Jeremiah

Margaret Barragato

In haunting poetic images, Jeremiah describes the degradation and coming complete destruction of his people. All of the institutions and traditions by which the Hebrew people had defined themselves and in which they trusted have become completely corrupt. Judah’s sacred canopy has come completely undone. “Nothing can save Judah: neither temple, covenant, its status as an elect people, nor Davidic king. All security systems of the former world order are dreadfully inadequate and ineffectual.” (Stulman, p51f) In fact, they have all become so degraded and corrupt that they are unable to function; they have become a parody of what they once were.

The parallels to the current situation in the United States are many. What functions as the temple in our society – Christianity – has either been co-opted by the political conservatives or is largely ignored or irrelevant. The covenant that once at least appeared to apply – that it is the obligation of the government to provide for the poor in our society – has been rejected and dismantled. The United States has long had at least an implicit sense of election: We are “one nation, under God” and on our money we proclaim, “In God we trust.” There is a sense that God is on our side. (In fact, when George Bush was trying to drum up international support for the invasion of Iraq, he announced to all the world, even and most ironically in China, that God was in favor of the plan.) And of course our government, the parallel to the Davidic king, has become distorted and corrupted almost beyond comprehension.

The Israelite nation that had come into being with such hope and promise has become broken and degraded beyond repair. The United States, brought into being by the authors of the Constitution with such hope and promise, has become broken and corrupted probably beyond repair.

But is this so different from the cycling of all human civilizations? Witness the Roman Empire, which arose out of high ideals and died under the weight of its own depravity. Or the Catholic Church which grew out of the self-giving love and sacrifice of the early saints and martyrs and crumbled under the unbelievable corruption of the clergy and the papacy. This story is not new; it probably has been repeated in every culture humans have ever produced. What is new in our time is the globalization of information; we are able to know about all of the horrors occurring anywhere in our world on any given day. What is also new – and much more frightening – is our greatly increased capacity to destroy, which could well bring an end to the entire planet.

I was really struck by Brueggemann’s commentary on the “royal consciousness” with its characteristic affluence, oppressive social policy, and static religion. (Brueggemann pp26ff) He proposes: “The royal consciousness leads people to numbness, especially to numbness about death.” This has the consequence that “people must practice the proper behavior because they are no longer able to experience their own experience.” (Brueggemann p41) This is the very starting point for Zen.

The Seventh Century Chinese Patriarch Hui Neng said, “Zen is the non-separation of subject and object.” That is, Zen is all about experience – direct experience of that which is in front of you. We are all numbed by the society – any society – we grew up in. We are taught to believe that things are a certain way. What things and what way they are right or wrong varies from culture to culture, but the underlying principle is the same. “Christianity is the only true religion.” “The Russians are godless communists who want to take over the world.” “Sugar is bad for you.” “Garlic tastes bad and gives you bad breath.” These are a very few of the axioms of my particular upbringing. From the sublime to the ridiculous, they predetermine how we experience all of life. (The first time I ever knowingly ate garlic, I approached it with great trepidation, only to discover I liked it.) We are all conditioned by the opinions which we have been taught, which we have believed, and which we have formulated for ourselves. What we experience in life is our own conditioning, our own opinions. We see all of life through these filters; we cannot experience it as it is. We are indeed unable to experience our own experience.

Zen practice is all about unraveling our opinions, prejudices, and beliefs. It is the process of stripping away everything we cling to: every idea by which we make sense of the world, every pair of opposites, every view, every concept of right and wrong, good and bad. It is the complete dismantling of our own personal social, intellectual, and spiritual order, until we come to that place where there is absolutely nothing left. No self, no God, no ideas – nothing. That is truly the moment of falling into the ground and dying. In Zen it is called “The Great Death,” and it is truly terrifying. But out of this great death comes The Great Birth. Everything comes back, but it is all new. Reality is experienced just as it is, without any overlay. It shimmers with newness, freshness, itselfness.

What I find so amazing in Jeremiah’s writing is that he encourages the Judeans to go into exile willingly, to accept the Babylonian domination, and even build homes and plant gardens in Babylon. All of Judah’s structures are falling apart. The city is destroyed and the people are reduced to scrounging for what little they can find for subsistence, and Jeremiah says, “Embrace it! For it is only if you go into exile that you can be saved. If you stay in your homeland, if you cling to what you know, you will surely be destroyed.”

The concept of using Jeremiah’s writings as a metaphor for Zen practice is no doubt abhorrent to all “people of the book,” but it is a remarkably apt one. He is describing on a societal level what happens on an individual level in Zen. We are absolutely terrified of losing all that we have, of stepping out into the totally unknown. But if we cling to what we have always known – to our opinions, our beliefs, our possessions, our views – we will forever remain imprisoned, locked into the little world of our own selfness. It is only by relinquishing all that, by letting go, that we will find freedom.

What is even more remarkable is Jeremiah’s conclusion. This is what will happen if Judah willingly accepts exile:

“Behold, the days are coming, says the Lord, when I

make a new covenant with the house of Israel and the house

of Judah… I will put my law within them, and I will write it

upon their hearts; and I will be their God and they shall be

my people. And no longer shall each man teach his neighbor

and each his brother, saying, ‘Know the Lord,’ for they shall

all know me, from the least of them to the greatest, says the

Lord…” Jer 31:31, 33b-34a

In Zen, we would say it a little differently, but the meaning is similar. When we return from our exile, when we experience the Great Birth, we will discover what has been written on our hearts all along: the law of God, the Enlightened Way, that which no words can describe but which every heart contains. At the time, it seems to be a totally new discovery, but we recognize at the same time that we have always known it. We come to know for ourselves – we no longer need to be taught – what has always been true: we are the Redeemed, we are the Buddha, we are the Christ, we and all beings are precious in God’s sight.

Perhaps – just perhaps – what is, in Zen, understood to be true for the individual is also true on some grand scale, on a scale too grand for us short-lived humans to discern. Perhaps not only individual humans, but whole societies, or even whole worlds, galaxies, universes, come into being with great hope and promise, become corrupted, and must go into exile and die. But through their willingness to go into exile and die, they are reborn in the fullness of life.

References

Walter Brueggemann The Prophetic Imagination, Second Edition. Minneapolis,

Fortress Press. 2001

Louis Stulman Order and Chaos: Jeremiah as Symbolic Tapestry. Sheffield

Academic Press. 1998

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