|
|
Not
Making Sense |
|
|||
|
|
|||||
|
by John Tyler Connoley |
|||||
|
|
February 9, 2005 |
|
|||
|
|
|||||
|
Almost two
months after the tsunami disasters in southern Asia, we've begun to let the
stories sink in. Some people have moved on to other things -- the news media
dropped the story weeks ago. Others are now beginning the process of making
sense out of an occurrence that seems to make no sense. As usual, people have
begun to theologize their experience of suffering. A
parishioner called our pastor recently and asked if the world is ending. With
the news of the tsunami and the affect it had on the earth's axis, this
person wanted to know if there was some prophecy being fulfilled in our time.
I have another friend who's telling people (jokingly) that the tsunami marked
the beginning of seven years of tribulation before Christ's return -- and the
world will end in 2012 when the Mayan calendar runs out. It's natural
for we big-brained humans to try to find theological meaning in everything.
Some people are saying God allowed the tsunami so we would come together as a
planet in aiding the victims. From others, I've heard that God brought the
tsunami as divine retribution for some communal sin. A common response in
southern Asia is to blame the tsunami on karma, brought about by the bad
actions in past lives of those who died. Seeing nothing else to pin meaning to,
I have one friend who uses the tsunami disaster as proof of God's
non-existence -- also a theological response. In the face
of a universe beyond our understanding and out of our control, we look for
recognizable patterns on which to hook meanings. Complicated disasters like
the tsunami or 9/11 become Rorschach tests in which we see what we want to
see. However, in the end, all our proclamations and prognostications are tales
told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, signifying nothing. If, as I
believe, God exists and is worthy of our awe, then God must necessarily be
beyond our understanding, and we can't hope to know why God allowed (or
perhaps caused) the tsunami which led to the disaster. If, as my friend
believes, God does not exist and is not worth a second thought, then the web
of cause-and-effect that resulted in so many dead and wounded is still beyond
what we can understand or control. In either case, making sense of the
disaster is useless. It may seem
strange, considering my adherence to the Christian faith and my seminary
degree, but I don't find theology very useful when dealing with the tragedies
of life. Instead, I look to philosophy for relief from suffering. In
particular, I look to the philosophy of a man who lived 2,500 years ago. Siddhartha Gautama,
later known as the Buddha, spent his entire adult life on the problem of
suffering. He saw his life's purpose in relieving suffering, and he thought
he could do this best through philosophy. He lived at a time when philosophers
spent much of their time arguing theology, but he refused to involve himself
in theological discussions. He recognized that theology offers little solace
to the suffering. In fact, as the biblical book of Job demonstrates, theology
often increases one's pain when the theologian says one deserves to suffer. Instead of
focusing on why things are, the Buddha taught his followers to see deeply
what is. He asked his disciples to accept the transience of life, and not
hold on too tightly. As I understand Buddhist philosophy, it's not the
tragedies of life that bring the greatest suffering, but our human struggle
to make meaning out of tragedies. If, instead of focusing on the fantasy of
what could have been, we focus our energy on waking up to the reality around
us, we find a deep sense of peace and calm -- we discover a compassion and
dispassion that is otherworldly. The nature
of the world is that it's too complicated to understand completely. We'll
never be able to recognize all the factors that went into making us who we
are in the place we are. I can't hope to explain why my wonderful grandfather
continues to live in loneliness, nine years after his wife of sixty-three
years died. Neither can I understand why Saddam Hussein lives, while so many
died under his regime. In the face
of such chaos and suffering, our best response is to give up the whys and
wherefores, and simply live into what is. Many Buddhists do this through the
practices of meditation and mindful living. Through these and other practices,
such as prayer, people can achieve brief and sometimes sustained moments of
profound acceptance, and train themselves to live this acceptance in daily
life. The goal is to achieve the same understanding that Job does at the end of his story. After ages of arguing, shouting, grumbling, and wrestling with the whys of suffering, Job finally stops. In a moment of understanding he says, "I cover my mouth." He has nothing to say to the whirlwind around him. Then, and only then, can he act in a way that brings about a better future. |
|||||
|
|
|
|
|||
|
|
|||||
Copyright © 2005 by John Tyler Connoley |
|||||
|
All Rights Reserved |
|||||