© Rev. Susan Karlson
December 4, 2011
The new Martin Scorsese film, Hugo, is an amazing story about an orphan boy who lives in a train station and is fascinated with machines and how things work. At one point Hugo tells a young friend, “I’d imagine the whole world was one big machine. Machines never come with any extra parts, you know. They always come with the exact amount they need. So I figured, if the entire world was one big machine, I couldn’t be an extra part. I had to be here for some reason.”
I like Hugo’s fantasy and his philosophical take on his purpose in life. I don’t think any of us is a useless cog. We have meaning and purpose. Life sometimes seems impossible and challenging as well as extraordinary and magical.
Hugo tried to make sense of life and find something good even as an orphan in
The Buddha was not always the Buddha, the enlightened one. He started off, like all people, as a child, a princely child but a child nonetheless. He spent most of his life analyzing and discovering the causes of suffering once he escaped the palace that was his prison, the palace that kept him away from any awareness of illness, old age or death.
This is the second worship service we’ve had around the theme of Bodhi Day. Though it is a minor holiday in Buddhism, it comes at the time of year when the light is waning and sorely missed—when darkness pierces the earth like an icy blade. We need the celebrations of light as a reflection of the light within, as a meditation on the need for stillness when the cold chills our spirits.
Three religious actors come to my mind in this season. There’s Siddhartha, the Buddha, born a prince, definitely one of the one percent of his day. Look what he did with his life. In his thirst for the root of happiness, he developed a roadmap past the causes of human suffering to a shore bounded by equanimity, compassion, loving kindness, and empathetic joy.
The Maccabees, a family band of rebels, wrested power from the Greek principalities that desecrated the Jewish Temple and subjugated a people. Funny thing: after the rededication of the
Jesus of Nazareth, born into the lower working class, son of a carpenter, an immigrant whose family had to flee to
As incredible as these religious figures are, their stories will always be retold because their lives reveal something critical about the human dilemma; how we metabolize our trials and sorrows, how we occupy positions both powerful and lowly, and how on earth to understand our life’s purpose here and now. Deep down we know we are not an “extra part.”
The Buddha taught about the breath as a vehicle of being truly present. I understood more abut the significance of the breath when I recently visited a couple who were distraught and in pain. They had already learned deep breathing but forgot it in the middle of their difficult life situation. As soon as we practiced a few breaths, they felt more at ease, harmonious, and able to cope.
I wrote some phrases they could repeat to themselves that come from a Buddhist practice called the Four Brahmaviharas—“May I be safe from inner and outer harm. May I be free from fear. May I be happy and peaceful. May I be healthy and strong. May I live life with ease. May I take care of myself.” These same phrases can be directed to others that need care or concern or to all living beings.
The wisdom of the Buddha was to simply be in this moment now—this moment now with all its pain or pleasure, tears or laughter, expectations, hopes, disappointments, and dreams. This moment now—that enfolds us all as we breathe this breath and the next one.
Think of the two quotes by Ajaan Lee Dhammadhoro from our meditation. The first one reveals how the breath spreads through the body and links the body like a myriad of roads intersecting through the wilderness. “Any country with a good system of roads is bound to develop, because communication is easy.”
Here in this church, in the wider community, all across the world, people are burdened with real and serious concerns: the death of someone they loved who was well the week before, the steady decline of someone who is not the same person they were before the illness set in, the disappointing family holiday that seemed so promising, the thousand aches and pains that won’t go. Others relish the festivities just past, anticipating more to come, not wanting the joy to end.
If the breath is like a superhighway, it can connect us to a wellspring of resilience and peace inside. Not that we make light of the grief and hardship that life brings. The breath and being mindful of what’s going on inside and around us, is a reminder of a connection to something more profound that each of us possesses, the knowledge that we are “…here for a reason.
The second image Ajaan Lee Dhammadhoro uses is that of a person sitting in a boat in the middle of the sea in which the waves are the breath, the boat is mindfulness and the person in the boat is the mind. To have confidence and be at peace even in the deepest waters entails stilling the mind and watching the breath.
Hugo found comfort in a fantasy—that the whole world was one big machine and that he had a part to play. The question is not really if we are an extra, unnecessary part—it is really; How will we play the part we are given? Will we find the center of gravity that allows us to see from a vantage point higher and clearer with the breath able to take us to a mindful place, a place of quiet repose even when turmoil seems to be our closest kin? Can we be mindful of the ruminations in our minds that set us adrift on a fitful sea and just observe ourselves in the midst of the storm?
The Buddha demonstrated the way to do this. As a lifetime teacher, he was adept at speaking the language of his students, wherever they came from, whoever they may have been. We honor him as Bodhi Day approaches, thankful for the gifts of wisdom and peace he offered, grateful still for his presence in our world today.
No comments:
Post a Comment