In the Beginning Was the Dao pt. 4: Creation

This is part 4 of a series comparing and contrasting Daoism and Christianity.  For part 3, click here.

One major similarity between Zhuangzi’s Dao and Christianity’s God is that both are believed to be the creator and sustainer of the universe. 

Zhuangzi explains creation by saying, “The bright and shining is born out of deep darkness; the ordered is born out of formlessness; pure spirit is born out of the Way. The body is born originally from this purity.”  In other words, the Way is the ultimate origin first of spirit and then of physical things.  The Way also causes the physical things to continue and flourish: “But what the ten thousand things all look to for sustenance, what never fails them - is this not the real Way?”  Although the Way is beyond creatures’ comprehension, it is their “source” and “root” that “shepherd[s]” them in accordance with their natures.  Zhuangzi sees the Way in the nature of creatures: “Heaven cannot help but be high, earth cannot help but be broad, the sun and moon cannot help but revolve, the ten thousand things cannot help but flourish. Is this not the Way?”  Since these beings originated in the Dao, Zhuangzi sees understanding the nature of things as one key to understanding the Dao.

Similarly, Christians see God as the source and sustainer of everything.  The Bible begins with the statement, “In the Beginning, God created the heavens and the Earth” (Genesis 1:1).  Like the Dao, God wants his creations to flourish; when they are first created, he blesses them, telling them to “be fruitful and multiply” (Genesis 1:22).  This blessing means more than that God wishes his creations well.  The Bible describes creation as happening in response to God’s commands, which means that God’s words have the power to shape reality.  Thus, when God tells creation to be fruitful, he causes it to do so.  The Bible portrays God as acting continually to enable creation to endure; “he upholds the universe by the word of his power” (Hebrews 1:3).  Thus, Christianity and Daoism both consider something outside the universe to be its source and sustainer.

In the Beginning Was the Dao pt. 3: Morality

This is part 3 of a series comparing and contrasting Daoism and Christianity.  For part 2, click here, and for part 4, click here.

In The Abolition of Man, C.S. Lewis writes about ethical standards that are shared across cultures, arguing that they are a part of moral law that everyone knows.  He calls this shared moral law the Tao (a different transliteration of Dao).

I’m definitely a fan of C.S. Lewis, but unfortunately, his concept of the Tao is not at all the same as the Daoist idea.  It bears some resemblance of Confucius’s idea of the Dao (yes, he talked about it too), but much Daoist work was written to contradict Confucianism.

Zhuangzi’s Dao is more like the Force in Star Wars than like a shared moral law.  Just like the Force has the Light Side and the Dark Side, and both are held in balance, the Dao incorporates all opposites, including good and evil.  This is why the yin/yang symbol has a black dot in the white section and a white dot in the black section.  Yin and yang don’t just represent good and evil -- they also include heaven and earth, male and female, hot and cold, etc.  However, the point of the symbol is that for any pair of opposites, even in one extreme there are still some aspects of the other.

Since everything is part of the Dao, this means that distinctions between things are just illusions caused by our inability to perceive the whole Dao at once.  This includes the distinction between good and evil.  Zhuangzi claims that trying to do right and avoid wrong “is like saying that you are going to make Heaven your master and do away with Earth, or make Yin your master and do away with Yang. Obviously it is impossible.”

Zhuangzi sometimes describes the Dao as a principle that governs the way things change.  It itself does not change, but everything else is subject to the “wheel of Heaven,” a cycle of birth, growth, decay, and death that all things pass though.  It applies to everything, including seasons, the lives of individuals, and dynasties.  Zhuangzi believes that it also applies to moral principles, which means that what is currently moral will decay and become immoral, and what is immoral will be reborn and grow into the new moral norm.  Put differently, he thinks that right and wrong are determined by people’s opinions, and opinions are destined to change.  Thus, nothing is objectively good or bad, since each has the power to turn into the other.

Let’s contrast that with Christianity for a moment.  Christianity says that even though everything that is created is subject to change, ethics is rooted in God’s character, which does not change.  Unlike the Dao, which includes everything and does not distinguish between things, God clearly distinguishes right from wrong by giving His people a moral law and sending prophets to evaluate how well they did in keeping it.

Yet these distinctions are not arbitrary choices on God’s part; they reflect who He is.  Lying is wrong because God always speaks the truth.  People should love each other because God exists as three persons who love each other, and yet are one.  Murder is wrong because people are made in God’s image, so an attack on people is effectively an attack on God.  Since God deserves to not be harmed, so do people.  Thus, rather than transcending morality by incorporating both good and evil, the Christian God is inextricably connected with morality.  In fact, for something to be good means that it conforms to God’s character.

On a practical level, Zhuangzi is not consistent with his own denial of absolute morality.  He criticizes the Confucianists for replacing the Dao with manmade rules, and says that people should not pursue wealth or status but should try to follow the Dao.  However, these points contradict his other claims, which I see as a problem within his philosophy itself.  (It’s also a problem with other philosophies that deny objective morality.  Even the staunchest relativist will get mad if you plagiarize their work, for example.)  Maybe Zhuangzi sees these as recommendations, not absolute moral rules, but the strength with which he denounces his opponents suggests otherwise.  I view the issue of morality as Daoism’s single biggest weakness, as well as its most significant difference from Christianity.

Christ is Lifted on High

Mr. Spicer, the choir director at my home church, First Church of Christ, is very aware of the church calendar.  Even when the rest of the church didn’t even notice that it was, All Saints’ Sunday, for example, he would choose hymns and anthems appropriate to the occasion.  This, combined with the fact that my mother grew up Lutheran, has given me a sense of appreciation for the church year.

A few weeks ago, I received the best voicemail message ever.  It was from Mr. Spicer, asking me to write lyrics for a hymn about the Ascension that would go to the tune Personent Hodie.  (The reason it was the best message ever was that he accompanied what he was saying with appropriate music from the organ, such as Pomp and Circumstance when he mentioned that I was graduating.)

Ascension Sunday was yesterday, so we sang the hymn in church.  It’s always gratifying to hear my words with the melodies that they were intended to go with.  But the best part was the way the lyrics interacted with the sermon.  After some thought and prayer, I had decided to focus on the Ascension as proof of Jesus’ kingship and glory.  Amazingly, our pastor had independently prepared a sermon based on Daniel 7:9-14 that focused on Christ being king of all, and especially of the Church.  It sounded like the hymn had been written to match the sermon, or vice versa.  In fact, I am sure that the similarity was not the result of our planning but of the Holy Spirit working through both of us.

Here are the lyrics to the hymn:

Christ is Lifted on High

Christ is lifted on high.

Angel hosts glorify

Him who once came to die,

Rose alive and glorious,

Over death victorious

Chorus:

All creation sings

To the King of Kings

Joy will shine; love divine

Soon will rule the nations

Lifted up from our sight,

Up to sit at God’s right

He will rule with God’s might.

Sin and evil cower,

Conquered by His power.

Chorus

Christ is King, all must know.

In His strength we must go.

To the world we must show

His true saving story:

Death and life and glory.

Chorus

He shall come from on high,

Breaking down every lie

Heaven and earth glorify

Him who rules the nations,

Savior of Creation.

Chorus

Wrong vs. Stupid

I’m going to take a break from my comments on Daoism to discuss something that concerns me about some personal interactions I had.  The interactions are not necessarily recent, but I drew the conclusion only recently.

The first interaction took place during a summer internship.  I was having a discussion with an intern I’ll call Mary (not her real name) about another intern, who was a devout Catholic.  Mary commented that the other intern seemed to think that Protestantism was wrong, which made her feel awkward.  (Mary knew I was a Protestant.)

Me:  Well, I’d hope he doesn’t believe Protestantism; if he did he shouldn’t be Catholic.

Mary: But I think he doesn’t just think Catholicism is right for him; he seems to think it’s right for everybody.

Me:  I’m sure he does think that, but it doesn’t offend me that he thinks I’m wrong.  I’d only be offended if he thought I was stupid or didn’t respect me.

Mary:  But how is it possible to think someone’s religion is wrong and not disrespect them?

Mary and I had talked about my belief in absolute truth in religion before, but it seemed like she still didn’t understand my position.  I thought for a moment about what I knew about Mary.  She was politically conservative but very open-minded and regularly read books she disagreed with to see what she could learn from them.

Me:  It’s the same way you might respect someone who’s a socialist.  You think they’re wrong in their political views, but they may otherwise be really smart, and you might even be able to learn from them in other areas.  Similarly, I can think someone is wrong about religion without thinking they’re completely stupid.

A look of comprehension dawned on Mary’s face, and she said, “Oh, that makes sense.”

In contrast to Mary, I have another friend who I’ll call Brian (not his real name either).  Brian has a tendency to get into arguments with people on the internet.  Before I go on, I should admit that online discussion boards scare me.  They tend to quickly turn into heated arguments that go around in circles while both sides rehash the same arguments and neither side actually listens to what the other says.  I realize that this is not true of everyone on these sites, but there are enough angry, argumentative people to stress me out and convince me to use my time another way.

Brian, like Mary, is politically conservative, but he tends to have more or less the opposite attitude toward those who disagree with him.  He tends to take his political and religious views very seriously, and unfortunately becomes overly upset by the people he argues with.  Although he is very nice under most circumstances, when political or religious issues come up, he sometimes turns into one of those angry, argumentative people who turned me off of internet discussions in the first place.

In defense of Brian, his argumentativeness is caused by a commitment to truth.  He believes that his views are true and that false beliefs have negative consequences.  More importantly, he sees the arguments for his views as conclusive, which he thinks means that people who disagree with him are denying the facts, either out of stupidity or just from blindly believing what they have been told.

Even though their actions were completely different, I think Brian and Mary ultimately made the same mistake.  They both failed to separate the issues we were discussing from the people who held opposing views.  They concluded that, at least in dealing with certain issues, thinking someone was wrong meant thinking they were stupid.  Mary was so concerned with respecting people that she was unwilling to think they were wrong.  Brian was so concerned with the truth that he said they were wrong and then concluded that they were stupid.

I think there should be a middle way in relating to people.  We need to recognize that even smart people occasionally make mistakes, and sometimes even make mistakes about very important things.  I think we need to address those mistakes and confront the people who make them, but we can’t afford to forget that there is a reason that religion and politics are some of the most divisive topics of conversation.  They are very important but also very complicated.  The people we are talking to may simply have overlooked, or not been exposed to, an argument.  We should have the humility to recognize that we might be wrong and the grace to recognize that other intelligent, intellectually honest people may also be wrong.  As my father says, “I’m absolutely sure that my theology is wrong on some points.  I’m just waiting to find out which points those are.”

On the other hand, these issues are important, and there is a true answer.  Knowing the truth is important, so if you believe that your view is true, the most loving thing you can do for someone is to show that to them.  Just make sure your tone and attitude show that you are acting out of concern for them, not hostility or arrogance.  Otherwise no one will be convinced, either because they won’t know what you believe or because they’ll be so turned off by your attitude that they won’t take you seriously.

In the Beginning Was the Dao pt. 2: Transcendence

This is part 2 of a series comparing and contrasting Daoism and Christianity.  For part 1, click here, and for part 3, click here.

“In the beginning was the Dao, and the Dao was with God, and the Dao was God.”

Obviously, the most important aspect of any religion is what it worships.  (Arguably, that is also the most important aspect of any secular philosophy, but arguing for that would be a long tangent.)  Although philosophical Daoism does not include prayer, rituals, or other behaviors we would categorize as worship, it does hold the Dao to be transcendent and utterly beyond human comprehension, characteristics Christians attribute to God.

John’s claim that “in the beginning was the Word” reflects a Christian belief that Christ existed before creation, which relates to the fact that He is eternal, without beginning or end.  “The beginning” means the very first beginning, so if God already was at “the beginning,” He must have always existed. Otherwise, God’s beginning would be the first beginning.  On the other end of the spectrum, Paul calls Jesus the one “who alone has immortality, who dwells in unapproachable light, whom no one has ever seen or can see” (1Tim 6:16).  This means that not only does Christ have no beginning, but He also has no end.  The reference to “unapproachable light” means that human minds cannot fully comprehend God.  Note that this is not because God is irrational, which would be symbolized by darkness.  Rather, God is supremely rational, but just as our eyes are not equipped to look directly at the sun, our minds are not equipped to understand the truth of who He is.

The Dao also has many of these properties.  It is eternal, which makes it fundamentally different from “things,” whose lifespans are limited to a set amount of time. As the Daoist philosopher Zhuangzi says, “The Way is without beginning or end, but things have their life and death - you cannot rely upon their fulfillment.”  Similarly, although the Dao affects the things that make up the universe, it does not change; “We speak of the filling and emptying, the withering and decay of things. [The Way] makes them full and empty without itself filling or emptying; it makes them wither and decay without itself withering or decaying.” This unchanging nature of the Dao resembles the Christian doctrine of God’s immutability (the idea that God’s essential nature does not change).  Zhuangzi also believes that the Dao is incomprehensible.  He consistently criticizes those who claim to understand it, and argues that “understanding that rests on what it does not know is finest.”  In other words, thinking you know something about the Dao is proof that you actually know nothing about it, because the Dao goes beyond logic.  This is one difference between Daoism and Christianity; while Christianity sees reason as one aspect of humanity being made in the image of God and therefore as a good thing, Zhuangzi sees reason, and all language, as an artificial human invention that prevents us from truly experiencing the Dao.

In a speech to some Greek philosophers, Paul claims that God “does not live in temples made by man, nor is he served by human hands as though he needed anything” (Acts 17:24-25).  The people he was addressing believed that gods lived in their temples, and would not think of a god living anywhere else.  By claiming that God does not live in a temple, Paul invites the reader to draw the conclusion that God has no physical location because He transcends space.  Moreover, this verse claims that God does not need anything that people could give Him, which is because God is self-sufficient and thus has no needs.  These characteristics demonstrate transcendence, an attribute that God has in common with Zhuangzi’s view of Dao.

However, the passage that describes God as transcending space and existing independently goes on to touch on a significant difference between God and the Dao; God “gives to all mankind life and breath and everything” (Acts 17:25).  Although Zhuangzi would agree that everything comes from the Dao and could not exist apart from it, he would never claim that the Dao “gives” things to humanity.  Zhuangzi sees people as a part of the natural system, which the Dao does not value any more than anything else.  Moreover, the Dao is impersonal, so it does not “value” or “give” anything. 

The Bible depicts God as a personal being who speaks, makes decisions, has feelings, and makes moral judgments.  In Exodus 20, God speaks to the people of Israel and tells them what actions are right and what actions are wrong.  Christians believe that these laws are not simply arbitrary, but that they reflect God’s nature.  Later, when the Israelites disobey these laws, God sends prophets who tell them that they will be punished but that God will not completely destroy them because his “compassion grows warm and tender” (Hosea 11:8).  God’s moral standards and emotional attachment to his people indicate that he is a personal, relational being, despite his transcendence. 

In contrast, the Dao incorporates everything and treats everything as one. It cannot relate personally to any one thing, since that would require distinguishing it from other things.  From the Dao’s perspective, everything is fundamentally the same, since everything is part of the Dao itself.  This means that all distinctions are illusory, including the distinction between good and evil, as I will discuss in the next installment.  Zhuangzi also believes that all things are subject to change, and will eventually be transformed into their opposites, so distinctions between things are also temporary.  However, to have a personal relationship with someone requires distinguishing that person from other people.  A friend is by definition someone that one knows uniquely, as an individual.  Similarly, emotions require a change in state, which the Dao, being eternal and unchanging, is incapable of.  Thus, Dao and God are both believed to be transcendent, in that they are independent of time, and space, but they differ in that God is a personal source of morality and Dao is an impersonal entity that incorporates both good and evil.

In the Beginning Was the Dao pt. 1

My final paper as an undergraduate (eek!) was for a class I took on ancient Chinese religions.  The class was fascinating, as was my topic for the paper: a comparison between Christianity and the thought of Zhuangzi*, a Daoist philosopher. 

Zhuangzi was sort of the Apostle Paul of Daoism.  He didn’t create the system of thought (that was done by his predecessor Laozi, whose name means “old master”), but he did develop it and expand on its implications for ethics, society, language, and more.  Most Daoist thought is based on Zhuangzi.

Western philosophy since the time of Socrates has emphasized the importance of defining key terms before one starts making arguments.  Unfortunately, no one told this to Zhuangzi.  He never explains exactly what the Dao is.  The word “dao” literally means “way,” a straight path with a single destination.  Thus, the translation I quote will use “Way” where I would say “Dao.”  Zhuangzi held that the Dao was so far above our understanding that “There is no name that fits the Way.”  There is a sense in which the Dao incorporates everything in the universe.  Zhuangzi says that just as when we see all the parts of a horse’s body, we treat it as one unit (a horse), the Dao is “the generality that embraces” everything.  Everything other than the Dao is composed of varying amounts of yin and yang, two fundamental principles that correspond to earth/cold/dark/female and heaven/hot/light/male, respectively.  The Dao is the source of yin and yang, which are the source of everything else.

However, this idea of the Dao as a general term for everything that exists falls short of the reality of the Dao; as Zhuangzi says, “the distance between them is impossibly far.”  This distance shows up in a passage in which Zhuangzi addresses a philosophical debate about whether the universe came from something or from nothing.  Zhuangzi argued that both views were wrong; the universe came from the Dao, which is not nothing, but it was more than a mere “thing,” as calling it something would imply: “The Way cannot be thought of as being, nor can it be thought of as nonbeing.”

When I got my first Chinese Bible after just over a year of learning Chinese, the first thing I did was turn to John 1.  The main reason was that I wanted to see how they translated the word “logos” or “word.”  To my delight, I recognized the character, which was Dao.  This is actually a far more accurate translation than the English “word” – both “Dao” and the original Greek term “logos” refer to transcendent principles that create and govern the universe (for more on “logos” see the post on my blog’s name).

This raises a question: how much of John 1 would a Daoist philosopher like Zhuangzi agree with?  This is the issue I plan to examine in future posts, using John 1 as a starting point to compare and contrast Daoism with Christianity.  At this point, it looks like it will be a fairly long series, which made me wonder whether it would be worthwhile to spend so much time analyzing a worldview that few people in today’s world (including China) really believe.  However, I decided to go ahead for three reasons:

1. I think it’s interesting, so I’ll enjoy writing it, and others may find it interesting too.

2. Daoism has a fair amount in common with other Eastern religions, and it still influences some people through the New Age movement and Star Wars.  (Hint: force = Dao)

3.  I already had a fair amount of analysis written for my paper, so why not use it?

I hope that you enjoy and benefit from this series.  Feel free to leave comments about the comparison itself or places where you’ve seen similar ideas.

*Elizabeth’s Guide to Not Completely Butchering Chinese Names:  “Zh” sounds more or less like the “g” in “giraffe,”  “zhuang” rhymes with “long,” not “clang,” and the “i” at the end is pronounced more like the “i” in “igloo” than like “eee.”  This gives you a pronunciation that isn’t exactly the way the Chinese say it, but it’s much better than the average English speaker does.

Change, Death, and Opportunity

I know basically nothing about tarot cards.  In fact, the full extent of my knowledge of the subject consists of:

1. Tarot cards are a deck of cards that some people use to predict the future. (aka the definition of the term)

2. There is a death card, which actually represents change, not death. (thank you, Castle)
3.  Tarot cards are associated with the occult, which is opposed to Christianity and are not something I want to know any more about.

In spite of point 3, I'll use point 2 as an example because of the connection it creates between change and death.  Certainly death is the ultimate change we experience.  And conversely, a big enough change in our lives can mean we are no longer the person we were before, which is a kind of death.  And as with death, on the other side of change is something unknown, mysterious and, for many people, terrifying.

And yet, my generation does not shy away from change.  Thousands of us were swept off our feet in the idealistic fervor that got Obama elected.  Although I did not campaign or even vote for Obama, I do share some of the sentiments that he so effectively appealed to.  I, too, believe that it is possible to make a positive difference in the world and see change as a golden opportunity for improvement.

So, change is death.  And change is also opportunity

I am standing on the brink of the biggest change of my life so far.  I am 21 years old.  I have been a student for 17 of those years, which is almost as long as I can remember.  Now, I am graduating in less than three weeks and moving to Taiwan one month later.

As I think about this change, I find myself pulled in two different directions.  On the one hand, leaving the campus and the people that have shaped my life over the past few years will be difficult.  Brandeis has been a wonderful school for me.  I have grown amazingly as a person and gained experiences that I will remember all my life.  Leaving this behind and stepping out into an unknown future sometimes seems like death.

And yet, the opportunity that my job in Taiwan offers is tremendously exciting.  I will work for an organization whose mission I believe deeply in, make new friends, and experience life in a completely different culture.  I am confident that this time will continue the growth that I have experienced at Brandeis, and I am thrilled and delighted by the opportunity to go.

But for now, I am left here in my room, torn between dreams for the future and nostalgia for the past, trying to make sense of my conflicting emotions.  And yet, I would not want it any other way.  I have a wonderful experience behind me and another wonderful experience in front of me.  What more could I ask for?