A Hint of Saffron: A Buddhist’s Thoughts On Religious Belief In the Twenty First Century

By Roger Dale

Whether you are an atheist or a fundamentalist Christian, this book offers an entirely novel approach to the science-versus-religion divide. At times provocative but understanding, with seriousness interwoven with touches of humour, the author shows how opinions and inflexible presuppositions can develop into becoming absolute 'truths'. Not only of sober relevance for the teaching of comparative religion, there is food for thought at a time when the positive contribution of religious belief to individuals and society is being undermined.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu.com
• Release date: Dec 2, 2014
• ISBN: 9781326106874

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A Hint of Saffron: A Buddhist’s Thoughts On Religious Belief In the Twenty First Century

A Hint of Saffron

A Buddhist’s Thoughts On Religious Belief In the Twenty First Century

by

Roger Dale

Copyright

Copyright ©  Roger Dale 2014

eBook Design by Rossendale Books: www.rossendalebooks.co.uk

eBook ISBN: 978-1-326-10687-4

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or in any form or by any means, without the prior permission in writing of the author, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

Preface

Seven years have passed since I began piecing together a large accumulation of documented thoughts: from almost illegible jottings on scraps of paper, through typed and word-processed notes to longer essays. I have enjoyed noting thoughts that arose during and after conversations with friends; or scribbling down ideas as they have come to me, and in more recent years, thinking aloud into a portable voice recorder while sitting on a park bench during a walk to the next village. Possibly because childhood health, which was less than kind at times, precluded physically strenuous activities, most of my recreational time has been devoted to quieter pastimes that require thought and concentration; and frequently, to just thinking. A fair proportion of that thinking time - over a period of fifty or sixty years - has been on the theme of religion and spirituality. I am not sure why, as I did not come from a church-going family. First-hand experience and second-hand knowledge of the pain and anguish caused by religious hatred and bigotry have, no doubt, contributed to my wish to write a book that addresses the basis of the religious divide that exists not only between different religions but, even more so, between those who actively oppose any form of religious belief and those for whom a religious faith is important.

Shakespeare’s plays and the Bible illustrate acutely and comprehensively the strange complexity of the human condition – describing the opinions and actions of people from all walks of life. Today, little has changed. We find unskilful, unwise and careless actions that lead to disaster, tragedy and newsworthy events, some of which are predictable from the conflict that arises from strongly opposed views. Often with serious consequences – and totally senseless to the mind of the agnostic or atheist - is the mutual animosity between two believers that share the ‘same’ religious faith. The pain and bloodshed that have marred the name of religion are not the ‘problem’ of religion itself but are the result of the way in which reality and truth are perceived. We discern our own realities in ways that are most likely to confirm pre-conceived ideas, and to fulfil wishes and expediencies – both material and psychological. Particularly in the spheres of religion and politics - and even more especially when they impinge on one another - it is difficult to establish truth. There may be partial truth on both sides of an argument, but both cannot be totally correct; and yet we have seen the extent to which immovable opinion can lead to life-threatening situations.

Heated, verbal exchanges arise between atheists and Christians. In chapters that address scientific discoveries and the rapid pace of technological change, a fundamentalist scientific stance receives the scrutiny it deserves. A majority of scientists conclude that they have legitimate reasons to reject most, if not all, of religious doctrine, and are not prepared to acknowledge or even consider the positive contribution that religion has made to society. Even so, I have not spared traditionalist and fundamentalist religious belief from being given a similarly hard time. And herein lay certain doubts about attempting to write this book: on the one hand not to offend or upset those whose strongly cherished religious beliefs are important and which they find helpful and which, in turn, give inspiration to help to those who are less fortunate than themselves. On the other hand, I was reluctant to give the impression that I am rejecting or being disloyal to those scientific principles on which my working life was based. Furthermore, my middle-way approach could be seen as simply ‘sitting on the fence’ – a position that generally meets with little appeal or approval.

A practical difficulty was to decide into which chapter a particular topic or paragraph should appear. In most chapters there are large sections that would be equally suited to other chapters. With so much re-editing I became aware that I was creating my own suffering. (This will raise a smile in anyone with a little knowledge of Buddhism.) My difficulty, however, gave me a clear reminder of the interdependence and inter-connectedness of everything. This key feature of Buddhist philosophy applies to separate elements discussed, which are closely and otherwise related, and consequently a degree of unavoidable recapitulation has taxed a conscious effort to keep repetition to an absolute minimum. No attempt has been made to make the chapters of similar length.

With the increasing secularisation of British society and a rapid demise in traditional church attendance, many books have been written coming to the defence of the Christian faith, while there are others that eloquently make the case for atheism. A few have tried to argue that science and religious belief are not incompatible. During the early stages of collating my notes, there were repeated doubts concerning the need or place for another book about the nature of religious belief and ‘the problem of religion’. A typically Buddhist thought would be to consider this phrase more deeply to see whether religion is a problem or religion has a problem. The answer may be neither. There is certainly a difficulty; but as with all phenomena, the difficulty will have arisen from its causes, and the conditions in which those causes have been able to take effect. The difficulties that surround religious belief arise because of different opinions and how and why those opinions develop into perceptions of reality.

After many doubts and deliberations, I concluded (or, perhaps, fulfilled a need to convince myself) that there are ideas in the following pages to prompt further reflection by those who enjoy thinking. Above all, if there is any contribution to be made, it is a hint that in seeing reality from a Buddhist perspective, given time, there is a hope that more people may acquire a softer, more flexible and tolerant disposition towards another person’s opinion of what is right. How we look at things and how we choose to look at things are at the heart of this book – a small contribution to the religious debate from a Buddhist and, therefore, non-religious viewpoint: non-religious in the sense that a Buddhist's philosophy or way of life is not centred on belief in a personified transcendent creator who physically manipulates the course of nature and to whom one can make supplication. From a middle-way perspective, my conclusion is that there is a place for a religious outlook in human lives, both to provide an ethical background support in stemming the tide of short-term materialism that has little regard for the welfare of future generations, and to continue to provide emotional comfort for a significant number of people. A life based on belief in God can bring joy and happiness to the believer, and is the fount of charitable work and financial support to those in need.

A fortuitous introduction to Buddhism modified my own approach to religious doctrine; and to any fixed belief - my own and others' - on any topic. It became helpful to distinguish opinion from attachment to an opinion. It did not mean that any conclusion that I might draw from analytical and deductive reasoning was not 'right' or 'true', or that another person's conclusions were 'false'. There may be basic truths, but even those truths may be part of a larger picture, still to be revealed. Opinions change. Nothing is permanent, except, perhaps for the cause of The Big Bang; but even here, some cosmologists are questioning basic ideas concerning the origin of our universe. A scientist is excited when research shows that a theory must be radically overhauled. A non-rigid mind simply finds it easier to find joy in seeing things from a new perspective.  It’s about discovery.  I hadn't thought of it in that way or in those terms.  Changing one’s opinion often increases one's knowledge – and occasionally one’s wisdom. Wisdom is the goal, the 'bottom line' of Buddhist practice. (This might sound pretentious or even exclusive, but it does not imply that all, or that even most, Buddhists are wise. The path is full of obstacles. All one can do is try.)

The path to wisdom starts with seeing things the way they are, rather than how we assume them to be or the way we would wish them to be, so Buddhism has quite a lot to say about reality. Two seminal chapters give an outline of the Buddhist teaching on 'Emptiness', which emphasises that all phenomena, including all ideas that are held firmly to be true, are devoid of any inherent, absolute or permanent reality. This idea is sometimes met with a reaction of dismissal: either it is patently crazy or, if the idea has been given some thought, it may be very disturbing to one who has firmly held beliefs. But once a rudimentary appreciation of emptiness has been grasped, it becomes easier to take a far less rigid stance on doctrine, and it becomes possible to understand the degree to which the status accorded to accounts of mysteries and miracles that are part of a religious tradition ranges from speculation to absolute truth, while the depth of meaning that such stories possess is often overlooked.

The discourse is framed within the background of Christianity and Buddhism, with brief mention of other major world religions. For reasons upon which I shall elaborate in a chapter on religious education, I am reluctant to discuss or comment upon any aspect of religion with which I have no direct experience or which go beyond the views of people with whom I have spoken and those authors who are qualified to write about first-hand knowledge of their own religion.

I cannot claim any originality in the following pages. While genuine inspiration can and does occur from time to time, the Buddha’s observation of 'dependent arising' applies to the thoughts and ideas that I now presume to pass on, having been formed and influenced by the writings and talks given by others and from inspiration derived from stimulating discussion with friends and acquaintances; and from those who have engaged with me in conversation on the train or in cafés.

I wish to draw the reader’s attention to chapters 9 and 15, which are significantly detailed in theological content – especially chapter 15. They are chapters that those with little interest in theology may choose to skip. In a book that takes a hard look at the negative face of traditional Christian belief, the reader will be surprised to find material likely to enhance the faith of those for whom the practice of religion is an important element of their lives. Despite their restricted appeal, these chapters are integral to the theme of the book.

Small autobiographic details provide a little light relief, backdrop and continuity . . . . and a few snippets of social history.

Prologue

An April evening. Warm for the time of year. Peaceful. After an enjoyable meal, tidying away the dishes is less of a chore when, through the open kitchen window, drifts the unmistakable song of a male blackbird affirming his territory. Or maybe he is simply calling. I’m here! I’m alive! There have been fewer blackbirds in our garden in recent years; fewer thrushes and finches, too.

Seagulls, however, are numerous. On some days, from the rooftops, they call incessantly, so it seems, to their mates. I enjoy the haunting cry of the seagull, reminding me as it does of happy years living on the North East coast of England. To many townsfolk, these seabirds are an annoyance that should be eliminated - along with their noise and their birdlime. How strange that people choose to move down to the coast only to deplore this particular native birdlife. The off-shore population of seagulls has been encouraged by the widespread increase in food litter, and, not too far along the coast from here, their natural cliff habitat has been taken from them to make room for marinas for the boating community. But I’ll not let these thoughts spoil my enjoyment of this pleasant, spring evening.

I can discern faintly the sound of church bells, their sonorous tones carried by the gentle breeze: the weekly bell-ringing practice; or maybe there is to be a wedding next Saturday. There are fewer weddings, these days, whether in church or otherwise. I love the sound of church bells.

It takes me back to my home town of Stratford-on-Avon. My parents lived about a mile from Holy Trinity church, the burial place of William Shakespeare. The parish church was blessed with a fine peel of fourteen bells whose sound reached the home of my parents – or at least did so when the wind was in the right direction.

The bell must surely be one of the oldest musical instruments: in a secular setting to give warning of danger, to presage a civic proclamation or to announce the arrival of a dignitary; in a spiritual or religious setting to call the faithful to prayer, to mark an especially sacred moment in ritual – three tolls to signify the consecration during a celebration of the Eucharist; or, in eastern culture, to settle the mind for meditation.

My thoughts are wandering. Even as I listen to the bells, and as I think about the seagulls, my mind has been distracted on to the sad fact of religious and general intolerance. I have spent much of my time in thought, and occasionally in meditation for the two are not quite the same: about the extraordinary world in which we live; the pleasant and the not so pleasant; about science, religion and politics; human diversity and cultural differences that, sooner or later, find a place in all those major areas that contribute towards the richness of human experience. My own life has been enriched by the enjoyment of lively discussions with friends and relations. Many of those discussions have been invaluable in testing, refining and expanding my knowledge and providing the opportunity to develop a little more wisdom. I have certainly benefitted greatly from the wisdom of others. Jottings I have made of the thoughts and deliberations that arose during those discussions are among the many notes that reflect my thinking and outlook on life during the past half century. The time has come to collate them into a book for my family.

0 - Introduction

A large poster came into view with an invitation to discover the meaning of life. The designers of the poster had surely created something to catch everyone’s attention, but driving a car in town, slowing down behind a long queue of traffic hardly presented a safe or ideal time to become deeply caught up in this philosophical mystery. What is the meaning of life? What’s it all about? A fair enough question to which many people would love to know the answer. I did not have to wait long before well-publicised reminders appeared in newspapers and the Radio Times advertising a series of television programmes that aimed to solve the puzzle. Courses upon which the programmes were based - every one of which I watched - are still running nationwide several years later and continue to encourage many of the participants to become committed Christians or rekindle their religious faith. There are many philosophers who, in the light of scientific discovery, maintain that there is no meaning behind the existence of the universe and therefore to the life that inhabits it. It may be quite a while yet, if ever, before this can be confirmed or disproved. [1]

Another question regarding the meaning of life might be ‘How can I make my life more meaningful?’. An attempt to answer this question may prove more useful.

Our journey through life is punctuated by an almost infinite number of decisions that we are called upon to make. If I were to sketch just a tiny part of my own route, it would appear as a network of countless pathways with junctions that presented the opportunity to turn right or left.

The choices I made were my own. No one forced me to turn right or turn left, but my genes, family background and environment have played their part in determining who I am and where I am at this moment. Furthermore, the true extent of my free will (and, therefore, who I am) would have been greatly influenced by the unconscious learning absorbed from events in my social surroundings. I now recognise the extent to which many of my choices and predispositions were influenced by parental injunctions: their ‘dos’, ‘don’ts’ and ‘shoulds’.

Particularly interesting are the specific incidents that present the opportunity or need to make a choice. If I stop to think why I am sitting here at a word-processor, I may readily recall one or two recent, specific motives, but there is a long chain of contributing reasons that go further and further back into my past. If I ponder other questions such as Why am I living in Sussex?, Why did I marry the girl I did?, Why did I spend those years working in scientific and technical research and development? - and many more Whys - there is no point at which I can discover a basic, root cause of any significant event in my life. Even the day of my birth is not far enough back.

Questions often begin with Why, especially those that follow painful or tragic events, personal or otherwise. The interrogative frequently suggests the possibility of unfairness or the subtle (or not so subtle) idea that someone is to blame, either by choice, permission or negligence. Who is to blame? has become a familiar feature of front-page headlines of daily newspapers; and of the equally familiar advertisements by firms of solicitors seeking custom from individuals who have experienced an accident that was ‘someone else’s fault’. When finding oneself in an uncomfortable predicament, to wonder "How has this come about? might supply a more objective answer. Buddha made the simple observation that This is because that is". Such an apparently unhelpful remark is seen to be realistic if one reflects on the infinitely complex chain of events leading to this present moment. And of course, we can’t be sure what will happen next. The spiritual dimension of my life has been enlarged by many events that occurred with such strange coincidence. They were illustrations of what Jung would have called synchronicity, that it to say, those coincidences which bring about a positive or radical change in a person’s life. Certainly, whatever the nature of a chance event, it normally affords the opportunity to make choices, including those that lead to luck. So often, a lucky person is one who grasps the opportunity when it is presented.

Life has its uncertainties and is not without its dangers. Painful and tragic events in life are common, and the fear that such events could happen to us, form at least one basis of a religious element in life. Is Someone dealing the cards (or playing the Joker)? If life is so awful, perhaps there might be something to look forward to after death, especially if one behaves oneself and keeps favour with the One who is dealing