ENDINGS AND BEGINNINGS

This is the season of beginnings and ends.  So my mind, for a number of weeks and a number of reasons have been thinking of both.

A few weeks ago, I was explaining to my students the difference in the way western and eastern religions see life and death.  From a western perspective, it's like a time line:  we're born, we live, we die, and then, depending upon our behavior in this life, we are judged by God go to a heaven or a hell.  (Judaism is an exception because in Judaism, unlike any other religion I know of, there is almost no focus at all on what happens after death.  "I set before thee life and death.  Choose life" says God, according to the biblical injunction in Deuteronomy 30.19.)  But there's certainly no coming back alive.  It's a straight path, a term used in Islam.

In the eastern religions of Hinduism and Buddhism life and death are cyclical.  You're born, you live, you die, you're born again.  What life form you're born into and the situations you experience  in life are determined simply and only by the actions, good or bad,  you did in previous lives.  That's what karma is, 'your' actions.  There is no judge, no god, no jury that determines your path.  It's simply cause and effect.

All of that is theoretically quite fascinating and plausible.  But the day after I explained that to my class, 20 little kids and 6 helping adults were slaughtered in their school.  And suddenly the theoretical - for either traditions -- paled as answers to this situation. 

The western answer, the promise of heaven, evokes for me the response of Dostoevsky's character Ivan Illych who collected stories of abused children and claimed that if that was the cost of entry into heaven, then he respectfully returns the ticket to God.  He doesn't want any part of it. Nor do I.

The eastern traditions suggest that 'they (or their parents) must have done something in their previous lives' and this is the result.  That, to me, is too harsh.   I cannot and will not blame the victim.  

And yet, when a Hindu scholar, explained it to me in a larger context, there is perhaps some merit.  In answer to my question regarding the Hindu understanding of the death of those 26,  he wrote: 

"In the larger context, our deeds as a Society or  nation on others come back to haunt us, current and future generations. We all as a nation, society, community and individuals are going to remain responsible for the actions on and sufferings of the children and the people in general in Palestine, Iraq, Afghanistan and elsewhere. A peaceful society and even handedness remain the cornerstone of good deed of individuals, community, Society and the nation.

Look at the ending of the leadership of Iraq, Libya, etc that inflicted so much harm to its own people and the way they suffered in their own life time. 

Our children  and the society in general pay the price of our evolving gun culture and mighty fire power of the so called  powerful individuals and Society.

The helpless children and people who lose their life for no fault of their own, are seen to have an incomplete life. However, their souls may become dearer to God and take rebirth or go to heaven  for eternal peace of their soul."

And I must admit that I agree with him, particularly looking at the history of violence and gun use in this country.  Even most recently the subject of, and audience reaction to, Quentin Tarrentino's movie, Django Unchained reminds me that our societal karma of gun violence comes back to bite us and our children in the bottom.  What goes around eventually does come around.

But why those little children?  And for that matter, why any of the children, around the world, who daily are slaughtered by gun violence, war, malnourishment,  disease, poverty, lack of education?  Why aren't we up in arms for those innocents as well?

I don't have answers.  My job is to explain the answers given by religions around the world.  Answers that attempt to provide meaning and context to our lives.  And though the answers may be different in each religion -- and even within each religion -- the questions each tradition grapples with are the same:  what happens after death?  Why is their suffering?  Why me?  Why the innocent?  Why evil?  Where's good?   

Still, I don't have answers.  I just know this is the season of endings and beginnings and I, like most everyone else, am trying to figure out how to make sense of both as I  live life to the best of my ability in between.

May 2013 miraculously turn out to be a year of peace and good will to all children.

WHO KNEW? BODHI DAY, HANNUKAH AND CHRISTMAS

 The celebration of Christmas, the Buddha's enlightenment, and the Jewish holiday of Hanukkah all fall around this time of year.  And while there are significant differences between these three holidays and the religions that they represent, there are also profound similarities. 

Let's call the first the "who knew?" factor.  The instigators of these holidays -- Buddha, the Maccabees and Jesus were not the power leaders of their time.  To the contrary!  The pampered, sheltered prince Siddhartha Gautama was a rebellious disappointment to his powerful father and he wandered aimlessly as an ascetic before he became enlightened.  Who knew that Siddhartha would be able to sit under the Bodhi tree, meditate and find a way to live based on compassion and insight?  The Maccabbees were an oppressed, marginalized group of people in a little corner of Alexander the Great's empire.  Who knew that this rag tag group would lead guerrilla attacks against the largest, most organized army in the world and win?  Jesus was a tiny little baby, so vulnerable because he was a baby and because he was born in a barn of a very young mother and because the authorities wanted him dead.  Who knew this young being would grow up to have such a great impact on people and history around the world?  All three of these revolutions that significantly changed the world started with people WAY outside the "power" base of society.

Another aspect common to all three of the holidays is the role of difficulties, of suffering.  It was recognition of suffering -- from death, sickness and old age -- that caused Buddha to go searching for an answer.  Hanukkah commemorates the end of a terrible subjugation and a long, bitter war.  Jesus was born at a time when his parents were unable to find a comfortable room anywhere and King Herod was out to kill him.  Even we experience loss at this time of the year as leaves; light and warmth leave us.

This recognition that life is difficult is not an academic point: It is central to each of the stories and to each of us personally.  We all have difficulties.

And that leads to another aspect of the three holidays: the role of community.  No sooner did Buddha become enlightened then he went out, found disciples and formed the Sangha or community.  Buddhists around the world say the Triple Gem: “I take refuge in the Buddha, I take refuge in the Sangha, the community, I take refuge in the Teachings of the Buddha.”  The Maccabbees could not have regained the Temple and their way of life from the Greeks unless they had worked together as a community, as a family.  And Jesus with his disciples started his community by sharing in communion.  Some people find community within their church, synagogue or Temple, others in a less traditional place.

On of the most amazing discoveries about community is that it has physiological -- bodily -- effects on people.  A replicated study done at Stanford University on women with breast cancer showed this dramatically.  Women were divided randomly into two different groups.  They all had cancer at similar stages with similar prognoses, the only difference between the treatment of the groups is that one group met once a week to talk.  That was it -- they talked about their lives, their fears, and their experiences.  That group survived twice as long as the group that didn't have a community of supporters.  Community can be a powerful, healing force.  Maybe that's why these holidays are spent in community with family and friends.

And finally there is one other aspect of the holidays that is common to Bodhi day, Hanukkah and Christmas.  That is what the 2^nd step of all 12 step programs describes in this way:  "Came to believe that a power greater than ourselves could restore us to sanity."  For the Jew and the Christian that "Power greater than ourselves" is God.  To Jews it might have been the ragtag Maccabbees that won the war, but it was not they that were miraculously able to keep the flame burning in the Temple far longer than anticipated.  To Christians it was not just the human power of that little child Jesus that made him so special, it was god's power working in him.  Buddha didn't talk about god.  But he did recognize that there is far more beyond our self's narrow bandwidth of needs, wants and controls.

For some, that power greater than ourselves might be expressed in inspired music, which is part of all three religions.  Or perhaps that power greater than ourselves is illustrated by light, which is why candles are part of these traditions, particularly at this time of the year.  Perhaps that power greater than ourselves is recognized in trees, those magnificent plants with roots in the ground and branches in the sky that give us oxygen to breath and take away our refuse.  They remind us that life is like a tree, constantly renewing itself and evergreen.  Maybe that is why all three holidays use the symbol of a tree to represent its message: Buddha meditating under the Bodhi tree, the menorah in the shape of the tree of life and the Christian use of the Christmas tree. 

Who knew that there is a power greater than ourselves that could restore us to life?  The communities of these three wise traditions that celebrate what they know to be true  - they knew!

HANUKKAH AND ADVENT: SEASONS OF HOPE

I read the paper, listen to the news, look at the bleakness of the sky, and I can get pretty sad!  Things are not good.  There are real dangers out there!  The world needs fixing.  I get scared.  So it is, so it was, so it may always be.

But there is hope.  And for both Jews and Christians, this is a time where both of their stories reflect the idea that as bad as things may be, there is available a small kernel of hope that can flourish, grow, and change the world. And, both stories tell us, it can always start with one, small nobody – like you or me.

Imagine how scary it is to have the largest, most well equipped army attacking you, your family and your way of life.  Imagine that with brute strength this superpower insists that you do things their way or you die.  Everything you hold dear and precious will be taken away from you and there’s not a thing you can do to stop them.  Or is there? 

The Hanukkah story tells us that there IS something we can do.  When the Greek conquerors took over Jewish culture determined to wipe it out, one man stood up to them and said “no.”  He was willing to face terrible consequences for what he believed was the survival of his people. His action inspired others to be brave and to fight for what they believed in.  In the end, a rag tag band of local hicks managed to get rid of the most sophisticated hegemonic power of its day and reclaim their own way of life.  That’s what the Hanukkah lights represent.

We CAN change the status quo.  We DO have power in a seemingly powerless situation.  It might take guts to stand up and fight the powers that be.  It might take courage and persistence that goes beyond the strength we think we have, but it is possible.  And it begins with one small person like me.

Now imagine another situation.  A dictator has taken over your country.  There is no freedom of thought or movement.  There is no hope that life will get better or that there will be times of goodness and love.  Life is bleak, particularly for the poor and the disenfranchised.  Into this situation comes a young pregnant woman, traveling in the dead of winter.  There is no place for her to stay.  She gives birth to a tiny baby in a barn.  Who could be more vulnerable than a homeless baby in the cold?  And yet, that little baby grew up to be a wise, compassionate teacher whose ideas brought love, hope and compassion to many over 2 thousand years and whose followers changed the world – for better and for worse – in his name! 

The advent candles of the Christmas season symbolize the arrival of hope and goodness even when they’re unlikely to survive.  They are the hope that in the darkness of the season and the darkness of bad times, there will be a transformation of the way things are, to the way things can be.  They are the goodness of light that infuses our well-being and dispels our fears.

In both the Hanukkah story and the Christmas story the theme is of hope and deliverance – that there is a G-d who helps us out of a difficult situation.  But even if you don’t believe in such a G-d, the miracle of what one write calls “the potential in small things” can be seen all around us.  It is, as Jesus’ parable of the mustard seed reminds us, the tiniest seed of all that becomes a huge bushy tree.  It is that infinitesimally small cell that became the complicated person you are and that you will become.  It is, as the anthropologist Margaret Mead reminded us: “A small group of thoughtful people that can change the world. Indeed, it's the only thing that ever has.”

Though reading the newspaper can often get me down, it can also often lift me up.  There are stories of people around the world today standing up in their communities and by so doing, begin a revolution of change.  There are stories of kindness and caring for others who are in need.  These are the moments in which the potential of small things become inflamed and spread. 

May the light and the hope of Hanukkah and the Advent of Christmas remind us all of the potential of small things.  And may we in our own small ways find the courage to make big changes in the world.