Author: bhikkhu cintita

  • Postcard from Burma

    Postcard from Burma

    Well, it's been a quiet month at Sitagu Buddhist Academy. Sitagu
    Sayadaw was away for about a month, and returned yesterday for about a
    week. He is a busy guy. He will be back in Austin, Texas sometime in
    December, then again in March, when I will also be returning to
    Austin. I have no idea where he has been for the last month.

    It is interesting what a flurry of activity accompanies Sayadaw when
    he returns. Visitors, mostly lay, but some monks and nuns, start
    checking into the Guest House, where I live, in the days before his
    arrival. I don't know who all of them are, but generally they seem to
    be people who need to meet with Sayadaw while they have the chance.
    Donors start providing more of the meals, for all of the monks, which
    means the cuisine takes on a couple of extra stars, and monks start
    gaining weight. This morning we had Mohinga for breakfast, which is a
    specialty in Myanmar, made of noodles under a thick soup, with various
    toppings to choose from (eggs, fried bread dealies, parsley, lemon).
    Mmmmmm. A lot more lay groups start showing up presumably from the
    immediate area, filling the parking lot, many of them apparently not
    on business, but just to look around at the Convocation Center and the
    various statues and altars, apparently at the same time wishing to get
    a glimpse of the famous sayadaw. This flurry of activity presumably
    follows sayadaw wherever he goes, to Mandalay, Yangon, Bangkok, Korea.
    It would explain why sayadaw is so chubby. I wonder if he even knows
    that the flurry of activity leaves each place when he leaves.

    Monastics are renunciates, which means that their lifestyle leaves
    almost no channels for sensual pleasures or accumulation of stuff, or
    for all of the problems that accompany these. The effect is that we
    settle into a state of quiet contentment, of not struggling with the
    world. This makes absolutely no sense to most people, but there is
    actually enormous joy in this kind of life, if your passionate
    impulses don't get the better of you. The one channel that is open to
    the monastic for enjoyment of sense pleasures, at least until noon
    each day, is enjoyment of food. So don't be surprised when monastics,
    including me, express dismaying enthusiasm for food or even start to
    get chubby. What's more, lay people here, who take as great an
    interest in doing things for monks as you do in the welfare of your
    cat, recognize this one channel as a way to please monks while
    ingratiating themselves, so they like to excite monastic passions even
    more through the culinary arts. This is probably better for lay
    practice than for monastic practice, but it sure can be yummy.

    The lay people who come to visit SIBA are always upbeat, whether or
    not Sayadaw is present, in a festive way. Happy voices working in the
    kitchen or gardening, or just looking around. Often people come for
    one reason, maybe to meet with one of the monks, then while waiting or
    afterwards pick up a broom, or take one away from a monk, for some
    habitat cleaning while they are here.

    The weather is getting cooler. It is quite nice, a little chilly in
    the morning, a little hot in the afternoon, bright and sunny during
    the day. It's quite beautiful. I saw a big snake behind the Guest
    House, near the gopher holes, a couple of days ago, maybe four feet
    long. One of the monks explained to me that if you whistle it attracts
    snakes. But he said you don't want to do that because most of them are
    VERY poisonous. There are still a lot of mosquitoes; I'm hoping the
    cold weather will reduce their numbers.

    I am still teaching English five or six days a week, following the
    lunar weeks, with two days off for every uposatha day, before and on.
    I've started showing documentary that are available here in English
    once a week. So far I've shown two: One was on Egypt, and had Omar
    Sharif in it, more of a docudrama. One was on the Mayan civilization.
    Tomorrow I will show one on the American Civil War. There are also a
    few on nature: Some National Geographic films, some films about
    geology, and profiles of different countries. Most of them have rather
    difficult narration, most of these with an American accent, which the
    students find more difficult than a British accent. I chose the first
    two films because they also had English subtitles. I've been teaching
    geography and some other subjects mixed in with English lessons. Most
    of the students are amazingly uneducated. Some cannot find Europe and
    Asia on a world map! One of the great tragedies about this country.
    They are very eager to learn though.

    My friend Venerable Jitamaro, from Laos, has been expressing a strong
    interest in coming to the USA for a long time. He is interested in
    being a missionary for Western Buddhists. I think he will be very good
    at this. He is my main English student. We've been exploring ways to
    bring him over as a monk, most viably to live at an ethnic temple.

  • Postcard from Burma

    Postcard from Burma

    Kathina Day.
    Last week was Kathina Day, a time when lay people make donations of
    robes to monks. Not that they don't at other occasions throughout the
    year. Kathina Day is always scheduled after the Rains Retreat (Vassa)
    has ended. The original tradition, as described in the Vinaya,
    involved a lot more work for the monks. In the old days donations were
    often in the form of robe cloth rather than finished robes. Monks
    would accrue pieces of cloth until they had enough to sew a robe. On
    Kathina Day all of the monks at a monastery would, as a joint project,
    sew a single robe from scratch and donate it to the monk who was
    considered most worthy or most needy. Here is the catch: the robe
    would have to be sewn by the following morning , by hand of course.
    Everyone would pitch in regardless of seniority, and stay up all night
    sewing. Nowhere in the scriptures does it explain why the Buddha would
    institute such a silly practice, but the reason would seem to
    encourage solidarity among those who shared the Rains together. Isn't
    that cool? With time and modern industry, robes have lost the value
    they had at the Buddha's time. Certain forest monks keep the old
    tradition alive, but by and large Kathina Day has become a kind of a
    festival at which purchased, manufactured robes are simply donated,
    along with toothpaste. Today's Kathina involved also a Dhamma talk by
    Sitagu Sayadaw and a very good lunch, prepared by a lot of lay people,
    both for the monks and for themselves, monks eating first, before
    noon. Then this evening the monks met together for a brief ceremony.
    English Classes.
    Petra, the German woman who was living here for a couple of months has
    left for a new job in northern Myanmar, teaching meditation to
    tourists at a hotel. She had started an English conversation class
    while she was here, alongside my English pronunciation class which was
    largely preempted by Sayadaw's lectures. I am continuing her class
    daily 4:00 – 5:30 pm, except for Uposatha Days and the days before
    Uposatha Days. Uposatha Days are full, new or quarter moon days when
    many laypeople visit monasteries and monks recite Precepts. The
    afternoon before an Uposatha Day is temple cleaning for the monks.
    Cold Season.
    November 1 was full moon, therefore an Uposatha Day. I believe this
    also marked the beginning of the Cold Season. The Cold Season lasts
    four months, as does the Rainy Season (just ended) and the Hot Season
    (which will start just before the beginning of March, I think). The
    weather has been getting cooler, still warm in the middle of the
    afternoon, but a bit chilly when I get up at 4am. I no longer take a
    shower first thing in the morning, but wait til it is warmer, sometime
    before lunch. There is no hot water, of course. In about a month is
    is supposed to be quite chilly. I don't think this means freezing
    temperatures; I've never seen anything like a space heater in Myanmar
    and many buildings don't have real windows. But I think I have
    adequate blankets and enough layers of robes to cope.
    On this full moon I was invited with the other two foreign monks to a
    nuns' monastery, right across the street from Sitagu. Another unknown
    senior monk was there who seemed to be a regular. Quite good food. The
    various laypeople and nuns took a lot of pictures, as usual featuring
    the exotic Western monk. About half an hour after I returned home
    about ten people from the monastery showed up at my apartment guided
    by the senior monk who proceeded to give them a tour, showing them the
    little bathroom and all. They just showed up and let themselves in;
    knocking is not customary in Myanmar, then all did prostrations not
    only to me, but also to my altar with its $2 gold Buddha. Of course as
    usual they were all delightful people.
    Later that evening three children showed up at my apartment (I usually
    do not get so much traffic) asking for money. That surprised me, since
    there is very little begging in Myanmar (unless you count the monks),
    and only in public spots, and it is odd to expect a monk to give you
    something besides the Gift of the Dhamma. I wouldn't give them
    anything. I learned later that this full moon day is a special day
    each year in Myanmar when children are allowed to ask for small things
    like money and cake. In a way, it is like our Halloween, but not as
    scary. OOPS!!! And I did have some Kyat (Burmese $$) in small bills
    that I could have given them.
    India
    A monk who lives in Yangon invited me about a month ago to tour the
    Buddhist sites in India with him. This was U Pan~n~asiha, who used to
    live in Minnesota, and has a new doctorate from an Indian university.
    He suggested this rather casually, but when he comes through here
    again I've decided to try to pin him down. Sitagu Sayadaw has
    suggested about three times that I go to India while I'm here, and
    once that I go to Thailand. If you look at a map you will see that I,
    here in Central Myanmar, am not at all far from the area in which the
    Buddha lived. I probably can live in monasteries, travel maybe three
    weeks. Hopefully my visa will allow me to leave the country and get
    back in.

  • Mahayana/Theravada 4: The Authentic Teachings

    Mahayana/Theravada 4: The Authentic Teachings

    If you poll the followers of the various schools with the question,
    "Which is the True Buddhism?" you will probably find a very consistent
    answer: "Ours Is!"

    Zen, for instance, is traditionally held to be a special transmission
    independent of words and letters that was kept under wraps in India,
    but can be traced directly to the Buddha, through Bhikkhu Mahakassapa,
    who as only one out of myriad disciples understood what the Buddha
    meant when, instead of delivering a conventional discourse, he simply
    held up a flower, and Kassapa smiled. Soka Gakai, a Japanese sect
    whose main practice is revering the Lotus Sutra, not part of the
    earliest scriptures, often claims to be the one "True Buddhism."
    Theravadins often claim that theirs is the one authentic school
    because, they say, it has not added or removed a single word from what
    the Buddha taught.

    The various schools of Buddhism (Theravada and Mahayana, the latter
    with much more variety than the former) do differ in their doctrines,
    though my own feeling is that except for some runaway schools, the
    differences are not as great as many people seem to think. And almost
    no school contradicts a certain set of core teachings, which can be
    attributed to the Buddha with a degree of certainty, though all
    enhance them, either a little or a lot. In this posting I want to
    consider how to pinpoint what the Buddha taught and then in very
    general terms consider how that has been tinkered with. This is a bit
    of history, as I understand it from my studies. (By the way, I'm not a
    Buddhist historian, and do not intend this blog posting as a scholarly
    treatise. I welcome hearing any corrections to what I write here).

    What Did the Buddha Teach?

    We actually do not know for certain what the Buddha said or did not
    say. But there is a corpus that we can be reasonably certain fairly
    well reflects the Buddha's teachings as they were understood shortly
    after his death. This is the Eartly (Not Mahayana) Suttas (Sutras, or
    Discourses, I will use the Pali word Suttas to refer to this corpus)
    and the Vinaya (Books of Discipline), which correspond to two of the
    three baskets of the Theravada Pali Canon and to similar parts of the
    Agamas that survive in Chinese translation from Sanskrit. I'll call
    these the Core Corpus, or, if you will, the Core-pus.

    The argument that the Suttas and Vinaya, the Core-pus, mostly date
    back to the Buddha, comes from reconstructing their history. It is
    recorded that the teachings of the Buddha, quite extensive after a
    45-year teaching career, were first recited from memory in their
    entirely at the First Council of 500 monks shortly after the
    Parinirvana. The words were not yet committed to palm leaf, but
    retained in memory, different parts by different members of the
    sangha, and preserved in that form for hundreds of years, eventually
    in many different regions in India and beyond, and in different
    languages, and by the different early schools that began to form. The
    idea of memorizing such a huge corpus seems daunting to modern
    Westerners, but it seems to have been common at the time. After living
    with Burmese monks, who continue this tradition of memorization, this
    no longer seems at all infeasible to me. Many monks here can recite
    very long texts word for word, such as all 227 rules for monks. There
    was a famous Burmese monk who won a place in the Guinness Book of
    World Records for being able to recite the entire Pali Canon,
    basically the entire Core-pus plus the huge Pali Abhidamma, all by
    himself, which is like 28 thick books! The texts were eventually
    written down at different places and times and in different languages,
    apparently first in Sri Lanka, where the Pali Canon was recorded about
    400 years after the death of the Buddha. Today the Theravada school
    refers to this Pali version, and this is the easiest to find in
    English translation. In India the Sanskrit versions became most widely
    known, and were inherited into the Mahayana schools. However, these
    various versions of the Core-pus, preserved in different places and
    recorded at different times, turned out to be in remarkable agreement,
    and in no way account for the doctrinal differences of various later
    schools. So, in China virtually the same range of discourses and
    stories and rules of discipline were available as in Sri Lanka or
    Burma. This is evidence that the various written versions probably
    accurately represented the original recited version of the Core-pus.

    Although there versions of the Core-pus agree remarkably they don't
    entirely. Spurious changes can be found, and in fact editing of these
    versions probably went on for hundreds of years. For instance, in the
    Pali Vinaya there is an account of the Second Council, reported to
    have occurred 100 years after the death of the Buddha. For the most
    part scholars can detect spurious edits by comparing the early written
    texts, but apparently there are cases in which this does not work,
    because the editors of different versions have adopted the same
    changes from a common third source. For instance, some scholars now
    believe that many of the Jataka (previous lives of the Buddha)
    stories, along with references to the concept of the Bodhisattva,
    first mentioned in the Jatakas; and the teachings of the Paramitas,
    recognized with some differences by virtually all modern schools of
    Buddhism, were all absent in the original Core-pus, i.e., the Buddha
    never taught these things. Rather all of these seem to have
    originated in the Sarvastivada (early Hinayana, i.e., non-Mahayana)
    school long after the Buddha, which then added these to their
    scriptures. Apparently these modifications were a good idea, since
    other schools, including the Theravada, then made these same changes
    to their versions of the scriptures. But by and large scholars seem
    generally to have a degree of confidence that the Suttas and Vinaya
    reflect the teachings of the Buddha.

    Different Interpretations.

    The Christian Bible, as far as I can tell, was written by many
    different people who had quite diverse and contradictory views. This
    may partially account for why there are so many doctrinal differences
    within Christianity. The Buddhist Core-pus, on the other hand, is
    largely the product of one mind, or of the Buddha and a handful of
    disciples who were in intimate contact with that one mind, and as such
    is very consistent in its approach. However, even the Core-pus seems
    to lend itself to alternative interpretations, some of which may
    underlie later doctrinal differences within Buddhist. For instance,
    what is meant literally, and what is meant metaphorically, what is
    essential and what is incidental? For example, the Core-pus has a lot
    of colorful imagery, and often makes reference, quite matter-of-factly
    to devas and deva realms, i.e., godly beings and their living
    arrangements. These may be embellishments for dramatic or comic
    effect, but sometimes seem to have systematic roles in the exposition
    of the Dhamma, as in the case of rebirth in the various non-human and
    non-animal realms. In the Pure Land School of Mahayana Buddhism, the
    Pure Land is one of these godly realms, in which a buddha (not THE
    Buddha, who is sidelined), Amitabha, plays a critical role. I
    understand that the basic premises of this school actually have
    support in the Suttas and Vinaya, if you look for them. Yet the Pure
    Land school is often criticized in the Theravada as deviant in its
    doctrine in making rebirth in the Pure Land a fundamental goal. (The
    Pure Land is, I believe, also the largest modern school of Mahayana
    Buddhism, so this critique is sometimes assumed in the Theravada world
    to apply to all of the Mahayana.) This may (I am speculating) be a
    question of whether a particular passage of the earliest corpus is
    taken to be essential or incidental.

    What Was Taught After the Buddha?

    Buddhism has a vast set of scriptures that do not belong to the
    Core-pus, many of which are important to only specific schools of
    Buddhism. Many of these are claimed to have originated with the
    Buddha, often with a transmission story to explain why they were
    unknown earlier on; these stories often involve either devas or
    dragons preserving these scriptures secretly for a period, sometimes
    until the world is ready for these teachings. In addition, there exist
    commentarial traditions and philosophical schools within Buddhism that
    have enjoyed quite a lot of original thought and debate. In many
    Mahayana schools of Buddhism the Suttas, although part of the history
    of these schools, are all but ignored in favor of these later works
    (though significantly the Vinaya is an important part of almost every
    tradition outside of Japan).

    Let me review some things that are clearly post-Core-pus:

    (1) The Abhidhamma. This is regarded in the Theravada tradition as the
    third basket of the Pali Canon. In Burma this is not only attributed
    to the Buddha, but regarded as the highest teachings of the Buddha. It
    also has a transmission story, which has the Buddha reciting it to his
    mother, reborn as a godess, in Tavatimsa Heaven. Unlike the other two
    baskets the Pali Abhidhamma does not correspond to anything preserved
    in other traditions. There are at least two other versions of
    something called "Abhidharma" that arose in other traditions,
    including the Sarvastivadin Abhidharma, but these are clearly separate
    works and also not a part of the Core-pus. The Theravada Abhidhamma
    (which I am engaged in studying right now) is a thorough
    systematization of the Buddha's teachings as presented in the Suttas
    with regard to the nature of reality and of the mind, but also seems
    to add some original detail, For instance, it provides a detailed
    accounting of the mechanisms of rebirth, which does not seem to be a
    major focus of the Suttas.

    (2) The Theravada commentarial corpus. This includes, for instance,
    The Path of Purification and other works of Acariya Buddhaghosa. This
    corpus, compiled about 800 years after the Buddha, in Sri Lanka in
    Pali, is considered by nobody to have originated with the Buddha, but
    is claimed to have been based on writings of his early disciples.
    Nevertheless, it has something close to scriptural status in the
    Theravada school, playing an important role in the current shape of
    Theravada Buddhism. The Path of Purification is a meditation manual
    and is pretty definitive of Vipassana meditation, though a number of
    Theravada meditation teachers, including Ven. Buddhadassa of Thailand,
    point out that the Buddha's approach to meditation as presented in the
    Suttas is really much less elaborate.

    Doctrinally Theravada Buddhism might not be identical to the Buddhism
    of the Core-pus, but on the other hand, it never lets the Core-pus out
    of its sight. The Suttas and the Vinaya are widely studied, and so the
    parallels with the commentary and Abhidhamma are clearly in mind.
    Students are instructed in Burma to study with the Suttas (or
    Abhidhamma) in one hand and the commentary in the other. This pretty
    much ensures that there can be no large unfounded deviation from the
    original teachings of the Buddha.

    (3) All of what are commonly regarded as Mahayana sutras. These
    include the Prajnaparamita Sutras, the Flower Ornament Sutra, the
    Amitabha Sutra, the Vimalakirti Sutra, the Lotus Sutra, Indra's Net
    Sutra, and so on. All of these Sutras appear to have been composed in
    the early centuries of the Christian era, primarily in India, though
    apparently scholars are now discovering that many are of Chinese or
    Middle Asian origin. Many of these works are attributed to the Buddha
    and often have some of the formal structure of the early Suttas, but
    the colorful imagery of the early Suttas, including gods and
    supernatural powers, really comes into its own in many of the Mahayana
    Sutras. These Sutras introduce a host of characters not found in the
    Core-pus, such as the Bodhisattvas Manjushri, Avalokiteshvara,and so
    on. They also focus on some themes that are absent or more marginal in
    the Core-pus, such as the bodhisattva ideal and compassion,
    realization of emptiness as the heart of wisdom, Buddha nature and the
    transcendent nature of the Buddha. However, taken as a whole the scope
    of the Mahayana Sutras is much narrower than that of the earlier
    Suttas; they usually focus on higher stages of wisdom, whereas in the
    Core-pus there is a Sutta for virtually any occasion or listener, so
    that they cover meditation instruction, ethics, metareligion (such as
    how to evaluate religious teachings), care of parents, etc., even the
    proper way to hang up robes to dry, in addition to higher wisdom.

    (4) All of what are commonly regarded as the Mahayana commentaries
    (shastras). This includes works of philosopher-monks such as
    Nagarjuna, Vasubandhu, Asanga, Shantideva, etc. In the Mahayana the
    name of Nagarjuna, sometimes called "the Second Buddha," is
    particularly prominent, and there are even origin stories for his
    teachings, involving special access to secret works from the time of
    the Buddha that were preserved by Nagas (dragons) under water (notice
    that his name accordingly begins with "Naga"). Commentaries and the
    Sutras seem to have been composed throughout the early centuries of
    the Christian Era, most scholars agree, by monastics.

    Notice I have hedged calling the Sutras and commentaries "Mahayana."
    This word was first applied after most of these had been composed, so
    after the fact. Rather, there seems to have been a period of free
    Buddhist inquiry and debate in northern India in the early centuries
    of the Christian Era, roughly that was perhaps comparable to the
    intellectual milieu of post-Enlightenment Europe, in which monastic
    universities flourished and scholars could examine Buddhist ideas
    creatively from a variety of perspectives. Sanskrit became the primary
    language of this world. Because Theravada Buddhism developed primarily
    in Sri Lanka it was largely cut off from this rich intellectual world.
    For a period Sinhalese was its primary language of discourse, then
    later Pali.

    When the word "Mahayana" was introduced it seemed to have been to
    applied to a variety of seemingly orthogonal teachings, including
    Emptiness, the Enhanced (almost godly) status of the Buddha, the
    bodhisattva ideal in opposition to seeking personal enlightenment,
    etc. "Hinayana" was used to refer to schools or monks that do not
    accept this variety of teachings. In general the Mahayana never
    criticized the Hinayana, or the Core-pus, for being in error, but for
    being incomplete. Somehow there seems to have been a long-standing
    dissatisfaction with the original teachings that provided a constant
    pressure toward a variety of innovations during this very creative
    period in northern India. The interesting question is why was that? A
    weakness in the Buddha's teachings, a change in the demographics of
    the Buddhist community, a need for more devotional practices or a more
    colorful mythology? In any case, the Mahayana-Hinayana debate in no
    way split the monastic community; as Chinese pilgrims who visited
    India during this period testified Mahayana and Hinayana monks lived
    side-by-side in the same monasteries perfectly happily, apparently
    with a high degree of tolerance for doctrinal diversity.

    Now, many of these innovations can be found in the schools called
    "Hinayana." For instance, the "Hinayana" Sarvastivadin school seems to
    have originated the bodhisattva ideal early on, which was partially
    adopted by most schools, including Theravada. On the other hand, the
    "Mahayana" focus on Emptiness may have been a reaction to the
    Sarvastivadin Abhidharma, which seems to have reintroduced something
    like an enduring Self. Theravadins criticize the Sarvastivadins for
    this. David Kalupahana argues that Nagarjuna's contribution to
    Buddhism was not a new doctrine of emptiness, but a further exposition
    of profound teachings that the Buddha first introduced, that his views
    were conservative, very much in the spirit of the Core-pus, though his
    style of exposition was brilliant. I think Nagarjuna actually never
    touched on any of the other "Mahayana" themes, and lived before the
    word "Mahayana" was coined.

    Proponents of the Mahayana may have simply claimed many of the most
    creative thinkers and their works as representing Mahayana after the
    fact. But also, notice that all the other Hinayana (non-Mahayana)
    schools of Buddhism eventually died out, as Buddhism died out in
    India. I suspect that Mahayana simply became the heir of all of the
    products of this creative period in norther India. This might explain
    why Mahayana is difficult to pinpoint doctrinally. We might say,
    Mahayana = Core-pus + Creative Innovations.

    (5) The Teachings in China, Tibet and beyond. As Buddhism died out in
    India, the scholar and university tradition primarily continued in
    Tibet. In China the teachings took on radically different forms,
    primarily under the influence of Taoism. For instance, in the Zen
    tradition the koan corpus acquired scriptural status, quirky little
    stories or dialogs that pointed to higher wisdom, while little direct
    reference was made to the teachings of the Suttas, for instance to the
    Four Noble Truths. It is very difficult to compare Zen to the Core-pus
    point by point for consistency, because its language is quite
    different.

    Folk Embellishments.

    In addition to deliberately composed teachings, there are in every
    Buddhist country a lot of folk embellishments to the Buddhism of the
    Core-pus, often resulting in a blending of indigenous beliefs with
    Buddhism, in a way that locally it becomes difficult to distinguish
    the two. It is interesting to observe that in Myanmar: I've reported
    in past postings to this blog on a lot of the ways in which anything
    of interest to the normal tourist has become a pagoda after some folk
    story has lent it special Buddhist significance. Here is another
    example of the blending of folk beliefs in this country: The Burmese
    cherish their arahants and generally attribute posthumous supernatural
    events to them. There is a widespread belief that an arahant can
    choose to become a mummy, that is, with no preparation they can choose
    not to decay after death, and to thereby remain as a Protector of
    Buddhism should the need arise. Somehow I have trouble picturing how
    this would actually play out. I have seen such a mummified arahant at
    a pagoda near here, and he did not look like he would be very healthy,
    or particularly useful, if he arose from death with some noble task in
    mind. He would scare a lot of people, Buddhist and non-Buddhist alike.
    In East Asia there is a lot of blending of Buddhism with ancestor
    worship, as well as with Taoism and Confucianism.

    Although the direct teaching of the Suttas has largely been displaced
    in most of the Mahayana schools by later Sutras, commentaries and
    other works, this does not entail that the spirit of the Suttas has
    been lost in this transformation. The one part of the Core-pus that is
    still widely referenced in almost all Mahayana schools is the Vinaya,
    the Books of Discipline, that define the lives of monks and nuns, and
    the governance of the Buddhist community. Thus more than the the
    Suttas, the Vinaya is the common thread that runs throughout almost
    all of Buddhism in Asia. This may at first seem strange, but this is
    very important to consider in the West, especially since this text is
    virtually unknown in Western Buddhism. The Vinaya was created by the
    Buddha as the instrument though which the integrity of the Buddha's
    teachings would endure and through which the Buddhism would flourish.
    In fact in Theravada Buddhism it is taught that as long as monks and
    nuns follow the Vinaya, the Dhamma will take care of itself. The
    history of Buddhism seems to bear this out. If this is true, then
    those Mahayana traditions that respect and practice the Vinaya can not
    be doctrinally too far off base.

    I intend to make one final posting to the Theravada/Mahayana Series,
    in which I draw conclusions that are hopefully useful to Western
    Buddhists for planning their practice lives. Then I will begin a
    series called "The Buddha's Teachings on Community," based on the
    Vinaya, that often dry and in the West neglected work, that has
    nevertheless proved to be critical in the history of Buddhism and that
    will be essential for its future growth in the West.

  • Postcard from Burma

    Invitation Day.

    The vassa, or rains retreat, ended on the last full moon day, October
    3. The tradition as defined by the Buddha is to stay put at a
    monastery for three months during the rainy season, rather than to
    travel from monastery to monastery. On the last day of the retreat,
    is Invitation Day. On virtually every full moon day bhikkhus and
    bhikkhunis recite the Precepts, but not on the last day of the rains.
    Instead the Buddha set it up so that on that one day each year each
    monk invites criticism from every other monk, basically, Where Have I
    Failed in My Actions During the Last Year? It is a good idea, but this
    has become rather perfunctory in Burma; no one here likes to
    criticize anybody else (Can you imagine that?). And in fact, to
    perform the ceremony, the eighty monks from Sitagu walked to another
    monastery where over four hundred monks convened.

    Newly Old.

    In the last episode, Bhikkhu Cintita was still pondering the Three
    Responses to Old Age. He had rejected the originally favored Hang onto
    Your Youth, as foolish and ultimately futile, in favor of Old and
    Bitter Despair, which he looked forward to doing With Flair, with a
    Penetrating Frown and a Horrifying Glare. Bloggers from around the …
    uh … Austin sat at their computer screens saying, "Don't do It,
    Bhante, don't become a Bitter Old Man," and "No, Not Bhikkhu Cintita."
    As we visit Bhikkhu Cintita today he is imagining How It will Be.
    Let's listen in:

    I've been practicing my Frown and Glare since I posted my last blog,
    and it is working! Wigglet is no longer coming to my door, relieved
    instead by the mangiest mongrels of Sagaing, MY kinda dog . By next
    month I should be able to peal paint and wilt flowers as I walk by.
    Haha. If I have to be a Bitter Old Man, I'm going to do it right. By
    next vassa my mere presence will pop meditators right out of Samadhi
    into a thicket of unwholesome impulses.

    … but wait, what am I thinking? Am I not just replacing one Self with
    another, the Young with the Old, then clinging equally to the new
    (Old)? Do I really think I can find satisfaction with the Old (new)
    Self, any more than I could with the old (Young )? Is not the new
    (Old) equally subject to dissolution? Oh, Impermanence, What Vexation
    Have You Wrought? And what would the Buddha say? One of his monks
    turning into a modern (new but Old) Mara. Besides, I can see that this
    Bitter Old Man bit will wear thin pretty quickly. "Oh, Wigglet!
    Wigglett!"

    And thus does Bhikkhu Cintita reject the Second along with the First
    of the Three Responses to Old Age, leaving only the Third, The Middle
    Way. … to be continued.

    Lao Monk.

    I have been helping my friend Ven. Jitamaro in his ambition to become
    a missionary in the West. Jitamaro is from Laos, and has been my
    primary English student. He comes to practice with me every day, and
    has been my assistant in my teaching activities. He is 31 years old,
    but has completed 10 vassas. He is interested in contributing to the
    development of Buddhism in America, and in learning English more
    thoroughly. I am interested in seeing monks like him come to America
    to help establish a stronger monastic sangha and to become teachers.
    "Like him," means young and personable. I think he could learn to
    communicate the Dharma well to Westerners. Anyway, I discovered that
    for a monk to come to the USA he needs a Religious Worker (R) visa,
    which can be granted if a religious institution (monastery) invites
    him to come. He is sending email inquiries to the Lao temples in the
    USA we have scared up on the Web, and will then try Thai temples (he
    speaks Thai as well), the Vietnamese (he doesn't speak Vietnamese) and
    Sri Lankan (… nor Sinhalese).

  • Postcard from Burma

    MEALTIME

    The monks at Sitagu eat in the dining hall, generally around 5:40am
    then again around 10:45. Since our vows do not permit us to eat after
    noon, except for certain things considered medicinal, we have to
    finish eating our second meal by then. Someone hits a big bell
    outside with a mallet to tell us that it is time to eat. Every time
    this happens all of the dogs that roam around Sitagu, including
    Wigglet, take this as cue to point their chins skyward and howl. From
    my room I hear the dogs better than I hear the bell and sometimes
    Wigglet is right outside my door.

    The monks sit on the floor, actually raised platforms about a foot
    above the main floor, around round table, five or six monks to a
    table, and the food is place in the middle of the table. Food is
    always supposed to be formally offered to monks, so this is done by at
    least one monk and one staff member or lay donor lifting the table
    together. Once food is offered to one monk it can be shared freely
    with any other monks who might come late without additional formality.

    Most meals are simply cooked by the Sitagu kitchen staff. Sometimes
    the same beans or the same fish dish is served day after day. But
    generally about four or five meals each week are offered by donors,
    usually a family, I think, or two families, or a group of friends.
    This is a big deal for them. They sometimes travel many miles to be
    able to make the offering. They wear their fanciest cloths (I assume),
    often bring cameras, of course bring food, and sometimes bring other
    offerings (last week a group of donors brought new sandals for all the
    monks; someone searched out the biggest they had for me, but they were
    still way too small). The food is always especially good if provided
    by donors, and sometime very good. The overstaffing of the kitchen for
    donor meals leads to a lot of turmoil, such that meals take longer to
    serve.

    The donors are always so happy to be there; this is the great merit of
    dana. They are very respectful of the monks, very humble and very
    attentive. When they are not serving or making themselves useful, they
    sit on the lower part of the floor, so that the monks on raised
    platforms are above them. Donors are generally astonished to see me,
    a big Western monk. Sometimes they take turns posing for pictures next
    to me, sometimes a lot of donors at a time all, in anjali (gassho)
    paying their respects.

    NEWLY OLD

    I've gotten some feedback from readers concerning my turning 60. You
    might recall that I entertained three approaches to handling this
    circumstance: denial, despair, and acceptance. The first is the
    American way, the second the way of the multitude, and the third the
    Buddhist way. I was kinda leaning toward denial, but my daughter
    wrote, "I don't think the skateboard is a good idea. After all, you
    are 60." That took the wind out of my sails. I also realized that
    denial always slides gradually into depair. So, I've been turning over
    in my mind the possible advantages of the second approach, despair. I
    would probably make a really great bitter old man. I can do a great
    Bodhidharma frown. I'll wager within a short time I could strike fear
    in the hearts not only of children, but even of dogs and cats. And it
    would just get better as I get older and older and older, and more
    and more bitter. What do you think? This would be the last resort
    before I need to get serious about (gulp) Buddhist Practice.

    TROPICAL DISEASES

    Petra, the German lady who has been staying in the Guest House, became
    very ill a couple of weeks ago. She had an extremely high fever. Since
    there is a Sitagu hospital, medical care was not far away, but they do
    not provide all of the services a Western hospital would. For
    instance, they do not draw blood and analyze it. So there was no
    diagnosis for several days. Petra used to live here for a couple of
    years, and was at one time ordained as a nun, and speaks fluent
    Burmese, so she had many people, especially nuns, to look after her.
    After the fever subsided, but she was still not eating, and feeling
    lousy, she was finally diagnosed … with typhoid! Luckily she has
    survived, and on the mend. Typhoid is communicated in food and water
    under unsanitary conditions. She says she has been eating many places,
    including restaurants and nunneries. Sitagu generally has a pretty
    good record in the kitchen, though I know they sometimes serve certain
    dishes for too many days in a row, which results in stomach
    complaints. This reminds one that infectious diseases are very common
    here. I had a bunch of vaccinations before I left home, including for
    typhoid. But it makes me even more cautious about what I eat.

  • Bhikkhu Cintita Joins the Ranks of the Newly Old

    On September 27 I will turn 60! In Buddhism we have this Self thing,
    or rather don't have it. To be a Self requires the view that there is
    something in or around this body that is unchanging, besides a Social
    Security Number. That unchanging Self is what is known in Buddhism as
    "a mental formation," which in my case arose many years ago complete
    with many wonderful unchanging characteristics. So it is not
    surprising that that Self is someone much younger than me. The
    landmark event of turning 60 puts me once again face to face with that
    unchanging youthful Self, and gives me three choices:

    One, I can try all the harder to convince myself that I AM this
    youthful unchanging Self. After all, I have the still unchanged energy
    to be an international globetrotter, like I was in my 20's, and
    without depending on Youth Hostels. My health is excellent, except
    when I'm sick or pulled a muscle. I can always grow my lush head of
    hair back (I think; I haven't actually checked for a while). I've had
    many more years of experience being young than any of the young of
    today — the whippersnappers — so I should be really good at it.
    Why, I just might buy me a skateboard when I get back to the States,
    and what I think they call a "Walkman" so I can listen to the latest
    disko music. Monks don't have hats to speak up that they could wear
    backwards, but maybe I'll express my youthful rebellion by wearing my
    robe over my RIGHT shoulder.

    Two, I can lament the unfairness of the universe for not being the way
    it is supposed to be, for failing to respect who I really am, for not
    according me what was promised to me, for being like a fancy
    restaurant that has inexcusably lost my dinner reservation or a hotel
    that has put me next to the elevator. I might even try to organize
    something to do about it, like a protest. Or I might just quietly
    experience the despair.

    Three, I can regard this situation as a good practice opportunity.
    This is the Buddhist Way! It goes something like this:

    If I am not this unchanging youthful Self, then who is this guy, and
    who am I? I seem to have his memories of who he is supposed to be, so
    we must have intersected at some point, maybe that time in 1965. If he
    is not me, he must be around here somewhere, since he is unchanging.
    And I must be another Self, so two Selves. And if there can be two
    Selves that I identify as me, aren't there likely to be more? But I
    know that guy used to be me, so what happened? The mind not able to
    wrap itself around any of this, exhausted, all the Selves shatter and
    what is left is nothing but the recognition of change, a continual
    relentless morphing of the whole universe into new forms. Even as the
    idea arises that THIS IS ME, all the parts and their relations are
    already morphing into something else. Any Self that tries to hold onto
    itself does not fit into the way things really are, is no more than
    the product of a very active imagination trying to find something
    solid in an ocean of change. It is silly to try to hang onto something
    I never was and could not possibly be.

    Thinking this way gives me the ability to lighten up, … and to sound
    very philosophical while I'm at it.

    Just when I had not only resigned myself to no longer being a youth,
    or a Self, but also thought I was joyfully present with this reality,
    one of the monks here told me he thought I was already 70! That
    suddenly breathed new life into option (1). If you see someone zipping
    around Austin on a skateboard wearing full burgundy robes next spring,
    that will be me.

    As a Buddhist monk I take on a large set of vows which if followed
    scrupulously give very little opportunity to feed a Self. They don't
    guarantee that I won't entertain a Self secretly, and they allow for
    the basic requirements for well-being of the body and mind that the
    Self also sometimes wants, but they divert almost all of my life's
    time and energy to purposes other than keeping a Self alive. This has
    two benefits. First, protecting or enhancing that Self is always a
    losing battle. That becomes easier to see as I become older; it will
    all end up in the rubbish bin. Second, a self is insatiable. It could
    easily drain all my life's time and energy, and leave no room for
    worthy projects. There is an enormous sense of liberation that comes
    with monastic vows, there really is. (Not that all monks experience
    this: the vows Don't Mean a Thing if You Don't Have that Swing.)

    So what are my selfless worthy projects? More than ever I intend to
    devote my remaining years to the cultivation and flourishing of
    American Buddhism. I say, "more than ever," because I am enormously
    inspired by what I see of Buddhism here in Burma, and at a distance
    dismayed at what I know of the spiritual state of my own country. I
    also have great fears about the direction of Western Buddhism in
    America, much of which has become a form of New Age Feel-Goodism. It
    will take selfless wisdom, energy and patience, on the part of
    countless dedicated disciples of the Buddha to see Buddhism firmly
    planted in American soil. But Burma has taught me it can be done and
    shown what a difference it makes when it is done. That is where my
    heart is as I join the ranks of the newly old.

  • Postcard from Burma

    “The Alley”

    The Guest House where I live is situated along the South side of the Sitagu grounds, actually just outside the monastery fence, but inside an outer wall that also encloses within its perimeter housing for staff, a small lumber yard, and other infrastructure facilities. Behind the Guest House, in the direction my back door faces, and on the other side of Sitagu’s outer wall, is a narrow street, more of an alley, on the other side of which are nothing but more monasteries and nunneries.

    Most of the traffic on the alley is monks and nuns. A large group of about fifty novices heads west each morning after daybreak with their robes covering both shoulders, and with alms bowls in hand, single file walking silently without looking from side to side (except for the very young monks, who can’t help it; some of the novices look to be as young as six or seven years old). Then this group returns a couple of hours later, looking just the same, but this time walking east.

    There are more novices in Myanmar than there are fully ordained monks. One incentive for becoming a novice is education. It seems that most of the education in this country is supported by the Buddhist temples, usually the construction of schools and hiring of teachers is spearheaded by monks. Schools are often few and far between, so they often end up providing kids with a place to sleep and try to work out a way to feed them. Essentially the schools become monasteries. There is a school of this kind very near here that supports about 100 boys.

    Nuns, who do not seem to do alms rounds (they follow a different set of precepts), traverse the alley frequently. They are very colorful, generally wearing an orange skirt and a clashing pink robe with sleeves over that, and a small brown robe folded into a banner over the left shoulder. They usually travel in a group in which all nuns typically wear identical hats or carry identical umbrellas.

    The lay traffic in the alley consists of a woman who each day carries a very large tray of snacky foods for sale, who shouts in to announce her wares as she walks; cows; some cars and horse carriages that often have trouble getting through the alley if the cows don’t feel like moving. Often lay people walk or ride motor bikes up the alley, and then go into one of the monasteries or nunneries.

    The alley is recently paved; I am told was dirt until the mother of an American nun who was visiting her daughter at one of the nunneries here offered to make a donation to pave the alley. The alley was the site of a tragedy a couple of years ago: That year Sagaing was drenched with rain and the Sitagu Academy was flooded in a heavy storm. The double walls all around the Academy acted as a damn and water build up against the wall on the south side. Suddenly the wall gave way releasing the water into the alley as an instant river. A nine-year-old nun was drowned; they found her in a tree.

    A few days ago one of the nunneries right across the alley began a recitation of the Pattana, the last book of the Abhidhamma, the third basket of the Pali scriptures. The Abhidhamma is very intensively studied in Myanmar; I read recently that Burma has been the center of Abhidhamma studies in the Theravada tradition since the Fifteenth Century. The recitation of its final book takes about five days and nights without break. I know about this because the recitation was piped through one of Burma’s ubiquitous loudspeakers. I think the nun who was in charge of the volume control must have been in a Heavy Metal band before she was a nun, because in this case it was especially loud. I think they started at 3am, a few mornings ago because that is when I was awakened. I needed to wear earplugs every night during the recitation in order to sleep. The recitation is one continuous voice, but with a new voice swapped in every hour or so, day and night.  It is inspiring to hear them work their way through the very long text, hour by hour, day by day without stopping. The way the Burmese intone a Pali texts can be very beautiful, but the skill and experience of the various nuns varied a lot.

    Unfortunately I still can understand almost no word of Pali as they pronounce it in Burma, so the content of such recitation is lost on me. I’ve downloaded some chanting in Pali from Thailand and other countries, and I understand many words just fine. Listening to many people use Pali words here, I’ve come to realize that no original Pali sound is preserved in Burmese Pali if that sound does not also occur in Burmese. Imagine trying to speak French using only sounds found in American English (“Gee Swee Enchant-ee Madam-moyzul”). Then in addition many of the original Pali sounds that do occur in Burmese are changed anyway. I’m trying to do Pali “the right way,” for instance, making a double-length aspirated cerebral voiceless stop involves basically tying your tongue into a knot, keeping it there for a moment, untying it then putting a little puff of air after it, where the Burmese just say “tuh.” The Burmese have made Pali entirely their own. They have another word for the Pali they hear Sri Lankans and Thais, and presumably me, use: Sanskrit.

     

    “Bhikkhu Cintita’s Plans”

    I have not forgotten the “Mahayana and Theravada” series of blog postings. I’ve been writing a piece about doctrinal differences, and what that means for one’s faith, but have revised it a couple of times. Now that I have continual use of a computer I should make some progress. That will be the last posting in that series, number four.

    I thereafter plan to begin a series on “The Buddha’s Teachings on Community.” This is the primary topic of the Vinaya, the first basket of the early scriptures. For the Buddha this topic was as important as, or maybe more important than, such things as the Four Noble Truths or the teaching of no self, and yet his teachings in this area are all but ignored in the West (and then we wonder that our Buddhist communities are not a little more harmonious). Before I came to Myanmar my first priority for study was the Vinaya. I’ve now read virtually the whole thing and several commentaries.  I don’t recommend each of you do this (it’s not easy going), so I thought I would summarize what I’ve discovered for the readers of my blog.

    I plan to continue my studies here until the end of the term, to return to Austin the first week of March, in about six months time. But I will not be leaving Sitagu at that time, just moving the Austin branch.

    Bhikkhu Cintita

  • Another Postcard from Burma

    Postcard from Burma

    (Think of these postcards as very big, or as the writing on them as very small.)

    Wigglet is in heat. I’ve described Wigglet is “my dog,” though she now bounces between my place and that of Petra, the German woman who is living in the guesthouse about ten apartments down. It turns out that Petra and Wigglet have known each other for years. Wigglet is a smart dog: she knows to hang out with the Westerners, who all like dogs. She was Venerable Sopaka’s dog after Petra’s previous tenure (U Sopaka is the American bhikkhu who moved down to Sitagu-Yangon just as I moved in here). Anyway, we will probably see a lot of drama around the Guest House in the coming days. The male dogs are starting to hang out in masses. Often when I open my back door, where Wigglet never goes, there is a dog on the other side. I sympathize with the male dogs: they are all so miserable, and Wigglet keeps chasing them off. I can tell they are going through the total range of emotions that human males go through in corresponding circumstances.

    Observing the male dogs is a good reminder for me of why one becomes a monk (or nun), that is undertakes a life of renunciation. Buddhism is to look from outside the box, then to think, “This is crazy. Why do people make themselves and others so miserable?”  There is joy outside the box and  much more opportunity to benefit others. Ajahn Tate writes that teaching the Dhamma is nothing more than pointing out the afflictions and flaws of worldly life.

    One of the ironic things I’ve discovered in Myanmar is that often the quality of manufactured wares is better here than in America. Myanmar is a very poor country,  Africa-poor according to the statistics, so people in general do not own much. However, people do use razor blades (especially monks), flashlights, clothing, and sometimes even little motor bikes. For probably a very small part of the population there are cars and cell-phones. (At the Sitagu Academy we seem to have a lot of computers.)  All of my clothing is manufactured either in Myanmar or Thailand; it is Theravada monks’ clothing; I don’t even own a pair of pants anymore. But most manufactured goods now come from China, or less often Thailand, much as in the USA. What surprises me often, though, is the availability of good quality.

    Everybody here seems to use rechargeable LED flashlights. LED lighting does not seem to have caught on in the USA. Scott, a member of our original pilgrimage team to Myanmar, who is a lighting technician for movie sets, commented that LED lighting is very expensive in the USA. I have a rechargeable LED flashlight that I bought before I ordained for 25000 Kyat ($2.50) for use when the electricity goes out. It works great. It plugs into a wall outlet to recharge. I think it might even recharge with American electricity; I may bring it back.

     In my last few years in the USA I was working out ways to have as small a consumer footprint as possible. This is a good practice, not only for monks and nuns but for all Buddhists. I no longer owned a car or a house, so I was dealing on the level of things like razor blades. In the USA razor blade technology has made great strides, now offering many high-tech options at high-tech prices, such as three parallel blades encased in a plastic housing. It occurred to me that in my younger days shaving was relatively inexpensive. In an economy that grows primarily through the growth in inefficiency, finding a more labor- or resource-intensive way to do whatever it was you were already doing before, this is hardly surprising. In fact the most economical solution would seem to be the old Schick double-edged blade. The blade must be easy to manufacture, since no assembly is needed. Also you have two blades in one, like the double-edged sword that allowed you in days of olde to fight a much longer battle before your weapon became dull. And when both edges become dull you flip it over for additional mileage. I began experiencing nostalgia for my old double edged razor. After I discovered that you could buy double edge blades at CVS, but not the full razor, a fellow Zen priest, Korin Anita, found me an antique razor on e-bay, and I was in business. Although I found that I cut myself more often with the CVS double edge blades than with the high-tech alternatives  the extreme cost differential induced me to stick with the double edge, and before I came to Myanmar I stocked up on CVS double-edged blades.

    Now, in an economy like Myanmar’s that has yet to grow into inefficiency one would expect that the optimal solution to the razor blade question would be widely recognized and practiced. And indeed, everyone uses double-edged razors, with blades of exactly the size that fits into my antique razor. In fact, a common offering people make to monks is double-edged razor blades; all monks use the same kind. In America, I’ve noticed, people offer monks disposable razors, because there is no telling what kind of razor the monk might possess. As a result, my supply of double-edged razor blades has steady grown since I’ve been in Myanmar.

    This is a long story, but now I get to the point: The razor blades in Myanmar are much better than the CVS blades I bought in the USA! I almost never cut myself. In fact I now enjoy a closer, smoother and more comfortable shave with less loss of blood than I used to with

  • Postcard from Burma

    Postcard from Burma

    We are finally getting some rain here in Sagaing. This is the Rainy Season, one of three official four-month seasons, the others being the hot season and the cold season. (The Burmese do not recognize, or even seem to know about, our four three-month seasons.) We are also observing Vassa here at Sitagu, and at almost all Theravada monasteries, which means the Rains Retreat. But the fact is, it really does not generally rain very much in Sagaing, and this year has been very dry so far. In Yangon, on the other hand, I hear they been having huge storms. The last couple of weeks it has rained here most days, but not hard or long. I’ve noticed that it seems to make a big difference in the temperature. It’s gotten quite a lot cooler.

    Mosquitoes have grown in population, however. And the insect world in general seems to be thriving. I have to be careful or I get zillions of ants in my apartment. I often fortify myself with lemonade in the afternoon; my kappiyas (lay sponsors), U Htay Mint and Ma Doo Doo, bring me lemons or limes every Uposatha  Day, once a week, and keep me supplied with sugar. (Fruit juice is allowed for monks even after noon, according to the Vinaya. Actually, it is supposed to be filtered fruit juice and to be offered by a lay person on each occasion, but people don’t generally seem to know it, and I’m not the monk to teach it to them.) If I don’t clean up right away ants show up in droves.

    They have very impressive ants in Myanmar. They show up out of nowhere in masses as soon as an opportunity arises, often completely covering a large surface, then disappear very quickly when the opportunity has been consumed. They seem to have a sixth sense (hmm, I wonder if ants have all the other five senses) about where the eating is good. I observed a long line of ants at Pa Auk Tawya one day marching single file but densely packed. I followed the trail backwards, toward where they were coming from and lost them after a few yards in the underbrush, then followed the trail the other way and discovered that the whole column was simply led by one very confident and determined ant, with the second ant in his immediate rear. There were no scouts or any hint of how the leader knew where he was going. I’ve had gained a new respect for ants since seeing the latest Indiana Jones movie when I was still in the States. The ants here are small, but very aggressive. I’ve been bitten numerous times.

    There are some huge butterflies here, like with 8 inch wingspans, and very beautiful. Interestingly there are very few bees or wasps, or anything I’ve seen that looks particularly dangerous. A large wasp happened to fly in the doorway a few minutes ago while I was writing about ants, which is what made me think of how few there are here. Not like Texas. I’ve never seen anything like a scorpion or the famed deadly centipedes. There are six-inch millipedes all over the place, but they don’t seem too threatening.

    Flowers seem to be in constant bloom, though I haven’t experienced the Cold Season yet. Cold in Myanmar, by the way, is not very cold. I understand that it is the most comfortable season. Winds bring cold air down from Tibet, on Burma’s northern border.

    I’ve been teaching English quite a bit. I have a group that meets in my apartment  to study vocabulary at 1:00 Monday through Friday, generally about five monks and two young women who take classes at Sitagu. (Classes may be attended by lay people, but I think all the lay students live outside of the Sitagu monastery wall.  Some of the monks that attend classes also live in neighboring monasteries.)

    On Saturday and Sunday I teach four classes on English pronunciation. I was trying to resurrect the rather modern language lab that was built here some years ago, and actually used it a few times. It is quite substantial, with fifty student stations, each with a computer screen, headphones and a button to call the instructor for personal assistance, and a consol that allows the teacher to listen in an each student separately (for instance, when repeating phrases together) and that allows the piping recorded audio to the students and the use of a computer to display to student screens and the ability to talk to students individually, which comes through the student’s earphones like God. Unfortunately, a lot of it does not work very well. At most half of the student computer screens have power and that number fluctuates as fuses blow out and take days to replace, and a lot of the buttons for one-on-one communication stick in place. Other screens have power but cannot get a video signal, and of course the power for all of Sagaing simply fails at least a couple of times a day, sometimes for hours. People here are in awe of the West, largely because they hear that things actually work the way they are supposed to. I’ve abandoned using the language lab in favor of a regular classroom. An unusual feature of all the classrooms here is a PA system for the teacher. I find this useful,  it enables the students to hear my pronunciation almost as clearly as in the language lab.

    As I’ve reported before, I am generally the lone Westerner here at the Sitagu Academy, or anywhere in Sagaing as far as I know.  However, we have had three visits from Westerners since I returned here from Pa Auk Tawya.

    First, Dr. Patrick Franke, from USA, a professor of Religious Studies who specializes in Burmese Buddhist texts. He has been associated with Sitagu Sayadaw for about twenty years and speaks fluent Burmese. He stayed a couple of days and gave a talk in English, which relatively few students here were able to actually follow.

    Second, about two weeks ago a German woman, Petra, arrived, probably for about a month. She has lived in Burma for twelve years. She came here to study Buddhism and fell in love with Burma. Of course she also speaks fluent Burmese. She seems to have had various occupations. She lived at the Academy for some time, and was ordained as a nun for a couple of years. She taught English here during that time (of course like that of all educated Germans her English is excellent). She was a travel agent for a couple of years. She now works in the relief effort in the Delta and lives in Yangon, but had a chance to come up here to get out of the rain. She likes the peacefulness of Sagaing.

    Third, an English-born Swiss nun in a Korean Zen tradition passed through here for a couple of days. Her name is Venerable Mujin and she is involves somehow with Sitagu Sayadaw in the Delta relief effort. I find I easily miss the company of Westerners; it is always a delight to have one visit.

    My studies are going quite well. Sitagu Sayadaw has been teaching a class in English on the Great Foundations of Mindfulness Sutta, for foreign students, all four of us. Unfortunately he is away most of time. For instance, he was in the USA for four weeks in July. He returned but then made a trip to Thailand. On Wednesday he is going to the Delta region to dedicate a new school his organization has built there. He is often invited to give Dhamma talks various place, and various countries. And so on. But when he is in town to teach it his class is quite a treat. He is very inspiring, is a very skilled speaker, and provides a good model for me of the Burmese style of understanding and study.  

    The standard way to study Buddhism in Burma begins with memorization of original texts, usually suttas, in the Pali language. At the same time, this is how one learns Pali. It is not important to know what the text means in order to memorize it. One then reads the Commentaries, texts that have near canonical status in Theravada, but were generally composed, or compiled also in Pali about 900 years after the Buddha, generally in Sri Lanka. Buddhaghosa is the best known author of commentaries, and Path of Purification is the best known of his many cross-indexed works. These generally attribute a lot of supplementary content to the original text.

    I don’t have as much faith in the value of memorization as the Burmese have; it seems to have been largely discredited in the West. Also, I don’t expect to develop the skill of memorization that most Burmese monks have been generally cultivating since they were very young novices; these monks are amazing. However, what seems to be working for me is to take any original Pali text, look up and learn the most important words and then go back to the text and read it aloud repeatedly. This reinforces the Pali vocabulary I am slowly developing and gives me examples of Pali grammar, and of course gives me the Buddha’s teachings in very slow motion. I then read modern commentary on the side. I am also identifying certain Pali texts for memorization, because they are often chanted. I am working on the Metta Sutta, for instance. The Suttas are actually a lot of fun to recite or chant, first, because Pali is a beautiful chanting language, and second, the Suttas are so repetitive, which lends a fluidity to the enterprise.

    Burmese do not so much chant as recite individually. When they recite as a group they make little attempt to stay together, some reciting faster than others, but then at the end of a stanza pausing so that everyone can catch up. It is difficult to learn Pali texts through group recitation when people are  not on the same syllable at the same time. However, you often hear monks reciting by themselves, which often has a beautiful pattern of intonation (aka singing). Sitagu Sayadaw has a very good voice for this and like most monks simply recites long suttas from memory. Dhamma talks seem always to stick to a Pali texts, which the speaker intones in sections, discussing in Burmese the meaning of each section.

    I have a computer! At least I get to use it in my room for the duration of the stay. Aside from preparing for classes this will allow me to write to my blog more conveniently and therefore more frequently.

     

  • Mahayana/Theravada IV: The Cultural Dimension.

    Mahayana/Theravada  IV: The Cultural Dimension.

     

    Many good Theravada Buddhists in Myanmar seem to feel that there is something mistaken in Mahayana Buddhism. There are differences, as I’ve described, including doctrinal differences that can be traced to ancient India and differences in style and garb. I would like to suggest that these differences are not so much divergence of doctrine and discipline as they are the awkward re-encounter of diverse cultures: Indian and Chinese. This is particularly important to consider now that we have thrown a third culture into the mix, the Western culture.

     

    Look at a map of Asia and consider: first, in which countries is Theravada Buddhism practiced; second, in which countries is Mahayana Buddhism practiced; third, in which countries have people traditionally (before European colonial influence) eaten with the hands; and, fourth, in which countries have people traditionally eaten with chopsticks. Hopefully you will notice this correlation: Theravada Buddhism dominates in countries which have traditionally been part of the vast Indian sphere of influence, and Mahayana Buddhism dominates in countries that have traditionally been part of the vast Chinese sphere of influence. Tibet and Mongolia, I think, are exceptions, forming an additional cultural area as well as what many consider an additional school of Buddhsim, Vajrayana.

     

    I speculate that two things are going on here: First, the local culture has selected the form of early Buddhism that has most appeal to that culture. Second, the local culture has exerted influence on the Buddhism that it has adopted.

     

    For instance, it has been suggested that Mahayana Buddhism had great appeal in the Chinese because it was so colorful, and had a rich mythology, in contrast to the indigenous Taoism and Confucianism, as well as to the more austere Theravada school of Buddhism. The conditions to which Buddhism then had to adapt were different from its indigenous India: The weather was colder, the emperors were divine beings, there was no tradition of wandering mendicants, family relations were all-important, Pali or Sanskrit was hard to get the tongue around.

     

    The more conservative Theravada Buddhism had a natural base of appeal in the Indian cultural area, but presumably so did early Mahayana. After all, both grew up there. However, cultural conditions would not have been more of a constant, requiring relatively little adaptation over time. Even if Mahayana had come to dominate, which in fact it did in much of the current Theravada area for a long time, it would have been, one would expect, a much more conservative Mahayana than found in the Chinese cultural area. I suggest that the great divergence in Buddhism began when Buddhism reached China. And something similar is now in the process of happening in the West.

     

    How did Buddhism change in China? This is a mix of my understanding and speculation:

     

    First there was the weather: Monks and nuns needed to wear more layers of clothing and daily alms rounds were more difficult.

     

    Then there was the royal family: The emperor was a god. Monks bow down to gods; gods do not bow down to monks. For instance, kings in India were willing to comply with the Buddha’s requirements in the Vinaya that prohibited monks from bowing to anyone but more senior monks. Also, some of the colors that Indian monks used to dye their robes were reserved for royal use.

     

    Then, there was Confucianism: The Confucian code of ethics was almost universally observed, I understand, whether or not one was a Buddhist. This provided a framework that to some degree made Buddhist ethics redundant, and to some degree contradicted Buddhist ethics. For example, the family had a dominant place in Confucian culture, while leaving home to become a monk or nun was valued in India. Buddhism adapted by making the family a model of the Buddhist sangha, in which lineage was highlighted. Begging for food was denigrated in China, so the monastic sangha turned to other livelihoods, such as farming and land ownership.

     

    Then there was the government: organizations were distrusted and regulated. More hierarchy was imposed on the monastic sangha, and the simplicity of consensus democracy was diminished or lost.

     

    Then there was Taoism: this provided a new language for Buddhism, well known in Zen, and probably a doctrinal bias toward nondualism and mistrust of conceptual thinking, though this was certainly not entirely new to Mahayana thought in India. More generally the Chinese favored a more synthetic and less analytical approach to doctrine.

     

    Buddhism adapted in China, and in the greater Chinese cultural area, including Japan, Korea and Vietnam, but was not defeated there. It thrived there and in its adaptations discovered new forms of teaching and practice. It is significant that much of what for a long time was considered part of the corpus of Indian Mahayana sutras was in fact composed in China or adjoining areas. The great Zen tradition began in China, in spite of the attribution of a mind-to-mind transmission through Kassapa and Bodhidharma in India. Whereas the bhikkhuni tradition (full ordination for nuns) died out centuries ago in all Theravada countries, it has flourished continuously in Mahayana lands since Sri Lankan nuns brought it to China, around 350 AD.

     

    What are the lessons here for those who traditionally eat with forks? The first is that Buddhism will make many many adaptations to Western culture, making it unlike what we understand now as Theravada or as Mahayana. The culture of  West is distinct from both that of India and that of China, though perhaps sharing elements of each. The second is that Buddhism does not thereby have to lose its integrity if we do not lose sight of what Buddhism is all about and if we do not let our very persuasive consumer culture overwhelm Buddhism.

     

    In America, Western Buddhism first sprouted from the Mahayana tradition. A danger in importing Chinese Buddhim is that we thereby accrete adaptations. For instance, Chinese Buddhism has adapted family lineage into Buddhism, but the recitation of the Zen lineage in Western temples I think fails to instill the intended faith in a land where family is probably of less importance that in India or China. I think it is important as Buddhism comes to the West to take stock and understand the history of the tradition. It is particularly important at this juncture to understand as best we can the roots of Buddhism, the teachings of the Buddha as intended for the cultural context in which he lived. But we should not stop there. The Mahayana innovations are partly a result of creative and productive practice, partly a result of cultural necessity, and we should try to understand which is which.

     

    Ultimately the differences between the Theravada and the Mahayana may not really matter so much in the land of the fork, any more that the differences between eating with one’s hands and eating with chopsticks. We will develop a Buddhism that is appropriate to our culture, distinct from Indian and Chinese cultural influences, but hopefully retaining what is valuable in both of these ancient traditions.