The Parable of the Poisoned Arrow

Several years ago, I was listening to a series of lectures on Buddhism and heard “The Parable of the Poisoned Arrow.” It exists in several versions.  Here’s a simple one:

“Suppose a man is struck by a poisoned arrow and the doctor wishes to take out the arrow immediately. Suppose the man does not want the arrow removed until he knows who shot it, his age, his parents, and why he shot it. What would happen? If he were to wait until all these questions have been answered, the man might die first.” The point: “Life is so short. It must not be spent in endless metaphysical speculation that does not bring us any closer to the truth.”

In some versions, the wounded man’s questions include the social class of the archer, his physical appearance, his hometown, what the bow was made of, what bird had supplied the feathers, etc.  The questions are endless — but our time is limited.

When we are suffering physical pain, it is reassuring if the doctors can confidently identify and treat it. But sometimes they can’t. Years ago, I had a parishioner whose lungs were thickening and the tissues becoming increasingly stiff.  After many tests, the doctors gave it a name: “Idiopathic pulmonary fibrosis.”  It took me a minute to grasp the meaning of that first word: “Idio-pathic.”  There is a pathology going on, but we are “idiots” in terms of knowing exactly why.  It’s a disease having no known cause.  Not having a definitive name for it made the situation more difficult.

Our predecessors have tried to understand the source of our suffering and came up with many explanations.  Maybe it’s karma – the mysterious burden of our ancestor’s behavior in past lives. Maybe it’s divine judgement – God does not let people get away with anything, so if we are suffering, we must have done something wrong.  St. Augustine came up with the idea of “Original Sin,” claiming that death and suffering are a result of some act of disobedience in our ancient past. 

In our modern age, we can seek the reasons for our emotional pain by exploring our family of origin: when you were a child, you adapted your behavior in response to what was going on in your family, and those behaviors have stuck with you ever since.  Sometimes the insights are illuminating and liberating.  Working with insightful counselors over the years, I can see how many of my behaviors are explainable based on my family’s dynamics. But I’ve also known families with six children, all of whom turn out very differently.  And sometimes knowing the source doesn’t improve our lives at all.

When we are suffering, do we need to know every reason behind our condition? Or is it enough to pull the arrow out as quickly as possible so we can move forward?

I know a woman who suffered from panic attacks.  She had seen counselors and talked to friends, but nothing helped. She went to see someone who specialized in anxiety.  At the first session, she was surprised that he did not delve very much into her past or her emotions. Instead, he focused on the thought processes she experienced when she began to feel anxious.  She came back for more sessions and soon she was experiencing some relief.  She was still “wired” as she’d always been, and the causes for that may never be known.  But he helped her focus on the runaway train of her thinking patterns and ways to redirect it; the aim was to get the arrow out, rather than knowing why it was there in the first place.

Buddhism does not focus on mystical speculation as to why our suffering is here.  It focuses on ways to alleviate it.

In many of the Gospel stories, someone comes to Jesus with a problem.  He seems to understand what they need in that moment and offers a shift in their focus. Maybe it’s being assured of divine forgiveness apart from social prejudices and self-doubt.  Maybe it’s with a healing touch.  Maybe it is by inspiring them to go beyond themselves to love and care for others.  There’s no interest in speculation – the focus is redirecting each person in ways they can live their life with grace and freedom in the here and now.

Looking back on my life, I see that many people who have died in peace have given up trying to understand the deep reasons for anything.  They just live life as best they can and help others as much as they are able.

The questions about the deeper causes of our suffering can be endless — but our time is limited.