A Path to our Common Source (Henri Huysegoms)

 

(Studies in Interreligious Dialogue, 16/2006/2, p. 211-214, Peeters, Leuven)

 

The practice of contemplative prayer inspired from Zen spirituality can become for followers of Christ the occasion to project a new light on the gospel. Moreover, the rediscovery of the rich tradition of mystics like Meister Eckhart and the anonymous author of “The Cloud of Unknowing” can foster the dialogue of Christians with Buddhists because Buddhists recognize their experience as one of enlightenment.

 

Christian spiritual guides usually stress that the fruit of Christian meditation is not only obtained by one’s own efforts but through grace as well. On that point, they are prone to assert the originality and superiority of Christian prayer over oriental spirituality. In fact, such a discussion about a salvation obtained through grace or through deeds appeared in Christianity from the beginning. At the time of St. Paul, the Christian community had already discussed this distinction. In Japanese Buddhism too, people make a distinction between stressing one’s own efforts as in Zen and stressing the “power of Another,” as in Pure Land Buddhism. But if one deepens Zen meditation, he discovers that such a distinction is quite shallow. It is a fact that Zen training includes physical and spiritual efforts that are exacting. But they are efforts for letting go of the self so that one can discover one’s relation to a reality that is the source of our existence. Jesus also invited his disciples to engage in the same struggle to renounce the self.

 

One of the methods recommended by the Zen masters as a way for abandoning all images and thoughts which reason conceives in one’s mind and for making possible the discovery of one’s essential nature is the repetition of the word “Mu” in every breath, focusing one’s mind constantly in the region below the navel. One must forget one’s self completely and even reject the desire to obtain some kind of spiritual experience like enlightenment.

 

In regard to this point, the Zen masters tell the story of a mysterious bird. One day, a woodsman went to the forest to work. From afar he noticed a bird he had never seen before. He found it strange. The bird said to him: “Why am I so strange?” The man thought: “What? A speaking bird?” The bird answered: “I see that you can’t believe that I’m able to speak.” The man dreamed about catching that bird and selling it for a good price in town. But the bird exposed this intention too. At the end the man began to work earnestly and forgot about the bird. After a while, the bird felt secure and little by little came quite close to him. When the bird arrived next to the man, he caught the bird at once.

 

When taking part in a Zen retreat of five days, we will find that if a strict instructor is next to us for supporting our efforts, we can throw ourselves totally into that sound of Mu so that we become one with it. At the end, it is Mu that is doing Mu in ourselves, and we notice that the ego has completely vanished. This discovery has been made possible by an effort to make us available to an experience that we accept as a gift. We waken to a reality that we did not have to search for because it has always been there from the beginning.

 

To concentrate on a sound like Mu when we inhale or exhale might not seem a very spiritual activity. However, the anonymous mystic of the 14^th century who wrote “The Cloud of Unknowing” also recommended this kind of method. He said: “If you want to gather all your desire into a simple word that the mind can easily retain, choose a short word rather than a long one. A one-syllable word such as ‘God’ or ‘love’ is best. But choose one that is meaningful to you. Then fix it in your mind so that it will remain there come what may. Should some thought go on annoying you demanding to know what you are doing, answer with this one word alone. If your mind begins to intellectualize over the meanings and connotations of this little word, remind yourself that its value lies in its simplicity.” This author recommends a word like “God,” but he does not cling to it. One can discover the source of one’s being through the repetition of any word provided it is short. Choosing something other than the word “God” has the advantage of making it easier to avoid any thoughts about the divine and to cut off all duality. “When we are able to pray in our heart with purity, without any distractions, we renounce plurality, division and diversity, and we are immediately, above all discourse, at one with the One, the Simple, with Him who unifies” (Callistus and Ignatius Xanthopouloi).

 

One might feel uneasy about the appropriateness of a meditation without any object, without any trace of dialogue. But this kind of training makes it possible to act in daily life with a purity of intention without expecting some kind of recognition.

 

During a Zen retreat, the Master sometimes tells the following story: A young man visits a Zen Master and asks to allow him to become his disciple. But he is not easily accepted because the Master wants to be sure about the man’s determination. The young man persists in his request and is finally accepted. One day, all the monks go out in line to beg for their food in the village. The young man notices an old man drawing his cart up a slope. He leaves the line and rushes forward to help the man. On the way back, the Master blames him for his action and sends him away. The monk did not realize the importance of the training he had been receiving.

 

This story might come as a shock to many Christians, but it stresses the necessity of a period of spiritual training for renouncing one’s self so that one can act with an absolute purity of intention. Prayer as a dialogue should also be grounded in a contemplative activity without duality. “Between You and me, there is that ‘me’ which troubles me,” wrote Allaj, the Iranian Sufi Master.

 

Jesus used to tell to those who opposed him: “My teaching is not from me, but from the One who sent me.” The religious leaders of his time interpreted this assertion as the expression of an inordinate arrogance bordering on blasphemy, although it was the expression of the humiliation of Him Who, with His baptism, accepted to abase Himself all the way to death. This self-denial made Him able to proclaim His unity with the Father by saying: “Before Abraham was, I am.” Jesus was disappointed to notice that His disciples could not see the Father in him.

 

We may not think that these statements concern also ourselves. But in the “Blue Cliff Record,” a collection of one hundred Zen koans compiled in China in the twelfth century, we can find: “In the heavens and on earth I alone am the Honored One.” This sentence echoes that of Jesus. In this koan, the Honored One does not point to the Buddha but is said by a Zen Master. It is not an expression of ostentation, but an assertion of the ultimate I who is immortal and can only be perceived by a complete renouncement of the self. This koan, like the sentence “Show me your original face before your parents were born” is given to those who perform Zen training in order to become one with the Reality of the absolute “I am” and to express their understanding of that Reality through words or deeds.

 

A Buddhist Zen Master is able to certify the discovery of one’s essential nature made by a disciple even if he belongs to a different religious tradition because that experience lies beyond the realm of concepts and teachings.

 

In the preface to the “Gateless Gate,” translated with Commentary by Zen Master Kôun Yamada, H. M. Enomiya-Lassalle, S.J. wrote: “Zen practice has nothing to do with Buddhist philosophy.” The expression “If you meet a Buddha, you will kill him,” found in Case 1 of that manuscript of the 13^th century, points to the same reality. Any attempt to conceptualize lays a yoke on a borderless Reality.

 

The ultimate experience of one’s essential nature, although being a source of joy drawing sometimes near ecstasy, is exempt from images and thoughts. Therefore, it is possible to think that Meister Eckhart, the Buddhists, and meditating people of all ages and traditions have essentially had a similar experience but have put it in words with their own cultural and religious background. Differences appear when people try to express a reality that is inexpressible.

 

St. Paul, in his second Letter to the Corinthians, says he was snatched up to the highest heaven and heard things which cannot be put into words, things that human lips may not speak. Trying to express that experience, he notes in his Letter to the Galatians: “It is no longer I who lives, but it is Christ who lives in me.” Based on a similar experience, a Buddhist says that it is no longer he who lives, but the Buddha living in him.

 

The more essential words expressed by Christ and people like St. Paul about their being can become our own if, in meditation, we bring silence to all discursive thoughts so that we can become one with a power which unifies all beings.

 

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