Rosh Hashanah, on the Jewish calendar is a holy day known as
the anniversary of creation, the birthday of the world. It signifies a time of
new beginnings. I decided that this year
I would take some time on this day to try to dwell with
that immense cosmic concept, that this day is the anniversary of the day it all
began. In eons past, this was the day
that the earth was hung in space, the day when the Big Bang set the universe in
motion, the day when the divine creator gave form to the formlessness that was within the dark recesses of the deep and watery abyss – or whatever image
your mind chooses to focus upon as the beginning of existence.
Here is how Rabbi Rami puts it:
Rosh haShanah,
the first of the Days of Awe, is the anniversary of creation, and our time to
honor God, the Source of Creation. (This year Rosh haShanah begins at sundown
on September 28th) For me God is the Source and Substance of all reality, and
Rosh haShanah is the time when I remember that all life is a unique yet
temporary manifestation of God the way each ray of sunlight is a unique and
temporary manifestation of the sun. I use Rosh haShanah as a time to realign my
life with creation so that my living is in service to all life.
Yom Kippur,
the Day of Atonement (At-One-ment, October 7th at sundown) is the
culmination of all this effort. We have made peace with our neighbor, peace
with nature, and now it is time to make peace with God. (From “
Jewish Fall Holy Days” at Beyond
Religion with Rabbi Rami)
Practicing Compassion
In my reading of Shoes
Outside the Door: Desire, Devotion, and Excess at San Francisco Zen Center,
by Michael Downing, I learned that the first precept of Buddhism, like the first
precept of medicine, is “do no harm.” In Downing's narrative, the Japanese Zen teacher, Shunryu Suzuki, once observed that any time we try to do anything, we end up hurting someone. He
said the best way to do no harm is to just sit – that is, sit in meditation. I can understand the appeal, for I have felt
the frustration of trying to do some good deed only to bring about some mishap
or offense. If my actions cause hurt in any way, maybe I’ll just retreat and
sit things out. Maybe meditation will provide me with the personal integration
and grounding I need – if not, at least it will keep me out of the way.
I can only go so far with that line, however, before it
seems like a narcissistic retreat from reality, except that I know that compassion is central to Buddhism. I also know that Buddhist practice,
like any faith practice, is a process of moving outward as well as moving
inward. There is an ebb and flow from meditative practice to doing good in the
world in order to ease suffering. Suzuki
himself did not simply withdraw in meditation, he continued in his acts of
compassion according to Buddha’s teaching.
All of this shows me that there is really no way I can get around it: I am indeed my brother’s
keeper, as Torah indicates in that early story from the Garden of Eden. I should strive to do no harm and I should try to do some good in the world. I must also
realize that it is inevitable that with human interactions, people get hurt. In any gathering of people, with every so-called movement or public endeavor, some will find purpose, some will find meaning, some will find help, and some will get hurt.
A Page From the Prayer Book
In the Episcopal Book of Common Prayer, there is the public
confession in the Penitential Order:
Most merciful God,
we confess that we have sinned against you
in thought, word, and deed,
by what we have done,
and by what we have left undone.
We have not loved you with our whole heart;
we have not loved our neighbors as ourselves.
We are truly sorry and we humbly repent.
For the sake of your Son Jesus Christ,
have mercy on us and forgive us;
that we may delight in your will,
and walk in your ways,
to the glory of your Name. Amen.
The salient points in that confession for me are: (1) "by what
we have done, and by what we have left undone," (2) "we have not loved our neighbors as ourselves," and (3) “We are truly sorry and we
humbly repent.” The truth is that there will always be things we realize in
hindsight that should have been done, and there will always be mistakes we make
in the process of our doing – which is why I like the concept of my Jewish cohorts
in their Days of Awe, which begin today.
A special time of reflection is set aside so that we can make amends
with our friends, family, and colleagues. Likewise, I appreciate my Buddhists friends’ practice of
inward meditation and outward acts of compassion.
When the Earth Shuddered
Though the Buddhists do not celebrate the birthday of the
world, they do honor the beginning of enlightenment. I am reminded of the
cosmic implications of Siddhartha’s transformation as told by Sophy Burnham in The Ecstatic Journey: The Transforming Power
of Mystical Experience:
"At
that sacred moment [of his enlightenment],” writes Sogyal Rinpoche in The Tibetan Book of the Living and Dying, “the earth itself shuddered as if drunk
with bliss.” At that moment no one was angry, ill, sad, or proud, or performed
any malicious acts. Everything stopped, resting in utter quiet. In the mind of
Buddah.” (page 124)
We need that
balance, that cycle of inward reflection and outward involvement in the world. On
this day we can celebrate both the Torah and the Dharma. We can begin anew, as on the first day of
creation, to repair the world for the greater good. We can also call to mind
that hope when the earth shuddered, and all rested in the mind of the Buddha.
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