ENCOUNTERS WITH BUDDHISM 1. Love at first sight Jane Conwson "What is she talking about?"; "How can she believe that?" or "Oh no, she's off again!". These were the things written all over the faces of my fellow undergraduates when I would fight the non-realist corner in our theology seminars. Call me paranoid, but in a group with more than its fair share of fundamentalists and Christian Union evangelists, I used to feel more humoured than understood. Nevertheless, I grew to enjoy my position as devil's advocate (if you'll pardon the realist terminology), and I would churn out my paraphrases of Don Cupitt's latest works with enthusiasm, and speak of the death of God with more relish than sobriety and mourning.
Non-realism made sense, and I knew it. And my classmates knew that I knew it.
Imagine then my surprise (and, for that matter, distress) when very recently I attended a seminar as part of a weekend retreat run by the Friends of the Western Buddhist Order only to hear myself saying: "But you're asking me to believe in nothing!" and "How can you believe in something when you know it's not real?" It was this experience of incredulity that confirmed what I had suspected for some time: whilst intellectually I was about as non-realist as you can get, in my heart of hearts I had not accepted the consequences and implications.
It was only on the Buddhist retreat that I glimpsed what it might be like to be an "active non-realist" (to borrow Hugh Dawes' terminology); to accept non-realism not just intellectually but spiritually and existentially too. I would like to share with Sea of Faith readers some of the experiences that led to this realisation.
The Western Buddhist Order draws from all the major strands of Buddhism and, as its name suggests, endeavours to adapt Buddhist ideas to suit a modern Western world-view. Thus some of the trappings that some Westerners might find alienating, such as the wearing of robes and shaving of heads, are dispensed with and the aldermen and women are not bound by any vows.
Their faith is based around two practices of meditation: mindfulness of breathing, and metta bhavana (inadequately translated as "loving kindness"). It appeared to me that the presupposition behind these practices was that the world is determined by one's attituides and not by external events. Thus by concentrating on positive emotions you can transform the world around you. I was excited to find a practice so compatible with non-realist views, but half expected some residual realism to be lurking in the wings somewhere.. I thus took the opportunity to clarify the philosophy behind the meditation practice.
Why, I asked the aldermen, do you bow to the shrine before and after meditation, for this seemed to imply belief in an objective deity. How wrong I was! They assured me that in doing this they are expressing their devotion and commitment to the ideals that the shrine symbolises. So far so good, but what about the idea of "Enlightenment"? The attitude towards this as an actual state of bliss beyond language (and, accompanying it, the notion of reincarnation) is a core belief, but seemed unmistakably realist. The aldermen replied, however, that although they appeared to think of it in a realist way it could well be just a metaphor expressing the overall importance of their ideals. In any case, they went on, one really has to be agnostic about such things and it doesn't really matter either way, because it is the practice and its effect on this life that is important. In fact it would be better to see these things in a non-realist light, as the Buddha taught that all thought is conditioned, and we should take nothing for granted.
So the discussion went on and it was only when I'd heard all the answers I wanted to hear that the implications of non-realism began to sink in, having taken all this time to permeate through my rational mind and touch my emotional, "spiritual" side. Intellectually a great relief, but emotionally rather terrifying, it felt like a weight had been lifted off me but that I was dizzy and frightened by the new lightness. What a responsibility, to know that it is only the power of my own mind that can release the "spiritual" energies in me, that "faith" is not something real out there that I can appropriate given the right attitude, but something I believe into existence! It is a strange paradox - there is nothing real to believe in: you really do have to confront the void and just have faith in faith to make it happen.
Suddenly I was looking over the edge of the "abyss of self-reflexivity" and could now understand the realist impulse better than ever before. I was simultaneously encouraged, however, by the fact that the Buddhists around me had gone into faith with their _eyes open, having dispensed with the crutch of realism, and achieved a spiritual sophistication and warmth that I had rarely seen.
So I've seen for myself that non-realist faith can work, but what self-discipline it will take to break down my realist prejudices! I will need to attend the weekly group meditations they run to draw on the strength of others.
My attempts at cultivating faith within the Christian church have been fruitless because so much time is spent ENCOUNTERS WITH BUDDHISM 1. Love at first sight Jane Conwson "What is she talking about?"; "How can she believe that?" or "Oh no, she's off again!". These were the things written all over the faces of my fellow undergraduates when I would fight the non-realist corner in our theology seminars. Call me paranoid, but in a group with more than its fair share of fundamentalists and Christian Union evangelists, I used to feel more humoured than understood. Nevertheless, I grew to enjoy my position as devil's advocate (if you'll pardon the realist terminology), and I would churn out my paraphrases of Don Cupitt's latest works with enthusiasm, and speak of the death of God with more relish than sobriety and mourning.
My attempts at cultivating faith within the Christian church have been fruitless because so much time is spent "translating" the terminology into a non-realist sense that it has seemed more an intellectual exercise than anything else, and after the "converting" there has been little time to feel any spiritual impact. Similarly, fellowship is an important part of faith, but for me it is well nigh impossible to feel kinship when I know full well that my beliefs differ radically from those around me. (I might see those differences as cosmetic, but they might not). There is for me a danger of being at best patronising, at worst deceitful in using the same language but secretly meaning something else.
My question to SoF members is this: aren't non-realist Christians just anonymous Buddhists, and shouldn't we just "come out"? If this is not the case, what is it about the Christian tradition that members are anxious to maintain? And isn't it easier to start afresh than to perform all sorts of philosophical contortions in order to save those aspects, such as -disinterested love and kindness, that are already in Buddhism anyway? In short, what is the point in trying to make renovations to a crumbling building when the ideal edifice, sound enough to undergo extensions and improvements, is next door?
Jane Compson is a graduate on a year off, hoping to continue her studies in non-realism next academic year. 2. The importance of being...