About Me

My photo
Halloo! When I found out I could go to med school with a Humanities degree with an Ethnomusicology emphasis, I almost peed myself. Here's to me holding it in.
Showing posts with label Creon. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Creon. Show all posts

Wednesday, December 7, 2011

Buddhism Paper

Beau Hilton
RELC 630 – Dr. Keller
Mu
One of the great joys in my life is the walk I take twice a week in the early morning. Twenty-five minutes of brisk peripatetic brings me to my earliest class – the streets are empty except for a jogger here, a plodding student there, and a few cars drowsily carrying their owners to yet another day of work. An empty street is a ponderous thing. Under my feet are sewer lines and electric lines and a thick layer of asphalt and foundation. The work that must have gone into creating it is staggering, especially when one considers that this bit of road is connected to all the other bits of road crisscrossing the city, state, and nation. The people who physically laid the road are likely out there somewhere, perhaps laying another bit of road somewhere else, perhaps sleeping warm in their beds. Perhaps they are sleeping alone, perhaps they are next to their wives or husbands, and perhaps they were generous and let their afraid-of-the-dark young children crawl into their bed for safety from the things that go bump. Perhaps their children will grow up to lay more roads, or perhaps they will go into computer technology and design word-processing programs for Macintosh laptops used by college students. Maybe they will themselves walk in the cool dawn air to attend a university music class, and maybe they will wonder about the incredible interconnectedness of it all. Maybe they will realize that, if it weren’t for those cars and those joggers and those students, there would not be a road at all, for no one would have thought to build it. They would then know that things and people only have meaning as they relate to other things and people.
            Shunyata is the core of it all. And shunyata is the core of nothing (existence and non-existence are wonderfully ambiguous terms in Buddhism.). Modern physics observes that all things exist vibrationally, and that solidity, liquidity, and gaseousness are relative terms. Though it may seem that the ground is solid and unmoving, it is in reality a jumble of energetic waves, exerting repelling force on the jumble of energetic waves that make up my feet. Latter-day Saint theology affirms the eternity of matter (D&C 93:33, 131:7-8), but is it possible that the term “matter” is being defined in a different way than in textbook physics? It is observed, for example, that there is less matter present after a nuclear bomb explodes than there was before – it is a simple matter of E=MC2. The matter is converted back into an energetic state, and the immense destruction of the nuclear bomb is due to the astounding release of energy upon that conversion. Allowing for a certain degree of wait-and-see-ism (a new and contradictory study may come out tomorrow), physics affirms eternal quality only for energy – itself a changing thing. Perhaps energy is the more refined matter spoken of. In any case, Shunyata describes this truth on a metaphysical level, observing that all things change and therefore there must be nothing that is at the core of it all. Speaking of reality, Hendrik Vroom states, “Zen Buddhists identify it with paramartha satya or shunyata, that is this reality, experienced in a totally different way, 'as it really is'. “[1] If the real reality is a reality of nothing[2], than what am I?
            The truth is, I am nothing, and I am in a relationship with all the other nothings. That is something. All things with mass exert an inward pull on all other things with mass – this is called gravity, and it is very grave indeed. That electron bouncing around the far side of Betelgeuse exerts a pull on my flannel pajamas just as surely as the moon pulls the oceans into tidal patterns. We just cannot get away from each other. Nor would we want to, for we have meaning only in our relationships to one another. This “we” is a cosmic “we,” disincluding no-one and no-thing; “we” is also practical, as has been discussed – no roads would exist if there were no people to walk them. Though there is nothing that is permanent, at least from our limited perspective, there is much meaning to be had in the interrelated reality that shunyata teaches. It is not a doctrine of pointlessness and nihilism. It is change and impermanence that makes human life exciting and worthwhile – indeed, the whole Plan would have been frustrated without it, for improvement and progression are change – and change and impermanence in family and friend relationships contributes to the worthwhile-ness of it all. Because we are constantly in flux and influencing one another, we have responsibility to move in an upward direction and take care that the inevitable, unavoidable influence we provide is positive. As one author points out, this has implications not only in the obvious interpersonal and political realms, but also in subjects including but not limited to ecology and environmental stewardship.[3] Another author compares it to a game. “There are at least two kinds of games. One could be called finite, the other infinite. A finite game is played for the purpose of winning, an infinite game for the purpose of continuing the play.”[4] Because the collective “we” is not and never will be static, we play for the purpose of continuing the play, for the purpose of moving somewhere and nowhere all at once. The highest good is not to be found in monuments built, wealth attained, or enemies destroyed, but in “improving the shining moments,” living wholly and presently, and cultivating compassion above all other virtues. There is no “end” to this, it simply continues eternally, and is the “goal,” if it may be called that, of the bodhisattva within every Buddhist.[5]
            From the Avatamsaka Sutra comes the by now familiar analogy of Indra’s Net. Here are two of the more important sections, presented for our consideration.
A boundless host of enlightening beings, the congregation at the site of enlightenment, were all gathered there: by means of the ability to manifest the lights and inconceivable sounds of the Buddhas, they fashioned nets of the finest jewels, from which came forth all the realms of action of the spiritual powers of the Buddhas, and in which were reflected images of the abodes of all beings. Also, by virtue of the aid of the spiritual power of the Buddha, they embraced the entire cosmos in a single thought. (15-16)

The Ocean of teachings, numerous as atoms in a Buddha Land, are expounded in a single word—all without remainder. (32)[6]

It is a provocative ontology and pedagogy – all things exist reflected in all other things, all actions arise from interrelatedness (could I push if I had nothing to push against?), and all things may be known by considering a single thing. My ruminations on the road to school call to mind Thich Nhat Han’s teaching. “You cannot point out one thing that is not here - time, space, the earth, the rain… As thin as this sheet of paper is, it contains everything in the universe in it.”[7] The value in considering a single subject is that it cannot remain a single subject for long. Soon one has considered “time, space, [and] the earth” and may compass it all together as a whole of truth. I have titled this essay “Mu,” the koan focusing on emptiness, hoping to gain experience with emptiness in order to have a bit of a better grasp (or non-grasp) on reality. By focusing on one thing, focusing on everything, and focusing on nothing, something is bound to happen. The Buddhist pedagogical method is beautiful. It is true education, the kind that changes people from the inside instead of forcing information in from the outside. It is education that comes from the transcendent truth that each jewel in Indra’s Net would be useless on its own – jewels are beautiful only in the reflections they make. Put a jewel in a dark room and it is just a cold rock.
            Latter-day Saint theology and the doctrine of shunyata, combined with the analogy of Indra’s Net, should be better friends than they have been in the past. “Wait,” says the Latter-day Saint, “I believe in eternal families, in eternal intelligences. What room has this doctrine of emptiness in such eternal views?” In the words of the hymn, “Improvement and progression have one eternal round.”[8] The doctrine of shunyata simply affirms this – nothing is static. The soul of man is eternal, but it is constantly changing – what is meant by “eternal”? From one moment to the next choices and decisions either buoy the soul up with light or weigh it down with evil. Even God the Father, in His beginningless perfection, continues His work of salvation and constantly creates, molds, and shapes. Though His attributes are consistent, His actions are variegated and lively, creative in their essence. Nothing sits still, and nothing is significant in and of itself. Would the Savior have worked salvation if there were no beings to save? It would have been pointless. God in His yonder heaven would have been what Haemon suggested Creon become in Antigone – king of a desert, with no subjects.[9] God is playing an eternal game, with no end in mind because there is no such thing as an end, just as there never was a beginning. The point is to compassionately move forward, creating happiness and peacefully driving ever upward, kingdom upon kingdom, eternal lives upon eternal lives. Without pushing shunyata to remove from us our souls and intelligences, without suggesting that energy or matter ever really cease to be, we can realize that, from a certain perspective, impermanence and emptiness explain very well the necessity of the gospel-centered life and God’s work, the necessity of interaction, and the primacy of compassion. In this way we can make good use of the philosophical undergirding of the doctrine of shunyata and find not only common ground with, but also admiration for, our Buddhist brothers and sisters and the doctrines upon which they build their lives.


[1] Do All Religious Traditions Worship the Same God? Author: Hendrik M. Vroom Source: Religious Studies, Vol. 26, No. 1 (Mar., 1990), pp. 73-90 Published by: Cambridge University Press Stable URL: http://www.jstor.org/stable/20019388
[2] The word “nothing” is being used here for effect – as will be shown, Buddhism affirms a reality, but it is a reality that exists of things in relationship and nothing by itself. A thing by itself has no relative, and is therefore empty – nothing.
[3] Can the East Help the West to Value Nature? Author: Holmes Rolston, III. Source: Philosophy East and West, Vol. 37, No. 2, Environmental Ethics (Apr., 1987), pp 172-190. Published by: University of Hawai'i Press Stable URL: http://www.jstor.org/stable/1398737.
[4] 497. Loy is quoting James Carse. Indra’s Postmodern Net. Author: David Loy. Source: Philosophy East and West, Vol. 43, No. 3 (Jul., 1993), pp. 481-510. Published by: University of Hawai'i Press. Stable URL: http://www.jstor.org/stable/1399579
[5] Lopez, Donald S. Jr. The Story of Buddhism. New York: HarperCollins publishers. Print. 2001. p. 258.
[6] Avatamsaka Sutra (The Flower Garland Sutra). Dharmaflower.net. PDF file.
[7] Thich Nhat Hanh, The Heart of Understanding. Berkeley: Parallax Press. Print. 1988. pp. 3-5.
[8] Hymns, 284.
[9] Antigone, 821ff.  in Lawall, Sarah N., eds. The Norton Anthology Of Western Literature. New York : W.W. Norton, 2006. Print.

HUM 201 Journal Entry 2

In Defense of Creon

            I am uncomfortable with the characterization of any person as wholly good or wholly evil. It must be remembered that “Lucifer” means “Light Bringer,” and was a title earned by merit and accomplishment – the one who is now called Satan was once a great and noble prince of the realm, who by process of time and pride became the degraded devil he now is. Our Savior, ever without offense, nevertheless grew from grace to grace and necessarily made some mistakes, even though these mistakes were never of sinful nature. Those who are now evil were once possessed of some good. Those who are now perfect were, at one time, subject to human infirmity. In Antigone, Creon is such a character, often unfairly classed as completely heartless and evil. As a Creonite apologetic, I will seek to explain (though not excuse) his case by appealing to his virtue as a leader, his commitment to his conception of morality, and by placing some of the blame where it rightfully belongs.
            “Remember this: our country is our safety. Only while she voyages true on course can we establish friendships, truer than blood itself. Such are my standards. They make our city great” (658). There is no patriot of any country who can find much to disagree with in this statement from Creon’s opening speech. Having found himself in charge of his beloved country, he sets in action a law, reasonable to most, seeking to make an example of the traitors. In countries throughout history the fates of traitorous few have been shown as a warning to those within and without the country – the second World War saw Mussolini’s body dragged around his homeland, Saddam Hussein’s public execution (though having the opposite effect on some) brought closure to Iraqis who had been the victims of his regime. Leaving Polynices' body to rot in the street was a bold and powerful statement and political move, and cannot be faulted. Creon could have had little clue of the aftermath of the action. Creon’s goal was just as outlined in the above quote: to keep his country “true on course” for the safety of all his people.
            It is right to cite Antigone’s noble commitment to virtue, but often this is done at the expense or denial of Creon’s similar commitment. As will be treated later, both of their brands of commitment proved their downfall when taken to blind extremes, but both of their brands of commitment showed true character. Even as Antigone cites the unwritten law of the gods requiring burial, Creon exclaims alongside Vizzini from The Princess Bride “Exactly when did you last see the gods celebrating traitors? Inconceivable!” (661). Both of these powerful wills drew, at least at first, on loyalty to the gods. Creon is torn in many directions by his desire for stability in his kingdom, loyalty to his gods, and consideration for his family. His very anger seems to be a ploy as he seeks to shield himself from the pain of actions that he sees as necessary. From his earlier declaration that a country must be protected even at the expense of a friend (659), he struggles to reconcile himself to what must be done. In this he becomes blind and rage crosses the threshold of righteous indignation, but he is no blinder than the rest of the characters in their brash actions.
            Within minutes, Creon’s actions cost him his son, his wife, and Antigone. In a matter of days he has become alone in the world, a king atop a throne with no one to care for. But, is it really fair to place all the blame with Creon? Instead of cursory decapitation, he opted to have Antigone placed in a prison – was he perhaps giving himself time to cool off before he did anything else brainlessly? Antigone immediately committed suicide – noble action, escapist mistake, or prideful punishment of her uncle? The son’s suicide – was it a la Romeo and Juliet, or a la lovesick, asinine, quick-to-be-dumb kid (is there a difference?)? The queen’s suicide is, perhaps, the most understandable – she had just lost her posterity – but why so quick to end it? In a moment, everybody goes lemmings and throws themselves onto sharp pieces of metal, and for what good? Did any of them consider the effect their actions would have on those around them – their families, their friends, those over whom they had responsibility (and, as royalty, they certainly had responsibility)? As angry as they undoubtedly were at Creon, did they consider what state they would leave him in? What state would they leave the country in, with the royal family dissolved? Allowing room and sympathy for mental conditions that leave the victims bereft of the sense that would prevent suicide, this all just seems so unnecessary and stupid. It is unlikely that all of these people suddenly became severely chemically imbalanced. In light of all of these possibilities, it is only honest to stop blaming Creon alone. Without reservation I say that Creon made mistakes, but the very poor choices of others only compounded the mistakes that would have been rectified if only a few more minutes of sanity had prevailed.
            The power of tragedy is to stir up within us strong emotions that cleanse and teach. If this is true, then Antigone is powerful stuff, indeed. Not only do we see the terror that befalls people due to a lack of communication, an influx of pride, and the pointlessness of rash actions, but we identify in ourselves times when we have been party to one or more of these sins. By examining the characters in tragedy and history and attempting to see in them round and complex human beings, we can better get at the true stuff of human life and humanity. We are less likely to look at ourselves as quite so good, and we are less likely to look at our enemies as quite so bad. Taking the sad tale of Creon as our guide, we can begin to consider more carefully, act with more foresight, and see the people in the world as more akin to us than we once thought.