Buddhism Without Beliefs – 4 Staying with the Question

(For Podcast, click here.  For ITunes version, click here.)  

Today we continue our book series on Buddhism Without Beliefs by Stephen Batchelor.  This morning I hope to combine questioning the existence of God with the perils of texting.  Let’s see whether it makes sense.

First, let’s talk about this God thing.  Some people are quite sure that there is a God, in some form or fashion. And other people are quite sure that there absolutely is NOT a God in any form or fashion.  Who’s right?   What did Buddha say about God?  Contrary to many re-interpretations of his teachings after his death, the Buddha did not put forth any position on God, or what happens after we die, or any other belief that cannot be proven.  He simply said those questions didn’t relieve suffering, and since relieving suffering was the Buddha’s only objective, he felt it was a waste of time and energy. 

Most often, when we ask questions, we are looking for concrete answers.  In our linear world, we want to ponder the question for a certain amount of time, collect data, analyze the results and determine the best solution, then be done with it.  Most often, when we think we have found THE answer, we cease to be open to other possibilities; we cease to look for any other alternatives.  We often begin to myopically look, consciously or unconsciously, only for evidence that supports the answer we’re already chosen. 

When we stop being open to new possibilities, we risk missing important information that arises in each moment.  Since the world is an impermanent place, and we are impermanent beings, there is a strong possibility that a new answer might arise; another path could be taken, a new direction might be found.

When the Buddha was asked questions about the mysteries of the universe--where do we come from?  Is there some existence after death?  Is there a God?--He often answered with the following parable:

The story was told of a man who had been shot by a poison arrow, and was taken to the surgeon for removal.  However, he refused to let the surgeon operate unless first it was known who shot him with the arrow, what type of arrow it was, and what type of bow was used.  He insisted on knowing these answers before the arrow was removed.  While spending all his time and energy on finding these answers, he died from the poison arrow.  The Buddha discovered that the relief of suffering does not require a definitive answer about “God”. 

Many centuries after The Buddha’s death, the Chinese developed a form of Buddhism called, Chan, or Zen as it is known today.  Zen practitioners sought to find a way to gain direct insight into the nature of mind and found that questioning itself can be a path to enlightenment.  Many schools of Zen use the art of questioning to develop a deeper level of knowing.  They learn to relish The Great Perplexity.  They ask a question during meditation, and purposely avoid any clever, intellectual answer, using a process that goes beyond the intellect.   Batchelor describes the process in this way:

1. Begin with a question, something like “What is this?”  “Who or What am I?” The words or specific question is not as important as the ability to begin feeling the sensation in your body.  What does it feel like to not jump to an answer but simply sit with the question.
2. The words of the question themselves, can almost fall away; just this sensation of questioning remains.    Feel the question in your body.  In Zen practice, they call it experiencing/practicing “don’t know mind”. 
3. This type of meditative practice includes letting go of any objective or goal.  We are simply sitting with the question and seeing what comes up.  Sometimes expectations arise—we begin to hope for a good feeling or for something interesting to happen, or for some answer to appear—instead we are encouraged to continually drop any expectations whatsoever.  This Zen practice is a meditation with no goal, no expectation.
4. Any time we are feeling certain that we know something for sure, we can ask the question, “Is that true?”
5. Sound can be a very helpful tool in this practice.  Any time a sound is heard, we can listen with a question.  “What is this?”  Not to label the sound but to ponder sound itself. 

Within this context of questioning, think about how most people believe in “God”—whatever definition or description they might use.  In the 2005 Cambridge University research on religious beliefs, they found that about 88% of the world’s population answered that they believe in God.  In the United States, the number of people is 95%.   If we were to interview each person individually, imagine the wide range of answers we would get to the question, “And what is God?”  We can further imagine how sure some people feel about the answer to that question, whether they are believers or non-believers.  One of the reasons that religion is often off-limits for conversation in polite company because MANY PEOPLE AREN’T OPEN TO EXPLORING THE QUESTION.  They only want to defend the answer they are already sure is true.  Knowing something “for sure” immediately limits the way we process the world within us and around us. 

Which brings me to texting.  Anybody ever gotten a text, and after reading it, you were certain that you knew what they meant, then subsequently found out that you were absolutely wrong in your interpretation?  I myself fell deeply into this exact pitfall last week.  My family and I are struggling with how to care for my mom who has dementia.  My nephew, who is taking care of my mom, doesn’t like that whole “talking on the phone” thing.  He almost exclusively texts.  Last week, I received a text from him, and upon reading it, I felt hurt and angry, resentful and disappointed.  I tried to call but only got voicemail. Ahhhh, that I would have just let it be.  Instead, I decided to call his brother, and discuss this text, to confirm my interpretation.  His brother had a clear confident concise answer himself about what the text meant, and his answer made me feel even more hurt, more resentful, defensive, now outraged!  I was so sure that I was right that I went all the way to righteous indignation.  Righteous indignation is a pretty good sign that you are no longer operating from a loving and kind perspective.  Righteous indignation usually means being completely shut down to all possible alternatives.    Righteous indignation is a clear symptom of the problem that the Buddha warned against.  My stomach churned, I screamed, I yelled.  I clearly made the situation worse by feeling so sure that I knew the truth. 

It gets worse….I’m embarrassed to say that I was getting angry that someone didn’t think I was being a good person.  They disagreed with a decision I had made about my mom.  Screw you!  I’m a really good person!  Who are you to tell me I’m not being a good person?  How existentially hilarious is it that I would raise my voice in order to demand that someone acknowledge that I’m a good person?  This ironic illogical sequence of events actually happened. 

Then, it got worse still.  I stewed on that text overnight.  I awoke the next morning ready for a battle, to get out the hammer of Truth and pummel anyone not on my side.  Then I finally talked to my nephew, and I find out that I was wrong and his brother was wrong.  My interpretation AND his brother’s interpretation were just plain wrong.  I was wrong, and I had exacerbated the situation by being so sure I was right.  It doesn’t matter what you’re sure about.  Being so sure we’re right limits our ability to see new ways of being and knowing. 

So, is there a God? Who knows?  Each of us has the opportunity to simply sit with the question and let go of any answer.

The Kalama Sutra encourages us to question in the following way:

Do not go upon what has been acquired

by repeated hearing;

nor upon tradition;

nor upon rumor;

nor upon what is in a scripture;

nor upon surmise;

nor upon an axiom;

nor upon specious reasoning;

nor upon a bias towards a notion that has been pondered over;

nor upon another's seeming ability;

nor upon the consideration, "The monk is our teacher."

When you yourself know: "These things that are unskillful and lead to harming myself or others, abandon them.  These things that are wise and skillful, that  lead to the relief of suffering and happiness, continue with their practice.”