Near the opening of her novel Their Eyes Were Watching God, Zora Neale Hurston refers to human beings as “mudballs that glitter.” For over thirty years I have carried this image with me as a kind of shorthand for the spirit-flesh embranglement that we call “human being.”
Hurston’s image came afresh to me last week as I was walking along the rocky northern shore of the Atlantic Ocean. I looked up out of my reverie and everything was shining. Everything. Even the rocks. I looked more closely. It wasn’t reflected light. The grains of sand, the waves, the seaweed, the skate purses, the rocks weren’t reflecting the light of the sun; they were shining from within, with their “own” light, a light answering the light shining from the sun, a resounding antiphony of light. I looked more closely. It was as if everything was made of light, formed of light—not simply the sentient beings, but every being, even the rocks, and I remembered my Ojibwe friends in Minnesota arguing (against the vocal disbelief of other students) that rocks, too, are alive.
Even the rocks on this beach I was walking through were alive. I could see, feel the light enlivening them. That light, that energy, that creative power, that palpable generativity was one, One shining in and through them all, each separate being. The shapes and colors and density of each individual shining was no more than and no less than a declaration of the infinite variety of the One that was even now bringing it into being, fashioning it, sustaining it, accompanying it faithfully on its journey of coming into being and perishing.
Walking through this riot of light, I thought of the many circles of mystics from all religious traditions—both orthodox and heterodox, both those I am at home with and those whose dualistic or other doctrines are far from my experience of the world—who have witnessed to the light in the creation. The Hebrew scriptures (Psalm 97:12) say “Light is sown for the righteous,” leading many who came after to cultivate and reap that light. Gnostics of many sorts speak of light/spirit trapped in the matter of our created world. The Zoroastrians focused on the path to a world all of light through purity and righteousness. Augustine reports that the Manichees ate cucumbers and melons to imbibe the great amounts of light trapped in these foods. Lurianic Kabbalists speak of the breaking of the vessels at creation, which scattered sparks of light throughout the created universe, and of repairing the world (tikkun olam) by gathering up these scattered sparks. The Hasids, too, speak of our task as human beings as finding the One everywhere one looks and gathering the light shining in all that exists.
Whatever the differences in their worldview—dualistic, non-dualistic, theistic, nontheistic, atheistic—these mystics have seen something, something real in our world, a vision that often bears fruit in a moral life that recognizes the connection among all things and all peoples, and that draws one away from forgetfulness and self-absorption and cruelty and toward humility, justice, and compassion. This insight, whatever its (sometimes wild) accompanying imagery or concepts, invites human beings, beings of flesh, mudballs, to live in such a way that we, too, shine. It invites us to remove the veils that cover that light in us, to stop hiding the light in us from others, to stop trying to extinguish the light shining in us because we cannot bear it, or cannot bear its often confusing and disturbing coexistence with our fleshly selves, to become more and more transparent so that it shines through us the way it shines through the rocks on the ocean shore, through all being, gracefully, naturally, joyfully, for anyone walking by with eyes to see. To become not simply mudballs that glitter, but mudballs that shine.
Even the rocks are shining
Shining with the glory of you
Passing through
from this angle and this one and
this
lost in ourselves
we miss their offering
speckled, pocked, pooled
scarified with light
alive
declaring the wonder of being
If these, too, can shine,
why not this battered tent of flesh?
Showing posts with label Judaism. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Judaism. Show all posts
Monday, August 1, 2011
Thursday, February 17, 2011
A Simple Practice: Eat Your (Spiritual) Vegetables and...
Ghazali often quoted this Persian proverb:
"Eat the vegetable wherever it comes from, and do not ask where the garden is."
He quoted this, for example, when counseling people how to fight demons (The Marvels of the Heart). Why get caught up in origins, ontology, and metaphysics, asking what world demons come from, what level of being they occupy? The main thing is to conquer their temptations in your heart, with your heart so you can walk uprightly in this world, with love, justice, and humility.
But this proverb also expresses Ghazali's view of truth. He pulled his writings and teachings (which influenced many Jewish and Christian theologians) from many different sources, the Qur'an, al-Farabi, Ibn Sina, colloquial sayings, Greek philosophy, and much more.
This practice and understanding of wisdom is a welcome one in our current situation, in which fundamentalists (among all religions) and militant secularists (from among all religions) have crowded the stage, pushing all people of faith seeking understanding off the stage, calling us "rebels" or "infidels" for holding a view of God with which they do not agree, or "idiots" for trusting in God at all. Both these dogmas, as different as they seem to be, share a belief: that the origin of an idea contaminates or purifies it. For religious fundamentalists, any idea or image of God that does not come from the one true source that their group identifies (the Hebrew scriptures, the Christian scriptures, the Qur'an, or others), as interpreted by them is not only suspect but false. For the materialist or secular fundamentalists, those who reject any possibility of the reality of God, any idea or image of God, especially if it comes from an organized religion, is false because it is nonsense, meaningless. For them, any statement that is not objectively verifiable, that does not originate in scientific thinking, must be false.
For both these varieties of fundamentalism, faith and reason are mutually exclusive. For the religious dogmatists, whatever does not come from (their) faith comes from human reason and is therefore deception (because human reason is clouded by sin and it is only pure revelation that can be trusted). For the secular dogmatists, whatever does not come from (their notion of modern scientific) reason comes from faith and is therefore self-deception (because human beings are weak and childish and want an illusion of something greater than they are to depend on).
I am reminded here of the logical fallacy called "poisoning the wells." One identifies the one pure source of truth as the well one drinks from, and claims that all other wells, and everything springing forth from them, every word, thought, idea, practice, is, by necessity, contaminated. Thus, they drink only from their wells. They eat vegetables only from their gardens.
Ghazali's proverb can show us another way. "Eat the vegetable wherever it comes from, and do not ask where the garden is."
Faith and reason are not mutually exclusive. Throughout history, in all religious traditions, western and eastern, there have been thinkers and communities who have not been afraid to recognize truth no matter what its source. Not just mystics and radicals, but people at the heart of religious traditions have recognized and absorbed truths that came to them from outside their tradition or culture. Philo, Jews returning from captivity in Babylonia, Augustine, Ghazali, Ibn Arabi, Maimonides, John Calvin--the list could go on and on. It was the medieval Christian theologian Anselm who gave us the common motto for this approach, faith seeking understanding. But the approach knows no historical, cultural, or religious bounds. Trusting in the Oneness and infinite wisdom of God, they strove to recognize truth whenever and wherever it appeared, even if that truth came from Greek philosophy, Persian religion, or the best science of the day. For them, to reject a truth simply because one is unfamiliar with its source is to be ungrateful to the One; it is to reject the Oneness, infinite wisdom, and overflowing abundance of the One and the gifts that flow from God. When one recognizes a truth, one sees that its ultimate origin is in God, not another person or community. That is why one accepts it if one does.
So let's be discriminating, yes. Don't eat cardboard or rancid meat. Know what you're eating. Seek out nourishing vegetables. And when you find them, don't subject them, or their growers or deliverers, to a long inquisition about the garden they came from, the mineral content of the soil, the rain levels, the integrity of the gardeners, and so forth. Did this truth grow in the garden of faith? No matter. No reason to condemn it. Did it grow in the garden of reason? No matter. No reason to reject it out of hand. Let's move beyond the false dichotomy of faith or reason and start talking about what truths nourish us and that we share with others.
We could die of spiritual starvation in this desert of fundamentalism before all the garden questions are raised and answered. The practice is simple and profound: Eat your vegetables; and leave the garden, Pardes, paradise, which is more glorious and abundant and various than we could ever imagine, to The True.
"Eat the vegetable wherever it comes from, and do not ask where the garden is."
He quoted this, for example, when counseling people how to fight demons (The Marvels of the Heart). Why get caught up in origins, ontology, and metaphysics, asking what world demons come from, what level of being they occupy? The main thing is to conquer their temptations in your heart, with your heart so you can walk uprightly in this world, with love, justice, and humility.
But this proverb also expresses Ghazali's view of truth. He pulled his writings and teachings (which influenced many Jewish and Christian theologians) from many different sources, the Qur'an, al-Farabi, Ibn Sina, colloquial sayings, Greek philosophy, and much more.
This practice and understanding of wisdom is a welcome one in our current situation, in which fundamentalists (among all religions) and militant secularists (from among all religions) have crowded the stage, pushing all people of faith seeking understanding off the stage, calling us "rebels" or "infidels" for holding a view of God with which they do not agree, or "idiots" for trusting in God at all. Both these dogmas, as different as they seem to be, share a belief: that the origin of an idea contaminates or purifies it. For religious fundamentalists, any idea or image of God that does not come from the one true source that their group identifies (the Hebrew scriptures, the Christian scriptures, the Qur'an, or others), as interpreted by them is not only suspect but false. For the materialist or secular fundamentalists, those who reject any possibility of the reality of God, any idea or image of God, especially if it comes from an organized religion, is false because it is nonsense, meaningless. For them, any statement that is not objectively verifiable, that does not originate in scientific thinking, must be false.
For both these varieties of fundamentalism, faith and reason are mutually exclusive. For the religious dogmatists, whatever does not come from (their) faith comes from human reason and is therefore deception (because human reason is clouded by sin and it is only pure revelation that can be trusted). For the secular dogmatists, whatever does not come from (their notion of modern scientific) reason comes from faith and is therefore self-deception (because human beings are weak and childish and want an illusion of something greater than they are to depend on).
I am reminded here of the logical fallacy called "poisoning the wells." One identifies the one pure source of truth as the well one drinks from, and claims that all other wells, and everything springing forth from them, every word, thought, idea, practice, is, by necessity, contaminated. Thus, they drink only from their wells. They eat vegetables only from their gardens.
Ghazali's proverb can show us another way. "Eat the vegetable wherever it comes from, and do not ask where the garden is."
Faith and reason are not mutually exclusive. Throughout history, in all religious traditions, western and eastern, there have been thinkers and communities who have not been afraid to recognize truth no matter what its source. Not just mystics and radicals, but people at the heart of religious traditions have recognized and absorbed truths that came to them from outside their tradition or culture. Philo, Jews returning from captivity in Babylonia, Augustine, Ghazali, Ibn Arabi, Maimonides, John Calvin--the list could go on and on. It was the medieval Christian theologian Anselm who gave us the common motto for this approach, faith seeking understanding. But the approach knows no historical, cultural, or religious bounds. Trusting in the Oneness and infinite wisdom of God, they strove to recognize truth whenever and wherever it appeared, even if that truth came from Greek philosophy, Persian religion, or the best science of the day. For them, to reject a truth simply because one is unfamiliar with its source is to be ungrateful to the One; it is to reject the Oneness, infinite wisdom, and overflowing abundance of the One and the gifts that flow from God. When one recognizes a truth, one sees that its ultimate origin is in God, not another person or community. That is why one accepts it if one does.
So let's be discriminating, yes. Don't eat cardboard or rancid meat. Know what you're eating. Seek out nourishing vegetables. And when you find them, don't subject them, or their growers or deliverers, to a long inquisition about the garden they came from, the mineral content of the soil, the rain levels, the integrity of the gardeners, and so forth. Did this truth grow in the garden of faith? No matter. No reason to condemn it. Did it grow in the garden of reason? No matter. No reason to reject it out of hand. Let's move beyond the false dichotomy of faith or reason and start talking about what truths nourish us and that we share with others.
We could die of spiritual starvation in this desert of fundamentalism before all the garden questions are raised and answered. The practice is simple and profound: Eat your vegetables; and leave the garden, Pardes, paradise, which is more glorious and abundant and various than we could ever imagine, to The True.
Thursday, September 23, 2010
The Name and the Names of God
There is a Jewish practice and a Muslim practice of naming God that together teach us a deep truth about the One.
Jews carry the tradition of the Name that cannot be spoken. It is the name the high priest once spoke once a year, on Yom Kippur, in the Holy of Holies in the temple in Jerusalem, as he was pleading for God to draw near in mercy. After the temple was destroyed in 70 AD, the pronunciation of the Name was lost. Only the letters remain, Yud, Heh, Vav, Heh. These four, the Tetragrammaton, stand as mute witness to the Ineffability of God, the Unity of God that transcends all thought and speech and calls into question all our thought and speech about God. In daily practice Jews have two ways of remembering this pointer to the Ineffability of God. When the letters Yud, Heh, Vav, Heh appear in the Torah, we say “Adonai,” Lord—at once giving God a name while remembering that we do not possess the Name of God. When one wants to refer to God in daily speech, to thank or bless or reflect on the One, one says “HaShem, “the Name.” The startling paradox of naming God “The Name” is a potent reminder that we do not have power over the One, nor can we limit the Limitless One (the Ein Sof of the Kabbalists). for to name is to limit, saying, You have these qualities and not others; you have this aspect of being and not others. The practice of The Name focuses our attention on the Light Beyond, that light in which we see light
Muslims carry the tradition of the 99 beautiful names, based on the Qur’an.
Sufis chant these names in varying combinations during communal dhikr, the remembrance of God, and individual retreats. All Muslims use these names in their daily devotion to pull their hearts toward the One in the way that they need at that moment. One woman may call upon Al-Azeez, the Undefeated, while another meditates on Al-Wahhaab, the Bestower. One man may call upon Ar-Rahmaan, the Compassionate, while another may remember the One as Al-Fattah, the Opener, or Al-Sabur, the Patient. One year a person may draw near to the One as Al-Kareem, the Generous One, another year as Al- Haseeb, the Reckoner. The practice is a celebration of the limitless ways the One is present among us and of the compassion of the One in drawing near to us in the way that our spirit uniquely needs.
The names of the One are not limited to 99. There are slight variations in the lists from one tradition and theologian to the next, but here is one version:
Jews carry the tradition of the Name that cannot be spoken. It is the name the high priest once spoke once a year, on Yom Kippur, in the Holy of Holies in the temple in Jerusalem, as he was pleading for God to draw near in mercy. After the temple was destroyed in 70 AD, the pronunciation of the Name was lost. Only the letters remain, Yud, Heh, Vav, Heh. These four, the Tetragrammaton, stand as mute witness to the Ineffability of God, the Unity of God that transcends all thought and speech and calls into question all our thought and speech about God. In daily practice Jews have two ways of remembering this pointer to the Ineffability of God. When the letters Yud, Heh, Vav, Heh appear in the Torah, we say “Adonai,” Lord—at once giving God a name while remembering that we do not possess the Name of God. When one wants to refer to God in daily speech, to thank or bless or reflect on the One, one says “HaShem, “the Name.” The startling paradox of naming God “The Name” is a potent reminder that we do not have power over the One, nor can we limit the Limitless One (the Ein Sof of the Kabbalists). for to name is to limit, saying, You have these qualities and not others; you have this aspect of being and not others. The practice of The Name focuses our attention on the Light Beyond, that light in which we see light
Muslims carry the tradition of the 99 beautiful names, based on the Qur’an.
"He is Allah, the Creator, the Originator, The Fashioner, to Him belong the most beautiful names: whatever is in the heavens and on earth, do declare His praises and glory. And He is the Exalted in Might, The Wise. (Qur’an 59:24)The beauty and truth of this tradition is the invitation to all people to call upon the One by the many names, names that do two things simultaneously: point us to the complexity and omnipresence of God, which requires the use of many names rather than a single name; and focus our attention on particular attributes or qualities of the One as they relate to our personal experience in the moment. Again, as with the Jewish practice of the Name, the Islamic practice of the 99 beautiful names embodies a paradox: speaking one or two of the beautiful names while aware that these names are only one of the ways to speak of or name God’s presence. Thus, the practice of the 99 names keeps before one the transcendence of the One beyond all names, the inability to contain the One in a single name, while offering the faithful a way to approach the Limitless through the qualities of the One as they are refracted in the world, the One light, appearing in many colors through the prism of the world.
"The most beautiful names belong to God: so call on Him by them;..." (7:180)
Sufis chant these names in varying combinations during communal dhikr, the remembrance of God, and individual retreats. All Muslims use these names in their daily devotion to pull their hearts toward the One in the way that they need at that moment. One woman may call upon Al-Azeez, the Undefeated, while another meditates on Al-Wahhaab, the Bestower. One man may call upon Ar-Rahmaan, the Compassionate, while another may remember the One as Al-Fattah, the Opener, or Al-Sabur, the Patient. One year a person may draw near to the One as Al-Kareem, the Generous One, another year as Al- Haseeb, the Reckoner. The practice is a celebration of the limitless ways the One is present among us and of the compassion of the One in drawing near to us in the way that our spirit uniquely needs.
The names of the One are not limited to 99. There are slight variations in the lists from one tradition and theologian to the next, but here is one version:
- Allah
- Allah, He who has the Godhood which is the power to create the entities.
- Ar-Rahmaan
- The Compassionate, The Beneficent, The One abundant in mercy for the believers and the blasphemers in this world
- Ar-Raheem
- The Merciful, The One who has plenty of mercy for the believers
- Al-Malik
- The King, The Sovereign Lord, The One with the complete Dominion, the One Whose Dominion is free from imperfection
- Al-Quddoos
- The Holy, The One who is pure from any imperfection and clear from children and adversaries.
- As-Salaam
- The Source of Peace, The One who is free from every imperfection
- Al-Mu'min
- Guardian of Faith
- Al-Muhaimin
- The Protector, The One who witnesses the saying and deeds of His creatures.
- Al-^Azeez
- The Mighty, The Strong, The Defeater who is not defeated
- Al-Jabbaar
- The Compeller, The One that nothing happens in His Dominion except that which He willed
- Al-Mutakabbir
- The Majestic, The One who is clear from the attributes of the creatures and from resembling them
- Al-Khaaliq
- The Creator, The One who brings everything from non-existence to existence
- Al-Bari'
- The Evolver, The Maker, The Creator who has the Power to turn the entities
- Al-Musawwir
- The Fashioner, The One who forms His creatures in different pictures
- Al-Ghaffaar
- The Great Forgiver, The Forgiver, The One who forgives the sins of His slaves time and time again
- Al-Qahhaar
- The Subduer, The Dominant, The One who has the perfect Power and is not unable over anything
- Al-Wahhaab
- The Bestower, The One who is Generous in giving plenty without any return
- Al-Razzaaq
- The Sustainer, The Provider.
- Al-Fattaah
- The Opener, The Reliever, The Judge, The One who opens for His slaves the closed worldy and religious matters.
- Al-^Aleem
- The All-knowing, The Knowledgeable; The One nothing is absent from His knowledge.
- Al-Qaabid
- The Constrictor, The Retainer, The Withholder, The One who constricts the sustenance by His wisdom and expands and widens it with His Generosity and Mercy
- Al-Baasit
- The Expander, The Enlarger, The One who constricts the sustenance by His wisdom and expands and widens it with His Generosity and Mercy
- Al-Khaafid
- The Abaser, The One who lowers whomever He wills by His Destruction and raises whomever He wills by His Endowment
- Ar-Raafi^
- The Exalter, The Elevator
- Al-Mu^iz
- The Honorer
- Al-Muthil
- The Dishonorer, The Humiliator
- As-Samee^
- The All-Hearing, The Hearer
- Al-Baseer
- The All-Seeing
- Al-Hakam
- The Judge, He is the Ruler and His judgment is His Word
- Al-^Adl
- The Just, The One who is entitled to do what He does
- Al-Lateef
- The Subtle One, The Gracious
- Al-Khabeer
- The Aware, The One who knows the truth of things.
- Al-Haleem
- The Forebearing, The Clement
- Al-^Azeem
- The Great One, The Mighty, The Perfection
- Al-Ghafoor
- The All-Forgiving, The Forgiving
- Ash-Shakoor
- The Grateful, The Appreciative
- Al-^Aliyy
- The Most High, The Sublime
- Al-Kabeer
- The Most Great, The Great
- Al-Hafeez
- The Preserver, The Protector
- Al-Muqeet
- The Maintainer, The Guardian, The Feeder, The Sustainer
- Al-Haseeb
- The Reckoner
- Aj-Jaleel
- The Sublime One, The Beneficent
- Al-Kareem
- The Generous One, The Bountiful, The Gracious
- Ar-Raqeeb
- The Watcher, The Watchful, The One that nothing is absent from Him
- Al-Mujeeb
- The Responsive, The Hearkener
- Al-Wasi^
- The Vast, The All-Embracing, The Knowledgeable
- Al-Hakeem
- The Wise, The Judge of Judges, The One who is correct in His doings
- Al-Wadood
- The Loving
- Al-Majeed
- The Most Glorious One, The Glorious, The One who is with perfect Power, High Status, Compassion, Generosity and Kindness
- Al-Ba^ith
- The Resurrector, The Raiser (from death)
- Ash-Shaheed
- The Witness, The One who nothing is absent from Him
- Al-Haqq
- The Truth, The True, The One who truly exists
- Al-Wakeel
- The Trustee, The One who gives the satisfaction and is relied upon
- Al-Qawiyy
- The Most Strong, The Strong, The One with the complete Power
- Al-Mateen
- The Firm One
- Al-Waliyy
- The Protecting Friend, The Supporter.
- Al-Hameed
- The Praiseworthy
- Al-Muhsee
- The Counter, The Reckoner
- Al-Mubdi'
- The Originator
- Al-Mu^eed
- The Reproducer, The One who brings back the creatures after death
- Al-Muhyi
- The Restorer, The Giver of Life
- Al-Mumeet
- The Creator of Death, The Destroyer, The One who renders the living dead
- Al-Hayy
- The Alive
- Al-Qayyoom
- The Self-Subsisting, The One who remains and does not end.
- Al-Waajid
- The Perceiver, The Finder, The Rich who is never poor
- Al-Waahid
- The Unique, The One, The One without a partner
- Al-Ahad
- The One.
- As-Samad
- The Eternal, The Independent, The Master who is relied upon in matters and reverted to in one’s needs
- Al-Qaadir
- The Able, The Capable
- Al-Muqtadir
- The Powerful, The Dominant, The One with the perfect Power that nothing is withheld from Him
- Al-Muqaddim
- The Expediter, The Promoter, The One who puts things in their right places
- Al-Mu'akh-khir
- The Delayer, the Retarder, The One who puts things in their right places
- Al-'Awwal
- The First, The One whose Existence is without a beginning
- Al-'Akhir
- The Last, The One whose Existence is without an end
- Az-Zaahir
- The Manifest, The One whom nothing is above and nothing is underneath
- Al-Baatin
- The Hidden
- Al-Walee
- The Governor
- Al-Muta^ali
- The Most Exalted, The High Exalted, The One who is free from the attributes of the creation
- Al-Barr
- The Source of All Goodness, The Righteous, The One who is kind to His creatures, who covers them with His sustenance and specifies whomever He wills among them by His support, protection, and special mercy
- At-Tawwaab
- The Acceptor of Repentance, The Relenting
- Al-Muntaqim
- The Avenger, The One who victoriously prevails over His enemies and punishes them for their sins
- Al-^Afuww
- The Pardoner, The Forgiver, The One with wide forgiveness
- Ar-Ra'uf
- The Compassionate, The One with extreme Mercy
- Malik Al-Mulk
- The Eternal Owner of Sovereignty
- Thul-Jalali wal-Ikram
- The Lord of Majesty and Bounty
- Al-Muqsit
- The Equitable, The One who is Just in His judgment.
- Aj-Jaami^
- The Gatherer, The One who gathers the creatures on the Day of Judgment
- Al-Ghaniyy
- The Self-Sufficient
- Al-Mughni
- The Enricher, The One who satisfies the necessities of the creatures
- Al-Maani^
- The Preventer, The Withholder
- Ad-Daarr
- The Distresser, The One who makes harm reach to whomever He wills and benefit to whomever He wills
- An-Nafi^
- The Propitious, The One who makes harm reach to whomever He wills and benefit to whomever He wills
- An-Noor
- The Light
- Al-Haadi
- The Guide
- Al-Badi^
- The Incomparable, The One who created the creation and formed it without any precedent or example
- Al-Baaqi
- The Everlasting, The One for whom the state of non-existence is impossible
- Al-Waarith
- The Supreme Inheritor, The Heir, The One whose Existence remains
- Ar-Rasheed
- The Guide to the Right Path, The One who guides
- As-Saboor
- The Patient, The One who does not quickly punish the sinners.
Sunday, July 25, 2010
Faith? Belief? What’s the difference? Who owns them?
It’s common for people to distinguish between faith and belief, usually assigning the lesser of the two, belief, to one group, such as the Christians, and the greater, faith, to another group, such as the Jews. In Two Types of Faith, Martin Buber distinguishes between these two ways of relating to God without playing the game of My Religion Is Better Than Yours. He contrasts the Hellenistic-inspired notion of faith as “mere believing,” that is, accepting the certainty of specific truths one had not previously held, with the Hebraic view of relational faith as trust, that is, depending on the “contact of my entire being with the one in whom I trust” (8). He refuses to identify faith as belief with Christians in general and faith as trust with Jews in general, arguing that both types of faith permeate both religions. He does argue, however, that faith as belief finds its “representative actuality” in Christianity and faith as trust finds its “representative actuality” in Judaism (11-12).
Though I may quarrel with his last conclusion about “representative actualities,” my experience within and knowledge of Christianity and Judaism confirms his view that faith as belief and faith as trust run through both traditions (and more than likely through Islam as well). Faith as belief is part of both Christianity and Judaism. Christians have creeds, distillations of teachings that help people navigate the scriptures and contemporary philosophy rightly, and they recite many of them during their liturgies. So do Jews. The Sh’ma and and Maimonides’s Thirteen Attributes of God are the most well known, but Saadia Gaon, Yehudah HaLevi, and others developed lists of beliefs to guide the faithful through the scriptures and contemporary intellectual challenges as well. Whether formal or informal, universally or not universally accepted, intellectual formulations of specific truths it is important to affirm or assent to--such as the unity of God and the goodness of the created world--play an essential, constructive role in religious traditions. They complement faith as trust; they do not supplant it. The faith that grounds and transforms the whole person must be mind and heart, truth and trust, emet v’emunah.
Faith as trust (emunah in Hebrew), Buber’s second type of faith, is also at the core of both Judaism and Christianity. The dominant understanding of faith in Christianity, before and after the Protestant Reformation, is also trust, as Augustine, Calvin, Luther, and many others confirm. To call this talk of trust, as Buber does, the survival of or a resurgence of “genuine Judaism” within Christianity seems incorrect and unnecessary. The 20th-century Reformed theologian H. Richard Niebuhr bypasses the notion of belief altogether to define faith as “radical trust in and loyalty to the One.” In Jesus, Buber says, “the genuine Jewish principle of” faith is manifest (12). I agree, but I would argue that in accepting Jesus as the Messiah, Christians did not merely believe him to be God: they adopted his way of being faithful to God, his way of trust. Faith as trust cannot be claimed primarily for one community of faith over the other.
I confess my great ignorance about the Islamic tradition. Yet from my reading and experience I would venture to guess that it, too, is pervaded by faith as belief and faith as trust. The shahada (and much of Islamic theology) represents one side, the recurring note of faith as radical trust in the One (tawwakul) the other. Recently I came across a definition of faith by al-Hujwiri, the 11th century Persian Sufi saint, that plumbs the depths of this notion of faith as radical trust, trust that penetrates to the root of one’s being, unifies all of one’s being, and requires the slaying of all rivals for our absolute trust: “Faith is really the absorption of all human attributes in the search of God.” (Revelation of the Mystery, tr. Reynold A. Nicholson, 289)
What al-Hujwiri means by this he shows by telling a story he heard:
Though I may quarrel with his last conclusion about “representative actualities,” my experience within and knowledge of Christianity and Judaism confirms his view that faith as belief and faith as trust run through both traditions (and more than likely through Islam as well). Faith as belief is part of both Christianity and Judaism. Christians have creeds, distillations of teachings that help people navigate the scriptures and contemporary philosophy rightly, and they recite many of them during their liturgies. So do Jews. The Sh’ma and and Maimonides’s Thirteen Attributes of God are the most well known, but Saadia Gaon, Yehudah HaLevi, and others developed lists of beliefs to guide the faithful through the scriptures and contemporary intellectual challenges as well. Whether formal or informal, universally or not universally accepted, intellectual formulations of specific truths it is important to affirm or assent to--such as the unity of God and the goodness of the created world--play an essential, constructive role in religious traditions. They complement faith as trust; they do not supplant it. The faith that grounds and transforms the whole person must be mind and heart, truth and trust, emet v’emunah.
Faith as trust (emunah in Hebrew), Buber’s second type of faith, is also at the core of both Judaism and Christianity. The dominant understanding of faith in Christianity, before and after the Protestant Reformation, is also trust, as Augustine, Calvin, Luther, and many others confirm. To call this talk of trust, as Buber does, the survival of or a resurgence of “genuine Judaism” within Christianity seems incorrect and unnecessary. The 20th-century Reformed theologian H. Richard Niebuhr bypasses the notion of belief altogether to define faith as “radical trust in and loyalty to the One.” In Jesus, Buber says, “the genuine Jewish principle of” faith is manifest (12). I agree, but I would argue that in accepting Jesus as the Messiah, Christians did not merely believe him to be God: they adopted his way of being faithful to God, his way of trust. Faith as trust cannot be claimed primarily for one community of faith over the other.
I confess my great ignorance about the Islamic tradition. Yet from my reading and experience I would venture to guess that it, too, is pervaded by faith as belief and faith as trust. The shahada (and much of Islamic theology) represents one side, the recurring note of faith as radical trust in the One (tawwakul) the other. Recently I came across a definition of faith by al-Hujwiri, the 11th century Persian Sufi saint, that plumbs the depths of this notion of faith as radical trust, trust that penetrates to the root of one’s being, unifies all of one’s being, and requires the slaying of all rivals for our absolute trust: “Faith is really the absorption of all human attributes in the search of God.” (Revelation of the Mystery, tr. Reynold A. Nicholson, 289)
What al-Hujwiri means by this he shows by telling a story he heard:
[W]hen Ibrahim Khawwas was asked [by the man narrating the story] concerning the reality of faith, he replied: “I have no answer to this question.just now, because whatever I say is a mere expression, and it behooves me to answer by my actions; but I am setting out for Mecca: do thou accompany me that thou mayest be answered.”
The narrator continues: “I consented. As we journeyed through the desert, every day two loaves and two cups of water appeared. He gave one to me and took the other for himself. One day an old man rode up to us and dismounted and conversed with Ibrahim for a while; then he left us. I asked Ibrahim to tell me who he was.
He replied: “This is the answer to thy questions.”
“How so"?” I asked.
He said: “This was Khidr [the enigmatic figure in Islam said to have guided Moshe to deeper wisdom and who continues to appear to guide and instruct people with his illuminated wisdom; roughly analogous to the legend of the Prophet Eliyahu in Judaism], who begged me to let him accompany me, but I refused, for I feared that in his company I might put confidence in him instead of in God, and then my trust in God (tawwakul) would have been vitiated. Real faith is trust in God.” (Ibid., 289-290)
Faith as trust and loyalty belongs to no religion, no tradition. It is the way of living from the root of one’s being with the One.
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