A Short Talk for Church
This month has well embodied the purported Chinese curse; about two weeks ago Mom got the call that Dad has an abnormal thinning in his pelvis and a lesion of the bone. The doctor suspected cancer and so began a week of tests. Determined to be present for the oncology consultation, W. and I went to North Georgia but at the last moment, the consultation was pushed aback almost a full week. During that week I learned a lot about why you can never go home.
We were four adults living in a house that was built for two adults and two children and true to form, I still cannot go near Mom's kitchen if she is within 90 miles of the county. The one time I attempted to cook, I was accused of unleashing chemical warfare. However, despite the added stress of what we suspected to be cancer, we managed fairly well. No small part of that was due to W.'s Mom who in the midst of our waiting, had her own adventure which I will let him tell if he likes.
On the following Thursday we got up before either the chickens or God and went to the hospital for one more test, a biopsy. The biopsy proved more time consuming than expected and Mom called the doctor to explain why we might be running a few minutes late. It was only then that we got the good news that thus far Dad is in fact cancer free; it appears he has osteoarthritis and while it may hurt like hell for the next twenty years, it will not kill him.
Nevertheless impermanence has been on my mind a lot lately along with the fragility of life and the importance of learning to wait. When was last time you waited on something? Maybe at a restaurant last night with your friends or maybe this morning in the check out line at the super market while buying a bag of fried chicken for our Sunday potluck? We wait for little things all the time and these are good moments to practice because some day, and you never know when, you will be waiting for something big, like learning whether or not your Dad has cancer.
In Shin Buddhist circles there is a text called White Ashes. It was written about six hundred years ago but as surely as we all must die, it remains as relevant today as it was then:
“When I deeply contemplate the transient nature of human life, I realize that, from beginning to end, life is impermanent like an illusion. We have not yet heard of anyone who lived ten thousand years. How fleeting is a lifetime!
Who in this world today can maintain a human form for even a hundred years? There is no knowing whether I will die first or others, whether death will occur today or tomorrow. We depart one after another more quickly than the dewdrops on the roots or the tips of the blades of grasses. So it is said. Hence, we may have radiant faces in the morning, but by evening we may turn into white ashes.
Once the winds of impermanence have blown, our eyes are instantly closed and our breath stops forever. Then, our radiant face changes its color, and the attractive countenance like peach and plum blossoms is lost. Family and relatives will gather and grieve, but all to no avail?
Since there is nothing else that can be done, they carry the deceased out to the fields, and then what is left after the body has been cremated and has turned into the midnight smoke is just white ashes. Words fail to describe the sadness of it all.
Thus the ephemeral nature of human existence is such that death comes to young and old alike without discrimination. So we should all quickly take to heart the matter of the greatest importance of the afterlife, entrust ourselves deeply to Amida Buddha, and recite the nembutsu. Humbly and respectfully.” [From Renyo's Letters, translated by Hisao Inagaki, 2000]
In Shin Buddhism there is certainly an element which stresses the afterlife and preparing for it. In Western Humanism the idea that we are loved unconditionally by something bigger than ourselves, regardless if we call it Amida Buddha or by some other name, will no doubt be met with skepticism. However there is another aspect to preparing for the afterlife which depends upon what we do rather than what we believe.
This is the commitment to do the right thing, to cultivate compassion and to seek enlightenment not as some personal quest but as something which transcends one lifetime and connects us all. It is the determination to be a part of the solution rather than part of the problem. It is to remember that happiness is our original state and that whenever we let go of anger, greed and ignorance, we return to that state. It is an ongoing process and as the bumper sticker says, it is the journey that matters, not the destination.
These are some of the things that I am carrying with me into 2014. I am going forth with gratitude for some many things, not just the health of my father, but also the strength of this congregation, the many friends who encourage and sustains my practice and faith and of course W. whose birthday was also this month. We visited the old Clock Tower in Rome, GA where we first met.
We have come a long way in 23 years and there are still so many things I couldn't do without you.
Happy birthday, William and to the rest of y'all,
Namu Amida Butsu.