Thoughts on the Tao Te Ching 67

Poem 67

Some say that my teaching is nonsense.

Others call it lofty but impractical.

But to those who have looked inside themselves,

this nonsense makes perfect sense.

And to those who put it into practice,

this loftiness has roots that go deep.

I have just three things to teach:

simplicity, patience, compassion.

These three are your greatest treasures.

Simple in actions and in thoughts,

you return to the source of being.

Patient with both friends and enemies,

you accord with the way things are.

Compassionate toward yourself,

you reconcile all beings in the world.

Commentary

Like many other readers of these reflections, I have long loved reading biographies, autobiographies, memoirs and collections of letters by way of getting an insight into the meaning or purpose of life, or at least another angle on things anyway. Obviously, there are many other ways to make sense of human existence from forging relationships, designing and creating things, going on journeys and so on. Stanza 1 above puts these introductory thoughts wonderfully into perspective, especially in the two lines:

But to those who have looked inside themselves,

this nonsense makes perfect sense.

Indeed, the opening lines of my commentary could be dismissed as being nonsense from a certain practical, down-to-earth realism that sees no meaning at all in life outside surviving it.  However, if you have been reading these reflections, you don't belong to that grouping. There have been many great books throughout history that have explored the meaning of life, and perhaps one of the best early ones must surely be the Confessions of St Augustine of Hippo which were written between 397 - 400 A.D.  There have literally been hundreds of thousands if not millions of them written since.

The second stanza comes to the point swiftly by making three succinct points about what is important in the spiritual life:

(i) Even in the business world, experts recommend that complex issues must be turned into, or at least explained in, the simplest terms.  As a teacher, one must often attempt to break down complex stuff into as simple terms as one possibly can within reason.  Study methods recommend Spider diagrams and Mind Maps to give order or skeletons or bones to complex bodies of material. So simplicity makes sense.  In meditation, life is broken down or reduced to the very simplicity of sitting in the Now of things, of concentration on the simplicity of the very act of breathing.  In most religious traditions, the breath of life is its very essence.  The Old Testament speaks about the Lord of life or God himself breathing the breath of life into the mythical first human beings. Pope Francis and the Dalai Lama bear witness to a simplicity in their approach to living despite the official structures that could make them captives of the system.

(ii) Patience is a great virtue and one only learns it slowly by practice.  After all, as the great Aristotle put it, we become better persons through practice.  In other words, we become more virtuous through education and habit.  Patience is a virtue that lies between the two vices of (a) sloth (deficient vice) and (b) reckless impatience (excessive vice.)  As a parent, nurse or teacher, one must learn to be very patient in how we interact with our children, patients or students respectively.  However, from experience, patience does pay off, but again it is a virtue that can live with a certain level of incompletion, imperfection and disorder. A perfectionist will find it very hard to be patient with others.

(iii) The third virtue recommended by our Taoist poet is that of compassion.  Compassion is at the very heart of all religions and spiritualities worth their salt.  The Dalai Lama puts it succinctly thus: "Compassion is the wish for another being to be free from suffering; love is wanting them to be happy."  Again, one must have compassion for oneself as well as for others.

Thoughts on the Tao Te Ching 49

Poem 49

The Master has no mind of her own.

She works with the mind of the people.

She is good to people who are good.

She is also good to people who aren't good.

This is true goodness.

She trusts people who are trustworthy.

She also trusts people who aren't trustworthy.

This is true trust.

The Master's mind is like space.

People don't understand her.

They look to her and wait.

She treats them like her own children.

Commentary

The River Vltava in Prague with the Castle in the background

The first thing that strikes a reader of the above Taoist poem is that the Master or the Tao is totally non-judgemental, and treats all with an even hand, no matter whether they are good or bad.  Also, in keeping with the plurality in unity that is a hallmark of Taoist thinking, the translator S. Mitchell sees the Master as feminine here. (He alternates between "he" and "she" superbly and seamlessly in his version of the Tao Te Ching.)   This strikes us immediately as a much more compassionate approach than that of the God of the Old Testament who is presented as a rather dictatorial judge.  The Tao is such that

She is good to people who are good.

She is also good to people who aren't good.

This is true goodness.

However, one must also point out that the Bible has various viewpoints within it and that it is not at all as monochrome as some more fundamentalist interpreters would want it.  There are often contrary and contradictory texts in that same book or rather collection of books. Therefore, an astute reader of the Biblical texts will be open to quite a variety of possible interpretations, especially of the more controversial texts.  For instance, the Wisdom literature openly questioned God's justice when the authors lamented the fact that evil doers prosper as well as those who do good, and that, further, many good people really do suffer in this life and often die young.  Educated readers of the Bible will realise that it was written by many writers over many centuries and that each had a viewpoint that mirrored the times and contexts of the communities of faith in which they dwelt.  They will also realise that the Bible is a collection of books, written by many authors over many centuries and that consequently their concept of God grew as they increased in their knowledge of Him.  

We are never alone: Prague, February 2016

We all know how hard it is to trust others, but the Tao is a mystery or mystical presence that trusts all, it would appear.  It is rather hard for us emotional beings to grasp this, given that we are instinctively prone to retribution.  For us Christians, Jesus stood all of that old law of Old Testament retribution, that "lex talionis" on its head.  Being totally committed to peace and compassion for all, Jesus even forgave his tormentors and crucifiers by understanding that they truly "knew not what they were doing."  Likewise, many commentators say that the Parable of the Prodigal Son can also be construed as the Parable of the Older Brother as this brother illustrates well the all-too-human reaction of most of us when others are forgiven for their years of disloyalty while the always loyal servants (ourselves) have been overlooked by a goodness and justice that goes beyond the boundaries of human love.  It is in this sense that the Tao trusts all of us, that is in a parallel sense to how the Christian God loves those who sin and fall away.  The Taoist lines above are therefore worth repeating and contemplating once again here:

  She trusts people who are trustworthy.

She also trusts people who aren't trustworthy.

This is true trust.

In conclusion, our Taoist poet emphasises the power of a mother's love - a love that knows no boundaries for her offspring.  It is indeed little wonder that the image of mother is quite often attributed to God and the Tao and to many deities in a multitude of religions.  Many years ago, I remember an old teacher who taught me saying that one unruly pupil was truly a child that "only a mother could love."  I instinctively knew what he meant.

The Master's mind is like space.

People don't understand her.

They look to her and wait.

She treats them like her own children.

Journal of a Soul 65

Grief

One of my favourite pictures of Sean Kelly (1994 - 2014) with one of his nephews - Sean was buried in Glasnevin Cemetery, Dublin today, 27/09/2014 after 10 A.M. Mass in Sheriff St Church

Sometimes it's best to say nothing at all.  An Irish singer-songwriter, Ronan Keating, wrote and sang a love song entitled "You say it best when you say nothing at all."  Keating was, of course, writing and singing about love being communicated without the use of words.  Here I am writing about grief at the time of death, and really its expression in sobs and tears and gestures (like hugs and kisses) is way more effective than words, which really come later to give that grief a little shape in our minds.  Speaking of death and love or love and death (perhaps the order matters?) I am reminded of the wonderful Song of Solomon or The Song of Songs which I remember studying in Scripture class over thirty years ago.  It is a Biblical song about human love or more precisely, sexual love.  The words that knit themselves together in my mind are "Love is as strong as death: many waters cannot quench it."  My memory, obviously is somewhat flawed as these are not the exact words, though my rendering of them actually capture wholly the import of the text that actually reads:

Song of Songs 8: 6, 7. - Set me as a seal upon your heart, as a seal upon your arm: for love is strong as death; jealousy is cruel as the grave: the flashes thereof are flashes of fire, a very flame of the Lord. Many waters cannot quench love, neither can the floods drown it... 

I have just returned from a most painful and upsetting funeral for a recent past pupil of our school who chose to end his life by hanging himself from a tree in a park right opposite our school.  The grief of his distraught family and friends was simply overwhelming to say the least.  What words could capture such momentous bereavement which the pastor/curate described as a veritable "tsunami of grief."  In fact the celebrant, whose name I don't know, was wonderfully prayerful, compassionate and so understanding of the needs of the young people present that it was a wonderfully fitting send off for a young man of twenty years.  

We are such fragile vessels really, vessels through which the blood of life runs all too quickly, and all too often so painfully.  Amid all the grief today love was simply palpable.  In times of grief we come together to support one another.  Before the end of the funeral Mass this wonderful priest invited all Seán's friends up around the coffin - my goodness what a wonderfully kind and intuitive thing to do.  Then he incensed and blessed with holy water the coffin and the boys.  Needless to say, there was not a dry eye in the church.  Thank God for such good understanding pastors.  They do exist and are too infrequently acknowledged for the great work and service that they render to the community.  However, what I want to do now is simply append hereunder a short poem I wrote some minutes ago in memory of our former student Seán Kelly:

For Seán:

A short poem in our time of pain

The grief that fell upon us like a black pall

In the middle of a summery September

Was unseasonal, wholly inappropriate

To how we should feel in such sunny times.

But life has a habit of stopping us in our tracks,

Of calling us back to more important things,

Of making us think of the littleness and brittleness

Of all we construct with human hands...

Lest we become complacent, smug or self-satisfied,

As if to say we are wearing life too lightly,

That we must amid this unseasonal growth and sun

Wear heavier winter clothing weighted with our grief

At the passing of one so young, so full of life,

So full of the music that throbs at its heart –

A talent so natural and so good

Fallen unripe to the ground

Under a beautiful lonely tree:

But we came in our pain and in our brokenness

With our cards, our music and our tears

And we held each other around your coffin

And we prayed for comfort at the altar of the One

Who wept when his great friend Lazarus died –

Of the One who in innocence was crucified

Of the One who promised that life goes on –

And so we know that your spirit lives on,

That your music will never die

For you live in our hearts and souls

And smile upon us eternally.

(P.S.  I have just finished writing this poem as a tribute to the late Seán Kelly, RI.P., to his dear family and his many friends.  We were blessed to have known you, Seán, such a wonderful young lad.  Rest in peace, Seán and stay with your friends always!)