The Taoist concept of spiritual enlightenment represents the direct opposite of other philosophies. Instead of a supernatural quest, Lao-Tzu called for earthly alignment with the Tao.

Instead of intoning solemn hymns, Chuang-Tzu was fond of listening to the sounds of nature; and instead of ritualistic self-chastisement, Yang-Tzu had emphasised self-protection.

I would depict the Taoist concept of spiritual enlightenment as quiet, modest, and inconspicuous. If we keep walking on the correct path, enlightenment will ensue automatically. If we do what needs to be done, we’ll attain a high level of spiritual joy.

In chapter 41 of the Tao Te Ching, Lao-Tzu underlines the quietness and shapelessness of Tao spirituality: despite its great strength, the Tao is barely visible or audible. Each individual can perceive the Tao, but its spiritual value cannot be conveyed through ceremonies, prayers or chants.

Chuang-Tzu and smoothness

Chuang-Tzu employs the butcher’s metaphor to explain how to remain aligned with the Tao. Once upon a time, there was a highly skilled butcher, able to carve an ox fast and effortlessly by using a simple knife.

The butcher worked so smoothly that he had been using the same knife for nineteen years. Despite using the knife daily in his work, the butcher had never damaged the blade. Everybody wanted to know how this is possible.

What was the butcher’s secret for working smoothly year in and year out? He never forced the blade because, when carving an ox, he always followed the natural lines. He focused deeply on his tasks to ensure that he always followed the natural path.

Taoist spirituality is the incorporeal equivalent of Chuang-Tzu’s metaphor of the butcher and his knife. When we walk the natural path, we automatically stay aligned with the Tao. When we follow the natural lines, we steer away from imposing our views on other people.

In contrast to religious prescriptions, the Taoist path is soft, yielding and adaptable, as described by Lao-Tzu in chapter 76 of the Tao Te Ching. Soft spirituality is destined to endure and remain sharp, just like the knife used by Chuang-Tzu’s butcher for nineteen years.

The Tao and Gregory the Great

Pope Gregory the Great (540-604 AD) adopted the opposite approach to spiritual enlightenment. His background in ancient Roman law must have imbued his religious convictions with a good measure of orderliness and formalism.

As a result, Gregory issued a vast number of instructions on spiritual matters. He was already fifty-years old when he was elected Pope, drawing on his prior experience as a monk and, before converting to Christianity, as Roman prefect.

Taoists do not possess a hierarchical organization and would find it hard to comprehend the spiritual purpose of the Papacy. Lao-Tzu never regarded himself as the leader of a movement, nor as administrator of estates, facilities and souls.

Gregory was all that and more. He sent out missionaries to evangelise far-away territories and wrote extensively on ethics and theology. His Pastoral Guide defines in detail the path to be followed by Christian priests and bishops in daily life.

Taoist spiritual enlightenment is organic and unconstrained. Each individual needs to figure out how to align himself with the Tao, and there is no central instance to define and supervise the process.

Beyond the loose formulations of the Tao Te Ching, there is no list of instructions that Taoists need to observe. The path to spiritual enlightenment is undifferentiated from wisdom, ethics and practicality. They all go together and reinforce each other.

In contrast, Gregory regarded spiritual enlightenment as the reward of compliance with a long array of prescriptions. If we follow Gregory’s prescriptions, we might go to heaven, and if we don’t, we will suffer penance or get stuck in the purgatory.

Lao-Tzu’s simple recipe

Gregory went as far as prescribing a specific type of music for religious services. His music prescriptions, the “Gregorian Chants,” continue to be performed in monasteries nowadays.

If Gregory had lived longer (he passed away at sixty-four), I am sure that he would have issued additional instructions and edicts. His regulatory passion knew no end. Even in a century where paper and ink remained expensive, Gregory kept adding complexity to Christian spiritual practices.

In terms of length, Lao-Tzu’s writings amount to a fraction of those of Gregory the Great. Where Gregory added complex rules, Lao-Tzu kept it extremely simple. Instead of prescribing what we should do, Taoism only provides a rough outline.

Chapter 25 of the Tao Te Ching summarises in short verses the path of spiritual enlightenment: We just need to follow the earth, which itself follows heaven, the Tao and nature. It’s hard to imagine a simpler recipe for happiness.

What does Taoist spiritual enlightenment look like? It gives us a halo of harmony, balance and happiness. Chapter 55 of the Tao Te Ching compares wise individuals to infants. Alignment with the Tao enables us to lead intense and joyful lives.

Can we attain spiritual enlightenment by following the rules established by Gregory the Great and his successors? Are those rules not better attuned to modernity? I’m afraid that there is no waterproof answer to this question. It’s up to each individual to strike the best balance between self-reliance, cooperation, and adaptability.

If you are interested in putting effective strategies into practice in all sorts of situations, I recommend my book “The Philosophy of Builders.”