This post is part of an ongoing series. You can find out more by clicking here.
When encountering Taoist philosophy for the first time, it is easy to respond with incredulity: ‘You can’t be serious!’ It would seem that the Taoists of antiquity encountered the same response, and in this chapter we are told that our response to hearing about the Tao tells us something about the kind of person we are:
When a superior man hears of the Tao,
he immediately begins to embody it.
When an average man hears of the Tao,
he half believes it, half doubts it.
When a foolish man hears of the Tao,
he laughs out loud.
If he didn’t laugh,
it wouldn’t be the Tao.
Who is it that is ‘superior’? Is it the person that others look up to? And who is it that is ‘foolish’? Is it the person that others disregard? Or is this description challenging our perception of what greatness really means?
One of the core messages of the Tao Te Ching is that true wisdom is hidden, and easily missed by most people. The person who is really ‘superior’ is not the one who has power or charisma or charm, but the one who recognises this hidden wisdom and finds it more valuable than anything the world has to offer. In the eyes of people who are blind to the ways of Tao, it seems absurd and foolish! So the author goes on to say:
Thus it is said:
The path into the light seems dark,
the path forward seems to go back,
the direct path seems long,
true power seems weak,
true purity seems tarnished,
true steadfastness seems changeable,
true clarity seems obscure,
the greatest art seems unsophisticated,
the greatest love seems indifferent,
the greatest wisdom seems childish.
I do sometimes worry that I will drive away all my readers by drawing lines between my study of the Tao and my Christian faith. I will try not to overdo it! But in this chapter, the correlation is unavoidable. If this notion is central to Taoism, it is equally so in Jewish and Christian thought (or at least, it used to be). If I began to catalogue examples, it could easily fill a book! Noah was foolish for building a boat in the desert; Abraham was foolish for leaving his home in Ur; the Hebrews became the ‘chosen people’ specifically because of their weakness; David became king because he was the smallest of his brothers; Israel went into exile because it trusted the military strength of its allies; finally, Jesus overcame the strength and wisdom of the world by choosing the long, dark, tarnished, weak way of the cross. Many Christians will reject the notion of Tao out of hand, and many western Taoists will do the same with the Bible, but I am convinced that, with an open mind, we find this central truth making itself known to everyone who is willing to accept it.
The often-maligned Paul summarised this when he wrote that ‘God chose the foolish things of the world to shame the wise; God chose the weak things of the world to shame the strong. He chose the lowly things of this world and the despised things—and the things that are not—to nullify the things that are’. If he had had opportunity to travel to China, I am quite sure that he would have rejoiced to know that this wisdom was being there as well. ’He chose … the things that are not’; or, as this chapter concludes,
The Tao is nowhere to be found.
Yet it nourishes and completes all things.
And so the ‘superior’ person who embodies the Tao remains invisible, foolish in the eyes of the world. And yet, being invisible, is able to nourish, support, and love. Is that person you? Is it me?
