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April 23, 2014

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Spiritual renewal in an age of materialism

ON February 7, former vice premier Wu Yi paid a visit to Guanghua Temple in Nanshan, Fujian Province.

On April 5, Li Changchun, former director of the Central Spiritual Civilization Development Steering Commission, visited Confucius’ and Mencius’ temples in Qufu, Shandong Province.

On April 10, Vice Premier Liu Yandong inspected Shaoling Temple in Henan Province.

There is always a danger of over-interpreting such news, so I would refrain from speculating on the motives of such visits, but restrict myself to what reflections I dare to venture.

Many of our compatriots have grown fearless in shrugging off all moral and ethical constraints, because they often regard religion as “spiritual opium” and Confucianism as “feudalistic.”

Given their lack of faith and secular virtues, their way of spending or squandering their newly acquired wealth often makes them objects of repugnance, or outright disdain.

Chinese strike some Westerners as lacking in religious sentiments.

That’s both true and untrue.

It is true that Chinese always tend to take a wholehearted, hardheaded, and instinctual delight in this earthly life, as manifest in their devotion to their family, children, and property.

In the past, our men of letters found this earthly life so poignantly beautiful that they celebrated its beauty in numerous poems.

Confucius once quipped: “We do not yet know about living. Why bother with death?”

Occasionally we are reminded of the brevity of our earthly tenure.

A couple of days ago, while strolling in a park near my home, I passed four Buddhist monks in yellow robes.

They had been invited by a family nearby to conduct a Buddhist ceremony to help guide a recently departed soul to heaven.

But instead of finding these monks looking upward to the mysterious star-studded nocturnal firmament, I found them all engrossed in their state-of-art e-gadgets in their palms.

If we allow ourselves an occasional glimpse into the void above, it is easy to feel how insignificant and powerless we are.

Nature offers no greater beauty than the starry sky on a clear night.

Standing under the night sky bejeweled with mysterious constellations, we are sometimes overcome by a sense of our insignificance, and the futility of our efforts. This awareness leads to a sense of the sadness of this life, and we may deplore how we mishandle our stewardship of the Earth.

As we marvel at the cosmic order and its rigor, we escape from our petty preoccupations.

This is a quasi-religious experience, certainly a spiritual experience, unmediated by institutional religion.

Alas, such a vision is rare in a city, as the night sky is increasingly defiled by neon lights that glorify our power to illuminate.

Confucian outlook

It is not true that we do not have religious sentiments.

Confucianism is essentially a systematic approval of moral conduct, evocative of certain feelings toward life and the universe that border on religion. The Confucian concept of divine order consists of Heaven, Earth, and Man, in that order.

So alien is the Confucian outlook to Westerners that some are mystified that Chinese seem to be able to maintain human relationships without the intervention of a Supreme Being.

I heard recently from an acquaintance that some Chinese returning from overseas study tend to participate in Christian gatherings.

The Oriental Morning Post reported on March 31 about a 2013 documentary film “Fu’er and Shishi,” about two Chinese children aged 5 and 6, who mix quite well in the same kindergarten, one a believer in Buddhism, one a follower of Christianity. Each followed the faith of their mother.

In an interview, director Xie Rong said, “In a sense, in the eyes of the adult, ‘belief’ may be just two words [in Chinese]. But therein might lie true intelligence.”

“I wish children to have beliefs, for this may help them develop a sense of awe, knowing what can be done, and what cannot. Man becomes fearless only when he knows what to fear,” Xie observes.

While some people frequently cite the material affluence enjoyed by our children, I tend to pity them more for their privations, for their eyes today only sparkle at the sight of ice cream, junk foods, and video games.

When I was my son’s age, I at least had the consolation of socialism, and Lei Feng, a public-spirited soldier always ready to help others. That was a simple time that afforded us children plenty of time to stand and stare.

Given this trade-off between material and spiritual wealth, our children, and their parents, are all in need of spiritual fare that can truly inspire them.




 

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