The Sword of Righteousness

A few days ago I saw a humorous meme involving Ouija boards on a Facebook group for members of the church I grew up in. The fact that I still have respect for Christianity is entirely down to the religious training I received there, which was deep and reflective, and continues to be an asset to my Zen practice.

But we had a couple of "those" Christians, too.

So it was that the thread underneath contained a few protests and dire warnings about EVIL! and SATAN! and THE OCCULT!!! (They caution writers not to use caps lock and multiple punctuation, but it's dishonest not to when expressing the opinions of those who think in them.)

And this got me mulling the difference between real and fake religion.

In a real religion, you're the idiot in the room. Fake religion confers special knowledge, even superpowers, such as the ability to speak in tongues or handle snakes or see auras. Or even to sit in one position for hours, disregard pain, cure bodily ailments, and look into the souls of others.

In contrast, after practicing real religion you know less than you did before. Stuff you've always hated, you're not so sure about. Uncorroborated beliefs, you're less willing to shoulder. Facile explanations, shallow documentation, scriptural lawyerball, saints and saviours, you eschew. Answers at all become suspect.

You become dumb. The world is big, and you're not. You've spent your life flailing in a dark room, your sword helicoptering overhead like everyone else's, and now you just sit down and wait for reliable intel.

That's what happened to me. After a week of zazen, I knew nothing. Because I'd never known anything. My conversion experience left me small, as small as everyone else. And now I can't unsee our identical smallness.

Blessed with a church that prizes spiritual penetration, and a family that meets rubbish with corrosive sarcasm, I never believed any nonsense about parlour games and witches and backward rock music. But these days I'm considering the larger issue.

A true faith practice isn't about becoming an expert in special dimensions or states of consciousness or planes of existence that the uninitiated can't see or understand. We have teachings about that sort of thing in Buddhism, too, and my take on them is a convicted "whatever". Because I won't be distracted by trivia.

And that's the difference.

In fake religion, you strive to fill your mind with as much crap as possible. Those with the most crap, are the most accomplished.

In real religion, you strive to empty your mind of crap.

And the true disciples are those still shoveling.

(Photo of the Sword of Righteousness courtesy of Anthony Appleyard and Wikipedia Commons.)

WW: George Bush headstone

(This is the resting place of the first US settler in Thurston County, Washington, one George Bush. No, not that George Bush. This one died [at home, of natural causes] during the American Civil War.

He was also African-American.

But he's most remembered for his legendary generosity, lending food, equipment, draught animals, and seed to subsequent arrivals – often not insisting on repayment. He's a man much commented in the historical record, having literally laid the foundations of his community, and of whom I've yet to encounter a single criticism.

He was also the subject of a concerted [though fortunately unsuccessful] effort to deprive him of his vote and property, based solely on his race.

Beside him lies his wife Isabella, here in Thurston County's first public cemetery – which was established on a parcel of the Bush homestead that they donated for the purpose.)

Grave Advice

One day Nasrudin was walking down a country road when he saw a group of horsemen riding toward him at great speed. Fearing bandits, he quickly jumped over a nearby wall and found himself in a graveyard.

"Where to hide?" he cried. Looking desperately about, he spied an open grave.

Meanwhile, having seen his troubled behaviour, the riders dismounted and followed Nasrudin into the cemetery. At length they found him trembling with fear at the bottom of the hole.

"Ho, fellow traveller!" they called down. "We were riding this way and saw you flee something. Do you need any help? Why are you in this grave?"

"Well," said Nasrudin, "as to that, simple questions often have complex answers.

"About all I can tell you is, I am here because you are, and you are here because I am."


(Photo of Adolph Schreyer painting courtesy of Sotheby's and Wikimedia Commons.)

WW: Black-headed grosbeak, male

(Pheucticus melanocephalus.)

Appearing also on My Corner of the World.

Samsara Koan

"If you think it's hard faking your own death, try faking your own birth."

Steven Wright

(Photo courtesy of André Peltier and Wikimedia Commons.)

WW: Hairy woodpecker

(Dryobates villosus.)

Appearing also on My Corner of the World.