First Unitarian Society of Minneapolis

The Way of the Sages

The historical fantasies of the religious right not withstanding, blended families and their discontents are nothing new in history, nor are they a particularly American phenomenon. 500 years before the beginning of the common era, the Chinese philosopher who would become known to us as Confucius was born to the third wife of an elderly warrior named Shu-liang Heh. The marriage itself was considered by later historians to have been ‘improper’ in some respect, and was not embraced by Shu-liang Heh’s previous wives and their children. Three years after their son, Chung-ni, was born, the patriarch died, and the prior family cast the teenage mother and her toddler out of the household with no inheritance. They were forced to return to the home of Chang-tsai’s parents, where they lived in poverty until the boy became old enough to support them both with odd jobs, including work as a shepherd and as a junior accountant. His early education was sketchy, but the sage would later recount, reflecting upon his intellectual development, that "at 15, I set my heart upon learning," an enterprise which would occupy the rest of his life.

There are many fantastic legends now associated with the birth of Confucius, as those who were present for our yuletide celebration may remember, but these few details seem as close as we are likely to get to anything authentic. And as we consider the values that would form the basis for the philosophical system he bequeathed to the world, it is not hard to see how they might have arisen out of the kind of life experiences implied by this biographical outline.

Fifty years ago, it might have been reasonable to think of Confucianism as an interesting chapter of ancient Chinese history, having little relevance to modern developments in the eastern hemisphere. Indeed, the advocates of communism in China sought to erase Confucian influences much as the Soviet Russians tried to eliminate the Christian church, as a kind of cultural anachronism that could only stand in the way of progress. Yet today, as Jiyuan Yu observes, there has been a revival of Confucian thinking and ethics, together with a new interest on the part of historians and sociologists as to how this philosophy continues to shape the behavior, prosperity, and values of Asian societies. Last spring, I had the opportunity to hear Tu Wei-ming, a modern, English-speaking Confucian scholar, describe the ways in which this tradition parallels western humanism, and the experience was eye-opening. We are so conscious of the historical development of humanism as an essentially European intellectual heritage, that most of us seldom pause to ask whether any such ideas have ever arisen on the other side of the globe. The fact is that they have, and indeed it might well be argued that Confucian humanism has had a far more widely popular and enduring impact upon its society, than western humanism ever yet did on ours. Thus it might become us, in the ever-smaller global village of the 21^st century, to know something more about our philosophical cousins from one of the world’s other great civilizations.

Confucian philosophy may be considered humanist in both negative and positive senses. In the negative sense it is humanist because it does not concern itself with anthropomorphic gods, or with the supernatural, or with any vision of an afterlife. Confucius was occupied exclusively with the ways in which people could take responsibility for their own and others’ present well-being through correct behavior, right relationships, and wise government – all of which he experienced as lacking in the society of his day. He did not look for, or find necessary, any form of divine intervention or revelation, or any radical transformation of human nature in order to achieve salvation. His focus was squarely on what was humanly possible in this life and this world. But Confucianism is humanistic in a more positive sense, as well, in that it deals with the full development of both individuals and cultures, and maximizing the human capacity for knowledge, virtue, and happiness by living the best conceivable life. Unlike some of the other wisdom figures of what has been called the Axial Age, neither Confucius nor his close followers ever claimed that he himself had achieved the best life imaginable. Rather, it remains a challenge to all those who respond to his teachings up to the present day, to conduct themselves even better than the master did, since we have the benefit of so much instruction and example.

As Sanderson Beck points out, there are many interesting parallels between Confucius and the western philosophical figure of Socrates, particularly in terms of their teaching methods. Neither of them seems to have written any record of his thought with his own hands, but both of them are extensively quoted in works by their students, which makes it a little challenging to sort out the interpreted from the interpreter. Although Confucius was employed as a government official or consultant at various times, he spent most of his career as an itinerant teacher, according to tradition, seeking a truly wise ruler, and trying to define what such a ruler would have to be like. For him, as for many present day western humanists, it was impossible to separate personal human virtue from political theory and practice. Only within a righteous state could human beings fully realize their potential for wisdom and happiness, and only virtuous rulers and citizens could constitute a rightfully functioning realm. Thus any person who has genuinely achieved some degree of moral wisdom has an ethical obligation to be active as a leader in society. In this respect, the Confucian view differs from the Taoist perspective, as illustrated in the well-known parable of the turtle:

This kind of quietism, which also has its parallel in western religious thinking, would not have met with approval from Confucius, much as it would not for many modern political activists. Also unlike the Buddhism which became popular in China during the ensuing centuries, Confucian philosophy embraced the world of humanity’s present life, assuming that suffering could be ameliorated and happiness maximized in practical ways through the active application of justice and wisdom by individuals as well as social structures.

Confucius did endorse the notion of ti’en ming, which is often translated as ‘the mandate of heaven,’ and sometimes as ‘god’. However, this term does not refer to the anthropomorphic divine character of western tradition, but more to a universal principle or set of impartial laws by which the world operates. When rulers are unjust, or detrimental to the well-being of their people, the mandate of heaven is likely to be removed from their authority, which will cause them to be conquered, or overthrown, or brought down by some natural disaster. The virtuous person, whatever his or her position, will seek to act in harmony with ti’en ming, because that is the way to be successful and happy, as well as the path of virtue. The mandate of heaven is far easier to understand than the arbitrary will of a personal god, because it is dependable, and not subject to the caprice of divine impulses, whether good or bad.

At the same time, where western humanism has had a historically liberalizing influence on both social practice and intellectual understanding, Confucian humanism has been a force of cultural and political conservatism, in a way that might be instructive to us. It finds the key to human well-being in social hierarchy, family solidarity, ceremonial correctness, and the appreciation of tradition. Where these kinds of values for our western heritage are often framed in accordance with scripture as obedience to god’s will, the eastern humanist tradition presents them more simply as common sense, the way to make life easier and most comfortable and satisfying for everyone involved. Classics professor Paul Woodruff cites the ideals of Confucian society as one example of the importance of reverence as a human response, quite apart from any theological basis. It was this essential conservatism that led the Chinese communists to regard Confucian thought as an out-dated enemy to their ideals of progress. Yet I would suggest that the true difficulty lay in rather in the Confucian insistence on rulership authority being contingent upon demonstrated virtue and concern for the ruled; by these measures, much of Mao’s administration could not long have retained the mandate of heaven.

You may remember the four cardinal virtues of Greek humanist philosophy – courage, justice, self-control, and wisdom. The teachings of Confucius slice a somewhat similar pie, in five rather different pieces. The first of the classic eastern virtues is Ren, or jen, depending upon which system of transliteration you use. For the sage himself, this quality was the foundation of all the other virtues and attributes of the admirable person. A conventional translation gives it as benevolence, but that does not do justice to the complexity of the term, which points to the essence of human-ness, our shared humanity, and humaneness. Huston Smith tells us that it includes "courtesy, unselfishness, and empathy… magnanimity, good faith, and charity." If one took the first UU principle, with a bit of the seventh, it might come out as ‘respect for the inherent worth and dignity of every person – including one’s self – and for the interdependent web of all humanity’. Ren is what makes us human; without it, we are no different from beasts, but we can never reach the end of improving our understanding and practice of it. It is what constitutes the excellence of our essential humanity; we can be technically proficient or skilled at some activity, but we must have Ren in order to be outstanding as a person. This is what we are getting at in our objection to contemporary sports figures who perform outstanding physical feats, but otherwise behave in ways that we like to say, ‘make them bad role models’. They may have excellence in their expertise, but they are deficient in Ren, in their essential humanity, and therefore they should not be considered admirable. Ren is exactly that quality of compassionate respect for self and others that makes a person worthy to be emulated. The French villagers who concealed Jews from the Nazis, at considerable risk to themselves, but without hesitation, did so because they had Ren. The physicians of Doctors Without Borders are practicing Ren. Ren makes you give up your seat on a crowded bus, and prevents you from selling your vote to the highest bidder. The individual devoid of Ren may practice the other virtues, but they will be mere formulas, for Ren is the spirit of good will that underlies all the rest. This emphasis on the crucial quality of our humanity, rather than any supernatural commandments, is part of what makes Confucianism so congruent with western humanism.

The other four virtues of classical Confucianism are Li, Te, Wen, and Chung-tzu, but don’t worry about the names; they are less significant than the concepts. Li is the perhaps the most commonly recognized of these from that tradition in our culture; it is the principle of appropriateness or fittingness, sometimes translated as propriety. One aspect of Li has to do the with the proper performance of expected rituals, whether major occasions such as mourning one’s parents, or in minor matters like welcoming a guest politely. But Li means more than just doing the expected thing; it includes doing it graciously, knowledgably, and with the ease of practice, in such a way that everyone is made comfortable. Yet at the same time, Li includes simplicity and truthfulness; not using unctuous euphemisms, exaggerated courtesies, or putting others at a disadvantage. Rituals function to let people interact smoothly because they know what to expect of each other; the person who practices Li is able to create comfort and happiness even in unfamiliar circumstances, by enabling everyone involved to find the appropriate way to be with one another. Li includes understanding what are called the five constant relationships, which have their basis in functional family patterns; these are: father to son, husband to wife, older sibling to younger sibling, friend to friend, and ruler to subject. In each case, there is a hierarchy in the relationship, but they are mutually dependent; only if each participant fulfills his or her own responsibilities properly will the whole system thrive. Indeed, it is part of Li to not enable others to perform acts that would diminish their virtue, so that a subject should not obey an unjust order from a king, nor a wife submit to abusive treatment from a husband. Such behavior on the part of the ‘superior’ partner frees the other partner from the obligations of their role, for Li can only exist in a setting of mutuality. Li also calls for appropriate moderation of the appetites and enthusiasms; to get falling down drunk violates Li, as would a self-righteous condemnation of anyone who ever takes a drink. To know how to do the proper thing at the proper time in the appropriate place in the proper way is Li, and this assumes, in the words of Huston Smith, ‘that you are never alone when you act; that every action affects someone else… Li… is a frame within which you may achieve maximum selfhood without damaging the web of life on which your life depends.’

Te, the third virtue, expressly concerns the authority of those in leadership, or in the superior position in any relationship. This has sometimes been interpreted as justice, but that is only one of its implications. For no human connection, whether as intimate as parent and child, or as public as subject and ruler, can be sustained by force for very long. Part of the mandate of heaven, by which a ruler’s legitimacy is established, consists of the confidence of the people in general; unless they widely respect the rulers, and are content to follow their instructions with good will, the leader’s authority cannot be maintained over time. The western tradition articulates this as ‘the consent of the governed.’ The virtue of Te is the ability to behave in such a way that obedience is willingly given. It is to demonstrate the kind of competence, integrity, even-handedness, and service to others that inspires allegiance, and makes people follow out of loyalty and enthusiasm, because they believe that a leader has their best interests at heart. It is interesting, in this season of national election ferment, to ponder the quality of Te, and to consider to what extent, if any, our would-be leaders have exhibited, or sought to develop it. Te is above all the power of good example; to lead, whether as a teacher, or a brother, or a general, by practicing as one preaches, and by making virtue seem attractive. I might call it ‘moral charisma’; the ability to inspire voluntary emulation in others who want to be like us, not simply because we have power, but because they consider us wise and worthy. It is when the superiors in the five constant relationships practice Te, leading by example, emulation, and worthiness, that the proprieties of Li function to create a just and peaceful society.

The fourth Confucian virtue is one that will resonate with many contemporary humanists; it is called Wen, and it means art, or culture. Confucius specifically designates these as ‘the arts of peace;’ presumably differentiating them from the arts of war. They include music, poetry, calligraphy, archery, chariot-driving; all the skills of a sophisticated member of the educated elite in his time. These are understood, much like the academic humanities in the west, to be tools for becoming more completely human, enlarging our understanding of ourselves, and increasing our ability to empathize with those who are different from us. Wen includes appreciation for the classics of art and literature, as well as cultivating one’s own ability to engage in these various disciplines. Military leaders might be renowned for their prowess on the battlefield, but unless they also displayed Wen, the influence of the civilizing arts, they would be regarded as deficient for positions of greater authority. Without Wen, it would be impossible to achieve the final goal of Confucian virtue, which was to become a Chun-Tzu, or authentically noble person.

The ideal of the Chun-Tzu is the mature gentleman-scholar who is equal to all occasions, compassionate, virtuous, and civic-minded, as well as cultured and gracious. Like the perfect knight of chivalry, he is unfailingly kind and brave; like the Renaissance man, he is at home in all intellectual and artistic endeavors; like the modern image of James Bond, he is self-assured, adept, and never frazzled. Such a fully developed person leads by example, observes the proprieties, cultivates an artistic sensibility, and acts always out of self-respect and a commitment to the dignity and comfort of others. It should be noted that Confucius himself fully embraced the existing conventions of his time around the role of women, and yet, as a number of modern writers have observed, there is nothing in his language or principles stating that women could not develop virtue or become a Chun-Tzu. He never considers the possibility, and therefore never rejects it; the language is actually more problematic in English translation than it is in the original. Thus what is often rendered as ‘gentleman’ might more accurately be given as ‘noble person.’ Just as modern feminist humanists have appropriated the values and ideas of western thinkers who did not necessarily intend to include them in the equation, so contemporary female scholars are also discovering their own possibilities in the Confucian tradition. In our world, the fully mature, noble person may be either a man or woman who has embraced, and continues to practice, the virtues of their fullest humanity.

This is the kind of person that I would like to be. As much as the virtues of courage, justice, self-awareness and wisdom have guided me for a long time now, I am curious to see what, if anything, might change if I began to look at my life through the lenses of human dignity and compassion, appropriateness, leadership by example, and artistic culture. Something about this ancient wisdom went quietly dormant in its native

land, but survived through the grim years of communist authority, and perhaps is preparing to flower again, 25 hundred years after it was first proposed. If we could make a connection to this fertile tradition, which seems to me so congruent with much of what modern humanists are trying to teach the western world, who knows what creative notions might arise? Personally, I think it’s thrilling, and rather comforting, to realize that we heirs of Socrates are not, and have never been, all these centuries, in this project all by ourselves.

From An Introduction to Confucianism by Xin zhong Yao

In the West, Humanism has shown an unfortunate tendency to become too abstractly intellectual, too science-obsessed, too impatient with practical wisdom, and therefore too far removed from everyday concerns to serve well as a practical guide to life.

The East was in many ways wiser. Confucianism was (and continues to be) as practical, helpful, and down-to-earth as a good box of tools.

Jen is the cardinal virtue of Confucianism. The term is perhaps best translated as "human-heartedness." As Huston Smith explains: "Jen involves simultaneously a feeling of humanity toward others, and respect for oneself; an indivisible sense of the dignity of human life wherever it appears. Subsidiary attitudes follow automatically: magnanimity, good faith, and charity. In the direction of jen lies the perfection of everything that would make one supremely human. In public life it prompts untiring diligence. In private life it is expressed in courtesy, unselfishness, and empathy; the capacity to 'measure the feelings of others by one's own.' . . .'The person of jen, desiring self-affirmation, seeks to affirm others as well.' Such largeness of heart knows no national boundaries, for those who are jen-endowed know that 'within the four seas all men are brothers and sisters.'"

The concept of the chun tzu is that of the "finished" personality — the ideal of a person who has attained to a maturity that is equal to all occasions. Holding always to his own standards, however others may forget theirs, he is never at a loss as to how to behave, and can keep a gracious initiative where others resort to conventions. Schooled to meet any contingency 'without fret or fear,' his head is not turned by success, nor his temper soured by adversity. It is only the person who is entirely real, Confucius thought, who can establish the great foundations of a civilized society. Only as those who make up society are transformed into chun tzus can the world move toward peace.

From Confucius and Socrates; the teaching of wisdom by Sanderson Beck

In the history of civilization there are four men who created and demonstrated a way of life which caught on in their own time and has been followed by countless numbers of people for centuries since. Karl Jaspers called them the "four paradigmatic individuals;" they are Buddha, Confucius, Socrates, and Jesus. Each is unique, and they sprang from four quite different cultures - India, China, Greece, and Israel. Each of them exerted a profound influence on his culture in terms of fundamental beliefs, philosophies, and the methods of carrying them out in daily living. In the east Buddhism and Confucianism eventually became complementary to each other, as in the west Christianity and philosophical inquiry have for the most part been able to co-exist. This is probably because Buddha and Jesus were spiritual teachers, and founders of religions employing meditation and prayer, while Confucius and Socrates were primarily educators emphasizing learning. Consequently instead of being mutually exclusive and conflicting with each other as two religions tend to be, the religious and educational approaches were able to complement and supplement each other. Because of this similarity of emphasis, comparisons between Buddha and Jesus, or between Confucius and Socrates, would be most likely to show parallel methods.

There are no writings by any of these four men today. However, in each case their disciples wrote about their lives and teachings in remarkable detail. That both Confucius and Socrates pre-eminently represent rationality and a concentration on educational pursuits was recognized by Carl G. Jung when he wrote, "Confucius and Socrates compete for first place as far as reasonableness and a pedagogic attitude to life are concerned." Both of them appeared at key transitional periods in the evolution of culture, when their fellow humans were ready for educational methods of self-improvement and discussions on ethical questions.

Since there was no known influence between Chinese and Hellenic culture before 400 BC, these can be treated as independent case studies. Both of these men spent their lives learning and seeking wisdom and the good life. Both Confucius and Socrates used a conversational style, and with the recent increase of leisure time and the advent of radio and television interviews, dialogs are as important today as ever. Confucius and Socrates have inspired countless men and women over two dozen centuries; a description of what they were doing may not only be able to inspire readers today to pursue a better life, but it may give some perceptive readers tools they can use to stimulate and assist others to greater wisdom.

Benediction:

If there is righteousness in the heart, there will be beauty in the character.

If there is beauty in the character, there will be harmony in the home.

If there is harmony in the home, there will be order in the nation.

If there is order in the nation, there will be peace in the world.