Religious Scholar

Being mindful

Is better than

Nothing

One of my Facebook friends, a well-known author on Daoism, writes enthusiastically about visiting a community of nuns in China recently. This led me to consider monks and nuns. Monks are so cool! Whether Chinese or Western, they are brave, courageous, follow a path of truth and honor, and sometimes make brandy or practice martial arts.  Their clothes rock (what I wouldn’t give for those kung fu socks and black slippers!), and when bald, they look like Telly Savalas or Yul Brynner (movie icons of my youth).  Nine out of ten recordings of Gregorian chant (by members of religious orders) feature monks, and the sonority and depth of their voices is nothing short of sublime.

Now take the image of nuns: uncool! Ask me to envision a Chinese nun and I see an old toothless woman wearing a cap.  And Western nuns? Think Sister Mary Joseph from PS 109! No thank you, like my Catholic late husband, I think I’ll just cross the street if I see them coming my way. In his book, Praying with Icons, Jim Forest includes a few pictures of Eastern Orthodox nuns whose distinctive headgear resembles flower pots. No wonder nuns are not welcome on Mount Athos! As highly as we may esteem the motivation, good works and sacrifice of nuns, this stodgy image is off-putting to many outside their strict faith traditions.

I like the concept of monasticism (not for everyone, for sure!), and wish there was some way to improve the image of nuns, perhaps starting with a generic term “monks” to include religious of both sexes. I wouldn’t mind being a monk, in my own religion, of course, which is based on mystical Christianity, Daoism, and the scientific principles of Yoga. The life of an independent monk, characterized by “free and easy wandering,” to use a phrase by Zhuangzi, would enable one to serve the community, protect the environment, pursue spiritual ideals, engage in the arts, wellness practices, and healing while renouncing the distractions that steer so many away from a spirit-based life.

While the content of their lives may be equally profound, relevant and rewarding, there’s a world of difference in the way we think of monks and nuns.

Congressman Anthony Weiner apparently committed no crime by posting lewd photos of himself on Twitter.  The real problem is not the behavior, stupid and juvenile as it was, but rather the absolute, arrogant duplicity of his public denial.

When we saw him on CNN interviewed by Wolf Blitzer last week, Weiner came off as an honest guy victimized by a social-media prank. Everything about his demeanor, behavior, words, inflection screamed out, “This is the truth! I’m not the guy who did this.”  The only loose thread in this closely knit cover-up was Weiner’s refusal to state outright that he was not the man in the photo. Blitzer deserves major points as a TV newsman for not letting go of this tiny clue, invisible to most viewers who sympathized with this beleaguered legislator.

Weiner’s behavior demonstrates flagrant disregard of the truth. In fact, he may not have the vaguest idea what the truth is. Truth is not a web of excuses for deeds we wish we hadn’t done, but a readiness to accept consequences for our actions.

We now have the impression that Weiner came out with the truth at a press conference this week only because he thought he might be caught. The juvenility of his Twitter escapades pales in comparison with the childishness of this reaction. “Uh, oh, I’m gonna get caught, better tell Mom and Dad now. Maybe they’ll have some sympathy for me if I come clean!”

Like it or not, the moral attitudes of most of the world are governed by principles laid down by major religious and ethical traditions. Truthfulness is at the heart of these traditions’ moral teaching. It is a narrow pathway to a more responsible life, not a handy expediency we can twist to our own advantage.

If we cannot believe a Congressman’s flawless assertion of his innocence before an audience of millions, who can we believe?  Certainly, Congressman Weiner has done more damage than to upload a naughty photo on the Internet.  His crafty performance on national television has stripped us of our ability to distinguish between truth-telling and deceit, a line that was sometimes unclear to begin with. Truth’s halo has been tarnished, and it will take us quite a bit of polishing until it's recognizable again.

Threads of Yoga, a contemporary transliteration of Patanjali's classic text, offers time-tested techniques for living a life of peace, productivity, and service within a person's own religious or philosophical worldview.

Writing about writing at Redroom.com today, I was surprised to remember my first job as a humor writer for weekly newspapers. The years that followed led me to write satire and movie reviews for a capital city daily and light verse that appeared in Ladies Home Journal, Saturday Evening Post, Wall Street Journal, even The New York Times. Not exactly the background one would expect for the blogger at ReligiousScholar.com!

And yet, what could be closer to laughter than religion, or nearer to a smile than spirituality?  Buddha once sat on Vulture Peak, held up a single flower, and conveyed his message of harmony and compassion with a smile. One can almost feel the smile of Christ as he “suffers the little children” in the Christian Gospels.  “Joy is the noblest human act,” is a saying attributed to St. Thomas Aquinas. Jewish humor is legendary. The list goes on and on.

To take a different stance, what could be funnier than religion? The peculiar hats, the scriptures that contradict themselves, pompous leaders with feet of clay. It takes a very sanctimonious and narrow-minded person not to laugh at Bill Maher’s satire, Religulous, (2008) which pokes fun at some easy targets in the world’s religious traditions.

Our language is telling: we speak of peals not only of laughter, but also of church bells. Chanting and making a “joyful noise” are more like good humor than the stifling sobs of the self-mortified.  “Laugh and the world laughs with you.” So it is with prayer and the spiritual consciousness.  Despite the care-worn status of our minds, each morning our hearts want to sing, “This is the day that the Lord has made; let us rejoice and be glad in it!” (Psalm 118:24) 

To laugh, to pray: what is the difference?