Ling Shan Hermit：Do you genuinely harbor a sense of reverence?

We are all seasoned practitioners of self-deception, each of us living within self-spun illusions. We tend to think highly of ourselves, believing we possess all the qualities required of a good spiritual practitioner. For instance, when the topic of reverence arises, it’s rare to encounter someone who considers themselves lacking in this aspect. Many people readily admit that they lack time, fortune, or opportunities to be alone with their mentor, but seldom do they identify a deficiency in their reverence. I presume this might be because reverence can be simulated. If we were to judge based on external behavior alone, they appear to possess it indeed, able to perform an entire set of actions that suggest reverence. However, at times, I find myself questioning whether what they display is genuine reverence or simply a manifestation of snobbery. Having observed many individuals over an extended period, I’m more prone to believe that what most people carry within them leans towards the latter.

True reverence stems from the understanding of the concept of emptiness and the recognition of the spiritual mentor as the embodiment of Buddha. The more profound your understanding of emptiness and your spiritual mentor, the deeper your reverence becomes. Unfortunately, most people fail to comprehend either emptiness or their mentor. Their reverence is constructed solely upon mundane matters.

If we could traverse through time and space, I would love to send those who claim to have devotion to Naropa, Milarepa, and the Sixth Patriarch Huineng, who was still hiding among hunters before his emergence. I would like to see what would happen. Based on their usual behavior, I don’t think they would have the ability to recognize these figures as great saints who would have extraordinarily vast accomplishments in the future. I don’t believe they would prostrate themselves at the feet of these masters. Instead, they are more likely to treat these masters with scorn and derision. And why not? Naropa appears no different from the person picking up soda cans in your neighborhood, while Milarepa resembles a vagrant, and the Sixth Patriarch has not a single disciple by his side. How could those who value titles and official recognition have faith in them? I’d wager they would certainly run to Shenxiu, a Zen master with a multitude of followers.

The so-called reverence that most individuals profess is largely indistinguishable from the conformist behavior that emerges in public places when they encounter someone of high status. When you witness a crowd suddenly erupting into excited screams, you might inexplicably find yourself swept up in the fervor, mirroring similar actions. Their actions are merely mimicry, driven by the sight of others behaving in the same way, not by any deep understanding or appreciation of the wisdom of the individual they’re responding to. They are swayed by the confidence displayed by the crowd around them, which leads them to presume that the person in question must be of significant stature. In a sort of self-preservation instinct, they too can’t help but display a facsimile of this confidence. The reverence of many such individuals is born this way, and this is how they unknowingly become disciples of someone. This behavior is inherently risky as it involves self-deception as well as deceiving others. I wouldn’t find it surprising if such individuals, one day, hurl eggs at their own teacher, because their commitment was never truly born out of respect for wisdom. Their discipleship is rooted in a strong herd mentality; hence, when the majority begins to act erratically, they are highly likely to follow suit.

True devotion should arise from your comprehension of and respect for a mentor’s demonstrated virtue and the awe-inspiring wisdom they embody. Reverence should not be generated simply because a teacher has amassed hundreds of thousands of followers, nor should it surface merely because of someone else’s approval of them, and it certainly should not be spurred by their possession of a grand temple or distinguished titles. Regrettably, this is precisely how the purported devotion of many individuals comes into being. Should their mentor lack the grandeur of a vast temple, a throng of disciples, esteemed titles, or a chorus of endorsements, their reverence dissipates. Thus, their so-called devotion is nothing more than a sophisticated veneer of opportunism.

I used to be perplexed by how some individuals could conjure a sense of devotion towards a teacher whom they’ve just met and about whom they know virtually nothing. Now I comprehend that it bears more resemblance to a social stratagem than genuine reverence. I’m not dismissing the existence of those who can experience an immediate surge of faith upon a first encounter, nor am I denying the presence of such enlightened beings whose spiritual accomplishments are so manifest that simply laying eyes on them can evoke faith in people. However, more often than not, what I perceive in many individuals’ so-called faith is a mere social maneuver.

译成中文：Roughly twenty years ago, I was partaking in the simple pleasure of tea at the home of an associate of mine, a spiritual teacher. As midday approached, a few of his disciples made their arrival, one of whom was a middle-aged woman with a distinct northern accent. From the moment she saw the teacher, she became a cascade of tears, fervently voicing her strong affinity with this teacher and her unwavering faith. She nearly exhausted a whole box of tissues in the process. I was teetering on the edge of being moved — if it weren’t for the fact that I encountered her again the very next day at another teacher’s place, reenacting the same emotional display to the letter.

During the second encounter, she was deep in her feelings, pouring out tales of her faith and experiences. At first, she didn’t realize my presence, but upon recognizing me from the previous day, her storytelling abruptly came to a halt. Her countenance at that moment was a spectacle in itself — eyes wide with shock, features twisted in panic, overlayed with a sheen of embarrassment, all while her mind seemed to churn rapidly seeking a way out of the predicament. Despite my lack of intention to expose her, it was evident she felt a risk of being uncovered. Consequently, she wrapped up her narrative hastily and made a swift exit. Thereafter, our paths never crossed again.

With each similar experience I’ve encountered, my emotional response to such demonstrative displays of faith has dulled. Now, I’ve come to realize these are merely social maneuverings, a show they put on for anyone and everyone. It seems there’s a vast number of individuals skilled in this type of performance, to which my only response is a resigned, indifferent shrug.

If you’re in the habit of regularly performing acts of devotion, it could prove harmful in the long run. The risk lies in convincing yourself that this performance is the embodiment of true devotion and faith. However, it’s nothing more than a manifestation of self-serving opportunism and social maneuvering, bearing no genuine correlation to sincere devotion.

Penned by Ling Shan Jushi in May 2023, and finalized on the 8th of June, 2023.

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