Amateur Megalomania

The other day I purchased Bushido by Inazo Nitobe (1862-1933).

I bought it out of curiosity.  Like most geeky kids, I was keen on the idea of the Jedi code of living.  Later, when I heard it was strongly based on the code of the samurai, I thought that sounded cool too.  It was only comparatively recently that I discovered that the samurai code can be summed up in Bushido.

My parents reared me as a Christian.  My father was a minister for much of my young life.  My grandfather was a minister the entire time I knew him.  I’ve seen it all from the inside, you might say.  The idea of looking into the tenants of another religion out of curiosity was severely frowned upon.  And, being the loyal and obedient son, I chose not to explore those dark recesses of humanity.

I’ve changed a lot since then.

I still profess Christianity.  Though, if at 17 I saw myself as I am now, I would certainly think otherwise.  At any rate, exploring the precepts of another religion is no longer out of reach.  It’s not so much that I am looking for something else.  It is what I believe to be a more mature understanding of Christianity.  It can withstand scrutiny and questioning.  I can carefully explore my belief structure in relation to others without being cast out of the grace of God.  It can, in fact, strengthen my faith.

One of my underlying principles in life is a form of idealism. It is perhaps an internal flaw. I tend to expect things to be ideal, and am often disappointed because they are not. I like to explain it using the image of The Christmas Puppy.  The beautiful portrait is of a small golden lab peaking his head out of a Christmas stocking.  A little boy hops downstairs and runs to the tree, still in his jammies.  He sees the puppy and in excitement grabs it and holds and hugs it.  They are both ecstatic to have found one another.  It’s a wonderful image.  Unfortunately, the truth is that the puppy would probably start whining and struggling to get out almost as soon as he was put in the sock.  It would likely piss on anything else in the sock and maybe do worse.  By the time the kid comes tumbling down the stairs, the puppy will have worked itself free, broken a leg in the fall to the hearth, but still be limping around chewing packages and shredding paper everywhere.

For this, I’m branded a pessimist.  So be it.

I see the samurai code as a possible way out.  The samurai are presented as a people who live by a strict code of ethics.  They are committed to excellence and discipline.  They lead full lives.  They have it all together.  When I look around at the shoddy workmanship that passes for production quality, I get discouraged.  When I look at the shoddy way I run my life, I get discouraged.  I’m sure a therapist would have a wonderful time telling me how those two are related.  (For example, perhaps if I fix my life, the rest wouldn’t bother me so much.)  So, I bought the book.  I fully expect that my image of the ideal samurai will be totally smashed, and I will find out that the truth is much less utopian.

So, having conquered all these hurdles, having pushed aside my barriers, having bought the book and brought it home, I discovered that Bushido is not a religion at all.  All those years of shunning it—wasted.  According to Nitobe, it is a code very similar to European Chivalry. It draws its source from many roots including Buddhism and Shintoism.  But it is a code of behavior, not a worship of some deity.

Nitobe himself claims to be a Christian.

I’ve read my way into about 18 pages.  I wanted to record my initial thoughts.  The book has three prefaces.  (Turns out it wasn’t four; sorry Todd.)  Of the three, Nitobe’s own was probably the most shocking. In it, he said, “I believe in the religion taught by [Christ] and handed down to us in the New Testament.”  This is not at all what I expected to see. The book was filed at Barnes & Noble in the sports section. It is considered a martial arts book.  I expected to see Buddhist meditations, a love of death, kick-ass discipline, and a strong elevation of the human self.  So far, I’m impressed with the absence of these things.

Technically, the book is a difficult read.  I suspect that my first run-through will be an effort to get the gist of it.  My next pass will be with dictionary in hand.  I’m sure my vocabulary will double after that.  (I used to think I had an expansive vocabulary until I met Todd.  I think even Todd would be humbled by the vocabulary in this book!)  The flow is poetic.  At times that makes it difficult to understand the point of what is written.  But, given that it was published in 1905 and again in 1969, I make allowances.  At some point, I will also need to explore the historical context.  So far he has made reference to two or three incidents of which I have never heard.  Some are Japanese.  Others are European.  So, my historical awareness will be forced to increase as well.

These are my first impressions.  It will be interesting (to me at least) to see how I feel about it when I’ve completed it.

Filed under: IMO