Fingers Pointing at the Moon
Reflection on Truth
for the Unitarian Society of Santa Barbara
February 3, 2013
The
first time I learned that religious truth was not one universal
story, one singular path, was in fourth grade. It was December and we
were learning how people around the world celebrated Christmas. This
was my first exposure to "world religions" and I was
struggling with it a bit. I thought the entire world celebrated
Christmas. And I thought they celebrated it just like I did. Santa
came on Christmas Eve, presents were left, stockings were filled, and
on Christmas morning it was all torn open in a frenzy of wrapping
paper and ribbon. Oh, and then there was that story about baby Jesus.
So what was all this business about putting out wooden shoes only to
find oranges, nuts and maybe a piece of candy in them in the morning?
And who the heck was Santa Lucia and what did she have to do with
anything?
It only got worse from there. Later that week our teacher told us that Gary Segal, one of our own classmates, did not celebrate Christmas at all. This was a jaw dropping moment for me. She explained that Gary was Jewish and in December he celebrated Hanukkah, not Christmas. There was no Christmas tree, no Santa Claus, not even a stocking hung by the fire. There was something about a candle holder, a spinning top, and potato pancakes, but I was barely listening at this point. Frankly, this was all too much for me. My truth had been shattered.
Up until this point I hadn't given religious truth a whole lot of thought. I assumed that everyone followed the same belief system I did. That is, Jesus was born, he was called the son of God, and there was Christmas. There were some interesting stories about Jesus walking on water, raising the dead, magically multiplying loaves of bread, and turning wine into blood. Then he was hung on a cross to die, rose from the dead himself, and there was Easter. The key religious figures for me were God, Jesus, Santa Claus and the Easter Bunny. I did not know what to do with people like Gary Segal. How could there be more than one truth?
***
Sister Joan Chittester, a Benedictine nun and a wonderful writer, tells us how, even within monasteries, places of uniformity and a seemingly singular path to God, there are differences on the path to truth. She says, "Isn't difference in the face of the commonplace the very sign of the singular and intimate relationship between God and every one of us?" Chittester tells the story of two nuns, Sister Rosalia and Sister Marie Claire, both living in the same monastery, but with very different relationships to the holy.
Sister Rosalia was "a model of the 'living Rule.' She kept silence -- always at night, almost always during the day. She never consorted with 'seculars.' She walked head down, eyes on the ground -- just as spiritual masters for centuries had recommended we do as an aid to acquiring perpetual 'recollection' or consciousness of God. Her room was sparse and antiseptic to the core. She cut no corners, took no liberties, strayed from none of the disciplines."
Then there was Sister Marie Claire.
"Sister Marie Claire, a music teacher, lived strewing beauty wherever she went. She had mysterious ways of getting cut flowers of extraordinary color for her music room, grew pots full of African violets large and full and in jungle proportions everywhere. ... Marie Claire brought a sense of abundance to life. ... Marie Claire lived, generous and open-hearted, an Auntie Mame figure who swept into every room with a smile on her face and a warm hand-shake or arm hold for every person there."*
So, which of these women who took the same vows and lived in the same monastery was truest to the truth? Or had they each formed their own uniquely personal relationship with God, with truth?
It only got worse from there. Later that week our teacher told us that Gary Segal, one of our own classmates, did not celebrate Christmas at all. This was a jaw dropping moment for me. She explained that Gary was Jewish and in December he celebrated Hanukkah, not Christmas. There was no Christmas tree, no Santa Claus, not even a stocking hung by the fire. There was something about a candle holder, a spinning top, and potato pancakes, but I was barely listening at this point. Frankly, this was all too much for me. My truth had been shattered.
Up until this point I hadn't given religious truth a whole lot of thought. I assumed that everyone followed the same belief system I did. That is, Jesus was born, he was called the son of God, and there was Christmas. There were some interesting stories about Jesus walking on water, raising the dead, magically multiplying loaves of bread, and turning wine into blood. Then he was hung on a cross to die, rose from the dead himself, and there was Easter. The key religious figures for me were God, Jesus, Santa Claus and the Easter Bunny. I did not know what to do with people like Gary Segal. How could there be more than one truth?
***
Sister Joan Chittester, a Benedictine nun and a wonderful writer, tells us how, even within monasteries, places of uniformity and a seemingly singular path to God, there are differences on the path to truth. She says, "Isn't difference in the face of the commonplace the very sign of the singular and intimate relationship between God and every one of us?" Chittester tells the story of two nuns, Sister Rosalia and Sister Marie Claire, both living in the same monastery, but with very different relationships to the holy.
Sister Rosalia was "a model of the 'living Rule.' She kept silence -- always at night, almost always during the day. She never consorted with 'seculars.' She walked head down, eyes on the ground -- just as spiritual masters for centuries had recommended we do as an aid to acquiring perpetual 'recollection' or consciousness of God. Her room was sparse and antiseptic to the core. She cut no corners, took no liberties, strayed from none of the disciplines."
Then there was Sister Marie Claire.
"Sister Marie Claire, a music teacher, lived strewing beauty wherever she went. She had mysterious ways of getting cut flowers of extraordinary color for her music room, grew pots full of African violets large and full and in jungle proportions everywhere. ... Marie Claire brought a sense of abundance to life. ... Marie Claire lived, generous and open-hearted, an Auntie Mame figure who swept into every room with a smile on her face and a warm hand-shake or arm hold for every person there."*
So, which of these women who took the same vows and lived in the same monastery was truest to the truth? Or had they each formed their own uniquely personal relationship with God, with truth?
Chittester
tells us that truth is too great to be grasped by any one of us, but
that we are all capable of holding a piece of it. She says, "The
real truth is that God is too great to be lost in the smallness of
any single sliver of life. Truth is One, yes, but truth is many at
the same time." The danger, of course, occurs when a person or a
religion claims to have The Truth. To make this claim is, at best
ludicrous, at worst hubris. We have seen the dangerous consequences
of this hubris time and time again throughout history and in our own
time.
***
I finally rejected Christianity as The One Truth during a college anthropology class. As we learned about tribal religions in Africa, I finally began to grasp that humans everywhere were seeking the truth, and coming up with very different definitions of it. How could any one religion claim to be right? And when you considered all the tragedy and loss that stemmed from religious conflict, well what was the point of any of it? So I declared myself an atheist and threw out the murky bathwater of religion. Unfortunately I threw the baby out too, at least for a time. My search for truth stalled for many years.
When I found the path of Unitarian Universalism 14 years ago, it felt spacious and accommodating. Here was a faith that did not claim to have all the answers, but encouraged me to seek my own truth. What a relief. I stepped onto this path with my pack full of questions and continued my journey in the company of this beloved community. Unitarian Universalism has taught me to love and respect all paths to the truth. And it has taught me the difference between the path and the truth, illustrated beautifully by this gem of a story from Zen Buddhism.
A nun asked the Sixth Patriarch, “I have studied the Maha-pari-nirvana sutra for many years, yet there are many areas I do not quite understand. Please enlighten me.”
I finally rejected Christianity as The One Truth during a college anthropology class. As we learned about tribal religions in Africa, I finally began to grasp that humans everywhere were seeking the truth, and coming up with very different definitions of it. How could any one religion claim to be right? And when you considered all the tragedy and loss that stemmed from religious conflict, well what was the point of any of it? So I declared myself an atheist and threw out the murky bathwater of religion. Unfortunately I threw the baby out too, at least for a time. My search for truth stalled for many years.
When I found the path of Unitarian Universalism 14 years ago, it felt spacious and accommodating. Here was a faith that did not claim to have all the answers, but encouraged me to seek my own truth. What a relief. I stepped onto this path with my pack full of questions and continued my journey in the company of this beloved community. Unitarian Universalism has taught me to love and respect all paths to the truth. And it has taught me the difference between the path and the truth, illustrated beautifully by this gem of a story from Zen Buddhism.
A nun asked the Sixth Patriarch, “I have studied the Maha-pari-nirvana sutra for many years, yet there are many areas I do not quite understand. Please enlighten me.”
The patriarch responded, “I am illiterate. Please read out the characters to me and perhaps I will be able to explain the meaning.”
Said the nun, “You cannot even recognize the characters. How are you able then to understand the meaning?”
“Truth has nothing to do with words. Truth can be likened to the bright moon in the sky. Words, in this case, can be likened to a finger. The finger can point to the moon's location. However, the finger is not the moon. To look at the moon, it is necessary to gaze beyond the finger, right?”
***So,
how do we know if what we are looking at is truth, or at least a
piece of the truth? Joan Chittester writes, "If the question is,
How shall I know the truth when I see it? the answer must be, truth
is that which does the good of God and does it kindly so that none of
the people of God are hurt by it." I invite you to define God as
it fits with your truth, or remove the word entirely. Her words still
ring true to me: Truth is that which does good and does it kindly, so
that no people are hurt by it.
So where do we search for truth?
So where do we search for truth?
That's
simple. Everywhere. And in everything. Every day.
When Rabbi Steve Cohen was with us last week, he reminded us that silence necessarily precedes hearing and speaking our truth. If we want to open ourselves to truth, we must find time to quiet our minds, still the busyness of our lives and listen. Religious truth, unlike scientific truth, requires an open heart as well as an open mind. It is a deeply felt truth. And we must listen for its many voices.
***
My piece of the truth is about embracing the great Mystery now, and my path is an agnostic one. Agnosticism is often considered a wishy washy position, a fence to sit on for those who cannot commit to one side or the other. But agnosticism is not a fence, it is one path to truth. For me agnosticism is about spending time with and truly loving the great Mystery. Agnosticism reminds me that truth is large and many faceted, and that I will never grasp anywhere near all of it. I believe that truth is fluid like a river, not granite like a mountain. My faith, as we UUs like to say, is a living faith, open to new ideas and change.
My piece of the truth is about embracing the great Mystery now, and my path is an agnostic one. Agnosticism is often considered a wishy washy position, a fence to sit on for those who cannot commit to one side or the other. But agnosticism is not a fence, it is one path to truth. For me agnosticism is about spending time with and truly loving the great Mystery. Agnosticism reminds me that truth is large and many faceted, and that I will never grasp anywhere near all of it. I believe that truth is fluid like a river, not granite like a mountain. My faith, as we UUs like to say, is a living faith, open to new ideas and change.
UU
minister Reverend Marilyn Sewell sums up my agnostic path best when
she writes, "When we venture into the Mystery, we are entering
the ground of the infinite with the powers of a finite mind. An
awe-filled agnosticism is perhaps the better part of wisdom." An
awe-filled agnosticism. For me that is a rich path, filled with
wonder and possibility.
***
We must all find our own path to truth, but whatever that path is, Love must be the trail guide. As Sister Joan Chittester writes, "Truth is not any one truth, not any one institution, not any one way. Nor can we truly bend ourselves to all of them. Instead, each of us must live our own singular piece of the truth with love. What else can possibly be the final test of what is truly true?" Amen.
We must all find our own path to truth, but whatever that path is, Love must be the trail guide. As Sister Joan Chittester writes, "Truth is not any one truth, not any one institution, not any one way. Nor can we truly bend ourselves to all of them. Instead, each of us must live our own singular piece of the truth with love. What else can possibly be the final test of what is truly true?" Amen.
*From Welcome to the Wisdom of the World and its Meaning For You, by Sister Joan Chittister.
