Up Until the Time of Your Death

UP UNTIL THE TIME OF YOUR DEATH
What the Stoics Can Teach Us About a Life of Wisdom

A Sermon by
James Ishmael Ford

12 August 2007
First Unitarian Society
West Newton, Massachusetts

Text

You are composed of three things: body, breath and mind.
The first two are yours to the degree that you are responsible for their care;
only the third is truly yours.
If you do not attach your sense of who you are
to your thoughts,
to what others say or do,
to what you have said or done,
to what you will say or do,
to the vicissitudes of your health and other physical conditions,
to any of the raging currents of your life beyond your control;
so that your mind is not entangled by those things that pass away:
you will dwell in freedom
and become the master of your house;
making all your actions just,
doing everything mindfully,
and living truthfully.
If you live mindfully without clinging to any thought
of bodily condition, or the future or the past,
and become like Empedocles’ globe,
perfectly contained and joyful,
and strive to live only the life you have,
in this moment;
then you will own your life
up until the time of your death,
marked by wisdom and joy,
at one with the god within.

Marcus Aurelius
Meditations, Book XII, Chapter Three

This past week I was wandering around the web looking for references to Stoicism and in particular to its possible connections to contemporary Western liberal religion. I wasn’t terribly surprised although quite pleased when I found two Unitarian Universalist sermons on the subject. The first was by UU minister Scott Alexander, who currently serves the River Road Unitarian Church in Bethesda, Maryland. In 2005 he preached a sermon called “Learning to Fall: Stoicism.”

I was caught pretty much from the title. I’d already thought a lot about falling. I’d experienced a major herniation in 1999. In fact it nearly prevented me from flying out to Boston to pre-candidate for this pulpit. Jan and I had to figure out how to handle that flight with me sitting pretty much straight up for five hours. The solution wasn’t difficult, although it did involve timing. Just before Jan bundled me aboard the flight from Phoenix I ate a lot of major painkillers, and I swallowed some more about two hours out. We calculated I’d only be slightly goofy, or as you all know, only slightly more goofy than normal when we landed. Fortunately the search committee was well apprised of the situation and assumed behind the goofy I was in fact brighter than is the case. Sometimes things which seem bad at the time, just break the right way. You never know.

But, there’s that falling. My surgeon was apparently a Taoist, so good he didn’t actually have to cut me; and instead had advised despite its severity how the herniation should heal itself in about a year. Just be careful, he said, and don’t fall,. So, during that trip and all around it, I was being very careful, waiting impatiently for nature to take its course, and trying not to fall. About a year from the incident, it was deep into a Boston winter when I was walking downtown. By then I was overly cautious, pretty much all the time. I also seemed more inclined to fall than if I hadn’t been so obsessed with my situation. So, perhaps, of course, while walking in that wintry, frozen Boston, I slipped on a bit of ice, my legs shot out straight in front of me, and I fell flat on my back.

I lay there for a few minutes thinking I’m paralyzed for life. Then, I got up. My back had healed. So, I really was taken with Scott’s image of falling as a foundational insight for the Stoic way. For a continuing thread in his sermon, Scott drew upon Philip Simmons powerful book Learning to Fall: The Blessings of an Imperfect Life, Philip’s reflections on his life with Lou Gehrig’s disease, which would eventually kill him. A lifelong UU, Philip wrote of this condition of mortality, of how we are all falling, that we all share, with wisdom and eloquence.

“We are all – all of us – falling. We are all, now, this moment, in the midst of that descent, fallen from heights that may now seem only a dimly remembered dream, falling toward a depth we can only imagine, glimpsed beneath the water’s surface shimmer. And so let us pray that if we are falling from grace, dear God, let us also fall with grace, to grace. If we are falling toward pain and weakness, let us also fall toward sweetness and strength. If we are falling toward death, let us also fall toward life.”

That wise Unitarian thinker Forrest Church frequently observes how the questions of religion all follow our awareness of being alive and our knowing we’re going to die. From the moment of our birth we are falling toward death. The art of life, is knowing how to fall. And, I believe, Stoicism has a lot to say to us on that subject.

In fact it was the second of the sermons that I felt really put it all in perspective for me. Doug Muder, a member of the First Parish Church, Unitarian Universalist, in Bedford, is a fairly regular contributor to the UU World, but is possibly better known to those among us who follow political bloggers as the pseudonymous Pericles at the Daily Kos. Anyway Doug wrote a sermon called “Is There a Western Path to Enlightenment?” He opines there is and it is Stoicism. I’m strongly inclined to agree.

Doug starts his sermon with the observation how “There’s a classic story that gets acted out in reality every few years. It goes like this: A young adult (typically male) grows up in the center of civilization (typically England). He has a certain measure of success and comes to be quite proud of himself. And then he goes off to an apparently backward part of the world (typically India), where he finds ancient teachings that wake him up spiritually.” Doug cites some of the more famous examples from Kipling’s classic novel Kim to the Beatles studying with the Maharishi Mahesh Yogi.

While he doesn’t deny the metaphorical value of the spiritual quest (and I would add our need to be willing to be surprised in order to be ready for insight when it appears), Doug points out the obvious error of taking the story literally together with an observation about how frequently that error happens. He writes “As much as I admire and even envy some of the Eastern or indigenous religions, I am a Westerner. The West is not just where my body happened to be born. It is the home of my soul.”

While I’ve taken that journey East, if not actually to Asia, certainly to Sufi Kankhas, Buddhist monasteries and more Zen centers than you can shake a stick at, and am endlessly grateful for the way of life I’ve found in those Eastern pockets in the West, I too, know from that from the soles of my feet to the follicles on the top of my head, I am a Westerner. I know no matter how long I drink green tea while sitting on the floor, I’m never going to be Japanese. So, while my quest for Western wisdom is a little different than Doug’s or Scott’s, it is still a Westerner’s quest for spiritual integration. I’m seeking Western idioms, Western ways into that universal wisdom which I know exists. And I see how Stoicism has a great deal to contribute on this subject.

Although we need to start by saying much of what we think Stoicism is, is probably wrong. One more proof of the truth of that wonderful bumpersticker: Don’t believe everything you think. For most of us being “stoic” is sucking it up, finding that stiff upper lip, and gutting it through, whatever the situation might be. This isn’t a new thing, someone who did the research found such a usage dates from the middle of the sixteenth century. Nonetheless, I suggest such a view of stoicism is missing the great gift to Western spirituality that this ancient Greek and Roman spiritual insight in fact offers. Stoicism is about learning to fall in a world where we’re all falling.

Stoics emphasized three things. The first was virtue, a way of discerning what to avoid and what to embrace in our lives. The second was wisdom, often called reason in Greek and Latin, which while including rational thought, is mainly about a larger perspective that is found not through the accumulation of knowledge but rather through careful attention to what one thinks and holds in the mind. And the third is a view of the rhythms of nature, discerning its patterns and laws. Each is worthy of detailed study.

What surprised me was how these concerns each involved spiritual practices. For me this was a surprise because I’ve long felt the major lack in the West has been such actual hands on, try this and you’ll find your way, pointers to our own individual depth. But here they were. For instance, Doug describes attention to character as a Stoic spiritual discipline. He cites the Stoic philosopher Seneca who wrote, “The mind must be called to account every day. This is what Sextius used to do: at the close of the day, when he retired to his nightly rest, he used to pose questions to his mind: ‘What fault of yours have you cured today? What defects have you resisted? In what way are you better?” Doug goes on to describe how he has adapted this as a personal spiritual discipline.

Inspired I found several essays and references to books that described Stoic spiritual disciplines, most all of which seemed likely useful to anyone in this room. Just google “stoic” and “spiritual.” I suggest it’ll really be worth the trouble. Sadly, most of the details of Stoic spiritual practices have been lost. At the same time there is much still accessible, hints and pointers.
As a Zen meditator I was most taken with what I found about Stoic concern with attention to the mind’s workings and how it appears so like my own practices. All of the essays concerned with Stoic attention seem to point to the Roman Emperor Marcus Aurelius’s small book Meditations, and particularly to the twelfth book and its third chapter. I’ll conclude today’s reflection by addressing that wonderful text.

In order to own it a little more, and to be owned by it a little more, I sat quite a while with several translations, particularly John Jackson’s classic text and Pierre Hadot’s modern version. Then, after a while attempted my own creative adaptation. I understand the limitations of such a project, particularly the limits of not reading Greek, and how I bring my own personality and the results of my nearly forty years of Zen discipline together with my rationalist humanist disposition, and twenty years of life embedded within Unitarian Universalist congregations, to the text, shifting it and transforming it. On the other hand this discipline of making my own “translation” invites a deeply personal engagement, and I felt myself shifting and being transformed by the text. Interestingly, this discipline of making a text one’s own itself is arguably a Stoic spiritual practice, at least according to one source I found. Perhaps you’ll try your own version sometime. We’re near the end of our time together. Here’s my attempt, which you’ve already heard once as it was our reading for today’s service. I feel it is the most important thing to share today, and worth some attention. Marcus Aurelius, emperor and philosopher guides us toward our own kingdom.

“You are composed of three things: body, breath and mind. The first two are yours to the degree that you are responsible for their care; only the third is truly yours. If you do not attach your sense of who you are to your thoughts, to what others say or do, to what you have said or done, to what you will say or do, to the vicissitudes of your health and other physical conditions, to any of the raging currents of your life beyond your control; so that your mind is not entangled by those things that pass away: you will dwell in freedom and become the master of your house; making all your actions just, doing everything mindfully, and living truthfully. If you live mindfully without clinging to any thought of bodily condition, or the future or the past, and become like Empedocles’ globe, perfectly contained and joyful, and strive to live only the life you have, in this moment; then you will own your life up until the time of your death, marked by wisdom and joy, at one with the god within.”

So, here’s the deal, here’s the invitation. With attention, with recollection of our lives, and with finding our genuine relationships within the world that is; we find a way of wisdom. That is what I suggest we’re about as Unitarian Universalists, and what I see that Stoicism is about. And something more, how Stoicism can help us find our own authentic Western way. Here we are, from the moment of our birth, falling. The only question is how do we fall artfully, healthfully? Well, our Western spiritual ancestors, the Stoics, tell us by seeing through the great mess, by not grasping at things that pass, but rather by holding with open hands, by noticing, noticing, noticing; we discover our hearts open, we discover joy, and we find a way of life that can be called wise.

Amen.