|
IS BUDDHISM ALL BAD? #5
GOOD FACTORY, BAD PRODUCT
He was such a good and righteous man that every year,
on October 2, people still gather to commemorate his birth. Clear back
in the year 1869, a little Indian baby was given the name Karamchand.
Actually, that's his middle name: Mohandas Karamchand Gandhi. Known by
the beloved title of "Mahatma," which means "Great Soul,"
he really was that, as for many years he provided spiritual leadership
to the millions of India.
We remember this little man with the loincloth for his peaceful ways,
for his exhortations to India to follow the path of nonviolent protest.
He was one of the great religious lights to Martin Luther King, Jr., who
brought those same principles into his own struggle for civil rights here
in the United States. But Gandhi took the practice of "turn the other
cheek" to a higher level, teaching his followers to love their enemy,
to not fight back.
Albert Einstein was later to remark about this little man: "Generations
to come, it may be we will scarce believe that such a one ever walked
upon this earth." And Viceroy Mountbatten was equally flamboyant
in his praise:
"Mahatma Gandhi will go down in history
on a par with Buddha and Jesus Christ."
Maybe you've read how this young Indian lawyer got
thrown off a train in South Africa — a turning point which launched his
remarkable career. Back home in India, he practiced simplicity, rejecting
the fame and riches he could easily have accumulated for himself. He shed
his fine suits, and worked for reforms among the poorest people in society:
the Untouchables, even going so far as to clean their toilets for them.
One of his favorite activities was to sit in the dust, wearing just his
loincloth, and spin cotton thread on a small spinning reel. And you know,
to this day, when devotees gather every October 2, that's what they do
too. They spin cotton thread, and listen as hymns are sung, and favorite
verses are shared from the Bible.
But other favorite verses are also read from the Koran. And from the Gita,
the Scriptures of the Hindu faith. Because in his entire 79 years of life,
Mahatma Gandhi never embraced the Christian religion. This good, kind,
wise, nonviolent leader who so much exemplified the spirit of Jesus Christ,
never personally ACCEPTED Jesus Christ as his own Savior and Lord.
"I could accept Jesus as a martyr, an embodiment
of sacrifice," he once told friends. "But not as the most perfect
man ever born. His death on the cross was a great example to the world,
but that there was . . . . virtue in it, my heart could not accept."
Well, there are many ways we could go with this, and
how our loving God handles the case of non-Christian Mohandas Karamchand
Gandhi . . . is God's business and not ours. But as we close up with this
special radio series, a probing question comes to mind. We've been saying
in our study together that there are great truths to be found in the Buddhist
faith, and in the religion of Islam. And here is a gentle giant to be
found among our friends of Hindu persuasion: Gandhi, the spiritual hero
who prayed so diligently for peace, and who lived his entire life following
the example of Jesus Christ. And yet it's also been our goal here to point
to the reality that where these great religions of the world differ, Christianity
is right, and the others are wrong. Not ALL wrong, but wrong in the points
of difference.
And now our question for today: what does it mean when this small, quiet
Hindu man lives in such holiness, such selfless peace . . . and so many
Christians — both today and throughout 2000 years of history — have been
greedy, grasping, warmongering, evil, wicked people? If Christianity is
RIGHT, then why doesn't it WORK? Or, we should ask, why doesn't it work
MORE in the lives of those who claim it as their personal faith?
That's a hard question, isn't it? If Christianity is more right, a better
faith, then should it not make better men and better women? If it has
an unbeatable advantage, then why doesn't that advantage show up in the
lives?
Well, friend, I don't have a good answer for that, except to look with
a sorrowing heart into my own life. And I know, deep down inside, that
the failures in my life are not the failures of the Christian faith, but
my own failures. Christianity is not weak; it is I who too often succumb
to my own weaknesses.
I think about our American system of democracy, which so many people rejoice
in. It's a concept that promises freedom and empowerment to so many millions.
And yet we watch on television a crisis in Washington, where angry words
fly back and forth. Two sides push and claw at each other, jockeying for
position and power. Now, is the system wrong? No. But so often we who
are human fail in how we apply the "gospel" of democracy on
a daily basis.
I've read testimonies written by ardent Communists, who determined that
everything they did, everything they said, everything they even thought
. . . would be given to the cause of Communism. "I would die for
it," one man wrote, his very handwriting revealing the tight, cramped
earnestness of his convictions. They served a flawed system, a failed
structure — but they were wholly committed to it. They wanted their lives
to be living testaments to Communism.
So often in this world, people who are not believers look at a bad Buddhist,
or a bad Hindu, or especially a bad Christian. And they shake their heads
in disgust. "Not too impressive," they scoff, turning back to
their secular lives. And those of us who are sitting inside the church
can protest: "Don't look at us! Look at the beauty of these teachings!
Look at Jesus! The faith is perfect and good even if we are not."
But those looking on conclude — and there's an element of fairness in
their doing so — that the faith should in some way impact the lives of
the faithful. The Commandments should change the behavior of the commandment-keepers.
I've mentioned before the observation by C. S. Lewis:
"The outer world is quite right to judge
Christianity by its results. Christ told us to judge by results."
That's Matthew 7:16, by the way. "A tree is known by its fruit; or,
as we say, the proof of the pudding is in the eating. When we Christians
behave badly," he writes, "or fail to behave well, we are making
Christianity unbelievable to the outside world."
He then gives a classic example: Miss Bates, a Christian,
is basically a jerk. She's got a bad stomach and a lousy digestive system;
and, as a result, a mean mouth and a nasty disposition to go with it.
She tries, but she can't help it. Dick Firkin, on the other hand — a nonbeliever
— is a pretty nice guy. He gets along with everyone, has a pleasant disposition,
which he inherited from Mom and Dad, and lives an exemplary life. And
the average person looking on says, "Well, there you have it. He's
nicer than she is. A non-Christian acting better than a Christian. Case
closed."
But this two-person survey is something which completely misses the point,
he adds. The real question is this: Considering the variables and the
handicaps, does the Christian faith, or WOULD the Christian faith, improve
both of these people? Poor, struggling Miss Bates, who feels lousy most
of the time, does try hard to be nice to others. Her Christian faith helps,
but it's going to be an uphill battle clear to the end. Think where she'd
be without it. And what would happen if Dick Firkin, gracious but secular
man that he is, also embraced Jesus Christ as his Savior? Would it make
him even more kind and loving? Give him a reason beyond "(quote)
feeling good" to serve his fellow man?
Put it this way. What would the Christian faith have done for this quiet,
pure-minded man, Gandhi? In his later years, Gandhi became a strict, almost
obsessive legalist, getting up at two in the morning, depriving himself
of basic nutrients, living on two tiny meals a day of goat's curds and
lemon soup. He took a vow of total celibacy at the age of 37, and insisted
that his followers do the same. Including his two sons, one of whom rebelled,
descended into alcoholism, and died in shame. What might the beautiful
Christian doctrine of GRACE, of a completed atonement at Calvary, have
meant to Mahatma Gandhi? He spent so much time earning salvation by a
process so slow he himself described it as sucking up in a straw one drop
of water at a time, and finally draining an entire ocean. What would the
gospel of Jesus have meant to a man like that?
Well, friend, we don't know. These are moot questions, and we leave all
things regarding eternal destinies in the loving hands of our wonderful
God. But as we close, think just about you and about me. If you're a Christian,
then are you allowing the advantage of the Christian faith to be seen
in your life? If you were already good by nature, does your Christian
faith make you even better, bring a purity and an unselfishness to your
good deeds? And if you struggle with problems and pain and perversions,
are you allowing Jesus in your life to give you patience for the long
haul? At work, are you one of the joyful centers, one of the people who
bring happiness to the office? Pastor Bill Hybels remarked once that the
vast majority of conversions come when people look at a certain person
near them, and say quietly: "I'd like to be like HIM." Or like
her.
Dwight Moody once had this to say:
"Of one hundred men, one will read the Bible;
the ninety-nine will read the Christian."
What kind of a "read" are you and I providing
for them?
|
