Attachment and suffering

Here's what I remember being taught about the Buddhist view of suffering and attachment. The Buddha came to realise that all suffering is born of attachment. We clutch onto people and things as if they are ours to possess, and are heartbroken when they disappoint or slip away. This is not only unhelpful, the Buddha said, but false. The Buddha taught the interconnectedness of all things and the illusory nature of the independent "I". He advocated simply being in the present moment, observing 'good' and 'bad' without judgment. A life lived this way will be open to experiencing happiness and will be without cause for suffering.

The first thing to understand about the Christian take on these things is that it begins from a very different place. Christianity is not founded on a desire to avoid suffering, but starts with the simple reality of the Creator God. This Creator God is separate from his creation. He made individual people who, while designed to live in harmonious community, will remain individuals even to eternity. This means that from the Christian perspective, there are indeed real people to whom it is possible to become attached. This is no illusion. Yet our relationship with God is always superior to relationship with other people.

Some of God's teaching about suffering and attachment sounds almost Buddist:

What I mean, brothers and sisters, is that the time is short. From now on those who have wives should live as if they do not; those who mourn, as if they did not; those who are happy, as if they were not; those who buy something, as if it were not theirs to keep; those who use the things of the world, as if not engrossed in them. For this world in its present form is passing away. (1 Corinthians 7:29-31)

However, this 'holding loosely' comes not from an eschewal of suffering, but from the larger reality of the passing away of this world.

Nor does Christian teaching end here. Indeed God himself is no avoider of suffering. In the Christian Scripture, he depicts himself as a jealous husband; Jesus wept over his friend's death and over the people's refusal to come to him; and his apostles and prophets were often anxious and sorrowful men. God the Son went to the cross because of his attachment - an attachment freely chosen.

And like our Lord Jesus, Christians are to be so attached to the people around us that we will happily die to ourselves that they might live. One day this world will pass away, but its people will remain.

P & O

Peter Carey's Parrot and Oliver in America just entered triumphantly onto my list of favourite books. Gosh it's superb. I've only ever read Oscar and Lucinda before, which was good, but not all that. What are his others like?

Joining the circus

I spent last weekend at the circus. It was a bit like heaven except Benny wants a book-lined room. Lots of colourful people and kids. Lots of learning to use your body. Lots of cruising around the safe, happy environment, feeling accepted as you are. But there was also a bit of crudity and violence in some of the acts, as well as the usual selfishness in human relations and an absence of thanks given to God for the beauty of the place and the creativity of the people.





Here are the crazy boys I went with:

Keeping it regular

Apologies if you've been wanting to follow my blog, but have found your efforts ill-rewarded due to its infrequent posts. I'm pretty sure I can see my way clear to updating it at least once a week, beginning now.

Jesus' church

One lunchtime, barricade the streets around Hobart mall and direct everyone who's on their way out back in. When it's full but not chock-a-block, go out into the outlying suburbs and find some Mums at home with their kids, some elderly ladies and gents, some people who don't feel comfortable in town. Hurry them into your van and bring them to the mall. Now ask everyone to love each other and get along.

No, wait, it won't work like this! First someone's got to die for them. He's got to turn to them three days later with nail-sized dents in his hands and say 'Go on, stick your finger in.' And he's got to have spent time with some of them before he died so that they will think back on what he told them about the whole thing.

There's some ugly people in the crowd in the mall, and some bastards, and some really decent people too. And they're all sorry for giving the finger to that man. He's more than a man to them now. They're all clutching pocket-sized books with tiny letters dotted between the words. They're reading the books and smiling. One's crying and the guy next to him doesn't pretend he's not. They're crammed in there but they're not complaining. It's not what they had planned for the day, but they're holding off from bickering. They're following their Lord.

Sitting on her bed, alone in her house, our heroine writes:

I don't usually enjoy books written by American Christians. It's a personal thing... because I like dealing in ideas, I find the glut of illustrative stories unecessary and premature. And I don't warm to the chatty, familiar writing style. And I get frustrated when pastoral books feel the need to bolster what is essentially practical wisdom by amassing biblical quotes, which are often only very thinly related to the point in question.

BUT I recently read an excellent book that rises clear of such criticism. It's Introverts in the Church: Finding Our Place in an Extroverted Culture by Adam S. McHugh. I can't recommend it enough. It's brilliant for introverts to read because it helps us to understand how we tick and how we can best function and serve. And it's, um, brilliant for extroverts to read because it helps them understand the strange being that is the introvert.

Until reading this book I hadn't realised just how much of an introvert I am. A friend called me "charismatic" the other day and while the label does sound a little extreme, I think he's right. I'm passionate, optimistic and often exuberant. In certain situations I have excellent social skills. But in basically every other way I'm a big-time introvert. So I used to regard myself as a mix of introversion and extroversion.

The trouble with this was that when I lived in Sydney I felt uncomfortable and socially inept in pretty much every social situation, and because I knew I was capable of better I felt like I was doing something wrong. But now that I've come to see that I'm basically an introvert (with charisma), I can cut myself a lot of slack. Of course I'm going to be a bit of a dud when I'm part of a group of people and I have to decide who to talk to and what to talk about. Of course I'm going to find it hard to get to know my local shopkeeper. I still need to have a crack at it all, but I don't need to force myself and I certainly don't need to beat myself up when I have an awkward moment. *phew*

I might have a glance through the book and do another post about introversion. Actually, on second thought, I won't - I'd basically be quoting the whole book. Just go and read it!*


*Except I would personally give chapter 4 'Introverted Spirituality' a miss (apart from pages 80-81), and would only skim-read chapter 9 'Introverts in Church'.

Big heart

A friend's little girl dictated a letter for her Mum to write down for me. She was learning about encouragement that day.

Dear Fiona, I am going to send you a letter. I love you and I want to encourage you when I grow up because you're the most lovely Fiona in my whole life. And that's all.

She also drew me a picture of a hump-backed whale with spots.

Kids are so generous. I feel very humbled to receive such encouragement and affection from one so small.