Additional materials: https://cchu9014.weebly.com/additional-material10.html
Learning objectives
- To acquire a preliminary understanding of the concepts of “spirituality,” “religion” and “social change” and the relationship between them;
- To distinguish between seeing religion as tradition, as doctrine, and as a process of learning;
- To reflect on the attitude of mutual learning and consultation that we will adopt in this course;
- To reflect on your reasons for taking this course, and to connect this course to your personal questions, past experiences and trajectory in life.
Introduction
If you think that life is not just about money and power – if you want to have a meaningful and purposeful life -- then you have a spiritual orientation to life, you have spirituality.
As you pursue meaning and purpose, you will encounter the worldviews, the symbols, the teachings and practices of religion. And there, you will find sublime beauty and hideous ugliness; you will find truth and ignorance; you will find both clarity and confusion.
In this course, you will learn how to navigate the ocean of spirituality and religion -- by personally experiencing religious concepts and practices; by bringing religion into dialogue with natural and social science; by bringing different religious traditions into dialogue with each other; by bringing religion into dialogue with contemporary social reality and processes of social transformation. And the first stage in this journey, is to put aside our preconceived notions, and to explore and understand the beliefs and disbelief of others.
No matter whether we are young or old, from the East or from the West, we all have our own questions, experiences, memories, imagination, doubts, beliefs and ideals when thinking about the spiritual dimension of life, how it connects to religion, and how it connects to the direction we will take in our life. In the first week of this course, we'll take stock of where we are and what brings us to this course. I'll share the story of my own trajectory: my own journey took me through a heritage of religious conflict, militant atheism, encounters with Christianity and Islam, doubts on materialism, questions on self-transformation and social activism, experimentation with Buddhism and Daoism, and commitment to the Bahá’í faith. My journey also led me to academic investigation and field research on the anthropology and sociology of religion, and exploration of how spirituality and religion aren't simply personal beliefs, but deeply connected with social and cultural change. In this course, I'll try to share some of the things I've learned along the way -- different ways of perceiving and experiencing the world and who we are as humans; how religion has evolved in human history; the interplay between spirituality, religion and modernity; different ways of putting spiritual values into practice in today's world; and the ways in which religion can be either a destructive or a constructive force in social transformation. And I’ll invite you to develop your own understanding of these issues, by drawing on your own reflections and experience, on your discussions with your classmates, and on the course readings, films and fieldtrips.
As you pursue meaning and purpose, you will encounter the worldviews, the symbols, the teachings and practices of religion. And there, you will find sublime beauty and hideous ugliness; you will find truth and ignorance; you will find both clarity and confusion.
In this course, you will learn how to navigate the ocean of spirituality and religion -- by personally experiencing religious concepts and practices; by bringing religion into dialogue with natural and social science; by bringing different religious traditions into dialogue with each other; by bringing religion into dialogue with contemporary social reality and processes of social transformation. And the first stage in this journey, is to put aside our preconceived notions, and to explore and understand the beliefs and disbelief of others.
No matter whether we are young or old, from the East or from the West, we all have our own questions, experiences, memories, imagination, doubts, beliefs and ideals when thinking about the spiritual dimension of life, how it connects to religion, and how it connects to the direction we will take in our life. In the first week of this course, we'll take stock of where we are and what brings us to this course. I'll share the story of my own trajectory: my own journey took me through a heritage of religious conflict, militant atheism, encounters with Christianity and Islam, doubts on materialism, questions on self-transformation and social activism, experimentation with Buddhism and Daoism, and commitment to the Bahá’í faith. My journey also led me to academic investigation and field research on the anthropology and sociology of religion, and exploration of how spirituality and religion aren't simply personal beliefs, but deeply connected with social and cultural change. In this course, I'll try to share some of the things I've learned along the way -- different ways of perceiving and experiencing the world and who we are as humans; how religion has evolved in human history; the interplay between spirituality, religion and modernity; different ways of putting spiritual values into practice in today's world; and the ways in which religion can be either a destructive or a constructive force in social transformation. And I’ll invite you to develop your own understanding of these issues, by drawing on your own reflections and experience, on your discussions with your classmates, and on the course readings, films and fieldtrips.
Key concepts: spirituality and religion
Two key concepts in this course are spirituality and religion. What do these terms exactly mean, and what is the connection between them? There is no clear consensus on the definition of these two terms -- but it's important, for the sake of clarity, to explain how I understand and use them for the purpose of this course.
Socrates and Alcibiades
Let’s start with one of Plato’s most important works, the Alcibiades, which recounts a dialogue between Socrates and the young man Alcibiades. Alcibiades planned to get involved in politics, and to become a leader of the Athenian people. In the dialogue, Socrates asks Alcibiades in what way be is qualified to be a leader. Alcibiades thinks that he should be the leader because he’s handsome, wealthy, and born of a good family. Socrates makes him realise that those are not the required qualities, that justice is the key to the happiness of the city, and that he knows nothing about justice – and therefore, that he knows nothing about leadership and politics.
Socrates explains to Alcibiades that the most important thing for him to be a leader is to know himself, and to take care of himself, to become a better person. But how do you know yourself? And how do you take care of yourself? How do you become a better person? A knight knows how to ride a horse and how to become better in his horsemanship; there is such a thing as a good or a bad knight. A cobbler knows how to make shoes and how to become better at making shoes; there is such thing as a good or a bad cobbler. But these are specific, specialised domains of knowledge. What is the more general domain within which one can be a good person, as opposed to simply good at riding horses or at making shoes? How do we know if someone is good or bad at being a person? Through their discussion, Alcibiades and Socrates agree that it’s through dealing with other people in human relationships, through being a citizen in a community of people who meet to decide on their common affairs. To be a good person is to know how to deal with people and to manage the community’s affairs, such that friendship and concord among the people increase, and hatred and dissension decrease.
But, says Socrates, to increase this friendship and concord, it’s necessary to know and to care for your self. But, we’re often mistaken when we think we know ourselves or care for ourselves. Very often, we think we are taking care of ourselves, when we are only taking care of the things we have. For example, we have shoes. We can take care of our shoes, and there is a knowledge – the knowledge of the cobbler – which is the “science of shoes”. But this is not knowing and caring for yourself. And we have feet, on which we wear our shoes. Our feet are part of our body. Gymnastics, the “science of the body”, is the knowledge of caring for the body. And yet, if you know gymnastics, you still don’t know yourself, or how to take care of yourself.
All these things – your shoes, and your material possessions, and your feet, and all other parts of your body – are things you have, that you decide how to use. Who is this “you” -- the “I” -- that “has” these things and decides what to do with them, who “makes use of” your body and the things you own? This is your “self.”
For Socrates, a human being is composed of a governing component and a governed component – the “self” and the “body” respectively. The true self is also called the “soul.” And when two persons speak with each other and communicate, it is their souls that are communicating. So, to know yourself is to know your soul; and to take care of yourself, is to take care of your soul.
And how can you know yourself? How can you know your soul? Here, Socrates uses the analogy of a mirror. You can see yourself through your reflection in a mirror. Now, one place in which we can see our reflection is in the pupil of the eye of another person. The pupil is the most excellent component of the eye, through which vision is possible. It is through your pupil, through the most beautiful, most excellent and profound window into yourself, that I see my reflection.
Following this analogy, the way to know your soul is to communicate with the most perfect, the most beautiful and most excellent part of another soul. This most perfect part of another person, for Socrates, is that part that is capable of thought and reflection; this is the divine aspect of the soul. Thus, my own true self, the divinity of my own soul, will be reflected and awakened in the mirror of the perfection of your soul.
To “take care of,” in classical Greece, meant to cure, to improve, to make better, to transform. And this involves methods, techniques and practices. So, to take care of your self, means to know how to do certain things, for the purpose of transforming yourself. And, knowing how to do that for yourself, knowing how to handle yourself, you will be able to handle your relationships with others. And then, Alcibiades will have the capacity to be a leader, to bring friendship, justice and concord into the community of people who meet together to decide on the conduct of their affairs.
The French philosopher Michel Foucault, in his study of the Alcibiades, equated these Greek notions and practices of the “care of the self,” with the concept of “spirituality” which he defined as the “search, practice, and experience by which the subject carries out on himself the necessary transformations to have access to the truth.”[1] Spirituality is a form of knowledge and practice, but one that involves self-transformation: you need to care for yourself, to apply practices of self-transformation, in order to attain to the knowledge of the truth about yourself. And the knowledge of the truth, will transform you in turn.
Spirituality
Spirituality starts with the feeling we may occasionally have that somehow there is more to life than daily things like studying, working, making money, buying things, grasping for power, or seeking the approval or admiration of others. What should I do with my life? How should I live my life? Somehow, we feel that there is some deeper purpose and significance to life. Somehow, we feel that we have a deeper connection with all of humanity and even the whole universe. There is “something.” But what is that thing? Spirituality starts with the feeling inside us that there is “something” – some kind of meaning and purpose, and with it a feeling that this “something” is not just an abstract idea -- that “who I am” is connected to that “something”. If I want to know who I truly am, or to fully develop, grow, or transform myself as a person, I want to know more about that “something”. This is the “true self”, the “soul,” as described in the Alcibiades, who is speaking. So, spirituality involves a sense of having a spiritual nature, and a spiritual orientation to life. What does that mean?
A spiritual orientation to life is based on the assumption that life is not just about making money, acquiring reputation, asserting power over others, or indulging in sensual pleasures -- that there is "something else" that matters more, that our life has a higher purpose or significance, one which involves a deeper connection with others, with the universe, and with something we might call divine. For some, such a "spiritual orientation" may be an illusion, a mere fantasy. For some, it may be a vague feeling that arises from time to time; for others, it might be a strong conviction; and for others, it might be something so natural that they never even think about it. But what is that higher purpose or significance, that connection, that "something"? It's hard to say for sure. It refers to something invisible and intangible, something about our inner being, something transcendent, something that connects us to something bigger -- all of these "somethings" is what we call “divine”, or "spiritual".
The word “spiritual” has many meanings and can be understood in many ways. The English word is derived from the Latin word spirare, meaning “to breathe”, and came to carry the meaning of “breath of life”. This is the root of the word “spirit” which was associated with the notion of the “soul”. There are several Chinese terms that have some connection to the term “spirit”, including shen (神), ling (靈), qi (氣), or the modern term of jingshen (精神). “Spiritual” is nowadays often translated as lingxing (靈性). These terms have different connotations in different contexts, which can lead to confusion. In this course, based on my research on most of the world’s religious traditions, I will use the term of “spiritual” to refer to a notion of a dimension of reality or an invisible order that transcends the material realm and human comprehension, that is life-giving, that is a source of consciousness, that has intention or purpose, that connects all beings, and that is an aspect of our deepest essence.
Having a spiritual orientation to life, leads to specific ways of understanding and nurturing yourself. In academic jargon, this involves constituting yourself as a spiritual subject -- as a conscious and reflexive person in realms perceived as transcending the immediately visible and material world. Another way of putting it is to say that this involves seeing yourself as being a soul or having a spiritual nature, and nurturing that spiritual nature – that the dimension of reality that I called “spiritual” in the previous section, is the most important part of who you are. People nurture their spirituality through certain practices, experiences, disciplines, learning, conversations, and participation in social communities and institutions. These are processes in which we construct our self, nurturing our spirituality in a specific way – as someone who is engaged in self-transformation, discovering or attaining our essence as being more than mortal flesh, and living in, interacting with, and aligning ourselves to a meaningful cosmos that extends deeper or beyond the immediate materiality of the world as it appears to the senses.
The ancient Greeks called this orientation and concern the “care of the self.” In Chinese, this is similar to the notion of xiu (修) applied to the self, including xiuyang (修養), xiushen (修身), xiulian (修煉) and xiuxing (修行).What are the forms of knowledge, practice, and social relations through which people care for themselves and nurture their spirituality? These forms of knowledge and practice were, as defined by Foucault, “intentional and voluntary actions,”[2] “which permit individuals to effect by their own means or with the help of others a certain number of operations on their own bodies and souls, thoughts, conduct, and way of being, so as to transform themselves in order to attain a certain state of happiness, purity, wisdom, perfection, or immortality.”[3] For the scholar of Daoism Louis Komjathy, they are “techniques of transformation” that “aim to facilitate and initiate a shift in ontological condition”[4] from the self constituted by the unreflexive habits of daily life, to a self that strives to become conscious of, to experience, or to encounter a spiritual, sacred or ultimate reality. Regimens of techniques, rituals, practices and social activities lead people to orient themselves in the world in terms of their relationship with a non-human, divine or spiritual reality.
These spiritual practices have, throughout history, constituted regimens for the “cultivation of the self”, which Foucault defined as “an attitude, a mode of behaviour; it became instilled in ways of living; it evolved into procedures, practices, and formulas that people reflected on, developed, perfected, and taught. It thus came to constitute a social practice, giving rise to relationships between individuals, to exchanges and communications, and at times even to institutions. And it gave rise, finally, to a certain mode of knowledge and to the elaboration of a science”[5] (science here referring to an organized system of knowledge). No matter how intimate and personal such paths of self-cultivation may be, they are socially constructed, elaborated and enacted, emanating from and giving rise to traditions, lineages, institutions and organized systems of knowledge. These traditions, lineages, institutions and organized systems of knowledge are called “religion”.
Religion
Spirituality is not necessarily “religious,” and many people seek to know and nurture their true self without thinking of religion. To go back to the story of Alcibiades, few people would associate Socrates and Plato with religion. They associate them with secular Western philosophy, in which there is nothing supernatural, or in which “God” is, at most, an abstract principle. But that’s misreading the stories. Socrates always claimed that it was the voice of a deity who told him to remind everyone to take care of their souls. And ultimately, for Socrates, to know your true self is to know your soul, and to know the essence of your soul is to see how it is a reflection of the divine. And as Foucault mentions, the practices of the “care of the self” in ancient Greece involved purification rituals, meditation, prayer, moral discipline, and so on. So here we are talking about a deity, the soul, the divine, prayer, ritual… It’s hard to separate spirituality from religion.
Religion is defined in many different ways, and there is no consensus on the definition of the term. But one way of looking at it is to say that if spirituality is about knowing and caring for the self, religion is about knowing and relating to the spiritual reality beyond the self. Different religious traditions give very different names and descriptions of that invisible reality. They say that, for example, that it is “God”, “Dao”, “Dharma”, “Qi”, “soul”, or many gods and spirits, or whatever.
Whatever the spiritual reality is called, religion assumes that there is order to it. The idea is that beyond the visible and material order of the world, there is another invisible order. This invisible order has meaning, intention and consciousness, and there are invisible forces associated with it. It operates deep within us; it communicates with us; and we can somehow connect and communicate with its forces, at the personal level – not just at the abstract level, but also in very personal ways through prayer, through meditation, or through our own bodies. Not just alone, but collectively, in rituals and communities. Religion says that we are part of that spiritual reality – and that we need to know about it. It says that our connection to this reality can be strengthened or weakened, and that there are specific ways and methods to strengthen this connection. Religion says that this is a very practical matter – if you are conscious of spiritual reality, live your life in alignment with its laws and principles, communicate with its forces, connect with them, become a part of them, you will have a better life.
Religion claims that to connect and communicate with spiritual reality means that our life will somehow be different. This connection affects our life as an individual, as well as our collective life. Some religious traditions may say you will avoid illness, misfortune and bad luck; you will enjoy peace, harmony and prosperity. They may say you will enjoy health, longevity, even immortality. Or that you will enjoy tranquillity, serenity and enlightenment. They may say that you will be saved from suffering and sin. And perhaps that you will find yourself in heaven, or in a heavenly state, whether in the next life or even in this one. Religions also say that, if people align themselves with spiritual reality, societies will be more moral, people will be less selfish, they will care for each other, and communities will be more united. Are all of these claims true? You’ll be able to consider it in this class.
So, to sum up, religion refers to systems of communication, knowledge, practice and social organisation that aim to make and reinforce our connection to spiritual reality. Religion seeks to understand the spiritual reality and what we should do about it. Different religious traditions give very different names and descriptions of that reality, and also tell us to do different things about it. But religion is based on the following assumptions:
Spirituality is more personal and religion is more social, but the two are organically connected -- religion provides systems of communication, knowledge, practices and social organization which aim to nurture and reinforce the personal meaning, connection and self-transformation that spirituality seeks for. Spirituality arises from a personal questioning, and orientation to life, seeking for a life that transcends purely material and self-centred concerns. Religion is a collective, cultural process, a system of communication, knowledge and action that aims to nurture, deepen and channel spirituality. In a sense, then, spirituality starts in a more subjective way, whilst religion is a more external, cultural system of communication, knowledge and practice. But the two are always interconnected.
[1] Foucault, The Hermeneutics of the Subject, 15.
[2] Foucault, The Use of Pleasure, 10–11.
[3] Foucault, “Technologies of the Self,” 18.
[4] Komjathy, Cultivating Perfection, 25.
[5] Foucault, The Use of Pleasure, 44–45.
Socrates and Alcibiades
Let’s start with one of Plato’s most important works, the Alcibiades, which recounts a dialogue between Socrates and the young man Alcibiades. Alcibiades planned to get involved in politics, and to become a leader of the Athenian people. In the dialogue, Socrates asks Alcibiades in what way be is qualified to be a leader. Alcibiades thinks that he should be the leader because he’s handsome, wealthy, and born of a good family. Socrates makes him realise that those are not the required qualities, that justice is the key to the happiness of the city, and that he knows nothing about justice – and therefore, that he knows nothing about leadership and politics.
Socrates explains to Alcibiades that the most important thing for him to be a leader is to know himself, and to take care of himself, to become a better person. But how do you know yourself? And how do you take care of yourself? How do you become a better person? A knight knows how to ride a horse and how to become better in his horsemanship; there is such a thing as a good or a bad knight. A cobbler knows how to make shoes and how to become better at making shoes; there is such thing as a good or a bad cobbler. But these are specific, specialised domains of knowledge. What is the more general domain within which one can be a good person, as opposed to simply good at riding horses or at making shoes? How do we know if someone is good or bad at being a person? Through their discussion, Alcibiades and Socrates agree that it’s through dealing with other people in human relationships, through being a citizen in a community of people who meet to decide on their common affairs. To be a good person is to know how to deal with people and to manage the community’s affairs, such that friendship and concord among the people increase, and hatred and dissension decrease.
But, says Socrates, to increase this friendship and concord, it’s necessary to know and to care for your self. But, we’re often mistaken when we think we know ourselves or care for ourselves. Very often, we think we are taking care of ourselves, when we are only taking care of the things we have. For example, we have shoes. We can take care of our shoes, and there is a knowledge – the knowledge of the cobbler – which is the “science of shoes”. But this is not knowing and caring for yourself. And we have feet, on which we wear our shoes. Our feet are part of our body. Gymnastics, the “science of the body”, is the knowledge of caring for the body. And yet, if you know gymnastics, you still don’t know yourself, or how to take care of yourself.
All these things – your shoes, and your material possessions, and your feet, and all other parts of your body – are things you have, that you decide how to use. Who is this “you” -- the “I” -- that “has” these things and decides what to do with them, who “makes use of” your body and the things you own? This is your “self.”
For Socrates, a human being is composed of a governing component and a governed component – the “self” and the “body” respectively. The true self is also called the “soul.” And when two persons speak with each other and communicate, it is their souls that are communicating. So, to know yourself is to know your soul; and to take care of yourself, is to take care of your soul.
And how can you know yourself? How can you know your soul? Here, Socrates uses the analogy of a mirror. You can see yourself through your reflection in a mirror. Now, one place in which we can see our reflection is in the pupil of the eye of another person. The pupil is the most excellent component of the eye, through which vision is possible. It is through your pupil, through the most beautiful, most excellent and profound window into yourself, that I see my reflection.
Following this analogy, the way to know your soul is to communicate with the most perfect, the most beautiful and most excellent part of another soul. This most perfect part of another person, for Socrates, is that part that is capable of thought and reflection; this is the divine aspect of the soul. Thus, my own true self, the divinity of my own soul, will be reflected and awakened in the mirror of the perfection of your soul.
To “take care of,” in classical Greece, meant to cure, to improve, to make better, to transform. And this involves methods, techniques and practices. So, to take care of your self, means to know how to do certain things, for the purpose of transforming yourself. And, knowing how to do that for yourself, knowing how to handle yourself, you will be able to handle your relationships with others. And then, Alcibiades will have the capacity to be a leader, to bring friendship, justice and concord into the community of people who meet together to decide on the conduct of their affairs.
The French philosopher Michel Foucault, in his study of the Alcibiades, equated these Greek notions and practices of the “care of the self,” with the concept of “spirituality” which he defined as the “search, practice, and experience by which the subject carries out on himself the necessary transformations to have access to the truth.”[1] Spirituality is a form of knowledge and practice, but one that involves self-transformation: you need to care for yourself, to apply practices of self-transformation, in order to attain to the knowledge of the truth about yourself. And the knowledge of the truth, will transform you in turn.
Spirituality
Spirituality starts with the feeling we may occasionally have that somehow there is more to life than daily things like studying, working, making money, buying things, grasping for power, or seeking the approval or admiration of others. What should I do with my life? How should I live my life? Somehow, we feel that there is some deeper purpose and significance to life. Somehow, we feel that we have a deeper connection with all of humanity and even the whole universe. There is “something.” But what is that thing? Spirituality starts with the feeling inside us that there is “something” – some kind of meaning and purpose, and with it a feeling that this “something” is not just an abstract idea -- that “who I am” is connected to that “something”. If I want to know who I truly am, or to fully develop, grow, or transform myself as a person, I want to know more about that “something”. This is the “true self”, the “soul,” as described in the Alcibiades, who is speaking. So, spirituality involves a sense of having a spiritual nature, and a spiritual orientation to life. What does that mean?
A spiritual orientation to life is based on the assumption that life is not just about making money, acquiring reputation, asserting power over others, or indulging in sensual pleasures -- that there is "something else" that matters more, that our life has a higher purpose or significance, one which involves a deeper connection with others, with the universe, and with something we might call divine. For some, such a "spiritual orientation" may be an illusion, a mere fantasy. For some, it may be a vague feeling that arises from time to time; for others, it might be a strong conviction; and for others, it might be something so natural that they never even think about it. But what is that higher purpose or significance, that connection, that "something"? It's hard to say for sure. It refers to something invisible and intangible, something about our inner being, something transcendent, something that connects us to something bigger -- all of these "somethings" is what we call “divine”, or "spiritual".
The word “spiritual” has many meanings and can be understood in many ways. The English word is derived from the Latin word spirare, meaning “to breathe”, and came to carry the meaning of “breath of life”. This is the root of the word “spirit” which was associated with the notion of the “soul”. There are several Chinese terms that have some connection to the term “spirit”, including shen (神), ling (靈), qi (氣), or the modern term of jingshen (精神). “Spiritual” is nowadays often translated as lingxing (靈性). These terms have different connotations in different contexts, which can lead to confusion. In this course, based on my research on most of the world’s religious traditions, I will use the term of “spiritual” to refer to a notion of a dimension of reality or an invisible order that transcends the material realm and human comprehension, that is life-giving, that is a source of consciousness, that has intention or purpose, that connects all beings, and that is an aspect of our deepest essence.
Having a spiritual orientation to life, leads to specific ways of understanding and nurturing yourself. In academic jargon, this involves constituting yourself as a spiritual subject -- as a conscious and reflexive person in realms perceived as transcending the immediately visible and material world. Another way of putting it is to say that this involves seeing yourself as being a soul or having a spiritual nature, and nurturing that spiritual nature – that the dimension of reality that I called “spiritual” in the previous section, is the most important part of who you are. People nurture their spirituality through certain practices, experiences, disciplines, learning, conversations, and participation in social communities and institutions. These are processes in which we construct our self, nurturing our spirituality in a specific way – as someone who is engaged in self-transformation, discovering or attaining our essence as being more than mortal flesh, and living in, interacting with, and aligning ourselves to a meaningful cosmos that extends deeper or beyond the immediate materiality of the world as it appears to the senses.
The ancient Greeks called this orientation and concern the “care of the self.” In Chinese, this is similar to the notion of xiu (修) applied to the self, including xiuyang (修養), xiushen (修身), xiulian (修煉) and xiuxing (修行).What are the forms of knowledge, practice, and social relations through which people care for themselves and nurture their spirituality? These forms of knowledge and practice were, as defined by Foucault, “intentional and voluntary actions,”[2] “which permit individuals to effect by their own means or with the help of others a certain number of operations on their own bodies and souls, thoughts, conduct, and way of being, so as to transform themselves in order to attain a certain state of happiness, purity, wisdom, perfection, or immortality.”[3] For the scholar of Daoism Louis Komjathy, they are “techniques of transformation” that “aim to facilitate and initiate a shift in ontological condition”[4] from the self constituted by the unreflexive habits of daily life, to a self that strives to become conscious of, to experience, or to encounter a spiritual, sacred or ultimate reality. Regimens of techniques, rituals, practices and social activities lead people to orient themselves in the world in terms of their relationship with a non-human, divine or spiritual reality.
These spiritual practices have, throughout history, constituted regimens for the “cultivation of the self”, which Foucault defined as “an attitude, a mode of behaviour; it became instilled in ways of living; it evolved into procedures, practices, and formulas that people reflected on, developed, perfected, and taught. It thus came to constitute a social practice, giving rise to relationships between individuals, to exchanges and communications, and at times even to institutions. And it gave rise, finally, to a certain mode of knowledge and to the elaboration of a science”[5] (science here referring to an organized system of knowledge). No matter how intimate and personal such paths of self-cultivation may be, they are socially constructed, elaborated and enacted, emanating from and giving rise to traditions, lineages, institutions and organized systems of knowledge. These traditions, lineages, institutions and organized systems of knowledge are called “religion”.
Religion
Spirituality is not necessarily “religious,” and many people seek to know and nurture their true self without thinking of religion. To go back to the story of Alcibiades, few people would associate Socrates and Plato with religion. They associate them with secular Western philosophy, in which there is nothing supernatural, or in which “God” is, at most, an abstract principle. But that’s misreading the stories. Socrates always claimed that it was the voice of a deity who told him to remind everyone to take care of their souls. And ultimately, for Socrates, to know your true self is to know your soul, and to know the essence of your soul is to see how it is a reflection of the divine. And as Foucault mentions, the practices of the “care of the self” in ancient Greece involved purification rituals, meditation, prayer, moral discipline, and so on. So here we are talking about a deity, the soul, the divine, prayer, ritual… It’s hard to separate spirituality from religion.
Religion is defined in many different ways, and there is no consensus on the definition of the term. But one way of looking at it is to say that if spirituality is about knowing and caring for the self, religion is about knowing and relating to the spiritual reality beyond the self. Different religious traditions give very different names and descriptions of that invisible reality. They say that, for example, that it is “God”, “Dao”, “Dharma”, “Qi”, “soul”, or many gods and spirits, or whatever.
Whatever the spiritual reality is called, religion assumes that there is order to it. The idea is that beyond the visible and material order of the world, there is another invisible order. This invisible order has meaning, intention and consciousness, and there are invisible forces associated with it. It operates deep within us; it communicates with us; and we can somehow connect and communicate with its forces, at the personal level – not just at the abstract level, but also in very personal ways through prayer, through meditation, or through our own bodies. Not just alone, but collectively, in rituals and communities. Religion says that we are part of that spiritual reality – and that we need to know about it. It says that our connection to this reality can be strengthened or weakened, and that there are specific ways and methods to strengthen this connection. Religion says that this is a very practical matter – if you are conscious of spiritual reality, live your life in alignment with its laws and principles, communicate with its forces, connect with them, become a part of them, you will have a better life.
Religion claims that to connect and communicate with spiritual reality means that our life will somehow be different. This connection affects our life as an individual, as well as our collective life. Some religious traditions may say you will avoid illness, misfortune and bad luck; you will enjoy peace, harmony and prosperity. They may say you will enjoy health, longevity, even immortality. Or that you will enjoy tranquillity, serenity and enlightenment. They may say that you will be saved from suffering and sin. And perhaps that you will find yourself in heaven, or in a heavenly state, whether in the next life or even in this one. Religions also say that, if people align themselves with spiritual reality, societies will be more moral, people will be less selfish, they will care for each other, and communities will be more united. Are all of these claims true? You’ll be able to consider it in this class.
So, to sum up, religion refers to systems of communication, knowledge, practice and social organisation that aim to make and reinforce our connection to spiritual reality. Religion seeks to understand the spiritual reality and what we should do about it. Different religious traditions give very different names and descriptions of that reality, and also tell us to do different things about it. But religion is based on the following assumptions:
- there is a spiritual reality;
- we are deeply connected to this spiritual reality through our own spiritual nature;
- we can strengthen or weaken our connection with this spiritual reality and our spiritual nature;
- there are specific ways to strengthen this connection;
- doing so involves changing the way we live our lives;
- doing so leads to positive individual transformation including increased consciousness, sense of meaning and purpose in life, morality, equanimity, discipline, peace of mind, compassion and altruism;
- doing so leads to positive social transformation including greater social solidarity and trust, common values and ideals, community organizations and institutions, philanthropy and norms of social justice, systems of knowledge, and the cultural and aesthetic expressions of civilisation.
Spirituality is more personal and religion is more social, but the two are organically connected -- religion provides systems of communication, knowledge, practices and social organization which aim to nurture and reinforce the personal meaning, connection and self-transformation that spirituality seeks for. Spirituality arises from a personal questioning, and orientation to life, seeking for a life that transcends purely material and self-centred concerns. Religion is a collective, cultural process, a system of communication, knowledge and action that aims to nurture, deepen and channel spirituality. In a sense, then, spirituality starts in a more subjective way, whilst religion is a more external, cultural system of communication, knowledge and practice. But the two are always interconnected.
[1] Foucault, The Hermeneutics of the Subject, 15.
[2] Foucault, The Use of Pleasure, 10–11.
[3] Foucault, “Technologies of the Self,” 18.
[4] Komjathy, Cultivating Perfection, 25.
[5] Foucault, The Use of Pleasure, 44–45.
Social change
In modern times, religion is often perceived as dogmatic or overly concerned with material, political or sectarian concerns. Many people thus see a tension between "spirituality" and "religion". In the past, or in traditional societies, there often was little or no tension between spirituality and religion: everyone in a given community was embedded into the same religious system or "sacred canopy", within which they found and expressed spiritual meaning.[1] It was practically impossible to imagine anything else. But in the modern societies of today's East Asia and the West, most people are not fully integrated into a religious system, and might be exposed to many different religious systems. A fully non-religious, and even non-spiritual life is not only an option, but has become the cultural mainstream.
Spirituality and religion have become contested notions -- but they are far from disappearing. Many people today say that they are "spiritual, but not religious" -- even though they may be open to learning and experimenting with ideas and practices from different religious traditions. Or, they may prefer a spirituality that has no reference to anything religious. Other people accept and assert strong religious identities, and learn to do so in a diverse and pluralistic society where they live and work side by side with people of no religion or different religious identities. The forms of spirituality and religion change with the times, together with changes in culture and society. But these types of changes are not only passive adaptations, with spiritual and religious traditions adopting modern forms. Spiritual values and religious teachings can also generate the impetus and motivation for acting to transform society itself. We’ll explore the relationship between spirituality and social change in the second half of this course.
The world has changed so much, and so have religion and spirituality. New forms of religion and spirituality are rising all the time – the old forms are either dying away or changing. In the past century or so, the world seemed to be becoming much less religious. We were in a process of secularisation. Yet, in recent years, more and more people are becoming religious again. Society is undergoing a resurgence of religious beliefs and practices. Many of us are personally committed to spiritual or religious beliefs, are engaged in what could be “truth seeking”, or at the very least have many questions of a spiritual nature. As faith in secular ideologies declines, there is a growing tendency to turn to religious traditions as conceptual and social resources for personal growth and social engagement. But is this appropriate, or even right? In the past few decades the world has witnessed a dramatic resurgence of spiritual seeking and religious engagement in society, in ways that may be either constructive or destructive. Given the historical record, is it realistic to expect religion to provide answers to personal and social problems?
What is going on? What is the relevance of religion to society and culture today? Is it good or is it bad? Or, which parts of it are good, and which parts are harmful?
[1] Berger, The Sacred Canopy; Durkheim, The Elementary forms of the Religious Life.
Spirituality and religion have become contested notions -- but they are far from disappearing. Many people today say that they are "spiritual, but not religious" -- even though they may be open to learning and experimenting with ideas and practices from different religious traditions. Or, they may prefer a spirituality that has no reference to anything religious. Other people accept and assert strong religious identities, and learn to do so in a diverse and pluralistic society where they live and work side by side with people of no religion or different religious identities. The forms of spirituality and religion change with the times, together with changes in culture and society. But these types of changes are not only passive adaptations, with spiritual and religious traditions adopting modern forms. Spiritual values and religious teachings can also generate the impetus and motivation for acting to transform society itself. We’ll explore the relationship between spirituality and social change in the second half of this course.
The world has changed so much, and so have religion and spirituality. New forms of religion and spirituality are rising all the time – the old forms are either dying away or changing. In the past century or so, the world seemed to be becoming much less religious. We were in a process of secularisation. Yet, in recent years, more and more people are becoming religious again. Society is undergoing a resurgence of religious beliefs and practices. Many of us are personally committed to spiritual or religious beliefs, are engaged in what could be “truth seeking”, or at the very least have many questions of a spiritual nature. As faith in secular ideologies declines, there is a growing tendency to turn to religious traditions as conceptual and social resources for personal growth and social engagement. But is this appropriate, or even right? In the past few decades the world has witnessed a dramatic resurgence of spiritual seeking and religious engagement in society, in ways that may be either constructive or destructive. Given the historical record, is it realistic to expect religion to provide answers to personal and social problems?
What is going on? What is the relevance of religion to society and culture today? Is it good or is it bad? Or, which parts of it are good, and which parts are harmful?
[1] Berger, The Sacred Canopy; Durkheim, The Elementary forms of the Religious Life.
Religion as tradition, dogma or learning
Religion as a system of communication, knowledge and practice can be conceptualised and experienced in different ways, each of which leads to focusing on different aspects, and to different conclusions concerning the relationship between religion and social change. For example, religion can be seen as tradition, as dogma, as an identity, or as a path or process of learning.
If we take religion as tradition, for example, we focus on certain beliefs and practices that people have learned through their socialisation as children and in their community, often without much conscious awareness of its meaning or significance. In fact, as is the case with many Chinese people who worship ancestors and deities at temples, they might not even be aware that they are engaging in what anthropologists would call religious practices. If we focus on religion as tradition, we might use the methods of an anthropologist, describing the customs and practices, and the communities in which they take place, and try to explain and interpret the meanings of the traditions and their symbols, and show how they are related to the social structure – aspects which are often unknown to the practitioners themselves. The question of tradition in relation to social change is often posed as follows: does tradition survive or disappear in the face of the profound social and cultural changes of modernity? How does tradition adapt? How is tradition reinvented, repackaged or transformed? The limitation of this approach to religion is that it focuses on a type of knowledge that is passively transmitted, often not consciously understood, and that can only adapt or react to social change.
If we take religion as dogma, we focus on sets of unchanging core beliefs that have been formulated by clerics and theologians within religious institutions – such as, for example, in Christianity, the Holy Trinity, Salvation by Faith or by Works, etc; or, in Shi’a Islam, the Return of the Hidden Imam. Acceptance or rejection of dogma forms the yardstick for inclusion to or exclusion from a religious community and religious identity. If we focus on religion as dogma, we might use the methods of a theologian who would develop a system of ideas around the dogmatic core, pay special attention to whether any other idea or practice is acceptable or not according to the dogmatic core, and compare one set of dogma with another. The question of dogma in relation to social change is that dogma is typically formulated as fixed, unchanging, and exclusive. Change is only possible by challenging the old dogma; innovation is only possible through division – either by weakening the doctrinal foundations (“liberalism”), or by establishing a new doctrine under the guide of returning to the original one (“fundamentalism”). Seeing religion as dogma, one might focus on dogmatic purity and consistency, and on the sectarian divisions that arise from different dogmatic formulations. The limitation of this approach to religion is that while some traditions such as Buddhism, Christianity and Islam have very elaborate dogmatic systems, most other traditions do not have a unified or explicit “dogma” -- including Chinese religions, Daoism, Confucianism, Hinduism, Judaism, etc. Furthermore, although doctrinal disputes may be of great interest to religious leaders, theologians and scholars, they are usually not the main concern of most religious practitioners or seekers.
If we take religion as an identity, the focus is on how people label themselves, and how society categorises people according to different identities. Looking at religion as identity, we might use the methods of a sociologist, counting how many people in a given society identify with a specific religious identity, or the processes by which people change their religious identities, or convert into a new religious identity. Or, a political scientist might consider the role of religious identities in the political game, or in the construction of ethnic and national identities. But the limitation of an identity-based approach to religion is that, while some religious traditions (notably Christians, Jews and Muslims) strongly emphasize religious identity, it’s not necessarily the case in other traditions and societies. For instance, Daoism and Confucianism don’t emphasize identifying oneself as such. Very few people would call themselves “Daoists” or “Confucians;” and yet, the influence of Daoism and Confucianism on East Asian cultures is profound. East Asians rarely have a religious identity, but that doesn't stop them from going to temples, worshipping ancestors, and engaging in all sorts of spiritual and religious practices.
If we take religion as a path of learning, the focus is on understanding spiritual and religious concepts and their implications, both intellectually and practically. What does it mean to say that there is a spiritual reality and that humans have a spiritual nature? What would be the implications if these assumptions were true? How would you live your life? How would you engage in society? Religion as a process of learning is not concerned only with abstract knowledge about the spiritual realities of the universe, but about applying this knowledge of spiritual reality to learn how to deal with friendship and love; how to organize family relationships; how to raise children; how to cultivate virtue; how to maintain moral principles at work and in business; how to maintain physical and emotional health; how to care for the sick, the elderly and the needy; how to remember the dead; how to cope with life’s difficulties; how to interact with nature; how to solve conflicts; how to build social solidarity, how to struggle for justice in society; how to express beauty; how to build civilization — these are only a few of the things that people try to learn through religion. Religion as a path of learning is a process in which you deepen your understanding, apply this understanding in your life, learn lessons from experience, find inspiration and guidance from words of wisdom in sacred writings, share questions and insights with others, put what you have learned into practice, and learn again from the experience.
Religion as a process of learning is an open-ended process that is not limited to experts or members of a specific religious community: sceptical investigators of religious claims, and those who are firmly committed to a religious identity, are all engaged in this process of learning, to the extent that they do so with the sincere desire to seek for truth.
In this class, we will gradually learn more about the interplay between religious as tradition, as doctrine, and as learning. But the main approach we will take in this class, is religion as a process of learning.
If we take religion as tradition, for example, we focus on certain beliefs and practices that people have learned through their socialisation as children and in their community, often without much conscious awareness of its meaning or significance. In fact, as is the case with many Chinese people who worship ancestors and deities at temples, they might not even be aware that they are engaging in what anthropologists would call religious practices. If we focus on religion as tradition, we might use the methods of an anthropologist, describing the customs and practices, and the communities in which they take place, and try to explain and interpret the meanings of the traditions and their symbols, and show how they are related to the social structure – aspects which are often unknown to the practitioners themselves. The question of tradition in relation to social change is often posed as follows: does tradition survive or disappear in the face of the profound social and cultural changes of modernity? How does tradition adapt? How is tradition reinvented, repackaged or transformed? The limitation of this approach to religion is that it focuses on a type of knowledge that is passively transmitted, often not consciously understood, and that can only adapt or react to social change.
If we take religion as dogma, we focus on sets of unchanging core beliefs that have been formulated by clerics and theologians within religious institutions – such as, for example, in Christianity, the Holy Trinity, Salvation by Faith or by Works, etc; or, in Shi’a Islam, the Return of the Hidden Imam. Acceptance or rejection of dogma forms the yardstick for inclusion to or exclusion from a religious community and religious identity. If we focus on religion as dogma, we might use the methods of a theologian who would develop a system of ideas around the dogmatic core, pay special attention to whether any other idea or practice is acceptable or not according to the dogmatic core, and compare one set of dogma with another. The question of dogma in relation to social change is that dogma is typically formulated as fixed, unchanging, and exclusive. Change is only possible by challenging the old dogma; innovation is only possible through division – either by weakening the doctrinal foundations (“liberalism”), or by establishing a new doctrine under the guide of returning to the original one (“fundamentalism”). Seeing religion as dogma, one might focus on dogmatic purity and consistency, and on the sectarian divisions that arise from different dogmatic formulations. The limitation of this approach to religion is that while some traditions such as Buddhism, Christianity and Islam have very elaborate dogmatic systems, most other traditions do not have a unified or explicit “dogma” -- including Chinese religions, Daoism, Confucianism, Hinduism, Judaism, etc. Furthermore, although doctrinal disputes may be of great interest to religious leaders, theologians and scholars, they are usually not the main concern of most religious practitioners or seekers.
If we take religion as an identity, the focus is on how people label themselves, and how society categorises people according to different identities. Looking at religion as identity, we might use the methods of a sociologist, counting how many people in a given society identify with a specific religious identity, or the processes by which people change their religious identities, or convert into a new religious identity. Or, a political scientist might consider the role of religious identities in the political game, or in the construction of ethnic and national identities. But the limitation of an identity-based approach to religion is that, while some religious traditions (notably Christians, Jews and Muslims) strongly emphasize religious identity, it’s not necessarily the case in other traditions and societies. For instance, Daoism and Confucianism don’t emphasize identifying oneself as such. Very few people would call themselves “Daoists” or “Confucians;” and yet, the influence of Daoism and Confucianism on East Asian cultures is profound. East Asians rarely have a religious identity, but that doesn't stop them from going to temples, worshipping ancestors, and engaging in all sorts of spiritual and religious practices.
If we take religion as a path of learning, the focus is on understanding spiritual and religious concepts and their implications, both intellectually and practically. What does it mean to say that there is a spiritual reality and that humans have a spiritual nature? What would be the implications if these assumptions were true? How would you live your life? How would you engage in society? Religion as a process of learning is not concerned only with abstract knowledge about the spiritual realities of the universe, but about applying this knowledge of spiritual reality to learn how to deal with friendship and love; how to organize family relationships; how to raise children; how to cultivate virtue; how to maintain moral principles at work and in business; how to maintain physical and emotional health; how to care for the sick, the elderly and the needy; how to remember the dead; how to cope with life’s difficulties; how to interact with nature; how to solve conflicts; how to build social solidarity, how to struggle for justice in society; how to express beauty; how to build civilization — these are only a few of the things that people try to learn through religion. Religion as a path of learning is a process in which you deepen your understanding, apply this understanding in your life, learn lessons from experience, find inspiration and guidance from words of wisdom in sacred writings, share questions and insights with others, put what you have learned into practice, and learn again from the experience.
Religion as a process of learning is an open-ended process that is not limited to experts or members of a specific religious community: sceptical investigators of religious claims, and those who are firmly committed to a religious identity, are all engaged in this process of learning, to the extent that they do so with the sincere desire to seek for truth.
In this class, we will gradually learn more about the interplay between religious as tradition, as doctrine, and as learning. But the main approach we will take in this class, is religion as a process of learning.
A humble learning attitude
Indeed, I hope this class will be part of your spiritual and intellectual journey of learning. Whatever the form or shape, as we grow and advance in life, we ask ourselves questions about these topics. Along this path, we may end up becoming less religious, or more religious. Maybe you grew up in a deeply religious family, but have started asking questions or doubting, and are starting to consider that your family’s beliefs and customs are ridiculous. Or maybe on your path, it will be the other way around. Maybe you grew up in a secular family with no religion at all, but now, you are starting to ask yourself questions and exploring different spiritual values and religious traditions. Or maybe you are neutral, and will simply acquire more knowledge and concepts to analyse spirituality and religion in this world. No matter where you are going, this class is about spiritual and religious exploration and learning.
This is not a conventional introductory course on religion. The course combines approaches from philosophy, psychology, anthropology, sociology and theology, and discusses issues related to consciousness and perception, the construction of the self, the environment, ethics and social justice. It will give you completely new perspectives on spirituality, on religion, and on yourself. This is not a course to preach a religious dogma, nor does it treat religious people and traditions as strange or exotic objects of study. Religion is often conceived of in terms of divisions -- between insiders and outsiders, between believers and non-believers, between this religion and that religion, between religion and science, between tradition and modernity, and so on. But in this course, these divisions will be questioned and undermined, and you will be asked to step out of the comfort zone of your current "belief," "unbelief" or "uncertainty". You will explore and experience new ways of imagining spiritual reality, coming into contact with it, and bringing it into the practice of your life. You will do so in a manner which is personally meaningful, intellectually critical, and relevant to your engagement in the processes of social change.
Open to believers, agnostics, sceptics, atheists and seekers, this course will give you exposure to, and an opportunity to engage with, the spiritual heritage of humanity: you will discuss passages from the scriptures of the world’s major religious traditions, as well as spiritual themes contained in popular feature films. Film, like religion, mythology and ritual, imagines, constructs and draws us into alternative mindscapes, into imaginary worlds. Indeed, the cinema can be considered as a widespread quasi-religious activity and experience in contemporary popular culture. More than that, film is one of the main ways through which our culture works through spiritual conflicts, dilemmas and dramas. In this course, we will examine the spiritual dimensions and themes underlying a selection of films. Most will be feature films, while some will be documentaries.
You will critically consider the contemporary social implications of spiritual principles when applied to questions of truth and knowledge, power and authority, conflict and cooperation, and sacrifice and service. You will reflect on whether these approaches to human spiritual life are part of the cause or part of the solution for global social problems. Is there a god? Do we have a soul? Does our life have a spiritual purpose? How can I judge the claims of different religions? Is there a difference between being “spiritual” and “religious”? What is a spiritual life? Each of you will find your own answers to these questions, and our questions and answers are always evolving. This course will not provide you with definitive answers. But it will help you to clarify the questions, the concepts, and the knowledge you need to seek answers.
Why are there so many conflicts between religions? What is the connection between religion, politics and violence? Is it progressive, or is it opposed to social change? Is religion a constructive or destructive force in society? By the end of this course, you should be able to identify the factors which lead to religion having a positive or negative impact on individuals and society.
How can I judge, evaluate or appreciate the spiritual and religious dimensions of my own cultural heritage? We live in an increasingly globalised world; there are more and more chances that our friends, family members, fellow students and co-workers may come from different cultural and religious backgrounds. How can I better understand and appreciate their beliefs and values? Cultural diversity is far too vast to be adequately covered in a single course, but this course will give you basic exposure to the world’s main systems of religious belief and practice.
In this class, I will share some of my personal stories and perspectives. Maybe you won’t agree with the conclusions I come to, and that’s fine. In this class, you can be whatever you want to be. If you want to be an absolute, diehard atheist and materialist, it's absolutely fine. If you want to be a deeply fundamentalist religious zealot, and think that I’m the voice of Satan, that's absolutely fine. It's also fine if you are totally agnostic, or confused. But our purpose is not to get into arguments with each other, but to learn with humility, and learning how to communicate about these topics with each other.
Spirituality and religion are topics that are fraught with controversy. For some people, it's a question of a purely private or emotional belief that can't be discussed rationally. Others have very clear ideas, theories and doctrines, and they are absolutely convinced that they are right and others are wrong, even stupid. They might even devote themselves to trashing others' beliefs. They might be adherents of one religious sect with no tolerance for other religions or non-religious people, or they might be militant atheists insulting religious people.
Is it possible to explore these questions in a calm, rational and respectful manner? Perhaps this journey of learning should begin with the virtue of humility -- to seek for knowledge with patience and an open mind. The implications of a humble posture of learning are twofold. At one level, it leads us to the realization that no matter how much training and education we have received, what we do not know will always far outweigh what we know. However, when we realise our limitations, we are not discouraged from a life long journey of investigation of truth. On the contrary, our faith in truth-seeking is strengthened and our capacity for learning is increased. Humility protects us from intellectual pride and arrogance, and from jumping to hasty conclusions.
The investigation of spirituality and religion touches on the deepest questions of who we are as human beings, the meaning and purpose of life, and the ultimate nature of reality. With a humble attitude of learning, we can progress in our understanding of these questions, but we always know that we can never acquire anything close to complete knowledge. Such awareness comes when we are willing to step out of our perspective and to consider the value of others' experiences. In isolation from others, we may think that our own perspective is complete and correct. But, when viewed from a broader perspective, we will realize that each of our perspectives has its value, but is also incomplete and flawed in some respects. On another level, regardless of our values and beliefs, a humble attitude of learning protects us from falling into the traps of prejudice and preconceived notions. In exploring various expressions of spirituality and religion, we thus need to avoid ideological and religious prejudice of all kinds: the prejudice of “believers” toward “non-believers”, the prejudice of “non-believers” toward “believers”, and the prejudice of “believers” of different religious identities toward each other.
This is not a conventional introductory course on religion. The course combines approaches from philosophy, psychology, anthropology, sociology and theology, and discusses issues related to consciousness and perception, the construction of the self, the environment, ethics and social justice. It will give you completely new perspectives on spirituality, on religion, and on yourself. This is not a course to preach a religious dogma, nor does it treat religious people and traditions as strange or exotic objects of study. Religion is often conceived of in terms of divisions -- between insiders and outsiders, between believers and non-believers, between this religion and that religion, between religion and science, between tradition and modernity, and so on. But in this course, these divisions will be questioned and undermined, and you will be asked to step out of the comfort zone of your current "belief," "unbelief" or "uncertainty". You will explore and experience new ways of imagining spiritual reality, coming into contact with it, and bringing it into the practice of your life. You will do so in a manner which is personally meaningful, intellectually critical, and relevant to your engagement in the processes of social change.
Open to believers, agnostics, sceptics, atheists and seekers, this course will give you exposure to, and an opportunity to engage with, the spiritual heritage of humanity: you will discuss passages from the scriptures of the world’s major religious traditions, as well as spiritual themes contained in popular feature films. Film, like religion, mythology and ritual, imagines, constructs and draws us into alternative mindscapes, into imaginary worlds. Indeed, the cinema can be considered as a widespread quasi-religious activity and experience in contemporary popular culture. More than that, film is one of the main ways through which our culture works through spiritual conflicts, dilemmas and dramas. In this course, we will examine the spiritual dimensions and themes underlying a selection of films. Most will be feature films, while some will be documentaries.
You will critically consider the contemporary social implications of spiritual principles when applied to questions of truth and knowledge, power and authority, conflict and cooperation, and sacrifice and service. You will reflect on whether these approaches to human spiritual life are part of the cause or part of the solution for global social problems. Is there a god? Do we have a soul? Does our life have a spiritual purpose? How can I judge the claims of different religions? Is there a difference between being “spiritual” and “religious”? What is a spiritual life? Each of you will find your own answers to these questions, and our questions and answers are always evolving. This course will not provide you with definitive answers. But it will help you to clarify the questions, the concepts, and the knowledge you need to seek answers.
Why are there so many conflicts between religions? What is the connection between religion, politics and violence? Is it progressive, or is it opposed to social change? Is religion a constructive or destructive force in society? By the end of this course, you should be able to identify the factors which lead to religion having a positive or negative impact on individuals and society.
How can I judge, evaluate or appreciate the spiritual and religious dimensions of my own cultural heritage? We live in an increasingly globalised world; there are more and more chances that our friends, family members, fellow students and co-workers may come from different cultural and religious backgrounds. How can I better understand and appreciate their beliefs and values? Cultural diversity is far too vast to be adequately covered in a single course, but this course will give you basic exposure to the world’s main systems of religious belief and practice.
In this class, I will share some of my personal stories and perspectives. Maybe you won’t agree with the conclusions I come to, and that’s fine. In this class, you can be whatever you want to be. If you want to be an absolute, diehard atheist and materialist, it's absolutely fine. If you want to be a deeply fundamentalist religious zealot, and think that I’m the voice of Satan, that's absolutely fine. It's also fine if you are totally agnostic, or confused. But our purpose is not to get into arguments with each other, but to learn with humility, and learning how to communicate about these topics with each other.
Spirituality and religion are topics that are fraught with controversy. For some people, it's a question of a purely private or emotional belief that can't be discussed rationally. Others have very clear ideas, theories and doctrines, and they are absolutely convinced that they are right and others are wrong, even stupid. They might even devote themselves to trashing others' beliefs. They might be adherents of one religious sect with no tolerance for other religions or non-religious people, or they might be militant atheists insulting religious people.
Is it possible to explore these questions in a calm, rational and respectful manner? Perhaps this journey of learning should begin with the virtue of humility -- to seek for knowledge with patience and an open mind. The implications of a humble posture of learning are twofold. At one level, it leads us to the realization that no matter how much training and education we have received, what we do not know will always far outweigh what we know. However, when we realise our limitations, we are not discouraged from a life long journey of investigation of truth. On the contrary, our faith in truth-seeking is strengthened and our capacity for learning is increased. Humility protects us from intellectual pride and arrogance, and from jumping to hasty conclusions.
The investigation of spirituality and religion touches on the deepest questions of who we are as human beings, the meaning and purpose of life, and the ultimate nature of reality. With a humble attitude of learning, we can progress in our understanding of these questions, but we always know that we can never acquire anything close to complete knowledge. Such awareness comes when we are willing to step out of our perspective and to consider the value of others' experiences. In isolation from others, we may think that our own perspective is complete and correct. But, when viewed from a broader perspective, we will realize that each of our perspectives has its value, but is also incomplete and flawed in some respects. On another level, regardless of our values and beliefs, a humble attitude of learning protects us from falling into the traps of prejudice and preconceived notions. In exploring various expressions of spirituality and religion, we thus need to avoid ideological and religious prejudice of all kinds: the prejudice of “believers” toward “non-believers”, the prejudice of “non-believers” toward “believers”, and the prejudice of “believers” of different religious identities toward each other.
Investigating through consultation
There are no simple solutions or “right” or “wrong” answers to discussion questions. We all have different experiences and understandings in life and of religious teachings. They all have their value, while none is complete. In a spirit of consultation and with a humble posture of learning, we will share and learn together. Through this process, we will gradually gain a higher level of understanding and judgment.
The complexity of reality calls for a collective effort of investigation of truth through a process of consultation. Consultation here refers to a non-adversarial approach to investigating a question, gathering different experiences and viewpoints, and advancing toward a common understanding. In this type of consultation, each participant contributes ideas and thoughts to the discussion, as an offering to the whole group. Ideas do not belong to individuals. The clash and combination of different ideas leads to new insights. To approve or to question an idea, is not to praise or to criticise the person who mentioned the idea. This process of consultation creates a safe and encouraging environment that is conducive to draw out the gems of knowledge and wisdom even from individuals who usually feel shy to speak out their ideas in groups. It seeks to build consensus that unites people of different backgrounds instead of dividing them. Through this method, diversity of opinions is shared; what were once isolated individual thoughts become collective knowledge. Thus, consultation is an effective instrument in both personal and collective matters. Through consultation, we can jointly contribute to creating our collective reality.
The complexity of reality calls for a collective effort of investigation of truth through a process of consultation. Consultation here refers to a non-adversarial approach to investigating a question, gathering different experiences and viewpoints, and advancing toward a common understanding. In this type of consultation, each participant contributes ideas and thoughts to the discussion, as an offering to the whole group. Ideas do not belong to individuals. The clash and combination of different ideas leads to new insights. To approve or to question an idea, is not to praise or to criticise the person who mentioned the idea. This process of consultation creates a safe and encouraging environment that is conducive to draw out the gems of knowledge and wisdom even from individuals who usually feel shy to speak out their ideas in groups. It seeks to build consensus that unites people of different backgrounds instead of dividing them. Through this method, diversity of opinions is shared; what were once isolated individual thoughts become collective knowledge. Thus, consultation is an effective instrument in both personal and collective matters. Through consultation, we can jointly contribute to creating our collective reality.
Appendix: My spiritual journey
I am David Palmer. My Chinese name is Zong Shuren (宗樹人). I was born and grew up in Toronto, Canada; I am half English and half French. My father is from Canada, and his parents were from England. My mother is from southern France. My wife is Chinese, from Sichuan. I have two daughters. I have lived in Hong Kong for 12 years. Before that, I lived in London, in Paris, and in Chengdu, China.
A few hundred years ago, in the 16th Century, there were bloody massacres in France that were committed in the name of Christianity.
A few hundred years ago, in the 16th Century, there were bloody massacres in France that were committed in the name of Christianity.
Here is the massacre of St. Bartholomew, which took place in 1572, a time of the late 16th Century. At that time, there was a war between Christians in France – a war between Protestants and Catholics. All these people believed in Jesus Christ. They loved Jesus. But they had different ideas about how you should love him. And they started to kill and slaughter each other.
My ancestors in France were Protestants, who were the minority in France. Most French were Catholics. During this war of religion in the 16th Century, Protestants and Catholics were killing each other. Many Protestants were captured. My ancestors were arrested, and became slaves to row the King’s ships. Just like in the film Les Miserables – if you see the film, at the beginning, Jean Valjean is one of the prisoners rowing the ship.
My ancestors in France were Protestants, who were the minority in France. Most French were Catholics. During this war of religion in the 16th Century, Protestants and Catholics were killing each other. Many Protestants were captured. My ancestors were arrested, and became slaves to row the King’s ships. Just like in the film Les Miserables – if you see the film, at the beginning, Jean Valjean is one of the prisoners rowing the ship.
When I was a child, I was very puzzled by this. I just couldn’t understand. Why? Why were they doing this in the name of a loving heavenly Father? So I became a hard core atheist. I became very interested in these questions. I couldn’t understand these people – killing people in the name of God, knowing nothing but prejudice. So I started reading philosophy.
I liked reading French philosophers. One of them was Denis Diderot (1713-1784). He always made fun of religion. He wrote, “There is no good father who would want to resemble our heavenly Father.”[1] I totally agreed. I wanted to get into debates with people about God, about the existence of God, to prove that they were wrong, that they were stupid, and that there is no God. It is foolish, I would say: How can you believe in a thing that you cannot even touch, that you cannot even see?
When I was 17 years old, I went to work on a farm, as part of a youth exchange between Canada and Pakistan. The farm was in rural Canada. I had to spend three months in the small town of Tweed, Ontario. At the farm, I had to take care of the cows. My job was to clean up all the cow poop in the barn. All 90 cows, pooping all day long, and I had to clean it up before they would lie down and sleep in it. That was a lot of fun.
I lived in a host family, who were Christians. Their house was full of Bibles, crosses, and tacky flowery plastic religious decorations. Their house was seeping with that kind of religiosity.
[1] Diderot, A Philosophical Conversation, 36.
I liked reading French philosophers. One of them was Denis Diderot (1713-1784). He always made fun of religion. He wrote, “There is no good father who would want to resemble our heavenly Father.”[1] I totally agreed. I wanted to get into debates with people about God, about the existence of God, to prove that they were wrong, that they were stupid, and that there is no God. It is foolish, I would say: How can you believe in a thing that you cannot even touch, that you cannot even see?
When I was 17 years old, I went to work on a farm, as part of a youth exchange between Canada and Pakistan. The farm was in rural Canada. I had to spend three months in the small town of Tweed, Ontario. At the farm, I had to take care of the cows. My job was to clean up all the cow poop in the barn. All 90 cows, pooping all day long, and I had to clean it up before they would lie down and sleep in it. That was a lot of fun.
I lived in a host family, who were Christians. Their house was full of Bibles, crosses, and tacky flowery plastic religious decorations. Their house was seeping with that kind of religiosity.
[1] Diderot, A Philosophical Conversation, 36.
I grew up in a big city – Toronto. For us youth in Toronto, small town people were conservative, narrow-minded, stupid, and religious. That was our prejudice. But I lived with them for three months. My host family deeply touched me. They were so loving, absolutely full of love. There was something about them that touched my heart. I couldn’t understand. There was a warmth about them, a patience. Regardless of anything I did and said, they were always forgiving. And they brought me and my exchange partner, who was from Pakistan, into their family. So, it started to make me wonder. I had this prejudice against religious believers being narrow-minded, foolish and so on. But that was not what I experienced. I experienced powerful love. I was puzzled. Why does religion make them so loving? What is the connection between their love and their faith?
The second part of this youth exchange was in a village in Pakistan. It was in what used to be called the North-West Frontier Province of Pakistan, near the border with Afghanistan and China. It is now called Khyber Pakhtunkhwa. Everybody in the village was Muslim. During the three months that I lived in the village, I did not see a single woman’s face. Everybody was wearing a burka, from head to toe. Only little girls and old ladies had uncovered faces. It is a deeply conservative religious culture. And yet, when I did some research on this phenomenon, I discovered that many well-educated modern Muslim women, even in Western societies, have voluntarily chosen to wear such headscarves, veils or burkas.
The second part of this youth exchange was in a village in Pakistan. It was in what used to be called the North-West Frontier Province of Pakistan, near the border with Afghanistan and China. It is now called Khyber Pakhtunkhwa. Everybody in the village was Muslim. During the three months that I lived in the village, I did not see a single woman’s face. Everybody was wearing a burka, from head to toe. Only little girls and old ladies had uncovered faces. It is a deeply conservative religious culture. And yet, when I did some research on this phenomenon, I discovered that many well-educated modern Muslim women, even in Western societies, have voluntarily chosen to wear such headscarves, veils or burkas.
Every day I went to the mosque, because the only place with running water was the mosque, where the Muslims prayed. That was where I washed myself every morning.
Again, I was very deeply moved by the people there, their warmth and hospitality. There were two very devoted brothers -- the most pious Muslims in the entire village. Every evening, they would come to visit me, always so full of friendship and love. Actually, to be honest, in Canada, we didn’t know much about Muslims. But then when I went to Pakistan, I realised that just like those Christians in the small town in Canada, these people also had something in their faith, which made them different from others. So again, I wondered.
I was also puzzled, because although there are many prejudices between Christians and Muslims, somehow, I did feel there was something in common between the two religions. This started to make me think.
The village I lived in was in the district of Abbottabad, the hideaway where Osama bin Laden, the founder of Al-Qaeda and the mastermind of the 9-11 terrorist attacks of 2001, was shot by the US Navy SEALs in 2012. Before moving to Abbottabad, bin Laden spent two years in the town of Haripur, which was within walking distance of the village where I lived. When I lived there in 1987, bin Laden was in Afghanistan, starting his Holy War against the Soviet Russians who had invaded the country in 1979, and laying the foundations of Al Qaeda. But in those days, we never heard of terrorists, because bin Laden was fighting on behalf of the Americans. The CIA was providing money and weapons to radical Muslims, so that they could fight the Soviet Union in Afghanistan. Those extremists were allies of the Americans, and the CIA was using bin Laden and other Islamist rebels, encouraging them to radicalise, to strengthen the anti-Soviet resistance by turning it into a religious Jihad. In those days, Pakistan was peaceful. The war was going on in neighbouring Afghanistan. Now, the violence has spread. Bin Laden turned against those who nurtured him. Terrorism has spread to Pakistan, to America, to Europe and China. By nurturing Holy Warriors, the CIA played with fire. But what is this fire?
When I went to university, I learned about Mohandas Gandhi, whom I knew about through the film Gandhi, which we are going to watch later in this class. There was something that moved me about Gandhi. Gandhi led the movement for the independence of India from British colonialism. I saw that when Gandhi fought against British domination and oppression, he persisted in his path of non-violence. When the British would strike or fire their guns at his followers, they would never fight back, but they would not capitulate. Gandhi had no hatred in his heart, and would respond to violence with love. Somehow, no matter what his opponents did to him, and to the people who were inspired by him, Gandhi and his followers had this inner strength, or inner power – something inside them – that gave them a power to resist without violence and without hatred. That deeply moved me. And again, I started to wonder what gave them that power. Gandhi was a deeply spiritual man. He was deeply influenced by his Hindu tradition, as well as Christianity and Islam. So, something again made me wonder what it was about religion.
I was also puzzled, because although there are many prejudices between Christians and Muslims, somehow, I did feel there was something in common between the two religions. This started to make me think.
The village I lived in was in the district of Abbottabad, the hideaway where Osama bin Laden, the founder of Al-Qaeda and the mastermind of the 9-11 terrorist attacks of 2001, was shot by the US Navy SEALs in 2012. Before moving to Abbottabad, bin Laden spent two years in the town of Haripur, which was within walking distance of the village where I lived. When I lived there in 1987, bin Laden was in Afghanistan, starting his Holy War against the Soviet Russians who had invaded the country in 1979, and laying the foundations of Al Qaeda. But in those days, we never heard of terrorists, because bin Laden was fighting on behalf of the Americans. The CIA was providing money and weapons to radical Muslims, so that they could fight the Soviet Union in Afghanistan. Those extremists were allies of the Americans, and the CIA was using bin Laden and other Islamist rebels, encouraging them to radicalise, to strengthen the anti-Soviet resistance by turning it into a religious Jihad. In those days, Pakistan was peaceful. The war was going on in neighbouring Afghanistan. Now, the violence has spread. Bin Laden turned against those who nurtured him. Terrorism has spread to Pakistan, to America, to Europe and China. By nurturing Holy Warriors, the CIA played with fire. But what is this fire?
When I went to university, I learned about Mohandas Gandhi, whom I knew about through the film Gandhi, which we are going to watch later in this class. There was something that moved me about Gandhi. Gandhi led the movement for the independence of India from British colonialism. I saw that when Gandhi fought against British domination and oppression, he persisted in his path of non-violence. When the British would strike or fire their guns at his followers, they would never fight back, but they would not capitulate. Gandhi had no hatred in his heart, and would respond to violence with love. Somehow, no matter what his opponents did to him, and to the people who were inspired by him, Gandhi and his followers had this inner strength, or inner power – something inside them – that gave them a power to resist without violence and without hatred. That deeply moved me. And again, I started to wonder what gave them that power. Gandhi was a deeply spiritual man. He was deeply influenced by his Hindu tradition, as well as Christianity and Islam. So, something again made me wonder what it was about religion.
And yet, Gandhi was assassinated by a religious fanatic. I wondered. I saw that religion could be a force for either peace, or a force of violence and war. What makes it go either way?
But I was still an atheist, a very strong one indeed. I used to go to religious people, and tell them that I was a materialist. “I am a materialist, and I only believe in the existence of matter. The only thing that exists in the world is what we can see and touch. That’s it. There is nothing else.”
But I started to ponder about something. I got confused. I was thinking about Adolf Hitler and the Nazis; about how Hitler killed six million Jews in World War II, how he tried to completely exterminate this entire people. This is perhaps one of the most evil acts in the history of the world. How could one person deliberately want to exterminate an entire population, just because he doesn’t like who they are? Or if you think of the Nanjing Massacre in China, when two or three hundred thousand people were slaughtered in 1927. So, there is something truly evil in this world.
I started to think. If there is only matter in the world, if I kill somebody, all I have done is to change that person’s material structure. When you were alive, the molecules moved around in your body in one way. Then I killed you – now your molecules simply move in a different way. How can you say that one way of molecules moving around is better than another? It is just a different kind of material structure. Therefore, if you kill somebody, you only change its material structure. That’s it. Then why do you say it is bad to kill? What’s wrong with killing? The universe is always full of mass explosions – the stars and the galaxies are exploding all the time, destroying everything inside them. I started to wonder, where is good and evil? How do we know what is good or evil? What is right? What is wrong? How could we possibly know? Can matter tell us? Can we know the answer from the earth that we are walking on? I didn’t know. But I started to wonder about that. I started to think, “Well, maybe there is something else, something beyond the material world, that can somehow show us the standard or principle that tells us what is right or wrong.” That’s when I started to reconsider my views about religion.
When I was a university student at McGill University, I was involved in social movements. The Umbrella Movement in Hong Kong reminded me of those days. In Montreal, I was one of the leaders of a student organisation that organised student referendums, recycling projects, rights awareness campaigns, protests, and that sort of thing. I care about how to build a better world for people. I could not bear the sight of injustice, and the sight of suffering. I wanted to do something about it. I was out there, acting against injustice. Once I was on the front lines of a protest against police violence. I knocked on doors to educate tenants about their rights against landlords. But at one point, I started to question what I was doing. I was always criticising the bad politicians and interest groups, and all the injustices in society. But could I say that I was a better person than these policemen, politicians and businessmen? I saw that I, and my fellow activists, had the same human faults and failings as the people we considered to be our enemies. Would the world really be a better place if we defeated them, if we became the leaders of society? How could I be sure I wouldn’t do the same as them? I looked in history, and I saw that many revolutionaries, who set out to struggle for a better world, ended up as corrupt and evil as the oppressors they devoted their lives to overthrow. So, I realized that I should also look into myself. Although I should strive to make the world a better place, I should also try to be a better person. But what is there inside myself? Is there only a body, flesh and organs, or is there something else?
And I wondered why it mattered that we should have a better and just world. Why did I believe in this? My life was fine. Why I should care about other human beings that I didn’t even know, who had nothing to do with my life? Why should I be concerned about their suffering and the injustices they had to bear? I realised that, in my heart, I had a certain faith. I didn’t know what it was exactly, but I believed in something, in an ideal.
So, I started to ponder so many questions. Why I am here? What on earth am I here for? What am I doing all of this for?
But I was still an atheist, a very strong one indeed. I used to go to religious people, and tell them that I was a materialist. “I am a materialist, and I only believe in the existence of matter. The only thing that exists in the world is what we can see and touch. That’s it. There is nothing else.”
But I started to ponder about something. I got confused. I was thinking about Adolf Hitler and the Nazis; about how Hitler killed six million Jews in World War II, how he tried to completely exterminate this entire people. This is perhaps one of the most evil acts in the history of the world. How could one person deliberately want to exterminate an entire population, just because he doesn’t like who they are? Or if you think of the Nanjing Massacre in China, when two or three hundred thousand people were slaughtered in 1927. So, there is something truly evil in this world.
I started to think. If there is only matter in the world, if I kill somebody, all I have done is to change that person’s material structure. When you were alive, the molecules moved around in your body in one way. Then I killed you – now your molecules simply move in a different way. How can you say that one way of molecules moving around is better than another? It is just a different kind of material structure. Therefore, if you kill somebody, you only change its material structure. That’s it. Then why do you say it is bad to kill? What’s wrong with killing? The universe is always full of mass explosions – the stars and the galaxies are exploding all the time, destroying everything inside them. I started to wonder, where is good and evil? How do we know what is good or evil? What is right? What is wrong? How could we possibly know? Can matter tell us? Can we know the answer from the earth that we are walking on? I didn’t know. But I started to wonder about that. I started to think, “Well, maybe there is something else, something beyond the material world, that can somehow show us the standard or principle that tells us what is right or wrong.” That’s when I started to reconsider my views about religion.
When I was a university student at McGill University, I was involved in social movements. The Umbrella Movement in Hong Kong reminded me of those days. In Montreal, I was one of the leaders of a student organisation that organised student referendums, recycling projects, rights awareness campaigns, protests, and that sort of thing. I care about how to build a better world for people. I could not bear the sight of injustice, and the sight of suffering. I wanted to do something about it. I was out there, acting against injustice. Once I was on the front lines of a protest against police violence. I knocked on doors to educate tenants about their rights against landlords. But at one point, I started to question what I was doing. I was always criticising the bad politicians and interest groups, and all the injustices in society. But could I say that I was a better person than these policemen, politicians and businessmen? I saw that I, and my fellow activists, had the same human faults and failings as the people we considered to be our enemies. Would the world really be a better place if we defeated them, if we became the leaders of society? How could I be sure I wouldn’t do the same as them? I looked in history, and I saw that many revolutionaries, who set out to struggle for a better world, ended up as corrupt and evil as the oppressors they devoted their lives to overthrow. So, I realized that I should also look into myself. Although I should strive to make the world a better place, I should also try to be a better person. But what is there inside myself? Is there only a body, flesh and organs, or is there something else?
And I wondered why it mattered that we should have a better and just world. Why did I believe in this? My life was fine. Why I should care about other human beings that I didn’t even know, who had nothing to do with my life? Why should I be concerned about their suffering and the injustices they had to bear? I realised that, in my heart, I had a certain faith. I didn’t know what it was exactly, but I believed in something, in an ideal.
So, I started to ponder so many questions. Why I am here? What on earth am I here for? What am I doing all of this for?
With these questions in my mind, I graduated and went to China. In 1993, I took a job as an English teacher in the city of Chengdu, Sichuan Province. One day I was sitting at the bottom of the statue of Chairman Mao in the centre of the city. While I was sitting there and watching the crowds, an old man approached me. I didn't know who he was, but he started talking with me. I happened to have a box of chocolates. I gave it to him as a gift, and we became friends. He was a Daoist master. He started to teach me the Daode jing (道德經) The Book of the Way and Its Virtues), said to be the words of the philosopher Laozi, which is the main scripture of Daoism. He also taught me a form of meditation, which he called laozi tai xuan gong (老子太玄功, “The Method of Laozi’s Supreme Mystery”).
I started to study Daoism. I was meditating and practising breathing exercises, that are called qigong (pronounced “tchi-gong”). In those days, people everywhere were practising qigong, far more than now. In the morning, in the parks, on the streets and on the squares, there were people doing this kind of exercise. One of my students was a qigong teacher, and I took some of his courses. As I was doing these qigong movements, I started to feel something moving and tingling in me. It was strange. After a while, I was able to use my mind to direct the feeling up or down, to make it hot or cold, to make it stronger or weaker, and so on with my mind. Not only that, I felt full of energy after doing this. I felt powerful. Frankly, I had never felt so energetic and powerful.
In one of the lessons, as we were all standing in rows, the qigong master walked among us and sent qi to us. When he was walking past me, suddenly, I felt a wave of something come through me. The other participants felt great, but I felt nauseous. Nevertheless, I felt something, which they called qi. I didn’t know what this was, but it convinced me that there was something beyond the material world I had learned about at school.
I ended up doing my doctoral study in Paris on the qigong movement in China, and I wrote a book about it.[1] After that, I started to do a study on Daoism on Huashan, a holy Daoist mountain near Xi’an, in Shaanxi Province. Although there are many Daoist temples on many mountains in China, Huashan is one of the most important mountains in Daoism. It is known to the Chinese as xiyue Huashan (西嶽華山), as the Western Holy Mountain of China. It is the most famous mountain for Inner Alchemy (neidan 內丹), the most mystical part of Daoist practice. There are lots of caves on the mountain, where Daoist monks and hermits have been meditating since centuries ago. These monks sit and meditate inside those caves for years in order to communicate with qi, dao, or the Immortals (shenxian 神仙). When I was there, I stepped into a cave. Suddenly, as I was sitting there, it became easy for me to imagine those “Immortals”. Many “Immortals” started to appear to my mind. It seemed as if luminous spiritual beings were coming down into me, and then that I was drawn up to marvellous heavens.
[1] Palmer, Qigong Fever.
I ended up doing my doctoral study in Paris on the qigong movement in China, and I wrote a book about it.[1] After that, I started to do a study on Daoism on Huashan, a holy Daoist mountain near Xi’an, in Shaanxi Province. Although there are many Daoist temples on many mountains in China, Huashan is one of the most important mountains in Daoism. It is known to the Chinese as xiyue Huashan (西嶽華山), as the Western Holy Mountain of China. It is the most famous mountain for Inner Alchemy (neidan 內丹), the most mystical part of Daoist practice. There are lots of caves on the mountain, where Daoist monks and hermits have been meditating since centuries ago. These monks sit and meditate inside those caves for years in order to communicate with qi, dao, or the Immortals (shenxian 神仙). When I was there, I stepped into a cave. Suddenly, as I was sitting there, it became easy for me to imagine those “Immortals”. Many “Immortals” started to appear to my mind. It seemed as if luminous spiritual beings were coming down into me, and then that I was drawn up to marvellous heavens.
[1] Palmer, Qigong Fever.
I won’t get into the details. I have no idea what happened, frankly. Some images appeared to my consciousness – in the terms I will use in this course, they entered my mindscape – at a certain place at a certain time. Was it me who was consciously trying to paint these images in my mind at that time? Did it happen unconsciously in the same way as a dream? When we dream, we don’t consciously imagine these things. Something happened. People ask me what the explanation is. There are many theories based on different philosophies, ontologies and theologies. For example, there are Daoist theories and Buddhist theories that would explain the phenomenon. There are also scientific explanations, and psychological ones. I just don’t know what it was. Depending on your understanding of the nature of reality, you will have a different explanation, which you will use to reinforce the understanding of reality that you already had. It’s interesting to explore different theories and explanations. But Master Hao, the Daoist hermit who lived near that cave said, “just let it happen, and don’t make a big deal out of it. Don’t become attached to it.”
Life becomes wonderful when you realise that there are things that you can’t explain. It’s great to learn all kinds of explanations, analytical frameworks, concepts and theories – and that is what we will do in this class. Meanwhile, we should also be aware that none of these can explain everything. There is always something else that we will never really know. And then there’s my daughter’s theory: that I’m just crazy. Maybe she’s right!
At the time that I was studying the daode jing, my neighbour in Chengdu, an old Chinese man who was teaching English, gave me a Bible. As I read the Bible, although it is so different from the daode jing, I felt that, at a deep level, both scriptures were trying to say the same thing. When I lived in Chengdu, I also met a Canadian, Shahram. He was a Bahá’í. For those of you who know Khalil Fong – Fang Datong (方大同) , a popular Hong Kong singer – his religion is Bahá’í. Datong in Chinese means the “Great Harmony”, and it’s the core principle of the Bahá’í faith.
Life becomes wonderful when you realise that there are things that you can’t explain. It’s great to learn all kinds of explanations, analytical frameworks, concepts and theories – and that is what we will do in this class. Meanwhile, we should also be aware that none of these can explain everything. There is always something else that we will never really know. And then there’s my daughter’s theory: that I’m just crazy. Maybe she’s right!
At the time that I was studying the daode jing, my neighbour in Chengdu, an old Chinese man who was teaching English, gave me a Bible. As I read the Bible, although it is so different from the daode jing, I felt that, at a deep level, both scriptures were trying to say the same thing. When I lived in Chengdu, I also met a Canadian, Shahram. He was a Bahá’í. For those of you who know Khalil Fong – Fang Datong (方大同) , a popular Hong Kong singer – his religion is Bahá’í. Datong in Chinese means the “Great Harmony”, and it’s the core principle of the Bahá’í faith.
Shahram’s major in university was physics, but he was very religious too. This intrigued me, and we had many discussions on science and religion. He told me that although all these religions look so different, there is something in common between them all. “The Bahá’í Faith teaches us”, he said, “that all religions have the same origin. They have different social forms, but a common spiritual essence. Religion should be a source of unity, rather than a source of disunity or conflict. All ethnic, national and religious prejudice and violence should be abolished. Religion should not only be about becoming a good person for your own sake, but also about how to make the world a better place, how to build a new society, how to advance our civilization. Also, religion should be in harmony with science, rather than something in contradiction to science. Religion needs to be based on the free and independent search for truth, and not on blind dogma. The Bahá’í Faith teaches that the ultimate goal of religion is to bring peace and unity to the world.” Shahram told me all these teachings of the Bahá’í Faith. I watched him for a year. I wanted to see if he would live up to those noble ideals. Actually, I often made fun of him. My saying was, “when in Rome, do as the Romans”. Whatever the Chinese did, I would learn. They gave me cigarettes, so I would smoke with them. I became a smoker. They gave me toasts of liquor at their banquets, and I drank with them, until I got completely drunk and stripped naked at my school president’s birthday banquet. And there were other things.
But Shahram wouldn’t do such things. I asked him why. He followed the principles of the Bahá’í Faith. I said, “too bad for you: that’s their way of showing friendship to you. If you insist on those principles, you won’t have any friends.” But later, my Chinese friends told me, “David, you are learning all of our bad habits.” And I saw that they had more respect for Shahram. He was a man of integrity, who could truly be trusted. And one day, in my heart, I accepted the Bahá’í faith. I devoted myself to putting the Bahá’í ideals into practice. I also started praying every day. After some time, prayer gave me a strong sense of inner strength and confidence. I pray to become a better person, to align my life with moral and spiritual principles, to act with wisdom and justice, to build a family and a community that are loving and united, and to serve humanity in everything that I do. It’s not easy, and I am still far from attaining those ideals!
Meanwhile, I continued my academic research and my field studies in the anthropology and sociology of religion, mainly concentrating on Chinese religion, especially Daoism, but also Buddhism, Confucianism and folk religion. For example, I have done research on Daoist ritual in the countryside in northern Guangdong Province. You might consider some of these traditions to be very primitive.
But Shahram wouldn’t do such things. I asked him why. He followed the principles of the Bahá’í Faith. I said, “too bad for you: that’s their way of showing friendship to you. If you insist on those principles, you won’t have any friends.” But later, my Chinese friends told me, “David, you are learning all of our bad habits.” And I saw that they had more respect for Shahram. He was a man of integrity, who could truly be trusted. And one day, in my heart, I accepted the Bahá’í faith. I devoted myself to putting the Bahá’í ideals into practice. I also started praying every day. After some time, prayer gave me a strong sense of inner strength and confidence. I pray to become a better person, to align my life with moral and spiritual principles, to act with wisdom and justice, to build a family and a community that are loving and united, and to serve humanity in everything that I do. It’s not easy, and I am still far from attaining those ideals!
Meanwhile, I continued my academic research and my field studies in the anthropology and sociology of religion, mainly concentrating on Chinese religion, especially Daoism, but also Buddhism, Confucianism and folk religion. For example, I have done research on Daoist ritual in the countryside in northern Guangdong Province. You might consider some of these traditions to be very primitive.
On the other hand, I have also been conducting research on the modernization and globalisation of religion, and on how religious groups and faith-based NGOs, try to contribute to social justice and transformation. I’ve worked with several Buddhist and Christian-inspired social enterprises and NGOs in Hong Kong, trying to learn from them how they nurture and release spiritual capacities to act for the betterment of society.
It’s been a fascinating journey, during which I have learned so much, both personally and academically. I look forward to sharing some of those things with you during this course!
It’s been a fascinating journey, during which I have learned so much, both personally and academically. I look forward to sharing some of those things with you during this course!
References
Diderot, Denis. A Philosophical Conversation (Translated from the French of Diderot). London: Thomas Scott, 1875.
Foucault, Michel. “Technologies of the Self.” In Technologies of the Self: A Seminar with Michel Foucault, edited by Martin Luther H., Patrick H. Hutton, and Huck Gutman, 16–49. Univ. of Massachusetts Press, 1988.
Foucault, Michel. Hermeneutics of the Subject. Lectures at the College de France, 1981-82. Translated by Graham Burchell. New York, Palgrave Macmillan, 2005.
Foucault, Michel. The Care of the Self: Vol. 3 of the History of Sexuality. Translated by Robert Hurley. New York: Vintage Books, 1990.
Foucault, Michel. The Use of Pleasure: Vol. 2: Of the History of Sexuality. Translated by Robert Hurley. New York: Vintage Books, 1990.
Komjathy, Louis. Cultivating Perfection: Mysticism and Self-Transformation in Early Quanzhen Daoism. Brill, 2007.
Palmer, David A. Qigong Fever: Body, Science, and Utopia in China. New York: Columbia University Press, 2007.
Plato. Alcibiades I. Many open access editions available online.
Foucault, Michel. “Technologies of the Self.” In Technologies of the Self: A Seminar with Michel Foucault, edited by Martin Luther H., Patrick H. Hutton, and Huck Gutman, 16–49. Univ. of Massachusetts Press, 1988.
Foucault, Michel. Hermeneutics of the Subject. Lectures at the College de France, 1981-82. Translated by Graham Burchell. New York, Palgrave Macmillan, 2005.
Foucault, Michel. The Care of the Self: Vol. 3 of the History of Sexuality. Translated by Robert Hurley. New York: Vintage Books, 1990.
Foucault, Michel. The Use of Pleasure: Vol. 2: Of the History of Sexuality. Translated by Robert Hurley. New York: Vintage Books, 1990.
Komjathy, Louis. Cultivating Perfection: Mysticism and Self-Transformation in Early Quanzhen Daoism. Brill, 2007.
Palmer, David A. Qigong Fever: Body, Science, and Utopia in China. New York: Columbia University Press, 2007.
Plato. Alcibiades I. Many open access editions available online.
Suggested further reading
On religion as a system of communication:
Luhmann, Niklas. A Systems Theory of Religion. Stanford University Press, 2013.
On the "sacred canopy":
Berger, Peter L. The Sacred Canopy: Elements of a Sociological Theory of Religion. 1967. Reprint, New York: Anchor, 1990.
See also Durkheim, E. The Elementary Forms of Religious Life. 1915. Reprint, New York: Free Press, 1995.
On how religion has become problematized in the modern, pluralistic, secular society:
Taylor, Charles. A Secular Age. Harvard University Press, 2007.
On the idea of “spiritual, but not religious”:
Fuller, Robert C. Spiritual, But Not Religious: Understanding Unchurched America. Oxford University Press, 2001.
Luhmann, Niklas. A Systems Theory of Religion. Stanford University Press, 2013.
On the "sacred canopy":
Berger, Peter L. The Sacred Canopy: Elements of a Sociological Theory of Religion. 1967. Reprint, New York: Anchor, 1990.
See also Durkheim, E. The Elementary Forms of Religious Life. 1915. Reprint, New York: Free Press, 1995.
On how religion has become problematized in the modern, pluralistic, secular society:
Taylor, Charles. A Secular Age. Harvard University Press, 2007.
On the idea of “spiritual, but not religious”:
Fuller, Robert C. Spiritual, But Not Religious: Understanding Unchurched America. Oxford University Press, 2001.