Green Oasis

I remember pitying him. His wife seemed embarrassed by him, just like the wife of the man who dressed in women’s underwear. He avoided looking directly in our eyes, and she didn’t hurry to introduce him to us. He had left the LDS church and was wandering in strange paths. The other missionaries informed me before we visited their home about his dabbling in Buddhism. I shook my head in disbelief that he could have left the truth, and for something as silly as Buddhism.

We sat down and ate dinner together, but I had no respect for my host. He was a fool and a traitor. I remember the pain-stricken look on his wife’s face as we discussed her husband when he wasn’t in the room. How could he do this to his wife and children?

I met a former leader in the Mormon church later in my missionary service. He had been an Elders Quorum President, but he and his wife had left the church. He seemed confident and unashamed. How could he doubt the truth? What could lead someone so strong to be so weak? He didn’t even have the good sense to be ashamed of his faithlessness. The missionaries discussed how we could bring him back into the fold as we left his home.

Now that I am an atheist who enjoys Buddhism, now that I have left behind leadership positions in the church, will others see me and judge me the same way that I judged these men? Will an awkward wall separate us when we don’t know what to say to each other? Will they see the strength of my convictions as a weakness and a delusion? Will they shake their head in disbelief that I could leave the truth? Will they paternally plot to save my soul? Will they try to make my wife and children ashamed of me? Do they pity me?

Judge not, that ye be not judged. For with what judgment ye judge, ye shall be judged: and with what measure ye mete, it shall be measured to you again. (Matthew 7:1–2)

(via Pharyngula)

I just listened to a wonderful interview of Thich Nhat Hanh, a spiritual teacher for people of many faiths around the world. This audio program also includes an interview with a policewoman who uses mindfulness to find compassion for the people she meets while on duty, and another interview with a former Baptist minister who finds hope for healing the world through self transformation. I highly recommend listening to the entire podcast.

I would like to touch on just one aspect of this interview: how mindfulness brings us compassion. It seems to be a human impulse to escape from the distasteful things of life. Our religions often reflect this impulse. We dream of a far off heaven where all troubles cease and we live in comfort away from the tragedies and horrors of mortality. We long for cleanliness and purity. We long to be more than human.

There is a competing impulse in religion which seeks to explain why we are here, to give this existence meaning. If God loves us, why did He send us to this awful place? Religion offers many explanations to this question, but Thich Nhat Hanh gave an explanation which made me think. He said that suffering is necessary for us to develop understanding and compassion. This part wasn’t new to me. Adam and Eve were sent into this world to learn to discern between good and evil. (Genesis 2:9, 17) Jesus condescended to become mortal so that he could know how to succor his people. (Alma 7:10—12) So even Jesus needed to come here in order to learn mercy, according to Mormonism.

Where Thich Nhat Hanh went from there was new to me. He said that the kingdom of God is a place of compassion, therefore suffering is necessary. He wouldn’t want his children to be in a place without suffering, because they could not learn to be understanding. He compared the impulse to eradicate all suffering to trying to grow a lotus flower on a marble floor—it can’t be done. One needs mud to grow a lotus flower.

This can be seen within a Christian framework by imagining this life as the dirt blooming in the eternities. But for me, coming from another perspective, it said something different. His statement said to me that the kingdom of God is here where we suffer. This is the place of suffering and therefore compassion and understanding. Here is the place of love which springs up in the wake of misery and suffering.

If I spend my time fantasizing about a better place, I am not being mindful of my current situation. The suffering of my neighbor doesn’t soften my heart and steel my resolve like it could because I imagine that they are bound for a better place. “Their suffering will end when their life is over,” I might say. “My suffering—and theirs—will be but a short moment.” By taking my eyes off of life, I increase suffering. I must be mindful of my brothers and sisters. (Genesis 4:9) Suffering is like the knock on the door inviting us to open our hearts to each other.

I don’t want to escape this place where love can thrive. If our destiny is to live in a place where we do not suffer (Doesn’t God suffer because of our sins? Isn’t heaven therefore a place of suffering?), I hope that we are continually reminded of our own suffering with a bright recollection (Alma 11:43) so that will never forget compassion.