A Secular Easter, An Empty Tomb and a Dead God: A Long Easter Meditation

What to write?

 

I have been struggling to gather my thoughts and ideas before daring to write this entry. I had planned to have something ready on Easter Sunday which would made this entry topical and current. Today, a week has already passed since Easter Sunday and believers and non-believers have probably forgotten the festivities and returned back to their old routines when they went back to their regular routines. A thing  I usually did myself in the past.

 

I admit that my hesitation to tackle the subject of Easter may be due to the fact that I don’t see myself as a Roman Catholic. I cannot hide the fact that, even if as a child, I always felt not quite comfortable with aspects of Catholicism because, as I liked to learn on my own, the majority of Christians had only a superficial understanding of their faith. As a child, I was prone to reason out some of the teachings as interpreted by the priests of my time. I knew deep inside that a morality based on fear of hell was a very shallow one. But, that possibility of being punished by God was too terrible to contemplate. Naturally, heaven was where I wanted to be after I died.

 

I was both shocked and disturbed when I started reading parts of the Old Testament your average Christian wouldn’t have read in their life time. For instance, Leviticus, which, to my horror, forbade anyone who had an impairment of any sort to offer anything to God for that person was unworthy to be in God’s sight. And, references to impairment as sin in the New Testament started making sense. Indeed, Jesus tried to address the irrationality of such beliefs. But, I can attest that I did feel awkward among the fervently religious. At times to be called saintly, and in the silence of the hearts, some suspected I was the result of sin. Images of the devil have also suggested impairment of some sort to me. While I denied my impairment for many years. 

 

Yet, deep down, I knew that the logical conclusion of what Leviticus had been saying was that I was unworthy of God. In that sense, I had some sympathy with the devil when he was expelled from heaven. Not that I wanted, in any way, to become God. But, rather, because I could identify of being rejected and excluded because I was physically different. Yes, the devil’s sin was that of pride but he was always represented as the ‘other’. I could relate to that feeling of otherness and rejection. Indeed, as I rekindled my passion for Eastern philosophy and Buddhism, in particular, it was I found an old childhood friend. I once again started meditating but this time wanted to further cultivate my understanding of Buddhist thought. 

 

I don’t see myself as a Roman Catholic any more but I am grateful for the teachings I got from Christianity. In a sense, I am practicing a philosophy beyond the confines of religion. I have no problem with the belief in God and also find no problem with those who don’t believe in God. However, I’m saddened when supposedly mature adults debate on whether God exists or not as their lives depended on it.

 

After all,  it’s a fact that God exists. But, here, I must explain some more.

 

Does God exist?

 

God exists. However, whether God exists as an entity, if at all, is debatable. Who is God? Even this question cannot be answered unless one is affiliated with a particular religion. In monotheism, there is a personal God but you’ll find no such God in some Eastern traditions. There are belief systems where there are plenty of gods and some were there are even good and evil gods. In Buddhism, the question of God is not really relevant. Mind you, Buddhism doesn’t deny God or accept God. Its belief system is compatible, in many ways, with science. Everything, it is observed, is a product of causes and conditions. Nothing can be its own creation. Everything is co-created or dependently arising. Thus, one can only say that Buddhism - at least Tibetan Buddhism - is a non-theistic tradition. I subscribe to that world view today.

 

New atheists and believers may go discussing whether God exists till the end of time. It might be a form of spending their time and energy and even to express themselves. However, if the issue cannot be resolved in our lifetime, why does it have to be an issue that divides us? Do we really believe that living without God means living without morality or a sense of ethics? Is a fear of punishment and desire to reach heaven the proper foundation for any morality? I think not. A crusade against religion is, in my view, not unlike a religious crusade. 

 

And this is really not what Jesus died for. His teachings invite us not to judge others and to be wise. Attainment of heaven or hell are not things that we should await because we believed or simply did good deeds. Indeed, the idea that we must live for a life beyond defies the main teachings of Jesus. I don’t think he wanted us to become so proud of our religion that, consciously or unconsciously, close our  hearts and minds to other points of  view. It’s in the intention that we perform deeds that makes them good or bad. Indeed, if one performs an act of kindness to appear kind and good to others, 

 

That act of kindness, great as it might be, is its own reward. The motivation isn’t compassion but ambition. The beliefs that Jesus tried to instil into his largely superstitious and dogmatic community were one that encouraged them to open up to the other, even to your enemies. It encouraged his community to break away to a rigid adherence to the letter of the law and instead embrace the spirit of the law. And I suspect that Jesus didn’t want a religion that was fixated on his crucifixion and resurrection. Indeed, the authentic pursuit of a follower of Jesus, indeed, would be not to follow him as you would be venerating a god but follow his teachings in your daily living. To be honest with yourself and make sure you are ready to open your awareness to your inner self and to the other. 

 

Faith, in my view, is not about believing in holy objects or even in miracles, Faith is in fully accepting and taking refuge in the knowledge, if you may, that you don’t know and that many things you will never know. To accept, as it is also rational, that you should live for the present because it is in the present that one can find true happiness. Happiness is not a location in time, happiness is is in the present. Only there can you be truly happy.

 

A Secular Easter?

 

Many Christians hold Easter to be the only reason for their beliefs. Indeed, the resurrection of Christ from the dead and his triumph over sin and evil is the most important event in the Christian calendar. It’s more important than Christmas as without Easter, or the resurrection, there would be no reason to celebrate the birth of Christ. I respect the belief in the resurrection of Christ. However, based on my background and what I have written earlier, I find that Easter has become more of a matter of tradition, for the believer and non-believer alike. Is this a bad thing? Of course, the meaning of Easter is radically different for the true believer in the resurrection and the non-believer. But then, as I try to reconcile these worlds, which, in a way, represent the younger me and the older me, can we find a common ground?

 

A fact that many remain unaware of is that Easter time was always significant  for different civilisations, and many pagan ones too. Indeed, the word ‘Easter’ itself derives from the name of an Assyrian deity, known in old Greek cults as Astarte, the goddess of sex and fertility. However, this belief in Astarte is also there because of another important event in early agriculturally based society. Easter time was also the beginning of Spring, when life can be renewed and food could be harvested after the long and cold  Winter period.

 

It is here that I dare find a way to bring the non-believer and believer closer together. For the resurrection of Christ is, for all intents and purposes, a renewal. A triumph of life over death. The transformation of the old and dead into the new and living. It’s our annual journey from the cold winter to the gentle spring in our lives. It’s an opportunity to grow and shed the old persons we were and find that we are more than we thought we are. In fact, we discover that the very act of defining ourselves is limiting who we are as whole human beings. 

 

Indeed, many times, we tend to judge things in terms of good or bad, without considering that things are not good or bad in themselves, rather what one learns from these experiences that makes a difference. The Buddha invites us to be masters of our own selves. Jesus invites us to take responsibility over our own lives. They both challenge us to be true to ourselves and not necessarily follow the law to conform and live a lie to remain safe and comfortable. This invitation is often missed and while I don’t claim to be right, I can say that, for the time being, I think  this way. My experiences have reinforced this conviction. I thought my visual impairment was the worse thing that could happen in my life, yet today it has opened my eyes to a richer life. 

 

Being a physically impaired boy was never easy, but I learned to be more open and receptive to people that others considered to be outcasts or ‘not of their kind’. It also made me to truly  understand what is meant to be ‘alienated’ in the sense that one becomes detached from his own society - similar to the worker in Marx who finds that his relation with what he manufactures is irreversibly broken and he simply becomes an object, not that different from the machine he’s using. It is that sense of being denied an individual identity that I identified with. Of being stripped of my claim to humanity itself. 

 

Today, I can say that my engagement with Buddhism has complemented the old Gordon and opened my heart and mind to a  new me who is not ashamed to assert that I accept my limitations as a human being but also know that I have strengths as well. I am also ready to admit that much of what I am today is not of my own making. Even this sense of identity and person who is writing this is, in a way, an illusion. An illusion that arises  out of an interplay between my brain and the senses. The world I live in is, thus, not as I perceive it to be. Although there’s no denying that my world from my perspective appears to be real. Yet, considering  that my sense of reality is dependent on so many factors, there’s room for doubt even about who is doing the writing. And it is here that I might look at Easter.

 

An  Empty Tomb:

 

The accounts about the resurrection of Jesus were written years after they occurred. Does that make them less credible? In a way, it does for the events taking place are a product of eye witness accounts. In a court, such evidence would be highly contestable. But does that make them of less value if they can’t be verified? Perhaps I’ve been asking the wrong questions all along. And considering the possibility of human error inn eyewitness accounts remains a stumbling block if one wants solid facts. But, then, can we ask another question. Is there another truth that we may be missing out on if we either accept or reject the resurrection?

 

I think  yes. For the resurrection, real or symbolic, represents a renewal and a transformation. The old is still there but the old is not there any more. In other words, we believe we are the same children who just grew up. But, even factually, our bodies have lost much of its old cells today. That is why we have grown. In my case, grown a little more. Yet, even our brains have changed and, thus, even our minds. In this sense, we are constantly dying and being born. To stop this process of renewal and growth is what death is. It is in this context that we can take the image of the empty tomb from a more secular point of view.

 

While we may fear to think about the tomb because it reminds us of our own impermanence and mortality, Jesus’ account redefines the symbol of the ‘tomb’ from an inevitable finality to a place of possibility. Indeed, our beings are empty of inherent existence, Buddhism says. This is not a bad thing because emptiness here must be taken to mean nothingness but is a liberation of sorts, an invitation to go beyond the limitations imposed on us by society and by our own thoughts. Indeed, the emptiness is an invitation to renew who we are. A plant will not grow where there are many plants that are taking all the nutrients and minerals. Only emptiness can make us whole by freeing us from our attachment to things that do not exist in their own right. Things that are always impermanent.

 

The empty tomb is like the womb of a mother who has just given birth. The tomb is no longer a symbol of death but a symbol of hope  in a better tomorrow. Here, a resurrected Christ. 

If the wasn’t emptiness but only fullness, the universe wouldn’t be possible. Change wouldn’t be possible. Emptiness gives us the opportunity to go beyond our boundaries but, at the same time, reminds us not to become so complacent with life because as we emerge from this emptiness, we are still one with emptiness. Our sense of who we are which appears to us to be so solid and tangible isn’t permanent. The possibility of death is not just in the death of the body but also in the death of the mind. The death of our humanity. In this light, the resurrection can mean something even for the non-believer.

 

Conclusion: A Dead God?

 

In the context of what I have said already, the resurrection resonates with our very humanity. We long for renewal. We fear to die. We hope In a tomorrow. Even if it’s not guaranteed that we find ourselves the next morning. Easter and the renewal brought about by Spring are evoked in our art, our science and in our faiths and beliefs. No matter what, even if we may be staunch non-believers, we still want to claim a little to the ever after. Deep inside, we seek to be remembered in one way or another in this life by others. It’s not relevant whether we continue living in the memories of people or in another state of existence, we seek to be remembered. The plain truth, however, is that in the distant future, no one of us will be remembered and there will be no humans in the universe. Where will we all go?

 

I cannot answer that question. For, in truth, if I think about it, not even the sense of who I am is as real and  rigid as I thought I was. Our bodies die, our minds change and our lives are finite. To me, discussing whether God  exists or not can’t be resolved in a debate of any sort. Is God really dead? Yes, the moment God becomes a word and a concept, yes, God is dead. In Judaism, it is forbidden to utter the name of God. Now I can understand why. For God is not to be understood. Indeed, God is not a being. God simply is. Moses was told that the voice speaking to him was  the “I am that I am!’. 

 

We’re wrong if we pretend to be able to define God or claim that we can accept or reject God without understanding that God, cannot be understood. In fact, by using the word I’m once again trying to own and lay claim to what I will never know or understand. And there is the death of God.

I know that not many will understand what I write, let alone agree with what I wrote here. I don’t even pretend I am right or correct in some things I wrote. I have tried to struggle with the question of existence and I know that I am wrong in so many ways. Yet if life has taught me anything and if Buddhism has taught me anything and if secularism has taught me anything is that we are called to live in the present. It’s the every day that we are invited to change and it’s at every moment of our existence that we can be happy and when we can grow.

 

It’s in this way that the Christian message ceases to be an exclusive message of Christians. It’s only in this way that a secular Easter is possible.

 

It is, at that point, when an empty tomb becomes a symbol of renewal and possibility. It’s there were admitting that God is dead is ironically an invitation to find the one “Who Is”! 

 

Thanks for reading through this very long  entry!

Faith or Reason?

I am painfully aware of a growing division between the secular and the religious. Or, at least, between proponents who have chosen to adopt an extreme view of what they understand to be ‘secular’ or what they understand as being central to the ‘religious’. I think that it’s unfortunate to be witness to such a conflict. Indeed, as a child, I was inspired by people who came from both camps of faith and reason. I admired people ranging from Albert Einstein, Carl Jung and Isaac Newton to religious leaders such as Jesus Christ, Mahatma Gandhi and Lord Buddha.

However, this is not saying that I was an atypical boy. Indeed, in many ways, I obeyed convention. I tried to follow the precepts of Roman Catholicism and received the sacraments with a certain enthusiasm. I was deeply religious in many ways as a boy and was sincerely interested in living up to what I was taught was good and comply to the commandments, which I was told, would lead me to heaven. But, even as a child, I had many questions. I knew that I was physically different and this meant that I was also perceived differently than others. I was aware of death and the reality of impermanence when I was aware that one of my brothers had died when I was just a baby.

I sought answers in scripture and from reading books on science. I loved to learn about both science and religion. There were times when I rejected religion considerably and when I adopted a more rational and scientific view of the world. Eventually, I would take up a more political or ideological approach. I explored philosophy, psychology and language to understand the world. I have tried to answer the questions that plagued me. I was torn between a rationality that denied the value of faith and a faith that condemned doubt or asking questions.

I felt I had to choose what the truth was. I felt I had to choose between faith and reason. But were my conceptions of faith and reason correct? Was there a point where they could meet?

I don’t wish to oversimplify rationality or religiosity but I can speak about my own experience. For, it’s only our own experiences and understanding of what has been handed us that we can truly claim to have access to.

I find great value in spirituality and religious principles. Yet, I know that scripture was never meant to explain everything about matter.
I find a lot of knowledge and purpose in scientific rationality but I also know that even there we are limited. We cannot truly separate ourselves from the reality we are observing. We are bound, inevitably, to our own preconceptions and world view. Even in the hard sciences, we cannot truly separate ourselves from what we are trying to study. In order to measure matter, we remain dependent on our senses. Even the tools we use ultimately depend on our senses.

The truth of the matter - or at least, my limited current understanding - is that a question that expects us to decide whether we should prefer reason rather than faith or vice versa is a wrong question. For, in reality, our humanity places us in a position where we have to acknowledge our limits.

It is impossible to know all the answers to the questions of life. It’s impossible to claim we know everything about the cosmos. As long as we are part of the cosmos we remain confined to the cosmos as living beings. Our material bodies impose limits. But, yet, we can conceive things we haven’t seen ourselves. We can imagine things that aren’t real. We can be rational or superstitious. We believe we have a certain degree of choice. But, do we really?

For, at the end of all things, I can’t help being struck by a sense of awe and wonder by the very fact that the neurones firing up in my brain right now are permitting me to type this entry. Where are my thoughts when I perform these acts? Do they have a physical basis? Maybe they do and we might find the biological basis one day. But, even then, would we find the thoughts and emotions that were going on in my mind?

I don’t presume to offer secularists or religious people who hold extreme positions on matters of faith and reason. I can only appeal to those who sincerely seek to find truth to remain open to the possibility of dialogue. To be open to the other, however irrational or irreverent one may appear, because none of us can claim to have all the answers. I wish to end this lengthy entry with just a quote and a few paragraphs.

Let me start with a quote. It’s by Albert Einstein, a character I greatly admired as a child and who remains an influence today. Einstein once wrote:

"Science without religion is lame,
Religion without science is blind.”

I admit that it’s perhaps ironic for me to choose this quote I encountered as a child because, apart from the physical impairment that I was ascribed as a child, now I have also acquired a visual impairment. Moreover, it’s perhaps more ironic since this quote has been abused and misappropriated by people holding a radical secular and fundamentalist religious views alike. But, whatever your interpretation, it would be a mistake if we didn’t try to first get to know who Einstein was and what he stood for.

In this sense, Einstein has entered the popular imagination and has often acquired many stereotypes. He has been defined as a Jew who was an atheist, a scientist and, ironically, he has also been put across as a deeply religious person with his famous quote: “God doesn’t play dice with the universe” interpreted out of its proper context or when Einstein was finding it difficult to accept the randomness of the subatomic world where the laws of physics appeared to break down.

But, yet again, Einstein’s ‘God’ is neither the Jewish nor the Christian one. Rather, he was probably upset by the fact that there were things that couldn’t be explained by the science of his time. I can identify with Einstein’s feeling of not knowing. As I got to know more about this man, something else strengthened my admiration for the man. You see, while Einstein did admit that religion could be a form of ‘childhood superstition’, he did not totally reject the human value found in religion. He was defined as being a scientist but little people know he also played the violin with artistic passion..

Unfortunately, many of us see him from a limited perspective. You must read about the man before you can truly begin to understand. But, even then, you will never know who he was - even if there was the possibility of meeting him face-to-face in this lifetime. There are limits to knowledge that are part of our experiences of being human. It’s the same if we consider the debate between the secular and the religious, the sceptic and the faithful.

We may think we can find all the answers in science. On the other hand, we may lay our complete trust in faith. Yet, whatever we choose, I think that we can neither find all the answers in science nor in religion. For, reason and faith are essential for our very being.

I admit that I, myself, have taken up various identities over this short lifetime. I aspired to be a scientist. I am spiritual and can also be rational. I feel, I think and I believe. I hope, I despair and feel sadness and joy. I am disabled and I am impaired. I am a lot of things. I am nothing compared to the immensity of the universe. I know but I don’t really know.

I remain beyond the restrictions of a ‘lame’ rationality and ‘blind’ faith. I can’t keep away from the everyday reality of life but, whatever I think or believe, I still depend on matter to live. I am, at the same time, apart from the universe and, paradoxically, a part of it!

I can’t provide you with any certain answer to the question of why there is pain and suffering in our life. I can’t even assure myself there is such a place as the after-life. I can’t even prove or disprove the existence of a god I cannot see or measure.
I only know that I am human. I only know that there is very little I really know - if that can count as knowledge. I believe that I’m writing this - even if I can’t measure or prove the existence of my thoughts.

We don’t even have to choose between faith and reason. For life cannot be neatly fitted into either extreme views of reality. Indeed, those who think so may be deluded.

For how can I ever truly separate what I believe to be real from what I think is real when these are intrinsically linked together?

For I can say that I ‘have faith’ in the laws of physics. But, then, if I look at the quantum world, all my theories break down. For the very fact that I need light to study light means that as observer I cannot be independent from the observed.

I must be humble enough to accept my limitations. As a human being.

I must seek value in everything that makes our lives as human beings better and richer.

I need to pay more attention to the present.

To the now!

Even if such a realisation is uncomfortable or even painful.

For the future is just a promise and not a guarantee.

It resides beyond faith and cannot be explained through reason alone.

This is our human condition.

A Forgotten Childhood?

As a young boy, I was curious to know about how the world worked. I also wanted to know what life was all about. I wanted to know to gain a kind of closure and some answers to the question of why I had an impairment, when other boys my age were considered “normal” and “healthy”. I just didn’t understand why the God the priests praised so much on the altar who was so kind and loving had punished me from birth. Surely, I had done something really awful. I was a bad child of God and had to accept my fate without question. Indeed, I needed to redeem myself. If I think about it, my impairment back then was not as severe as it is today. True, I couldn’t bend my legs straight and my gait, which was described by a doctor in one medical report was a “scissor’s gait” was close enough to reality. I could still walk and run at the time but still it bothered me that in spite of what I did, I was different in eyes of others.

With all good intentions, even those close to me wanted me to become “normal” and within a culture very influenced by religious sentimentality, I was prayed on and loved ones hoped for a “miracle” to happen. I was happy as a child but I was also unhappy. For whatever I did and any efforts I made I couldn’t become “normal”. Yes, that! What was more troubling was that I identified on some level with Satan. Hadn’t be also rejected from God and cast away to an eternal torment. But, unlike Satan, I was determined to return in God’s good books. But at around 8, I started experiencing the reality outside of the safety of the home. I met new people and different children. Many looked at me through their presumptions about my physical impairment and told me that I “inspired” them and given that troubling reassurance that I was bearing the “cross of Christ”. When I felt no different than other kids my age. But, in a way, I was.

The fact was that I was made to think. I dared to doubt. And, while a spiritual revolution was taking place in my mind, I couldn’t speak. I couldn’t articulate it in a way others could understand it. I sought refuge in trying to find answers beyond me. I wanted to knoW WHY. wHY HAD MY BROTHER DIED BEFORE I COULD GET TO KNOW HIM? Why I was born this way? Why was God angry at me? Was I a saint walking on the footsteps of Christ or a sinner bearing the torment of a banished hell angel? Yes, I was happy then. But there was always that foreknowing that this life will end. And then what will become of me? And was there a God any way? Or were we at the mercy of a God who was like those Greek gods I read in some of my books that toyed around with human BEINGS AS IF THEY WERE PAWNS ON CHESS BOARD?

I THOUGHT AND THOUGHT. DURING THOSE COLD WINTER NIGHTS WHEN I LOOKED WITH AWE AT THE DARK SKY TINTED WITH SILVER STARS. THE SAME STARS THE ANCIENT EGYPTIANS HAD STUDIED A THOUSAND YEARS AGO. THE SAME STARS THAT THE BIBLE SAYS HERALDED THE BIRTH OF THE JEWISH MESSIAH. THE SAME STARS THAT GUIDED SO MANY SEAFARERS. I was connected then with the past I shared with my ancestors. The same stars that were there at the beginning of the cosmos. The same stars but not yet the same. These are still stars that may not all be there today as their light takes millions of years to reach us. Stars are a connection with the past that is no longer there.

For a young boy, these thoughts were overwhelming. So many questions. So few answers. Many of which were incomplete or beyond my understanding. And yet, nobody in my life seemed to be asking why? People who claimed they were “people of faith” appeared to be interested in winning a place in heaven and saving their lives rather than living the spirit of love and compassion and reflecting on their lives. They weren’t asking about the wonders of this universe we find ourselves in. They weren’t asking themselves why they were the lucky ones to live on Earth in the first place.

But, yes, they were interested in making more money and searching for happiness in things that never lasted. Even their aspiration to gain heaven was motivated by a hope to experience pleasure and freedom from pain. Bt they forgot that heaven was now. What happens in the future is beyond our control. It’s only now that we can change the world. It’s only now that we can change ourselves. And, yes, I gradually became the adult I feared to become as a child. True, I tended to more open to different people because, I myself, had been judged simply for being different. Yet, many of those early attachments that I hoped to never acquire, I did acquire. So, I can’t really judge.

I may choose to go deeper into my past but I am restricted by time and space.I just wanted to share these memories as I keep growing in self-awareness. As I said in early posts, I am now on a journey of self-discovery. I am engaging more in Buddhist practice. I feel a sense of peace and happiness that I can’t really express using language. But, it’s there and it’s changing my life. For the better. I don’t expect for you to understand and I certainly don’t write to convert anyone to Buddhism and to take up a daily practice of meditation and mindfulness. I am just writing after reflecting on my own experience of life. At that, my experience of life is very limited when compared to the what one can experience in the longest of human lifetimes. It is also infinitesimal if you compare it to the age of the cosmos. But, yet, as insignificant as it might be, this life is really the only thing I have.

I end this entry here hoping. Hoping that tomorrow will come. That I will be still alive tomorrow. That the Earth will be here tomorrow. That those around me are still there with me. But there’s always the possibility of change. A change that isn’t necessarily bad but, at times, also necessary if we are to continue living. Yet, tomorrow remains only a hope and whether you’re a believer or non-believer, we all hold an irrational faith in a tomorrow.