So I’ve said repeatedly now that I have serious problems with vipassana and the whole Theravada soup it emerged from. It’s not just a technical problem, but a deep rejection of the assumptions, goals and interpretations of that framework, at least in its current form. I still like them enough that I’m not interested in taking my stuff and going home. I merely believe that vipassana, as it exists today in its numerous incarnations, is in serious need of repair, but still worthwhile. But before we start with the fixing, let’s have a look at what’s broken.

Interestingly enough, I found that the Catholic Church[1] had already written my criticism for me, in their Letter to the Bishops of the Catholic Church on some aspects of Christian Meditation, and I only need to comment on some minor aspects of it and maybe translate some it back into Buddhist lingo. In contrast to the glorious Visuddhimagga (and Theravada scripture in general), the Catholic maps are much less detailed and are plagued by important holes and mistakes due to doctrinal commitments, but what they lack in precision, they make up in interpretation. The Catholic vehicle may have inferior engineering compared to the Causal vehicle, but it has one major advantage - it’s driving in the right direction.

The Church says (emphasis mine):

In order to draw near to that mystery of union with God, which the Greek Fathers called the divinization of man, and to grasp accurately the manner in which this is realized, it is necessary in the first place to bear in mind that man is essentially a creature, and remains such for eternity, so that an absorbing of the human self into the divine self is never possible, not even in the highest states of grace. However, one must recognize that the human person is created in the “image and likeness” of God, and that the archetype of this image is the Son of God, in whom and through whom we have been created (cf. Col 1:16). This archetype reveals the greatest and most beautiful Christian mystery: from eternity the Son is “other” with respect to the Father and yet, in the Holy Spirit, he is “of the same substance.” Consequently this otherness, far from being an ill, is rather the greatest of goods. There is otherness in God himself, who is one single nature in three Persons, and there is also otherness between God and creatures, who are by nature different.

[…]

A consideration of these truths together brings the wonderful discovery that all the aspirations which the prayer of other religions expresses are fulfilled in the reality of Christianity beyond all measure, without the personal self or the nature of a creature being dissolved or disappearing into the sea of the Absolute.

This is really a two-pronged criticism. First, and most directly, it calls out the bullshit monism that has crept into modern Buddhism and the futile attempts to find unity with the Absolute. I hope I don’t need to elaborate on why this is nonsense, so let’s go on to the second part.

Advanced vipassana, in its common interpretations, breaks down the barrier between subject and object. It leads to a state of unity of perception in which only sensations exist, but no-one observing these sensations and no objects these are sensations of. In the thinking just the thought, in the seeing just the seen, and so on.

This is the second mistake, in that it denies the fundamental nature of a self. It has some damn good reasons to do so, but is still wrong. I find it interesting that Catholicism promises a path to salvation without the dissolution of the self. It wouldn’t have to sell this to the laity, they don’t care either way. So why is this promise in there? Only someone deep down the Paths, one way or another, would really care about it at all. I’m skeptical of Catholics actually being that good, but you know, maybe I still underestimate them.

Regardless, the real alternative only probably only becomes apparent to advanced practitioners who actually experience it, who can see for themselves that you don’t need to surrender yourself to make progress. Not all gods demand submission and dissociation.

The seeking of God through prayer has to be preceded and accompanied by an ascetical struggle and a purification from one’s own sins and errors, since Jesus has said that only “the pure of heart shall see God” (Mt 5:8). The Gospel aims above all at a moral purification from the lack of truth and love and, on a deeper level, from all the selfish instincts which impede man from recognizing and accepting the Will of God in its purity. The passions are not negative in themselves (as the Stoics and Neoplatonists thought), but their tendency is to selfishness. It is from this that the Christian has to free himself in order to arrive at that state of positive freedom which in classical Christian times was called “apatheia,” in the Middle Ages “Impassibilitas” and in the Ignatian Spiritual Exercises “indiferencia.” This is impossible without a radical self-denial, as can also be seen in St. Paul who openly uses the word “mortification” (of sinful tendencies).20 Only this self-denial renders man free to carry out the will of God and to share in the freedom of the Holy Spirit.

This is what really pisses me off about modern mindfulness practice. They have not just forgotten, but are outright in denial about the necessity of struggle. (Although I consider that possibility that I just naturally fall relatively close to asceticism and am myopic about how obvious the path is.)

I’d like to point out the similarity between “indiferencia” and equanimity in the Theravada models. Same territory, similar maps, radically different approaches. Also, the point about the neutrality of passions is important as well. Theravada people tend to reject their emotions for no good reason.

Therefore, one has to interpret correctly the teaching of those masters who recommend “emptying” the spirit of all sensible representations and of every concept, while remaining lovingly attentive to God. In this way, the person praying creates an empty space which can then be filled by the richness of God. However, the emptiness which God requires is that of the renunciation of personal selfishness, not necessarily that of the renunciation of those created things which he has given us and among which he has placed us. There is no doubt that in prayer one should concentrate entirely on God and as far as possible exclude the things of this world which bind us to our selfishness. On this topic St. Augustine is an excellent teacher: if you want to find God, he says, abandon the exterior world and re-enter into yourself. However, he continues, do not remain in yourself, but go beyond yourself because you are not God: He is deeper and greater than you. “I look for his substance in my soul and I do not find it; I have however meditated on the search for God and, reaching out to him, through created things, I have sought to know ‘the invisible perfections of God’ (Rom 1:20).” “To remain in oneself”: this is the real danger. The great Doctor of the Church recommends concentrating on oneself, but also transcending the self which is not God, but only a creature. God is “deeper than my inmost being and higher than my greatest height.” In fact God is in us and with us, but he transcends us in his mystery.

I’m simultaneously fascinated by the approach and skeptical of it. Anyway, kenosis is a cool practice, one that only rarely pops up in Buddhism. I think it should. If only to give you your own familiarity with the God one later has to slay. (Sorry, spoiler? God dies at the end.)

Without doubt, a Christian needs certain periods of retreat into solitude to be recollected and, in God’s presence, rediscover his path. Nevertheless, given his character as a creature, and as a creature who knows that only in grace is he secure, his method of getting closer to God is not based on any technique in the strict sense of the word. That would contradict the spirit of childhood called for by the Gospel. Genuine Christian mysticism has nothing to do with technique: it is always a gift of God, and the one who benefits from it knows himself to be unworthy.

Third fetter: attachment to rites and rituals. Experiment. Figure out why the technique exist. Don’t just follow the script.

(I also like the observation that the ideal practitioner always feels unworthy, always in a state of sin. Says something about their moral awareness.)

Some physical exercises automatically produce a feeling of quiet and relaxation, pleasing sensations, perhaps even phenomena of light and of warmth, which resemble spiritual well-being. To take such feelings for the authentic consolations of the Holy Spirit would be a totally erroneous way of conceiving the spiritual life. Giving them a symbolic significance typical of the mystical experience, when the moral condition of the person concerned does not correspond to such an experience, would represent a kind of mental schizophrenia which could also lead to psychic disturbance and, at times, to moral deviations.

Take that, mindfulness!

From the rich variety of Christian prayer as proposed by the Church, each member of the faithful should seek and find his own way, his own form of prayer. But all of these personal ways, in the end, flow into the way to the Father, which is how Jesus Christ has described himself. In the search for his own way, each person will, therefore, let himself be led not so much by his personal tastes as by the Holy Spirit, who guides him, through Christ, to the Father.

Of course it’s easy to say that you shouldn’t get attached to established methods; it’s hard to actually do.

I personally struggle a lot with it. I love pre-defined ritual and I’ve always been at unease with free-form meditation or prayer, including the vague aspects of vipassana. Actually moving beyond the scripts and developing your own path as a reaction to what you encounter is seriously hard. Reconceptualizing this as lesson received by a Supreme Teacher, who instructs you personally is a clever way to get around this difficulty.

The main problem I have is the lack of reason for a practice. So I know how Mahasi noting works, but I wonder what I note for. I can note sensation all day, but what’s the purpose behind all that? Sure, it advances me in the path, but the description is on the wrong meta-level. It’s like someone instructing you how to write a novel by telling you to type “I”, then “t”, “space”, “w”, “a”, “s” and so on.

For the person who makes a serious effort there will, however, be moments in which he seems to be wandering in a desert and, in spite of all his efforts, he “feels” nothing of God. He should know that these trials are not spared anyone who takes prayer seriously. However, he should not immediately see this experience, common to all Christians who pray, as the “dark night” in the mystical sense. In any case in these moments, his prayer, which he will resolutely strive to keep to, could give him the impression of a certain “artificiality,” although really it is something totally different: in fact it is at that very moment an expression of his fidelity to God, in whose presence he wishes to remain even when he receives no subjective consolation in return.

In these apparently negative moments, it becomes clear what the person who is praying really seeks: is he indeed looking for God who, in his infinite freedom, always surpasses him; or is he only seeking himself, without managing to go beyond his own “experiences”, whether they be positive “experiences” of union with God or negative “experiences” of mystical “emptiness.”

Unconditional acceptance, despite the full understanding of one’s own sinful nature. And I thought was the only person to get this.

This provides a different solution to the Dark Night nanas. Don’t overcome them - embrace them. They teach you what you’re really looking for - actual emptiness. Don’t work around them.

I doubt anyone involved in the writing of this document is an actual arhat. And yet they get it right. “When in doubt, do what the Catholic Church says” seems like a really good heuristic lately. They have accumulated an amazing amount of good insights and stable social practices over the centuries. If you don’t know what to think about a topic, going with the Church doctrine (and ignoring it if the Church hasn’t said anything about it) seems to me like an almost universally good idea, and I say that as a filthy unbaptized heathen.

However, I don’t think this wisdom is particularly connected to Christianity or any unique theological idea in Catholicism, but rather the long history of being the state religion of various large empires. Other “empire religions” like Confucianism or Islam do a great job as well, but except for maybe Confucianism and (some) Hinduism, none have the vast experience and large supply of dedicated intellectuals as the Catholic Church. Also, institutional wisdom almost always outperforms individual insight, so having hundreds of specialized priests think about a problem and trying solutions for a couple of centuries gives you some serious experience. Don’t underestimate it.