Tenderness

Passages

Every passage tagged with this emotion in the Vela corpus. Search the body text, narrow by source or register, click through to a book’s profile to see how the passage sits with the rest of the work.

Page 121 of 145 · 20 per page

• From The Great Transformation (2006)

  Jains had to cultivate an attitude of positive benevolence toward all beings. All living creatures should help one another. They must approach every single human being, animal, plant, insect, or pebble with friendship, goodwill, patience, and gentleness. Like the yogins, Jains followed five “prohibitions” ( yama ) and vowed to forgo violence, lying, sex, stealing, and the ownership of property, but Mahavira’s interpretation of these yama was informed by his vision of the life force in all things. Naturally the early Jains concentrated on the first vow, of ahimsa (“harmlessness”), which they practiced in the smallest details of their lives, but the other vows were also informed by the spirit of nonviolence. Not only must Jains refrain from lying, but their speech must be deliberate and controlled, in order to eliminate any hint of unkindness or impatience. Words could lead to blows, so they should talk as little as possible. It was even better not to speak the truth if it would hurt another creature. The Jain vows were designed to create an attitude of watchfulness and care. It was not enough for Jains to forgo stealing; they could not possess anything at all, because each being had its own sacred jiva, which was sovereign and free. 115 At all times, Jains must make themselves aware of the life force in everything around them. If people did not see this, they could not relate properly to their fellow creatures, but this involved Jains in a truly heroic restraint that seemed to curtail their lives at every turn. They could not light fires, dig, or plow. They could drink only filtered water, must inspect their surroundings every time they took a single step, and avoid any thoughtless movement. If the vows were lived in this way, the Jains would find that they had achieved an extraordinary self-control and a compassion that would bring them to enlightenment. Empathy was crucial. First, Mahavira taught, the Jain must acquire “knowledge of the world,” so that he understood that everything had a sacred life force. Once he had acquired this knowledge of the world, he must then cultivate “compassion for it.” 116 Mahavira had arrived at his own version of the Golden Rule. Jains had to treat all others as they would wish to be treated themselves. The dukkha that pervaded the entire world was caused by the actions of ignorant people, who did not realize what they were doing when they injured others. To deny the jiva of your fellow creatures was tantamount to denying your own inner self. 117 Jains wanted friendship with all things and all people—with no exceptions whatsoever. Once they had achieved this attitude, they would immediately attain enlightenment.

• From The Great Transformation (2006)

  Confucius was one of the first people to make it crystal clear that holiness was inseparable from altruism. He used to say: “My Way has one thread that runs right through it.” There were no abstruse metaphysics or complicated liturgical speculations; everything always came back to the importance of treating other people with absolute sacred respect. “Our Master’s Way,” said one of his disciples, “is nothing but this: doing-your-best-for-others [zhong] and consideration [shu].”23 The Way was nothing but a dedicated, ceaseless effort to nourish the holiness of others, who in return would bring out the sanctity inherent in you. “Is there any single saying that one can act upon all day and every day?” Zigong asked his master. “Perhaps the saying about consideration [shu],” said Confucius. “Never do to others what you would not like them to do to you.”24 Shu should really be translated as “likening to oneself.” Others have called it the Golden Rule; it was the essential religious practice and was far more difficult than it appeared. Zigong once claimed that he had mastered this virtue: “What I do not want others to do to me, I have no desire to do to others,” he announced proudly. One can almost see Confucius’s wry but affectionate smile, as he shook his head. “Oh! You have not quite got to that point yet.”25

• From The Great Transformation (2006)

  47 He cut channels for the water, so that it could flow into the sea, and the people were able to level the ground and make it habitable. Shun appointed Yu his minister of works, and for eight long years Yu had dredged the rivers, deepened their beds, and built new dikes. In all that time, he never slept a single night in his own house. He had no time to spare for agriculture, so Shun appointed Hou Chi to show the people how to cultivate grain. But once the people had full bellies, moral standards declined, and this gave Shun much disquiet. He therefore appointed Fang Xun as his education minister, to instruct the people in the li of human relationships. 48 Mencius stressed the loving concern that the sage kings had felt for the people. In his account, the first sign of emergent sagehood in both Yao and Shun was that they worried about their people, were made anxious by their plight, and filled with concern and distress. A sage could not bear to see other people suffering. Each had “a heart sensitive to the pain of others . . . and this manifested itself in compassionate government,” Mencius argued. The sage kings were not content simply to feel sorry for their subjects; they energetically and creatively translated their concern into effective action. Their good, practical government sprang from compassion ( ren ), the ability to look beyond self-interest, “the extension of one’s scope of activity to include others.” 49 The princes of the Warring States period might not have Yao and Shun’s exceptional talents, but they could and must imitate their altruism. Confucius had refused to define ren; Mencius gave it a clear, narrow meaning: “benevolence,” the essential virtue that made it impossible for him to turn his back upon the world. He distrusted Mozi’s “concern for everybody,” fearing that this generalized goodwill would undermine the family bonds that were essential to society, 50 even though he agreed that concern could not stop at the family. He told King Xuan to begin by treating the elderly members of his own family reverently. Once he had mastered this habit of respect, he would naturally extend it to old people in other families. Finally, he would be able to treat all his subjects with benevolence, and they would then submit gladly to his rule. 51 Mencius did not agree that the rules of ren were artificial but believed that it was natural for people to respond compassionately to suffering. He reminded King Xuan that he had recently spared the life of an ox that was being led to sacrifice.

• From The Great Transformation (2006)

  Tragedy could not be denied. It had to be brought right into the sacred heart of the city and made a force for good—as, at the end of the Oresteia, the vengeful Erinyes were transformed into the Eumenides, the “well-disposed ones,” and given a shrine on the Acropolis. We had to learn to feel with people we have hated and harmed; at the end of the Iliad, Achilles and Priam wept together. Rage and vicious resentment can make us inhuman; it was only when Achilles shared his grief with Priam, and saw him as his mirror image, that he recovered the humanity he had lost. We must continually remind ourselves that the Axial sages developed their compassionate ethic in horrible and terrifying circumstances. They were not meditating in ivory towers but were living in frightening, war-torn societies, where the old values were disappearing. Like us, they were conscious of the void and the abyss. The sages were not utopian dreamers but practical men; many were preoccupied with politics and government. They were convinced that empathy did not just sound edifying, but actually worked. Compassion and concern for everybody was the best policy. We should take their insights seriously, because they were the experts. They devoted a great deal of time and energy to thinking about the nature of goodness. They spent as much creative energy seeking a cure for the spiritual malaise of humanity as scientists today spend trying to find a cure for cancer. We have different preoccupations. The Axial Age was a time of spiritual genius; we live in an age of scientific and technological genius, and our spiritual education is often undeveloped. The Axial Age needed to craft a new vision because humanity had taken a social and psychological leap forward. People had discovered that each person was unique. The old tribal ethic, which had developed a communal mentality to ensure the survival of the group, was being replaced by a new individualism. This is why so many of the Axial spiritualities were preoccupied by the discovery of the self. Like the merchant, the renouncer was a self-made man. The sages demanded that every single person become self-conscious, aware of what he was doing; rituals had to be appropriated by each sacrificer, and individuals must take responsibility for their actions. Today we are making another quantum leap forward. Our technology has created a global society, which is interconnected electronically, militarily, economically, and politically. We now have to develop a global consciousness, because, whether we like it or not, we live in one world. Even though our problem is different from that of the Axial sages, they can still help us. They did not jettison the insights of the old religion, but deepened and extended them. In the same way, we should develop the insights of the Axial Age. The sages were ahead of us in recognizing that sympathy cannot be confined to our own group.

• From Fields of Blood: Religion and the History of Violence (2014)

  The rabbis made it clear that instead of being an inflammatory force, religious activity could be used to quell violence. They either ignored the bellicose passages of the Hebrew Bible or gave them a radically new interpretation. They called their exegetical method midrash—a word derived from darash: “to investigate; go in search of something.” The meaning of scripture was not, therefore, self-evident; it had to be ferreted out by diligent study, and because it was God’s word, it was infinite and could not be confined to a single interpretation. Indeed, every time a Jew confronted the sacred text, it should mean something different.106 The rabbis felt free to argue with God, defy him, and even change the words of scripture to introduce a more compassionate reading.107 Yes, God was often described as a divine warrior in the Bible, but Jews must imitate only his compassionate behavior.108 The true hero was no longer a warrior but a man of peace. “Who is the hero of heroes?” asked the rabbis. “He who turns an enemy into a friend.”109 A “mighty” man did not prove his mettle on the battlefield but was one “who subdues his passions.”110 When the prophet Isaiah had seemed to praise a soldier “who thrusts back his attacker to the gate,” he was really speaking of “those who thrust a parry in the way of Torah.”111 The rabbis described Joshua and David as pious Torah scholars and even argued that David had had no interest in warfare at all.112 When the Egyptian army drowned in the Sea of Reeds, some of the angels had wanted to sing Yahweh’s praises, but he had rebuked them: “My children lie drowned in the sea, and you would sing?”113

• From The Great Transformation (2006)

  But Zhuangzi had an ebullient, original, and brilliant mind, and never felt at a loss before the rich and powerful. He loved sparring with Huizi, and after his death complained that he no longer had anybody to talk to, but ultimately Zhuangzi felt that dialectic was too narrow. Huizi, for example, was a Mohist, but could not the Confucians also be right? If everything was relative, as Huizi suggested, why should only one philosophy be correct? In his view, the bickering and point scoring of the philosophers were pure egotism: the Way was beyond limited human notions of right and wrong, truth and falsehood. The book attributed to Zhuangzi is actually an anthology of texts that date from the fourth to the end of the third century. Traditionally, only the first seven chapters are thought to contain Zhuangzi’s own teachings, but modern analysis has revealed that these “Inner Chapters” include later material, and that some of the other sections are closer in style to the historical Zhuangzi. The book began as a defense of private life. Zhuangzi was irritated by the Mohists and Confucians, who, he thought, were positively bursting with self-importance, pompously convinced that they had a mission to save the world. Politics could not change human nature: when kings and politicians interfered with the lives of their subjects, they invariably made matters worse. Zhuangzi believed in nongovernment. It was unnatural and perverse to force people to obey man-made laws; it was like shortening the legs of a crane, putting a halter around a horse’s neck or a string through an ox’s nose. 23 When Zhuangzi first retired from public life in search of peace and security, he had been a Yangist. But one day, he realized that it was impossible for any creature to live a wholly safe and protected life. 24 He had trespassed into a game reserve to poach some fowl, had spotted a large magpie, and taken careful aim, fully expecting the bird to fly off in alarm. But the magpie did not even notice Zhuangzi, because it had its eye on a delicious cicada that was basking in a lovely shady spot, heedless of its personal safety. A preying mantis was flexed ready to spring on the cicada, so intent upon the chase that it too ignored the magpie, which swept down on its prey in high excitement and gobbled them both up—still oblivious of Zhuangzi and his crossbow. Zhuangzi sighed with compassion. “Ah, so it is that one thing brings disaster upon another, and then upon itself.” None of these creatures was aware of impending danger, because they were all programmed to hunt one another. Whether they willed it or not, they were involved in a chain of mutual destruction.

• From The Great Transformation (2006)

  Jains achieved this insight by a program of asceticism that made them conscious of this extraordinary truth. By learning to behave differently, they found that their outlook changed, and they began to see the world anew. They had to move with consummate caution lest they inadvertently squash an insect or trample on a blade of grass. They were required to lay down objects with care, and were forbidden to move around in the darkness, when it would be easy to damage another precious creature. They could not even pluck fruit from a tree, but had to wait until it had fallen to the ground of its own accord. Jains needed to eat, of course, and in the early days they were allowed to accept meat in their begging bowls, provided that they had not had the animals killed themselves. The ideal, however, was to abstain from any activity at all, because the tiniest movement or physical impulse was likely to cause injury. But the ahimsa of the Jains was not entirely negative, preoccupied with not doing harm. Jains had to cultivate an attitude of positive benevolence toward all beings. All living creatures should help one another. They must approach every single human being, animal, plant, insect, or pebble with friendship, goodwill, patience, and gentleness. Like the yogins, Jains followed five “prohibitions” (yama) and vowed to forgo violence, lying, sex, stealing, and the ownership of property, but Mahavira’s interpretation of these yama was informed by his vision of the life force in all things. Naturally the early Jains concentrated on the first vow, of ahimsa (“harmlessness”), which they practiced in the smallest details of their lives, but the other vows were also informed by the spirit of nonviolence. Not only must Jains refrain from lying, but their speech must be deliberate and controlled, in order to eliminate any hint of unkindness or impatience. Words could lead to blows, so they should talk as little as possible. It was even better not to speak the truth if it would hurt another creature. The Jain vows were designed to create an attitude of watchfulness and care. It was not enough for Jains to forgo stealing; they could not possess anything at all, because each being had its own sacred jiva, which was sovereign and free.115

• From The Great Transformation (2006)

  By ruthlessly questioning the ancient stories, he was beginning to evolve a new theology. “The nous [mind] in each one of us is a god,” he maintained. 25 In Trojan Women, he made the bereaved and defeated Hecuba, wife of Priam, pray to an unknown god: “O you who give the earth support and are by it supported, whoever you are, power beyond our knowledge, Zeus, be you stern law of nature or intelligence in man, to you I make my prayers; for you direct in the way of justice all mortal affairs, moving with noiseless tread.” 26 In 431, Euripides’ Medea was presented at the City Dionysia. It told the story of the woman of Colchis who married Jason, helped him to find the golden fleece, but was then cruelly rejected by her husband. In revenge, she killed Jason’s new wife, his father, and—finally—the sons she had borne to Jason. But unlike former heroes, Medea was not acting under the orders of a god; she was driven by her own stringent logos. Arguing against her powerful maternal instincts, raising objections to her abominable plan only to demolish them, she realized that she could not truly punish Jason unless she murdered their boys. Reason was becoming a frightening tool. It could lead people to a spiritual and moral void, and, if skillfully used, it could find cogent reasons for cruel and perverse actions. Medea was too intelligent not to find the most effective revenge and too strong not to carry it out. 27 She could have been a pupil of Gorgias. The exercise of logic was an essential part of the catharsis of tragedy. Aristotle would later claim that the “ability to reason well” was a sine qua non for the purifying emotion of pity. 28 Without analytical rigor, you could not see the other’s point of view. For the Greeks, logic was not coolly analytical, but fraught with feeling. The arguments in the courts and assemblies were as passionate and dramatic as those in the theater, and here too citizens learned the ekstasis of “stepping out” of themselves and moving toward a different perspective. 29 Reason could compel an audience to feel compassion for people who might seem to have no claim on their sympathy. Euripides continued the tragic tradition of reaching out empathically to the “other,” even toward Medea and Heracles, who had committed such unspeakable acts. At the end of Heracles, Theseus offered the polluted, broken man his sympathy. When he led Heracles offstage, the two heroes had their arms around each other in a “yoke of friendship,” and the chorus lamented “with mourning and with many tears. . . .

• From The Great Transformation (2006)

  They ate and drank.” 29 This is the oldest account of the Sinai apparition, and may reflect an ancient liturgical reenactment of the theophany, which had included a communion banquet. 30 J had no problem about this, and described God in strongly anthropomorphic terms. In his account, Yahweh strolled through the Garden of Eden like a potentate, enjoying the cool evening air; he closed the door of Noah’s ark; he smelled the delicious aroma of Noah’s sacrifice after the flood; and Abraham saw Yahweh in the form of a stranger whom he entertained in his encampment. 31 But in E, God was becoming more transcendent. He did not appear to human beings directly, but sent his “angel” as an intermediary. E believed that Moses’ vision of God in a burning bush marked a new phase in the self-disclosure of Israel’s elohim. “What is your name?” Moses had asked the god that summoned him from the burning bush. Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob had called him El, Yahweh replied, but now he was ready to reveal his real name to his people. It was ehyeh asher ehyeh: “I am what I am.” 32 This enigmatic phrase was a Hebrew idiom of deliberate vagueness, which meant, in effect, “Never mind who I am!” or even “Mind your own business!” In the ancient world, to know somebody’s name meant that you had power over him. God was not to be controlled and manipulated in this way. In both J and E we see early signs of the spirituality of kenosis. It was clearly present in J’s story of Abraham’s vision of Yahweh at the oak of Mamre, near Hebron. 33 Abraham had looked up and seen three men standing near his tent. Instantly he ran to them “and bowed to the ground.” 34 Strangers were potentially dangerous people, who were not bound by the laws of the local vendetta. They could kill and be killed with impunity. But instead of attacking them, in order to defend his family, Abraham prostrated himself as though they were gods. He then gave his visitors an elaborate meal to refresh them on their journey. The act of personal surrender, combined with practical compassion to three total strangers, led to a divine encounter: in the course of the ensuing conversation, it transpired quite naturally that one of these strangers was none other than Yahweh. Even more striking was E’s story of the binding of Isaac. 35 Abraham had been promised that he would become the father of a mighty nation, but he had only one remaining son. Then, E tells us, “It happened some time later that elohim put Abraham to the test.” He called him by name, and Abraham cried, Hinneni ! “Here I am!” Patriarchs and prophets often responded to God with this cry, which indicated their total readiness and presence. But God then issued the shocking command, “Take your son, your only child Isaac, whom you love, and go to the land of Moriah.

• From The Great Transformation (2006)

  Jains were not interested in yoga but practiced their own type of meditation. Standing motionless, their arms hanging by their sides but not touching the body, monks rigorously suppressed every hostile thought or impulse, while, at the same time, they made a conscious effort to fill their minds with love and kindness toward all creatures.119 An experienced Jain would achieve a quasi-meditative state called samayika (“equanimity”), in which he knew, in every fiber of his person, that all creatures on the face of the earth were equal; at this time he felt exactly the same goodwill to all things, had no favorites, no pet hates, and did not distinguish a single being, however lowly, unpleasant, or insignificant, from himself. Twice a day, Jains stood before their guru and repented of any distress that they might inadvertently have inflicted “by treading on seeds, green plants, dew, beetles, mold, moist earth, and on cobwebs.” They concluded with these words: “I ask pardon from all living creatures. May all creatures pardon me. May I have friendship for all creatures and enmity toward none.”120 The new ideal was no longer merely to refrain from violence, but to cultivate a tenderness and sympathy that had no bounds. 7 CONCERN FOR EVERYBODY (c. 450 to 398 BCE) In Israel, the Axial Age was drawing to a close. By the second half of the fifth century, Jerusalem was a small, damaged city in an undistinguished corner of the Persian empire. The Great Transformation usually occurred in regions that were in the vanguard of change and development. Israel and Judah had suffered greatly from the imperial powers, but these empires had brought intimations of broader horizons and a wider world. Israel’s Axial Age had reached its crescendo in Babylon, the regional capital. In Jerusalem, the returning exiles were no longer in the forefront of world events, but lived in obscurity; the struggle for survival had taken precedence over the search for fresh religious vision. A few chapters in the book of Isaiah may express the preoccupations of the community after the completion of the second temple.1 The old dream of Second Isaiah had not died. People still hoped that Yahweh would create “a new heaven and a new earth” in Jerusalem, where there would be no weeping and the pain of the past would be forgotten.2 Others looked forward to the time when the city of God should open its gates to everybody—to outcasts, foreigners, and eunuchs—for Yahweh had proclaimed, “My house will be a house of prayer for all the peoples.” One day he would bring these outsiders into the city, and allow them to sacrifice to him on Mount Zion.3 But in fact a more rigidly exclusive attitude heralded the end of the Axial Age.

• From The Great Transformation (2006)

  Heaven had been filled with pity for the sufferings of the people, so he had revoked the mandate that he had given to the Shang, and looked around for new rulers. Finally his gaze had fallen upon the Zhou kings, who thus became the new sons of Tian Shang Di, Heaven Most High. That was how King Cheng had become the son of Heaven, the duke explained, even though he was so inexperienced. It was a heavy responsibility for the young man. Now that he had received the mandate, Cheng had to be “reverently careful.” He must be “in harmony with the little people . . . prudently apprehensive about what the people say.” Heaven would take its mandate away from a ruler who oppressed his subjects, and would bestow it on a more deserving dynasty. This was why the Shang and Xia dynasties had failed. Many of the Shang kings had been virtuous rulers, but in the last years of the dynasty the people had been miserable. They had called out in anguish to Heaven, and Heaven “too grieved for the people of all the lands,” decided to give the mandate to the Zhou because they were “deeply committed” to justice. But the Zhou could not afford to be complacent. Dwelling in this new city, let the king have reverent care for his virtue. If it is virtue that the king uses, he may pray Heaven for an enduring mandate. As he functions as king, let him not, because the common people stray and do what is wrong, then presume to govern them by harsh capital punishments. In this way, he will achieve much. In being king, let him take his position in the primacy of virtue. The little people will then pattern themselves on him throughout the world. The king will then become illustrious. 82 It was an important moment. The Zhou had introduced an ethical ideal into a religion that had hitherto been unconcerned about morality. Heaven was not simply influenced by the slaughter of pigs and oxen, but by compassion and justice. The mandate of Heaven would become an important ideal during the Chinese Axial Age. If a ruler was selfish, cruel, and oppressive, Heaven would not support him, and he would fall. A state might appear to be weak and insignificant—like the Zhou before the conquest—but if its ruler was wise, humane, and truly concerned for the welfare of his subjects, people would flock to him from all over the world, and Heaven would raise him to the highest position. At the beginning, however, there was some disagreement about the interpretation of the mandate. 83 The duke of Zhou and his brother Gong, duke of Shao, had a serious difference of opinion. The duke of Zhou believed that Heaven had given the mandate to all the Zhou people; the new king should, therefore, rely on the advice of his ministers. But Shao Gong argued that the king alone had received the mandate.

• From Between Us

  Breakdowns in compassion are particularly likely when teachers perceive infractions of the rules. One teacher intervention encouraged teachers from several U.S. middle schools “to understand and value students’ experiences and negative feelings that can cause misbehavior and to sustain positive relationships.” Although the intervention did nothing to stop the teachers from disciplining the students for bad behavior, it cut the number of suspensions over the next year in half, with suspensions of Black and Latinx kids being proportional to their numbers. Though the idea behind the intervention was to foster the teacher-student relationship, it arguably encourages teachers to “unpack” their students’ emotions, finding common ground with their students, and in the process, humanizing them. It is the kind of understanding and compassion that may benefit the field of education more broadly. In 2003, UNESCO initiated a worldwide plan to add emotional and social skills to the academically oriented school curriculum, and this initiative was picked up in many countries. No longer are academic subjects, like math, languages, history, and geography, the only focus: how to feel and how to communicate about your own and others’ emotions are now an integrative part of what many students learn in school. Some have called it “emotional literacy,” a term that underlines how indispensable social and emotion learning are in today’s society. The research is clear: it does pay off to include emotional and social skills into the curriculum, at least in North America and in Western Europe. Students whose schools offer social and emotional learning programs show modestly improved emotional and social competence, and fewer emotional and behavioral problems, compared to students whose schools do not have such programs on offer. Some studies even show improved academic performance. The gains made through emotional literacy programs are particularly clear for young children. What do these programs teach students about emotions? Most important of all, they teach students that it is important to find out what other kids feel, and that this may not be the same as what they themselves feel—an excellent starting point to developing kindness, including kindness across diverse cultural groups. They also teach students that having the “right” feelings is key to making friendships, to resolving conflict, and even to doing their schoolwork. In this particular way, many of the available programs teach children that their emotions are OURS: that emotions position you in life, and are central to building social relationships.

• From The Diary of a Young Girl (The Definitive Edition) (2020)

  thawed and there’s almost nothing left. MONDAY, MARCH 6, 1944 Dearest Kitty, Ever since Peter told me about his parents, I’ve felt a certain sense of responsibthty toward him-don’t you think that’s strange? It’s as though their quarrels were just as much my business as his, and yet I don’t dare bring it up anymore, because I’m afraid it makes him uncomfortable. I wouldn’t want to intrude, not for all the money in the world. I can tell by Peter’s face that he ponders things just as deeply as I do. Last night I was annoyed when Mrs. van D. scoffed, “The thinker!” Peter flushed and looked embarrassed, and I nearly blew my top. Why don’t these people keep their mouths shut? You can’t imagine what it’s like to have to stand on the sidelines and see how lonely he is, without being able to do anything. I can imagine, as if I were in his place, how despondent he must sometimes feel at the quarrels. And about love. Poor Peter, he needs to be loved so much! It sounded so cold when he said he didn’t need any friends. Oh, he’s so wrong! I don’t think he means it. He clings to his masculinity, his solitude and his feigned indifference so he can maintain his role, so he’ll never, ever have to show his feelings. Poor Peter, how long can he keep it up? Won’t he explode from this superhuman effort? Oh, Peter, if only I could help you, if only you would let me! Together we could banish our loneliness, yours and mine! I’ve been doing a great deal of thinking, but not saying much. I’m happy when I see him, and happier still if the sun shines when we’re together. I washed my hair yesterday, and because I knew he was next door, I was very rambunctious. I couldn’t help it; the more quiet and serious I am on the inside, the noisier I get

• From The Great Transformation (2006)

  In court life too, each junzi must keep to the role assigned to him and thus contribute to the beauty and elegance of the palace.79 A gentleman should always be perfectly dressed; his manner must be “grave, majestic, imposing, and distinguished,”80 and his expression “sweet and calm, the forms and dispositions conformable to the rules.”81 Instead of expressing his individuality, the vassal surrendered his entire being to the chivalric archetype. This “yielding” must be wholehearted. The first duty of a junzi was cheng: “sincerity.” He could not conform to the li in a shallow, grudging, or hypocritical manner; his goal was to give himself up so thoroughly to the rules of etiquette that they became integral to his personality. By wholly identifying with the paradigmatic junzi, he would become a fully humane person. His personality would be perfected by this artifice, in the same way as a block of untreated jade was transformed by an artist into a beautiful ritual vessel. Court life was thus an education in true humanity. “The li teach us,” the ritualists of Lu explained, “to give free rein to one’s feelings, to let them follow their bent is the Way of barbarians. The Way of li is quite different. The ceremonial fixes degrees and limits.”82 If the rites became an authentic part of his being, the gentleman learned moderation, self-control, and generosity, because the li were designed to hold violence and hubris in check: “Rites obviate disorders, as dykes obviate floods.”83 The archery contest revealed a junzi’s quality. This was not simply a test of skill and military efficiency, but a musical ceremony designed to promote peace and concord. Any barbarian could hit the target, but the junzi was aiming for nobility. He did not really want to win, because it was more honorable to lose. He had to pretend that he wanted to win, but that in itself was an act of humility, since naked ambition was vulgar, the sign of an inferior person. The presentation of the cup to the losing contestant was, therefore, really an act of homage. Before he picked up his bow, each competitor must have a sincere (cheng) attitude of mind, as well as an upright (che) bodily posture, or he would besmirch the power of his prince.84 They both had to shoot their arrows at exactly the same moment, in time with the music. As it flew, whirring, from the bow, each arrow must sing out the correct note. Instead of hitting the target, the arrows were supposed to meet in midair: violence and confrontation had been deflected into concord and harmony. At the end of the contest, both archers wept: the winner out of pity for the defeated competitor, and the vanquished out of compassion for the victor, who, of course, was the real loser. The two warriors would kneel and promise to live henceforth as father and son.

• From The Great Transformation (2006)

  The good leader in war is not warlike The good fighter is not impetuous; The best conqueror of the enemy is he who never takes the offensive. The man who gets the most out of men is the one who treats them with humility. 49 This, Laozi concluded, “is what I call the virtue [ de ] of non-violence,” and by acting in this way, Laozi concluded, the sage warrior “matched the sublimity of Heaven.” 50 It was our attitude, not our action, that determined the outcome of what we did. People were always able to sense the feeling and motivation that lay behind our words and deeds. The sage must learn to absorb hostility; if he retaliated to an atrocity there would certainly be a fresh attack. Challenges must be ignored. “To yield is to be preserved whole. . . . Because [the sage] does not contend, no one in the world is in a position to contend with him.” 51 Tyrants were digging their own grave, because when a prince tried to act upon other human beings, they automatically resisted him, and the result was usually the opposite of what was intended. Wu wei must be combined with humility. The sage did not trumpet his principles from the rooftops; indeed, he had no fixed opinions. The sage did not try to make the people become what he wanted them to be, but “takes as his own the mind of the people.” 52 Laozi was convinced that human nature was originally kind and good. It had become violent only when people had felt coerced by elaborate laws and moral codes. 53 Whenever he encountered the aggression of a bigger state, the sage ruler must ask whether hatred was breeding more hatred, or whether it was weakening in response to compassion, a virtue that Laozi rarely mentioned explicitly but that was implicit in his striving to put himself in the place of the other: The reason there is great affliction is that I have a self. If I had no self, what affliction would I have? Therefore to one who honours the world as his self The world may be entrusted, And to one who loves the world as one’s self The world may be consigned. 54 Laozi was the last great Chinese sage of the Axial Age. His was an essentially utopian ideal. It is difficult to see how a sage who had reached this level of “emptiness” would ever come to power, since he would be incapable of the calculation that was necessary to win office.

• From The Principles of Psychology (Volume 1 of 2) (1890)

  Even after the remaining senses are differentiated , the primary sense continues to be a leading susceptibility of the mind. The soft warm touch, if not a first-class influence, is at least an approach to that. The combined power of soft contact and warmth amounts to a considerable pitch of massive pleasure; while there may be subtle influences not reducible to these two heads, such as we term, from not knowing anything about them, magnetic or electric. The sort of thrill from taking a baby in arms is something beyond mere warm touch; and it may rise to the ecstatic height, in which case, however, there may be concurrent sensations and ideas. . . . In mere tender emotion not sexual, there is nothing but the sense of touch to gratify, unless we assume the occult magnetic influences. . . . In a word, our love pleasures begin and end in sensual contact. Touch is both the alpha and omega of affection. As the terminal and satisfying sensation, the ne plus ultra, it must be a pleasure of the highest degree. . . . Why should a more lively feeling grow up towards a fellow-being than towards a perennial fountain? [This 'should' is simply delicious from the more modern evolutionary point of view.] It must be that there is a source of pleasure in the companionship of other sentient creatures, over and above the help afforded by them in obtaining the necessaries of life. To account for this, I can suggest nothing but the primary and independent pleasure of the animal embrace." [Mind, this is said not of the sexual interest, but of 'Sociability at Large.'] "For this pleasure every creature is disposed to pay something, even when it is only fraternal. A certain amount of material benefit imparted is a condition of the full heartiness of a responding embrace, the complete fruition of this primitive joy. In the absence of those conditions the pleasure of giving . . . can scarcely be accounted for; we know full well that, without these helps, it would be a very meager sentiment in beings like ourselves. . . . It seems to me that there must be at the [parental instinct's] foundation that intense pleasure in the embrace of the young which we find to characterize the parental feeling throughout. Such a pleasure once created would associate itself with the prevailing features and aspects of the young, and give to all of these their very great interest. For the sake of the pleasure, the parent discovers the necessity of nourishing the subject of it, and comes to regard the ministering function as a part or condition of the delight" (Emotions and Will, pp. 126, 127, 132, 133, 140).

• From The Great Transformation (2006)

  If the shen was strong, this sacred individuality would survive the death of the body. By treating his father with absolute reverence, therefore, the eldest son empowered him to fulfill his humanity. Each morning, he rose at dawn, dressed carefully in full ceremonial costume, and waited upon his parents, together with his wife. He could not belch, sneeze, cough, or yawn in his father’s presence. He never trod the same staircase as his father, never used his father’s bowl, staff, or cup. He mended and washed his parents’ clothes, prepared the eight ritually prescribed dishes, and waited on his parents while they ate, respectfully urging them to make a hearty meal. A son always addressed his father in a low, humble voice. If he believed that he was losing the Way, he should reprove him, but must express his views gently and pleasantly, with a modest expression. If his father persisted in wrongdoing, the son’s behavior must be even more courteous, and he must never express anger or resentment. At seventy years old, the father retired from public life. In this last phase, the son’s duty was to empathize with his every mood; he must be happy when his father was well, sad when he was ill, eat when his father had a good appetite, and fast when the old man was ailing. 87 He thus learned the empathic virtue of shu (“likening to oneself”), which would become central to the Chinese Axial Age. When his father passed away, the son shared the experience of death insofar as he could. He withdrew from the family home, lived in a hut, slept on the ground with a clod of earth for a pillow, kept silence, fasted, and so weakened himself that he could rise only with the help of a staff. For three years, the son officiated at the rites of mourning that transformed the father’s ghost into shen, while the deceased gradually made his way toward those forefathers who had also earned personal survival. At the end of the mourning period, his father’s apotheosis was complete, and the son then presided over his cult. For ten days, he prepared for the bin (“hosting”) ritual by making a spiritual retreat, during which he fasted and thought only about the way his father had behaved, smiled, and talked. At the bin ceremony, his own son played the part of the newly deceased and during the ritual felt that his grandfather’s spirit was alive in him. When the bereaved son finally saw his “father” arriving at the banquet, he bowed low and escorted him to his place at the table, knowing that his task was done. He had, as the Record of Rites observed, communed with the “refulgent shen of his ancestor” and gained “a perfect enlightenment.”

• From Prayers of the Social Awakening (1910)

  THOU great Father of the weak, lay thy hand tenderly on all the little children on earth and bless them. Bless our own children, who are life of our life, and who have become the heart of our heart. Bless every Uttle child-friend that has leaned against our knee and re- freshed our soul by its smiling trustfulness. Be good to all children who long in vain for human love, or for flowers and wate;r, and the sweet breast of Nature, But bless with a sevenfold blessing the yoimg lives whose slender shoulders are already bowed be- neath the yoke of toil, and whose glad growth is being stunted forever. Suffer not their little bodies to be utterly sapped, and their minds to be given over to stupidity and the vices of an empty soul. We have all jointly deserved the millstone of thy wrath for making these little ones to stumble and fall. Grant all employers of labor stout hearts to refuse enrichment at such a price. Grant to all the citizens and officers of [SI] M states which now permit this wrong the grace of holy anger. Help us to realize that every child of our nation is in very truth our child, a member of our great family. By the Holy Child that nestled in Mary^s bosom; by the memories of our own childhood joys and sorrows; by the sacred possibilities that slimiber in every child, we beseech thee to save us from killing the sweetness of yoimg life by the greed of gain. [52] mm. If FOR THE CHILDREN OF THE STREET HEAVENLY Father, whose unveiled face the angels of little children do always behold, look with love and pity, we beseech thee, upon the children of the streets. Where men, in their busy and careless lives, have made a high- way, these children of thine have made a home and a school, and are learning the bad lessons of our selfishness and our folly. Save them, and save us, O Lord. Save them from ignorance and brutality, from the shameless- ness of lust, the hardness of greed, and the besotting of drink; and save us from the greater guilt of those that offend thy little f ones, and from the h3^ocrisy of those that say they see and see not, whose sin remaineth. Make clear to those of older years the in- alienable right of childhood to play, and give to those who govern our cities the will and ability to provide the places for play; make clear to those who minister to the appetite for recreation the guilt of them that lead astray thy children; and make clear to us

• From The Great Transformation (2006)

  The Confucian rituals of “yielding” were designed to cultivate a habit of reverence for others. Before an aspirant could undertake a single yogic exercise, he had to become proficient in ahimsa, nonviolence, never betraying antagonism in a single word or gesture. Until this was second nature, his guru would not allow him to proceed with his meditation—but in the process of acquiring this “harmlessness” he would, the texts explained, experience “indescribable joy.” The Axial sages put the abandonment of selfishness and the spirituality of compassion at the top of their agenda. For them, religion was the Golden Rule. They concentrated on what people were supposed to transcend from— their greed, egotism, hatred, and violence. What they were going to transcend to was not an easily defined place or person, but a state of beatitude that was inconceivable to the unenlightened person, who was still trapped in the toils of the ego principle. If people concentrated on what they hoped to transcend to and became dogmatic about it, they could develop an inquisitorial stridency that was, in Buddhist terminology, “unskillful.” This is not to say that all theology should be scrapped or that the conventional beliefs about God or the ultimate are “wrong.” But—quite simply—they cannot express the entire truth. A transcendent value is one that, of its very nature, cannot be defined— a word that in its original sense means “to set limits upon.” Christianity, for example, has set great store by doctrinal orthodoxy, and many Christians could not imagine religion without their conventional beliefs. This is absolutely fine, because these dogmas often express a profound spiritual truth. The test is simple: if people’s beliefs—secular or religious—make them belligerent, intolerant, and unkind about other people’s faith, they are not “skillful.” If, however, their convictions impel them to act compassionately and to honor the stranger, then they are good, helpful, and sound. This is the test of true religiosity in every single one of the major traditions. Instead of jettisoning religious doctrines, we should look for their spiritual kernel. A religious teaching is never simply a statement of objective fact: it is a program for action. Paul quoted that early Christian hymn to the Philippians not to lay down the law about the incarnation, but to urge them to practice kenosis themselves. If they behaved like Christ, they would discover the truth of their beliefs about him. Similarly, the doctrine of the Trinity was meant in part to remind Christians that they could not think about God as a simple personality, and that the divine essence lay beyond their grasp. Some have seen the doctrine of Trinity as an attempt to see the divine in terms of relationship or community; others have discerned a kenosis in the heart of the Trinity. But the object of the doctrine is to inspire contemplation and ethical action. In the fourteenth century CE , Greek Orthodox theologians developed a principle about theology that takes us to the heart of the Axial Age.

• From Prayers of the Social Awakening (1910)

  them that they, too, are but servants of humanity, and that the promise of their gifts can fulfil itself only in the service of love. Give them faith in the inspiring power of a great purpose and courage to follow to the end the visions of their youth. Kindle in their hearts a passionate pity for the joyless lives of the people, and make them rejoice if they are found worthy to hold the cup of beauty to lips that are athirst. Make them the reverent interpreters of God to man, who see thy face and hear thy voice in all things, that so they may imveil for us the beauties of nature which we have passed unseeing, and the sadness and sweetness of humanity to which our selfishness has made us blind. 70 FOR JUDGES GOD, who art the author and giver of law, from whom alone all just designs and right- eous judgments pro- ceed, give unto all those who frame, in- terpret, or administer human law the counsel of thy Holy Spirit, that they may know themselves thy min- isters. Remove from them all pride and vainglory of class, all prejudice of birth and training, all narrowness of place and power, and grant them to know that only in loving sympathy with all their fellow-men is there the possibility of clear imderstanding and righteous decision. Enable them so to receive the precepts and examples of the past that they build upon the heritage of the fathers a just and adequate edifice of law for the present. As they deduce the principles which under- lie ^e customary laws of men, give unto them the larger vision of the reign of law and the ordered universe, of the precedents of nature and providence, and suffer them [71 not to forget or to be ignorant of those in- evitable laws of thine which outlive the lives of men. O Thou who hast given to man the will to conquer the earth, the power to serve his fellows and the heart to love thee, may the rule of the market-place never be suffered to obscure thine eternal justice, but grant to all these the ministers of human justice the will and ability to pacify the passions and adjust the disputes of men. Suffer them neither to be swayed by the prejudices nor to appeal to the weaknesses of others, but to deal fairly, counsel wisely, and quit themselves manfully in all matters ; to be the servants of all men, but the hire- lings of none, and so to hasten the coming of the Kingdom of God on earth, for which we pray. MORNAY WILLIAMS. m FOR LAWYERS AND LEGISLATORS