Wu-Wei and the Paschal Mystery

by Scott Steinkerchner OP

A new look at the death and resurrection of Jesus Christ in the Gospel of John using insights gained through the study of wu-wei (nothing-doing) in Lao-tzu's Tao Te Ching.

The passion account of the sufferring, death and resurrection of Jesus Christ in the Gospel of John paints a curious portrait of Jesus. He neither actively resists nor passively suffers his arrest, trial, and crucifixion. His actions are somewhere in between "valiant warrior" and "helpless victim." He orchestrates without doing and directs without force. He is in control of everything that happens even though he is seemingly powerless. This portrait of Jesus is strikingly similar to how a Taoist master would employ wu-wei, nothing-doing, in a similar situation. We will therefore study this Taoist principle and then see how it can help to illuminate the  gospel portrait of Jesus.

I. The Tao Te Ching

Wu-wei and the Tao Te Ching are mutually defining. Wu-wei is defined in the Tao Te Ching, but wu-wei also defines the Tao Te Ching. One cannot be understood without the other. Breaking into this thought world is difficult. The Tao Te Ching prefers obtuse language, hyperbole and innuendo to direct, discursive speech. It is purposefully and relentlessly ambiguous, following its own precept that the Tao that can be named is not the Eternal Tao. The truth it proclaims is beyond the ability of words to capture. It uses words to hint, to evoke, to excite, and to contradict. This is not my way. Though I will try to remain faithful to maintaining the openendedness of its thought, in the end, my Western, Thomistic roots are bound to have their way.

Authorship. The context from which the Tao Te Ching springs is shrouded in mystery. Not the same kind of mystery as that which it conveys, but an unrecoverable dearth of information about its origins. It is ascribed to the author Lao-tzu who legend has it lived in China in the sixth century B.C., was a scribe in the imperial archives, became disillusioned and left for the hinterlands. At the last gate before the frontier, the gatekeeper recognized his genius and asked him to write down his thoughts before he vanished forever, and thus the Tao Te Ching came about. The oldest extant texts were discovered in 1974 and are dated around the second century B.C. (LaFargue 523). Commentators have long argued over authorship, some seeing the work as a compilation of a school of philosophers, some ascribing authorship to a single primary individual but at a different time and place than the legendary Lao-tzu. Even while arguing their points, Taoist scholars all agree that the debate is anachronistic. The author(s) of the Tao Te Ching clearly meant to remain anonymous, part of what is not-said in the text. Perhaps Herrymon Maurer is most faithful in his following of Lao-tzu by not even including a discussion of the author in his commentary The Way of the Ways. His point: "The translator prefers no-criticism and directs attention to a monograph by Dr. Hu Shih,... an essay on the futility of something-doing scholarship" (82). As we shall see, something-doing scholarship only obscures the meaning of the text, it does not enhance it. In this essay "Lao-tzu" will be used to designate the author, whomever she was, with no specific claims being made about the author's identity.

Sources. There are many different English translations of the Tao Te Ching. Welch notes in his forward that in 1957 there were already thirty-six, so he does not include a translation in his book on Taoism. The Library of Congress has one hundred fifty-three translations on record. A sufficient translation does not exist because it cannot exist. Lao-tzu uses words so artfully, that they cannot be rendered into another language or into another culture. He often makes use of puns, playing with multiple meanings of words and these do not translate well. Even the look of the characters on the page is significant. There are also unresolved textual questions arising from disparate originals (LaFargue 339-43, 523-7). This essay will present two very different translations whenever an extended quote is called for, one by Herrymon Maurer and one by Steven Mitchell. Maurer's translation:

Mitchell's translation springs from a very different motivation:

These two different approaches seem to provide a good complement to each other to assist entering into the world of the text. The texts will be placed in parallel to assist in reading and thinking of them in parallel. Neither text is definitive. Hopefully, the interaction of the two texts will provide a closer sense of the Chinese original. The commentary is meant to foster an approach to the primary texts, not to replace them. The Chinese original is not divided into chapters, paragraphs, and sentences (Lao-tzu 44, Maurer). Chapter divisions are somewhat standardized, but beyond that divisions are the construct of the individual translator and are therefore quite different in each translation. Lao-tzu will be quoted with chapter references referring to the standardized chapter division from which the text springs. The selected translations are keyed to these references as are most translations.

The Tao.
1. 

If Tao can be Taoed, it's not Tao.
If its name can be named, it's not its name.
Has no name: precedes heaven and earth;
Has a name: mother of ten thousand things.
For it is
Always dispassionate: see its inwardness;
Always passionate: see its outwardness.
The names are different but the source is the same.
Call the sameness mystery:
Mystery of mystery, the door to inwardness.

(Maurer)

1. 

The tao that can be told
is not the eternal Tao.
The name that can be named
is not the eternal Name.
The unnameable is the eternally real.
Naming is the origin
of all particular things.
Free from desire, you realize the mystery.
Caught in desire, you see only the manifestations.
Yet mystery and manifestations
arise from the same source.
This source is called darkness.
Darkness within darkness.
The gateway to all understanding.

(Mitchell)

To understand wu-wei requires a sense of the Tao. The Tao is beyond all telling. In Chinese, the word "tao" is ambiguous, containing many meanings. It can be translated in English as "the way," "the path," "the force," "to express," "god," (Lao-tzu 86, Mitchell; Lao-tzu 83, Maurer). Another translation of the first line could be: "If the path can be followed, it's not the true path" (Lao-tzu 83, Maurer). If you think you have it, you most certainly do not. It is beyond the ten thousand things which fill up this earth. It is before everything and gives rise to them: "Tao bore one, one bore two, two bore three; Three bore the ten thousand things" (Lao-tzu ch. 42, Maurer). In the Chinese cosmology, the one is ch'i, the primordial energy which flows through all things. The two is yin and yang, energy that is differentiated into male and female, active and passive, penetrating and receiving. The three is the heavens, the earth, and the waters under the earth (Van Voorst 171). All that is springs from the Tao in this cycle of progressive diversity. Lao-tzu assumes this cosmology and plays with it, contrasting what goes on with the ten thousand things with the way of the eternal Tao. The Tao and the ten thousand things are related, but manifest themselves very differently. The ten thousand things can be named, the Tao cannot. The Tao is the fullest reality. The Tao is the ultimate force in the universe. It is the Tao to which we seek to align ourselves and in which we find ultimate truth.

The second half of chapter one seeks to enlighten the sage as to the appropriate attitudes required to align oneself to the Tao. To make sense out of this attitude, let us first turn to chapter two:
2. 

When all beneath heaven know beauty as beauty,
There is not beauty.
When all know good as good,
There is not good.
For what is and what is not beget each other;
Difficult and easy complete each other;
Long and short show each other;
High and low place each other;
Noise and sound harmonize each other;
Before and behind follow each other.
Therefore the sage
Manages without doing,
Teaches without talking.
He does not shun the ten thousand things:
Rears them without owning them,
Works for them without claiming them,
Accomplishes but takes no credit.
Because he does not take credit,
It cannot be taken from him.

(Maurer)

2. 

When people see some things as beautiful,
other things become ugly.
When people see some things as good,
other things become bad.
Being and non-being create each other.
Difficult and easy support each other.
Long and short define each other.
High and low depend on each other.
Before and after follow each other.
Therefore the Master
acts without doing anything
and teaches without saying anything.
Things arise and she lets them come;
things disappear and she lets them go.
She has but she doesn't possess,
acts but doesn't expect.
When her work is done, she forgets it.
That is why it lasts forever.

(Mitchell)

"'Beneath heaven' is typically translated as the world, a place of many meanings and a term of no location" (Lao-tzu 83, Maurer). The author is 'beneath heaven' as he writes, 'heaven' being one of the 'three' spoken of before. It is in the realm of diversity, where the yin and the yang have become solidified into the three and from which springs the ten thousand things. The Tao is beyond all this. What is known by all in this realm of diversity is not the eternal Tao, it is something very different. As chapter one said, in this realm there is naming. The Tao is beyond all names. When in this realm we name beauty, in the very act of naming it is distinguished from not-beauty. All names that we use apply to the three where there is nothing without its opposite. This is how we can use names. How different is the Tao! It is beyond all names. It is beyond all divisions. All in this realm is relativised, but the Tao that cannot be named is the eternal Tao.

Lao-tzu follows his opening line with a series of parallel constructions. He is playing, with a point. What is true of beauty is also true of the ten thousand things. It is in the nature of the not Tao. So it is with good and evil, being and non-being, on and on. For everything that is created in this world, the opposite is also created. That is the way of beneath heaven. For the Tao it is not that way.

And how is it that anyone can live in such a world where if good is done, then evil is also done? Somehow it is to act as the Tao acts, in a way that is beyond all divisions. Again, let us wait to look at the end of the chapter until we move on. (This is the way of understanding. We can only glimpse the truth. Stare and it disappears.)
3. 

Don't exalt the worthy:
People then will not compete.
Don't prize rare goods:
People then will not steal.
Don't show what is convetable:
The people's hearts won't be upset.
Thus when the sage rules,
He empties hearts
And fills bellies,
Weakens ambitions
And strengthens bones.
He leads the people
To not-know and not-want,
And the cunning ones to dare not do.
By doing nothing-doing, everything is set in order.

(Maurer)

3. 

If you overesteem great men,
people become powerless.
If you overvalue possessions,
people begin to steal.
The Master leads
by emptying people's minds
and filling their cores,
by weakening their ambition
and toughening their resolve.
He helps people loose everything
they know, everything they desire,
and creates confusion
in those who think they know.
Practice not-doing,
and everything will fall into place.

(Mitchell)

As in the last chapter, Lao-tzu begins with an argument from thought and then broadens it to show its ontological basis. Right acting must begin with right thinking. Once we label a thing as desirable, many people want it. This is easy to understand. Perhaps we would rather moralize and teach people not to steal even though they desire. Lao-tzu would see this as folly. He is content to deal with the world as it is, not as he would like it to be. When we create these divisions, we create both what we intend and what we do not intend. It is wise then to act as little as possible, to do only what is necessary. The first thing we need not do is to make so many judgments. To delimit this from that is to chop the world into divisions. This takes us away from the Tao.

"In Chinese, empty hearted means humble" (Lao-tzu 83, Maurer). Maurer offers us a more "Wonder Bread" translation (strong bodies build good minds). The sage rules by getting people to be less concerned about themselves. One way this happens is by meeting their needs, filling their bellies, then they will desire less. Mitchell's translation is more esoteric. The Master empties people's minds of "concepts, judgments and desires. Thus they can return to a state of childlike simplicity." By "filling their cores" he "fills them with a sense of their original identity" (Lao-tzu 87, Mitchell). Either way, we can see the practicality of the argument. To fight this system is futile, it is self defeating. To work within it is effective and necessary. The sage does not fight, but works with the world as it is to transform it into order, the Tao.

The sage cannot command people to not-know and to not-want, but she must find a way to help them do this, to lead them in this direction. For this reason she must teach without saying anything (ch. 2). People resist if you try to make them do something. Even suggestions are met with the barrier of suspicion. The sage must attract (Welch 21). The sage cannot manage through coercion, so she manages without doing (ch. 2). This is mystery, mystery of mystery (ch. 1). It cannot be spoken because it is beyond telling. It is accomplishing like the Tao.

With the sage alone, within himself, this same principle applies. If he has desires, he grabs at that which is desired. He sees only what he wants to see, the surface, appearances. To see rightly is to see beyond appearances to what is the deeper truth. This can only happen when we let go of our desire. This is the source of the passionate/dispassionate dichotomy of chapter one. The Tao is beyond all of these divisions that spring up with names. Any who see the Tao must do so without desire, without grabbing, without names. This is the way of all things; it cannot be changed. This way of seeing is beyond images, so it seems as darkness, mystery. Darkness is more true, not less. The Tao is ultimate mystery. The sage does not shun the the ten thousand things; he is unconcerned with them (ch. 2). He deals with them because he too lives under the heavens, but he does not hold on to them. They come, they go, it is all the same. He does not possess them, because to possess them would be to loose them in an essential way. If one expected something, one would think that it was obtained, but this is only illusion.

Wu-wei. This way of right thinking leads to a way of right acting. It's classic definition comes from chapter three: wei wu wei, doing nothing-doing. Perhaps it is easiest to begin with an example. "In human relations force defeats itself. Every action produces a reaction, every challenge a response" (Welch 20). People naturally do not want to change; they have a kind of psychic inertia. When they are pushed, they react, and the more they are pushed the more they react, until they no longer have the capacity. They will respond with every ounce of strength they possess if they perceive their existence to be threatened. The sage therefore does not act, she attracts. Her actions would only rebound, producing equivalent offsetting responses in people. Her attraction will eventually overcome. This is wu-wei.

All things resist change. Everything acts to maintain its existence. "Evolution might be thought of as a march towards ever more highly articulated and effective capacity for resistance" (Welch 20). To work against this is folly. To work with this is effective. Lao-tzu uses this example:
78. 

Nothing beneath heaven
Is softer and weaker than water.
Nothing is better
To attack the hard and the strong,
And nothing can take it's place.
The weak overcome the strong;
The soft overcome the hard.
There is no one beneath heaven
who doesn't know this,
And no one who practices it.
Therefore the sage says:
To bear the dirt of the country
Is to be the master of the grain-shrines.
To bear the sins of the country
Is to be the lord of beneath-heaven.
Indeed, straight words seem crooked!

(Maurer)

78. 

Nothing in the world
is as soft and yielding as water.
Yet for dissolving the hard and inflexible,
nothing can surpass it.
The soft overcomes the hard;
the gentle overcomes the rigid.
Everyone knows this is true,
but few can put it into practice.
Therefore the master remains
serene in the midst of sorrow.
Evil cannot enter his heart.
Because he has given up helping,
he is people's greatest help.
True words seem paradoxical.

(Mitchell)

Lao-tzu has in mind the hardest thing in his world, a rock, and how it is worn away by erosion. Water does not force it to move. It gently passes, yielding completely to the rock, never forcing. Yet after it has passed, over time, the rock is worn away. We might think of the scientific process whereby the ionic attraction of the freed protons of the hydrogen atoms in water molecules weaken the crystalline structure of the rock which relies on similar ionic bonds to maintain coherence, thus allowing for the rock to dissolve as individual sub particles change their major attraction from the other rock particles to the water... . Stop. All we need do is stand on the edge of the Grand Canyon and feel the power. It is beyond all reason, all understanding, yet it is a felt presence. We know this to be true, but it does not reflect in our actions. It is hard to know how to do this. It is perhaps the most difficult way to live in the world, but it is also the easiest. There is One who practices it. To that one, the end of the verse belongs. We will get to this later.

Think of the water. It is moving, it is active, but it acts in a passive way. This is wu-wei. It is a way of acting that is nothing-doing, as compared to not doing anything at all. This is the way we must act with other people, always yielding, and through this accomplishing everything. This is the end of chapter three, "By doing nothing-doing, everything is set in order." Take a moment with this. You have all you need.

................

II. The Gospel of John

Scope. This essay does not attempt a systematic comparison of the Gospel of John and the Tao Te Ching. It simply uses the insights gained in a study of the Tao Te Ching, especially wu-wei, to inform a new reading of the death and resurrection narrative in this gospel. Unlike the preceding analysis, the following treatment assumes a familiarity with the subject matter. For brevity' sake "the Gospel" will be used to denote the Gospel of John.

Francis J. Moloney sums up the scope and purpose of the Gospel this way: "John is the story of Jesus of Nazareth, written to communicate belief in him and in his saving life, death, and resurrection" (1420). Jesus died so that we might live and come into a new relationship with the Father. When examined in light of the Tao, however, it becomes clear that our salvation was achieved by Jesus' nothing-doing rather than by his something-doing. Jesus did not crucify himself, he allowed himself to be crucified. He could have saved himself. He could have stepped down off of the cross. He had already performed greater miracles for others, and John makes it clear that Jesus is completely in charge. He chose not to interfere with his death because he perceived that his death would fit into the divine plan. Jesus chose to align himself to the Father's will rather than to his own momentary desires. Does this strike a familiar chord?

The Arrest (18:1-12). The difference between nothing-doing and something-doing can be seen in John's scripting of the arrest scene in the garden. Peter practices something-doing which proves to be ineffectual. Jesus practices wu-wei and everything is set in order. Judas arrives in the garden bringing literally a "cohort," a group of soldiers, along with guards, lanterns, torches, and weapons. Quite an array of forces, one might say ten thousand things, but no match for the power of Jesus' words. At his use of "I AM" they fall to the ground. With this action we see that Jesus is completely in charge, bearing the power of the Holy Name. His action is so powerful that he has to remind them why they came, so he asks them again for whom they are looking. They respond, he again replies but this time follows with a request to let the others go.

At this point, Peter's something-doing breaks in; he draws his sword and cuts off the ear of Malchus, the high priest's servant. Certainly, it is a brave action on Peter's part. Remember soldiers are present. Yet Jesus makes it clear that Peter's action is the wrong action. It is against the will of the Father. Jesus seeks to do only the will of the Father. Lao-tzu says, "A brave and passionate man will kill or be killed. A brave and calm man will always preserve life. Of these two which is good and which is harmful?" (ch. 73, Feng) The application is obvious. Is this not the point?

At the end of the scene, Jesus is bound and lead away while the disciples go free. It is just as he would have it be, though he lifted not a finger. Peter's action had no effect at all, the best that could happen with something-doing. It could and should have gone badly for him with all the soldiers around if it were not for Jesus' nothing-doing intervention.

The Trial (18:28-19:16). Jesus' Roman trial before Pilate also portrays him as calm, still, and in control, at the center of a storm of other people's useless activity. Raymond Brown points out how this is accomplished through an "elaborate front-and-back-stage setting, with the priests in the crowd outside, Jesus inside, and Pilate shuttling back and forth between them" (A Crucified 60).

The scene begins with an exchange between Pilate and a faceless "they" who have come from the Jewish interrogation at Caiaphas' house. Later, we will see that they are the faceless everyone as well as those who think they are in control ("your own nation and the chief priests" in v. 35, "chief priests and the guards" in 19:6). They stand in the place of the ten thousand things, "always passionate, see its outwardness" (Lao-tzu ch. 1, Maurer). They scream and make demands and cause Pilate enough anxiety that he eventually rules against what he knows to be true. Jesus is unmoved by them. He does not respond to their outward show, not even to shun it. He does not even seem to notice it. He knows them for what they are. He sees the core, "always dispassionate: see its inwardness" (Lao-tzu ch. 1, Maurer).

Pilate, "forced" to respond, scuttles inside to Jesus where he asks his famous question, "Are you the King of the Jews?" First Jesus responds by trying to get Pilate beyond reacting to acting; "Do you say this on your own or have others told you about me?" Pilate is not up to the challenge. Jesus knows the truth behind Lao-tzu's phrase, "Don't exalt the worthy: People then will not compete" (ch. 3, Maurer). He has consistently shunned the title "messiah" and here backs away from the title "king." Jesus is king, but not as Pilate understands the word, and Jesus refuses to be exalted by it. Jesus came for a more important purpose-to witness to the truth. It is to the truth that Jesus will be faithful while all others fall in disarray to their desires. "So eloquent and self assured is Jesus that we can scarcely speak of Pilate's trial of Jesus in the Fourth Gospel; it is Pilate who is put on trial to see whether he is of the truth" (A Crucified 61). The truth is the ultimate judge. Jesus' role is to witness to the truth (18:37).

Pilate goes back outside and, admitting Jesus' innocence, tries to release him. He is thwarted by the crowd's call to instead release Barabbas. To placate their desires he has Jesus scourged. Action, action, action, all to no avail.

At this point, Jesus comes outside and all parties meet center stage. Presented with Jesus, "the chief priests and guards" break into a frenzy of "Crucify him! Crucify him!" After another ugly exchange, Pilate "became even more afraid" and bid a hasty retreat back inside. He questions Jesus further, trying to calm his rising fear, but Jesus becomes uncooperative. Pilate tries to threaten Jesus by flexing his power over Jesus, but Jesus calmly assures him that all power comes "from above" and any power Pilate has is only on loan. Jesus shows Pilate for what he is-a puppet to the rabble outside.

Pilate has failed his trial. In a face saving move he elicits from the crowd a pledge of loyalty to Caesar in exchange for doing what he did not want, could not justify, yet could not resist. All of his something-doing, his busy diplomacy, his placating scourging, his empty show of force, has produced nothing. Jesus has practiced wu-wei. Because he knows the inwardness of the source of all things, he is not shaken by the empty rattle of swords. As is said of the Tao, "It seems at ease, and yet follows a plan" (Lao-tzu ch. 73, Feng). The plan is God's which nothing can resist. Jesus, therefore, does not try. He aligns himself to the Truth. He has not spoken one word to defend himself; he has simply voiced the truth. He responds with purpose, manifesting the divine Way, challenging "the cunning ones to dare not do" (Lao-tzu ch. 3, Maurer). Though passive and calm throughout, Jesus has been in charge of the situation. "By doing nothing-doing, everything is set in order."

The Crucifixion (19:17-30). His crucifixion follows immediately. Even here Jesus will be calm and in control. He carries his cross himself, there is no Simon of Cyrene in this gospel. He is active in his nothing-doing. He does not cry out in anguish from the cross as in the synoptics. Instead he speaks to his disciples at his feet and binds them together, establishing his church (Brown, The Gospel 2: 925-7). John carefully points out that he says "I am thirsty" only to fulfill the scriptures. At last, when "everything is set in order," in complete humility, he "bows his head and hands over his Spirit."

Thus ends the life of Jesus of Nazareth. Or does it?

The Resurrection. One could say that Jesus practices wu-wei in his death, certainly. To everyone's surprise Jesus rose from the dead! In all three synoptic gospels, heavenly messengers explain the empty tomb by saying "He has been raised" (Mt 28:6; Mk 16:6; Lk 24:6). As Daniel Harrington says in commenting on the Marcan version, "The [passive] êgerthê, 'he has been raised,' assumes that God raised up Jesus" (629). The resurrection is an action performed by God on Jesus. In John's gospel the heavenly messengers do not get a chance to explain; Jesus himself appears on the scene (20:11-14). However, before then we have this passage: "For they did not yet understand the scripture that he had to rise from the dead" (20:9). "The scripture" here seems to be a vague term for unspecified passages from the Old Testament. Raymond Brown explains the significance of the passage this way: "The necessity stems from the fact that the resurrection was willed by God, for the Scripture is a guide to God's plan" (The Gospel 2: 988). This is true, but it does not plumb the depths of the passage.

How, then, is it possible for this Jesus to die? Jesus is God! Jesus is source of all life! Jesus has risen from the dead because death has no power over him. In John's gospel, we are saved by the incarnation, by life itself becoming incarnate. Because of the presence of sin in the world, this necessarily leads to Jesus' death and resurrection. Through the incarnation, human life has become more than mere physical life, it has been joined to eternal life. Jesus has suffered a physical death, but this is not a total death.

In the synoptic gospels we have a human action (Jesus' crucifixion) followed by a divine action (his resurrection). In John's gospel, we have a human action followed by a resurrection which shows the ultimate powerlessness of the human action. There is no additional action required, no need of divine intervention because Jesus had to rise from the dead. In this way, even the resurrection is seen to be wu-wei.

Raymond Brown sees that the prologue hearkens back to Genesis with its use of "word" and "life." In this Christian understanding of Genesis, "if man had survived the test, he would have possessed eternal life and enlightenment" (The Gospel 1: 27). Jesus survived the test. Lao-tzu says:


................

Conclusions

Look back at Tao Te Ching, chapter 78 (above). Jesus' actions have been ultimately effective because they were ultimately soft/weak/yielding, like water. Any something-doing action is ineffective, it creates both what it intends and what it does not intend. Its effect on the world is only transitory, only illusion. Jesus does not work this way, the way of the ten thousand things. In Jesus, there is no self-defeating action. He perfectly manifests wu-wei and so his actions are perfectly effective. Only action like this could definitively achieve the ultimate victory, life over death.

The surprising part of this study is that a deeper meaning of a foundational Christian text can be found through application of a  religious principle taken from a non-Christian religion. Was John the Evangelist somehow influenced by the thought of Lao Tzu, or does the connection spring from the unity of truth in all religious traditions, or perhaps from the work of the Spirit both in and outside the Christian community, or from a mere coincidence of human insights? Much more thought and research would have to be applied to answer this question, but it has profound implications for understanding how God is at work in the world and the usefulness of inter-religious dialogue.


Works Cited

Brown, Raymond E. The Gospel According to John. 2 vols. The Anchor Bible 29. Garden City: Doubleday, 1970.

---. A Crucified Christ in Holy Week: Essays on the Fourth Gospel Passion Narratives. Collegeville: Liturgical, 1986.

Harrington, Daniel J. "The Gospel According to Mark." The New Jerome Biblical Commentary. Englewood Cliffs: Prentice, 1990, 596-629.

LaFargue, Michael. Tao and Method: A Reasoned Approach to the Tao Te Ching. Albany: State U of New York P, 1994.

Lao-tzu. Tao Te Ching. Trans. Gia-Fu Feng and Jane English. New York: Vintage, 1972.

---. ---. Trans. Herrymon Maurer. New York: Schocken, 1982.

---. ---. Trans. Stephen Mitchell. New York: Harper, 1988.

Moloney, Francis J. "Johannine Theology." The New Jerome Biblical Commentary. Englewood Cliffs: Prentice, 1990, 1417-26.

The New American Bible: The Catholic Study Bible. Gen Ed. Donald Senior. New York: Oxford U P, 1990.

Van Voorst, Robert E. Anthology of World Scriptures. Belmont: Wadsworth, 1997.

Welch, Holmes. Taoism: The Parting of the Way. New York: Beacon, 1966.

Other Works Consulted

Eliade, Mircea. A History of Religious Ideas, vol. 2. Trans. Willard R. Trask. Chicago: U of Chicago P, 1982.

Fischer-Schreiber, Ingrid, et al. The Encyclopedia of Eastern Philosophy and Religion. Boston: Shambhala, 1989.

Goergen, Donald J. The Death and Resurrection of Jesus. Wilmington: Glazier, 1988.

Kaltenmark, Max. Lao Tzu and Taoism. Trans. Roger Greaves. Stanford: Stanford UP, 1969.

Khoo, Kay Keng. "The Tao and the Logos: Lao Tzu and the Gospel of John." Ching Feng 38:4 (1995): 271-85.

Noss, David s. and John B. Noss. A History of the World's Religions. 9th ed. Upper Saddle River, N. J.: Prentice, 1994.

Perkins, Pheme. "The Gospel According to John." The New Jerome Biblical Commentary. Englewood Cliffs: Prentice, 1990, 942-85.


Author

Scott Steinkerchner, O.P. is a member of the Order of Preachers (Dominicans) completing his theological studies at Aquinas Institute of Theology in St. Louis, Missouri. Responses to the article are welcome! IWOULD LOVE TO HEAR WHAT YOU THINK OF THIS! email: steinkerchner@op.org. You can visit my home page at http://www.op.org/steinkerchner/.

Copyright 1996, by Scott Steinkerchner OP.