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TAOISM
The Reverend Richard R. Davis
March 1, 2009
There are two reasonable questions Unitarian Universalists can expect to hear from people who don’t know about our unique tradition. One question I’ve fielded any number of times has to do with our relationship with one particular sacred text – the Judeo Christian bible. Is the bible the spiritual foundation of our faith, or not? The other question has to do with God. Do Unitarian Universalists believe in God, or not?
These questions are not simply answered, but they deserve a response.
First of all, I need to explain to my questioners that Unitarian Universalism is not a creedal religion, but rather, a covenantal one. So asking what “We” believe isn’t a question that can be answered. We don’t dictate belief, thus, we don’t have a common creed. Rather, we have a covenant to walk together, as best we can, in the light of reason and compassion. Each person is charged to embrace the beliefs and convictions that have the honest ring of truth and to respect the right of others to do the same.
Still, if I simply leave it at that it may well seem like I’m dodging the question. Although I don’t claim to speak for all Unitarian Universalists I have some confidence that what I’m about to say rings true for many of us, and here’s how I often respond to questions about the bible and God.
The bible a great, deeply inspiring, challenging text and I will never plumb its vast depths. Yet it is also, in certain passages, a dreadful source that has been cited to justify slavery, the oppression of women, gays and lesbians and even to promote genocidal policies. Really, as any academically credible bible scholar will tell you, there is no single author or perspective in the bible. We are not bound to an all or nothing approach to it. We are free to discover truth and wisdom within it, and we are free to reject it parts of it if it seems to violate the laws of reason or compassion. Furthermore, we certainly don’t regard the bible as the sole authoritative sacred text. It strikes us as preposterous and provincial to claim that only one sacred text, out of the many that have arisen from various cultures of humankind, contains truth and wisdom. We claim the freedom to seek truth and wisdom in any sacred text, or any other text or source that inspires and uplifts us.
Consider the ancient Chinese
classic, the Tao Te Ching, which means “the Book of the Way and Its
Power.” (The second most translated book in the world, after the Judeo
Christian Bible) It’s five
thousand Chinese characters, arranged in 81 brief chapters, can be read in
English translation in less than an hour, although you can spend a lifetime
reflecting upon its subtle and sublime teachings.
Legend has it that the ancient sage Lao Tzu composed it, at the request
of a border guard, in three days before leaving
The Tao Te Ching is especially helpful to those of us who get hung up on traditional Western concepts of God, which were forged in the crucible of Judeo-Christian theology and Greek philosophical thought. Too often, the word “God” simply functions like an empty container into which people can pour their own preconceptions and prejudices and then have the temerity to claim that God sanctions and promotes their intolerance and bigotry.
In Taoism, such nonsense simply isn’t possible - Taoist notions of ultimate reality refuse the play the role of acting as a mirror of human small mindedness. Ultimate reality is called “The Tao,” it is the ground of all existence, the source from which all arises to which all returns, and it utterly transcends human comprehension: As it is written: “The Tao that can be conceived is not the real Tao.” Furthermore, in regards to the Tao, “those who know, do not speak. Those who speak, do not know.” Which means, if I was truly wise, my sermon would end abruptly here and we’d all sit in silence. Only the mystic who has quieted the senses and the mind can apprehend the glory of the Tao directly – it cannot adequately be described.
Fortunately, the Tao Te Ching is not dogmatic about silence and does go on to provide some helpful allusions to the character of ultimate reality, the Tao.
It is a nurturing source “the Great Mother, empty yet inexhaustible, it gives birth to many worlds.”
Unlike some Gods we may have heard of, the Tao is not overbearing and punitive, but rather sustaining and humbly present to all beings: “it nourishes infinite worlds, yet it doesn’t hold onto them…It isn’t aware of its greatness; thus it alone is truly great.”
The Tao “is like a well; used but never used up.”
“It is serene. Empty. Solitary. Unchanging. Infinite. Eternally present.”
Yet the Tao also “gives birth to all beings, nourishes them, maintains them, cares for them, protects them, takes them back to itself...”
Here is a notion of ultimate reality that blurs the traditional lines that typically divide theists, agnostics and atheists. And when old divisions disappear, new opportunities arise. Pollster’s often pose the question “do you believe in God?,” (check one: Yes__ No__ Don’t know__). There are two questionable assumptions at work here. The first is that this word “God” is universally recognized to mean the exact same thing to everyone. The second assumption is that mental assent to a vague theological concept is a good way to define people.
Taoism presents an intriguing alternative. Instead of obsessing about correct belief regarding the nature of ultimate reality, it invites us to explore the mystery of life through awareness. No one would ever ask: “Do you believe in the Tao?” Or, “Do you accept Lao Tzu as your savior?” Rather, this ancient classic text extends an invitation to explore the mystery and wonder of life. As it says: “Empty your mind of all thoughts. Let your heart be at peace.” “Open yourself to the Tao, then trust your natural responses; and everything will fall into place.”
Above all, the Tao Te Ching invites us to discover an abiding trust and acceptance of the flow of life and death: “Immersed in the wonder of the Tao, you can deal with whatever life brings you, and when death comes, you are ready.”
Think of it like swimming. If you don’t know how to swim and someone throws you into the deep end, you flail madly, your body is stiff, and eventually, you get exhausted and go under. If you do know how to swim and someone throws you into the deep end, it’s no problem. You know how to relax and let the water buoy you up. Well, the truth is, we’ve all ended up in the deep end of existence, so learn how to stay afloat.
But how? This brings us to a secondary meaning of the Tao – it is not only the term for ultimate reality but also, it is the ways of the universe, the rhythms of life and death, the cycles of the seasons, the natural order of things, the never ending flow of change.
The Tao Te Ching provides some clues of how to live with grace and harmony. Lao Tzu, or whoever wrote this ancient work, saw enough of people living out of harmony to note: “chase after money and security and your heart will never unclench. Care about people’s approval and you will be their prisoner. Do your work, then step back. The only path to serenity.”
Around the time I was writing this section of my sermon I got an e-mail announcing a set back on a project I’ve been working on for several years. (No one in the congregation or community is involved in this) A dark cloud settled over me. I began stewing and imagining how I was going to express my disappointment with all those who, in my opinion, had not followed through on their end of things and how they had not met my expectations. I imagined myself telling them that I had tried and failed (really meaning that they had failed me) and that the whole project was a mistake, and I was through with it all. So there!
Now one of the occupational benefits of ministry is that from time to time you are actually tempted to practice what you preach. Here I was writing this sermon on Taoism and I began to ponder how the Tao Te Ching applied to this frustrating situation. First of all, I could see that I was real attached to a successful outcome, for a mixture of altruistic and egotistical reasons. (It’s often like that). And those words, “do your work, then step back. The only path to serenity” came to me. Indeed, if you are habitually attached to other people meeting your expectations in life you are going to have little serenity in your soul.
And then another Taoist image came to my mind. Water. “Nothing in the world is as soft and yielding as water. Yet for dissolving the hard and inflexible, nothing can surpass it. The soft overcomes the hard; the gentle overcomes the rigid.” In fact, over the years I have made considerable progress on this particular project, and this set back is just like a rock in the stream. I can flow around it. Gently flowing water does wear down the hardest rock over time.
Furthermore, “The Supreme good
is like water, which nourishes all things without trying to.
It is content in the low places that people disdain.
Thus, it is like the Tao.”
The idea that flowing water gives us an idea of how to live is ancient
notion but the application is ever relevant.
Consider graceful athletes: they
speak of “being in a zone” where they discover a certain flow and rhythm
and play much better than when they are struggling and striving to do their
very best. Studies of racers
have discovered that the ones who go the fastest are not the ones who try the
hardest to run the fastest but those who learn to pull back just a bit and
relax into a flowing stride. It’s
not just great athletes who can get into a flowing groove.
You can do it washing dishes, or gardening or playing with children or
scrubbing the floor or playing a musical instrument.
The master Cellist at
The Hungarian psychologist Mihalyi Csikszentmihalyi (pr. “Cheeks sent me high”) has studied and written extensively about being in this zone, in this natural and highly gratifying flow when you are “totally immersed in a task that is challenging yet closely matched to your abilities.” (Cskikzentmihalyi)
We live in a culture that champions individual achievement and touts “doing one’s personal best,” aiming for personal perfection. Taoist thought points to the many paradoxes of life, among which is the truth that such individualistic striving is counterproductive: “He who stands on tiptoe doesn’t stand firm. He who rushes ahead doesn’t go far. He who tries to shine dims his own light. He who defines himself can’t know who he really is. He who has power over others can’t empower himself. He who clings to his work will create nothing that endures.” As the Trappist Monk, Thomas Merton, who had a deep love of Taoist thought put it: “Forget yourself on purpose and join in the general dance.”
Perhaps more than any ancient source Taoist thought is sensitive to the paradoxical nature of reality – it notes how opposite principles – the yin and the yang, dark and light, male and female, hot and cold, strong and yielding, are complementary opposites within a greater whole, constantly interacting, always in flow, always in balance.
This is more than just idle naval gazing rumination. It has broad implications not just in how we live our individual lives but how we live collectively. Taoism reminds me that there is a gracefulness and balance to be maintained in life and that when life gets too far out of balance we all suffer.
Forty years ago, back in 1969,
many people, especially young people, had a sense that our society was way out
of whack, especially our government, which was waging a very aggressive and
brutal war in
Like many young people I was very disenchanted with organized religion, yet somehow, one Sunday I found myself at a place called the Unitarian Universalist Congregation of Atlanta. Lots of grey heads in the crowd, few, if any, were near my age. Didn’t feel like a good fit. During the service the worship leader announced responsive reading #451 “On War” Having only known responsive readings in a Southern Baptist Church I was intrigues to read such words as: “One who would guide a leader of people in the uses of life will warn against the use of arms for conquest. Weapons often turn upon the wielder, an army’s harvest is a waste of thorns, conscription of a multitude of men drains the next year dry….triumph (in victory) is not beautiful. One who thinks triumph beautiful is one with a will to kill, and one with a will to kill shall never prevail upon the world. The death of a multitude is cause for mourning; conduct your triumph as a funeral.”
I was amazed to encounter such spiritual sanity in this place. The source of this reading in the hymnal of this congregation was new to me - but not a new source – it was from an ancient text known as the Tao Te Ching. Here was a congregation, part of a larger religious movement, with the gumption to draw from any source they pleased and actually put such words in their hymnbook as a source of wisdom without fear of censure. Such freedom in an organized religion! And such words. As I encountered this ancient, humanitarian source I felt less like a modern child wandering in the wilderness but a fellow pilgrim with kindred spirits in earlier ages who sought the ways of peace and harmony with the whole of existence. I never forgot the impression of those words, which are now included in my own personal bible. It was my first encounter with this ancient source. But certainly not my last. Like the Tao itself, it is like a well that never runs dry, its ancient wisdom flows forth as free and clear as a sparkling mountain stream. Why not quench your spiritual thirst at this well?
