolute love and
compassion. Mystical knowing for Johnston is "obscure, dark,
formless knowledge in a cloud of unknowing. It is knowledge that is
experienced as nothingness or emptiness or the void," an experience
Johnston compares to Buddhist meditation practice.
Emptiness (shunyata) or nothingness and the abandonment of concepts
have long been important for Mahayana Buddhists. For Nhat Hanh, the
Heart Sutra, which paradoxically *negates the Four Noble Truths and
other fundamental Buddhist teachings, expresses the center of
Buddhist wisdom: emptiness means that nothing exists by itself
alone, all things "inter-are," arising in mutual interdependence and
flowing into future occasions. Appropriating this vision requires us
to stop clinging to concepts and notions; they cannot pin down
reality. For Nhat Hanh, it is not only the Christian God that cannot
be described in concepts, nothing in the universe can be talked
about in concepts, because concepts arise from wrong perceptions.
Both traditions seek to transform the consciousness and lives of
their practitioners through practical disciplines. Nhat Hanh finds
much to praise in the Christian desert fathers and the Eastern
Orthodox mystics. Johnston compares the Christian via purgativa, the
way of purification, especially as described by The Cloud of
Unknowing, to Buddhist practices of purification. Though he
acknowledges an irreducible difference in Christian purgation, which
is "primarily a following of Christ," he nonetheless finds a common
experience in detachment: poverty of spirit is "the kenosis of
Jesus... the mu [nothingness] of Zen ... the nada [nothing] of St.
John of the Cross." Johnston also compares the Christian experience
of dying with Christ to the "great death" in Zen Buddhism which
leads to enlightenment, "to a state where ones true self acts
spontaneously without thinking and reasoning and planning."
Nonetheless, for all his attempts at rapprochement between the two
traditions, Johnston acknowledges that Christians cannot identify
their own experience of God with Buddhists, experience of satori
(insight or enlightenment) or nirvana (the cessation of suffering).
Christian enlightenment, based on the gospel, remains irreducibly
different from Zen or any other form of Buddhism.
Johnston underscores the radical transcendence of God for
Christians, including Christian mystics who use the language of
nonduality. The climax of the Christian mystical journey is
identifying with the Son and being filled with the Spirit and crying
out: "Abba, Father!" At least on the level of expression and
religious self-understanding, this is very different from Buddhist
perspectives on nonduality, which do not address a transcendent in
personal terms. Johnston supports the practice of Christians who
learn meditation practice from Zen monks but do not call their
practice Zen."
Thich Nhat Hanh, by contrast, views such distinctions as themselves
preliminary and unimportant. For him, Buddhist and Christian
concepts differ, but direct experience is the same. Nhat Hanh
expresses his understanding of this issue partly in response to Pope
John Paul II's remarks concerning Buddhism in Crossing the Threshold
of Hope - remarks that were perceived by many Buddhists as
misleading and even insulting.
Nhat Hanh interprets John Paul II's statement that "the pope prays
as the Holy Spirit permits him to pray" at being equivalent to the
Buddhist practice of mindfulness: "For me, the Holy Spirit is
mindfulness itself." While Nhat Hanh applauds the popes prayers for
and with those who suffer, he draws a radically different
conclusion. For Nhat Hanh, embracing requires us to surrender dogmas
"that constitute obstacles for working toward the cessation of the
suffering.
After urging the pope to abandon all dogmas, Nhat Hanh proceeds to
instruct the pontiff on Christology and trinitarian theology. He
quotes John Paul II's insistence that Jesus is the only Son of God
and is unique among the religious leaders of humankind, and protests
that the popes claim "does not reflect the deep mystery of the
oneness of the Trinity. It also does not reflect the fact that
Christ is also the Son of Man."
Nhat Hanh understands the uniqueness of Christ as being on the same
level as the uniqueness of every other human being. According to the
principle of nonduality, all beings are not other than the timeless,
the unconditioned, thus all who are enlightened can say: "Before
Abraham came to be, I am."
In this perspective, the Trinity exemplifies nonduality, baptism
expresses our common capacity to manifest the qualities of being a
Buddha or a child of God, the Holy Spirit is mindfulness,
resurrection and reincarnation are assimilated to each other, and
all dogmas are inherently suspect as causing division. Nhat Hanh
rejects the pope's affirmation that Christianity is the only way of
salvation: "This attitude excludes dialogue and fosters religious
intolerance and discrimination. It does not help." Nhat Hanh blames
lack of genuine experience for the intolerance that has plagued
religious history.
Nhat Hanh's central message is to breathe with mindfulness, to be
attentive to the present moment and allow the deep wisdom and peace
within us to unfold. He offers very concrete and helpful strategies
for addressing and overcoming conflicts within and without. His
reflections on Buddhist wisdom in Living Buddha, Living Christ
recapitulate his numerous other writings. There is a profoundly
healing wisdom in Nhat Hanh's reflections on meditation and living
in the present, and Christians have much to learn from his rich
experience.
Nonetheless, one wonders whether Nhat Hanh has really encountered
the distinctive features of Christian faith. As he takes up
Christian themes and recasts them in light of Buddhist perspectives
on nonduality, the otherness of the God who appears in Jesus Christ
disappears. Christological and trinitarian affirmations that were
forged to express the uniqueness of the Christ-event are interpreted
as examples of the experience of everyone. Nhat Hanh ends up
presenting a very Buddhist version of Christianity, one which many
Christians would not find faithful to their tradition.
For Johnston, the wisdom of John of the Cross is fully comparable to
the paradoxes of the Heart Sutra, but he notes that John of the
Cross interpreted the paradoxes in light of a Thomistic metaphysics:
God is all; the creature is nothing. He finds a Christian nondualism
in John of the Cross's principle that the just person is a law unto
himself, but he recognizes the difference between Buddhist and
Christian expressions of nonduality. He expresses the hope: "Can we,
then, see a beautiful similarity between compassionate, dynamic
sunyata and a Father who so loved the world as to give his only son?
Can the Buddhist and the Christian join hands and lead one another
to transcendental wisdom?" Johnston wants to preserve the uniqueness
of each religion and also find a common ground for learning from one
another. It is only after realizing that Christianity and Buddhism
are not the same that we can see ways in which they may not be
different.