KARMA VII
Theism
One can distinguish between theistic religions and non-theistic religions or worldviews. Most Buddhist, Daoist, and Confucian traditions are among the non-theistic religions; right now I can’t think of any others, but surely there are more non-theistic traditions in the universe.
Theistic religions are those with a very specific, fixed worldview or dogma. Theists try to learn and understand “the right something,” and this “right something” needs to have something definitive and stable about it. For example, there’s Christianity with the Father God, the Holy Spirit, and the son, Christ. But usually also so called atheists are extremely theistic in their atheism—their dogma is simply: There are no gods, goddesses, angels, or other such nonsense but figures and facts. Then there’s Islam with Allah, the devil, and the very detailed commandments of the Koran. Theists want to distinguish between right and wrong as accurately as possible.
Perhaps the most widespread theistic worldview today (I tend to call it “belief”) is the so-called scientific worldview. Welll in fact, many modern philosophers of science aren’t theists anymore, but science consumers and practitioners—and even established scientists themselves—are unaware of this, and find it inconvenient or irrelevant, dismissing it as meaningless philosophical speculation. Even learned chemists, biologists, medical doctors, or PhDs in physics often laugh about the philosophy of science, yet are entirely sure they know what life is about and how everything goes together.
In simple terms: Theism is when one believes in something specific—advocates a worldview with conviction and without compromise—or fiercely rejects any other truth besides one’s own, or finds it impossible to engage with another worldview. Theists believe there is a fixed and correct view of things, worlds, and universes. For them, there always has to be a strict dogma of some kind.
Many goddesses and gods are jealous. Science too often behaves like jealous goddesses, unable to tolerate any other perspective besides her own. Enthusiastic about its successes, science has built numerous walls and locked doors that later become virtually invisible. Unintentionally, more and more access to the magical world gets blocked and barred. But fortunately here and there, new, surprising loop-holes and entrances to the magical world continue to appear just like this.
Non-theistic means to stay welcoming for suprises, and instead of grasping or fixing things, remain able to say, “I don’t know,” or “I’m not sure about that,” or simply “perhaps” or “maybe.” In non-theistic traditions, training in “not knowing” is often extended through decades of practice. Zen Buddhism is especially excellent in this regard! Insight is considered something changeable, with no single, “true” insight, and the path of realization has no end and no result not even right or wrong. No confirmation. One remains always open for completely new perspectives. Even the belief that there is such a thing as insight, that the phenomenon of “insight” itself exists, is in most cases theistic.
Of course, there is the risk of carving this non-theism in stone, and by that creating a new theism—the non-theism. However, this seems to me quite difficult and could never last for long.
At first glance, theism seems easy to understand: Christians, Jews, and Muslims believe in one god. To them, “there’s only one” and this is very important, suggesting a single absolute entity seems to be basic to them. Yet many Hindu traditions—with more or fewer goddesses—are often just as theistic, and even many Buddhists, Daoists, and Confucian followers think and live in a very theistic way and view.
Once, at a conference, I came into contact with the most prominent Buddhist nun from Sri Lanka, and she was so overwhelming theistic that it almost left me speechless. She believed she knew exactly how the world works, how karma functions, and how everything connects. She thought, as a top nun, she could explain everything. But for real she was extremely rigid and idel. Later, she even sat on a panel discussion about “Wars in the World”. It was terrible! I as the moderator made her truly angry with my skeptical looks, speechlessness, and “ignorance.” (I probably ruined my karma back then, because from a Buddhist perspective, there are few worse things than contradicting the ordained or not taking them seriously. At least from a folklorist Buddhist point of view, I damaged my karma considerably? Puh!).
For example, the belief in the actual existence of karma is a theistic belief. Many people reveal themselves as theists—realizing it themselves—the moment they try to explain karma, God, or even scientific connections to others. Up to that moment they might not be aware of their theistic way of thinking or of being stuck in a belief or worldview until in their enthusiasm for explaining karma, they realize that they don’t just explain and somewhat understand it, but that they actually believe it unshakably, even feeling obligated to defend their understanding. Contradictions and questions often harden the theistic stance, and fear plays its role as well. And the deeper one searches for theistic tendencies within, the more cleverly they disguise themselves.
Not to appear pedantic or sectarian, but I’m actually convinced that without regular meditation—here comes my personal dogma—the attitude of “not knowing” cannot really be cultivated. That’s not possible. It takes meditation, at least in one form or another. Sorry but that needs to be said very clearly. Theistic tendencies are deeply buried, complex, and hard to free. That’s why it’s a true blessing to have a personal guru, as gurus are able to mirror hidden tendencies, helping to open up much faster and more profoundly. However, it should not be concealed that the ego only dissolves under extreme pain, even with the kindest and most cheerful guru. It is always painful. Well there might be some exceptions—sometimes people are born with a deep non-theistic tendency and never beginning even to get involved in thinking or feeling rigidly theistic. But that is something very special and another topic for another time.
Nowadays, probably the most common belief is the scientific worldview because we interact with it daily and receive plenty of confirmations—every time the phone rings, for instance. The products and advances of science are extremely effective. For example the atom bomb or the electric toothbrush.
Let me give an example of how worldviews just newly fixed, gradually become more theistic:
Behind the Wall of the GDR—in that isolation, in that sense of security—children (East Germans born after 1960) were taught a scientific worldview that did not outright reject religions but still declared them foolish. Religion was tolerated patronizingly and freely as nonsense for old and senile people, and perhaps useful as a remedy for the mentally unstable. But from the birth of the GDR onward, a scientific, enlightened worldview was generally taught, thus breeding a new generation of the enlightened and clever. This modern outlook questioned and did transcend many taboos—which was actually wonderful! For example, the taboo that nudity is indecent? Why wear silly briefs or Western bikinis at the beach? Absurd and outdated. How wonderful, deciding for oneself when to be naked, whom to have sex with, and when a relationship no longer makes sense. The collective was more important than the couple, and so on. To talk about sins, or even mention sins was considered a means to suppress people. Even praying to a god or gods was okay. Though since these gods don’t exist (from a scientific perspective), why pray to them? Praying to God in church, a God who according to science cannot exist, was silly but harmless, so the GDR leadership said, “Why not, if it entertains them, costs nothing, but even might have healing effects—on the other hand such nonsense should not be taught at public schools.” Children needed protection from such nonsense. At school, it sometimes went further, demonizing religions as tools of elites and oligarchs. Taboo-busting was the aim. The real enemy was the selfish pursuit of property, glorification, power, and individual significance, since this, for millennia, had led to suffering, misery, and wars. Why not do better after millennia, and create an enlightened society? This attitude strengthened people’s self-confidence and identity. The truly enlightened society was one whose rules were determined by science—the scientific, down to earth worldview. This made the citizens of the GDR free and happy at first: no more nonsense, just science and common sense. In the beginning that worked really well, and other religions weren’t missed by the young people. Society had its religious aspects for example youth dedications, annual celebrations, an anthem, and a radiant leader, but all dressed in the garb of reason and a simple, gray suit.
But every religion—even the religion “science,” which claims not to be a religion—needs some kind of a devil. There must be a nemesis, something negative! Every theistic worldview needs a devil. Mistakes and wrongs confirm the existence of things; they provide something to orient, grapple with, and hold onto.
So, who was the devil in the smart, bright, healed new GDR world? The class enemy? Capitalism? Esotericism? The West? Complaints about the Wall? Imprisonment? So to guard social peace, the Stasi was invented—the exorcists of a consciously non-capitalist German Democratic Republic. The exorcists! And by that, new different sins were invented. What a pity! That was the moment when the dream of an enlightened society in the GDR ended. It all went downhill from there. I wasn’t there myself—the above is my own reconstruction. Whenever I think of the GDR, I immediately remember the incredibly wise Bertolt Brecht, from whom I learned so much at school and theater, sitting fondly in the GDR to the end of his days, apparently in firm belief that only thus could have a chance for everything to get well.
When I studied with my Guru—Chögyam Trungpa Rinpoche— for three months in 1983—almost every sentence he said during his lectures included “possibly” or “maybe.” He never asserted anything; he showed us ideas and connections, but always with a question mark. We were compelled to ask ourselves with every sentence: “Do I understand it that way, too?” That’s how theism can be dismantled pebble by pebble, becoming more open. As many “maybe” or “possibly” or question marks as possible. This openness can be cultivated, internalized, and allowed—but there is no end, no achievement, no non-achievement; yet it’s a path to liberation. The editors of Trungpa Rinpoche’s books edited out all those “maybes” and “possiblys”. That is too bad.
Or, when I studied Jin Shin Jyutsu for several weeks with Mary Burmeister in person, she would say every second sentence: “Don’t value.” Don’t judge. “You need not value!” No need to judge. The simultaneous translators never rendered this at the time. Though that was most important.
Interesting here is the Theosophical Society. For example, its founding mother, Madame Blavatsky, tried to resolve disputes and differences of opinion between religions by claiming that all religions essentially arise from the same divinity, giving different names to the same phenomena. The primal god of Theosophy is a transcendent god—not naively comprehensible—but actually all religions refer to this same divinity. In Persia, there are the Baha’i, who are quite similar to the original Theosophists. I often had contact with modern Theosophists and Baha’i as a Buddhist, and they always found Buddhism especially suspicious, even more unsettling than Hinduism, since Buddhism doesn’t preach a god—not a single god nor many gods—and no highest authority, and nothing to defend. I’ve often heard Baha’is say, when Buddhists were present: “We’ll think about Buddhism later.” For these supposedly so tolerant people, every religion required a god, gods, goddesses, or a fixed belief. That may seem childish from a modern perspectiv, but a hundred years ago, people’s worldview was far less global, and therefore Theosophy and Baha’i appeared to be overwhelmingly tolerant.
Obviously, it’s always about loosening up again and again and letting even the deepest insights go. They are free to go. Everything can remain in flux. That is in fact really easy, but we easily tighten up and forget it. Space and openness can repeatedly be frightening. But entering a magical world is a process of opening, letting go, and warming up.
If you like a catchphrase for this topic, a key to the magical worldview, remember:
Do not look for confirmation. No confirmation is needed.
Life is jazz and art.
Yours,
Winfried the Quijote
