Category: Dharma

  • Metta Day

    Uposatha Full Moon, September 1, 2012

    Today marks the end of the first month of the Rains Retreat (Vassa). This particular full moon day is in the Burmese tradition Metta Day, and traditionally the Karaniya-Metta Sutta is recited on this day, as we will do this evening. I’ve included an English translation of the Metta Sutta below.

    “Metta” is generally translated as “loving-kindness,” or “kindness” or “friendliness.” It is a quality that the Buddha repeatedly encouraged us to develop, even offering meditation practices for this purpose. The following “Song of Metta” was a run-away hit when I was in Burma. It is based not on the Metta Sutta, but on instructions for metta meditation and has much of the flavor of the Metta Sutta. (The singer/composer is Imee Ooi, from Malaysia.)

    http://www.buddhanet.net/filelib/mp3/metta.mp3

    Metta is the first of the four Divine Abodes (Brahmaviharas). We all like warm and fuzzy things like love, kindness and friendship, and we almost all fancy that we have such qualities in abundance, except when we mess up or someone really does not deserve to be the recipient of such things. Several years ago my Zen teacher, Seirin Barbara Kohn, was invited to join other clergy to dedicate the new City Hall in Austin. Each clergyperson was to bring an inspirational reading and she decided to recite the Metta Sutta; everyone regardless of faith tradition loves these famous words of the Buddha. However, before Barbara’s turn came around someone else recited the Metta Sutta, and it was a Protestant minister!

    Buddhism tends to set the bar very high, and this is the case with metta. True metta is a very rare quality whose realizations generally requires on the part of the serious Buddhist practitioner years of careful cultivation. Metta goes far far beyond common love, friendliness or even kindness, which still generally carry the taint of the self. Metta is like the sun, it shines on everyone and every living thing equally without discrimination. The rays of metta fall easily on cat, kids and granny, but how about on roaches and rattlers, tyrants and terrorists, ruffians and rude waiters? Metta when we realize it fully, when we do not bend it in some subtle way to be about “me,” extends to “all beings.” This requires breaking down the way we break up the world into spheres of good and evil, it requires seeing through any notion of blame to discern directly cause and effect. It requires that nothing is unforgivable, it requires the realization that everyone, from scorpions to scoundrels, are doing the best they can. Only then does metta extend to “all beings.”

    Karaniya-Metta Sutta

    This is what should be done
    By one who is skilled in goodness,
    And who knows the path of peace:
    Let them be able and upright,
    Straightforward and gentle in speech.
    Humble and not conceited,
    Contented and easily satisfied.
    Unburdened with duties and frugal in their ways.
    Peaceful and calm, and wise and skillful,
    Not proud and demanding in nature.
    Let them not do the slightest thing
    That the wise would later reprove.
    Wishing: In gladness and in saftey,
    May all beings be at ease.
    Whatever living beings there may be;
    Whether they are weak or strong, omitting none,
    The great or the mighty, medium, short or small,
    The seen and the unseen,
    Those living near and far away,
    Those born and to-be-born,
    May all beings be at ease!
    Let none deceive another,
    Or despise any being in any state.
    Let none through anger or ill-will
    Wish harm upon another.
    Even as a mother protects with her life
    Her child, her only child,
    So with a boundless heart
    Should one cherish all living beings:
    Radiating kindness over the entire world
    Spreading upwards to the skies,
    And downwards to the depths;
    Outwards and unbounded,
    Freed from hatred and ill-will.
    Whether standing or walking, seated or lying down
    Free from drowsiness,
    One should sustain this recollection.
    This is said to be the sublime abiding.
    By not holding to fixed views,
    The pure-hearted one, having clarity of vision,
    Being freed from all sense desires,
    Is not born again into this world.

  • Awe and Faith

    Uposatha Day, First Quarter Moon, August 25, 2012

    This week I have been rewriting a thematic thread that runs through my life story. I thought I would represent three excerpts here. The first concerns my childhood, the second my graduate studies in linguistics and the third my early Zen career.

    Childhood

    A bloke enters unexplored bush, bold and resolute, not knowing to what dangers to expect, but nevertheless resolved not to high-tail it home the first time he sees a crocodile. A bespectacled wissenschaftler meets each distractable moment of the day deep in thought, walking looking at his feet or drafting and reckoning with his pencil, wrestling with some obscure enigma sometimes late into the night, determined to get this small part of the world to submit to reason. A young bohemian, Henri, paints little cards postales to sell to tourists, earning just enough to purchase paint and canvas which he carries to his garret to produce real ouvres d’art, ones that will as likely as not never see the light of day.  Alyosha becomes a novice at the Orthodox monastery moved by immense conviction in a loving God and a personal love for mankind and capacity to do good.

    These are four people of awe, the most fortunate of people. A bit less than rational, they delight in new possibilities, exhibit a degree of carefree foolhardiness as they plunge with full faith into the unknown, enjoy mystery and wonder, and experience a heartfelt  devotion to something disconnected from the concerns of personal advantage, something bigger and easily tainted by such concerns. Awe underlies the best part of religion. It also underlies academic or artistic pursuits such as science or history, sculpture or music composition; it even underlies hobbies such as birdwatching or model railroading. It sculpts the lives of those who possess it. People of wonder are easily recognized by their irrationally selfless passion and by their foolishness in the eyes of almost everyone else. They are a bit crazy.

    I feel I’ve been fortunate throughout my life to have always been almost continuously in awe of something to which I’ve been willing to give myself over with delight and devotion. This has been an intrinsic part of my glob of karmic heritage.

    Science was my first love, and very early on it directed my gaze skyward. My first experience in scientific research followed upon a chance observation. Already for some time I had been finger-painting the sky as a blue line across the top of my sheet of newsprint art paper, leaving what was directly below that, but above the roof tops and trees, as an enigmatic blank space that began to puzzle me. What I observed, unprecedented for all I knew in the annals of science, was that the sky is not just up there, it is also over there. In fact it seemed to come all the way down to the ground, and indeed somewhere behind Nasan Avenue Hill (El Cerrito)! Not only did this discovery improve my artistic composition, but I became curious to see exactly where the blue sky came down, to touch it and knock on it to see what it was like. I set off on foot to find the intersection of earth and sky, only to return home discouraged, exhausted and thirsty half an hour later. Science is a lot of work. Sometimes the ocean fog would roll in and darken the sky. At this age whenever grownups talked about the fog I thought they were saying “frog,” and pictured a giant frog hopping over our house, and when I looked up I thought indeed I could see its gray belly. But its legs seemed to come down too far away for me to see them, probably they were near where the sky touches the ground.

    My father occasionally took us kids outside where he would set up his surveyor’s telescope on the sidewalk and point it skyward, usually toward the moon, where we could see craters and mountains. Our babysitter, Pam, would take us out to lay on the front lawn where on our backs we would gaze skyward. She once remarked how the starry sky was like a blanket enveloping us all. Indeed the stars also seemed to come down behind Nasan Hill. In 1957 my father took us outside one evening to see something special: The Soviets had just launched an artificial satellite into outer space and it was in “orbit” around the earth! This was a mind-dazzling concept and the whole country was buzzing with bewilderment. “What keeps it up?” “Why would they want to do such a thing?” “Why didn’t we think of that first?” “Where were our scientists when this was happening?” “Spies! They want to spy on us, mark my words!” My dad had read in the newspaper that if you look skyward in a particular direction at a particular time, you could see Sputnik! So at that time and in that direction four little faces gazed upward, and we did see it! It was like a faint little star, but moving slowly and steadily across the sky. We watched it for a long time then all at once … it disappeared! vanished completely! We speculated that it had blown up, or that the U.S. Army had shot it down, but I later learned it had gone into the Earth’s shadow.

    This was the beginning of the Space Race, history’s most spectacular sports event, between the World’s two great superpowers and ideological adversaries, in one corner the Union of Soviet Socialist Republics and in the other the United States of America. This game never ended officially, but practically it ended eleven years later. The first few years were catchup for the good guys: We would put up a satellite, the Ruskies would put a dog into space. We would put a monkey into space, the Reds would put up a cosmonaut. We would put up an astronaut, the Commies would put up a cosmonaut and keep him up there for days on end.

    The American space launches were always publicly scheduled, for like four in the morning PST at Cape Canaveral in Florida, and covered on all three networks, and I was always up at that crisp hour to watch, while the rest of the family and the rest of Larkspur slept, alternately switching between ABC, NBC and CBS, to see on each occasion a capsule-tipped rocket produce the thrust necessary to escape worldly existence. One day President Kennedy gave a quite dramatic speech in which he declared that America would “Put a Man on the Moon by the End of the Decade” (the 1960’s). The Russians were actually clocking far more time in space, and probably doing a lot more science there, but the USA was going right for the big prize. This culminated in an flustered Niel Armstrong mis-uttering his historic line from the surface of the moon about the Big Step that would puzzle posterity forevermore.

    This was a matter of American pride. After Sputnik funding for education increased throughout the United States, new curricula were developed such as “New Math” for high schools. The nation was determined to have the world’s best science, mathematics and engineering, and America had the material means and the German scientists to make it happen. My dad, always wanting to instill an interest in science and engineering in his children, to which my older brother Arthur and I responded most favorably, would occasionally take the family, kids filling the back of his pickup, up Mt. Hamilton near San Jose to Lick Observatory, at that time home of the second biggest telescope in the world.

    I had by that time become quite a book worm buying many books from the Tides Bookstore in Sausalito. I read not only science, but literature and philosophy as well. The world was so rich with knowledge! I read things like Darwin’s Origin of Species and Goethe’s Faust.  We were largely a family of readers, especially Arthur, who could not put a book down until he finished it, often at three in the morning … on a school night. But pacing myself, I was the systematic student. For instance, I got interested in “Existentialism” and so read a good selection of what people seemed to consider representative of that way of thinking: Kierkegaard, Nietzsche’s Thus Spake Zarathustra, Camus, Sartre’s Age of Reason, and so on. I got interested in playing Chess and read many books on the subject, tracing through Bobby Fischer’s or Alexander Alekhine’s games. I also considered it my duty to learn Esperanto, since it was to be the international language that would make world peace possible, and for a time I belonged to an International Esperanto Postal Chess Club.

    Having read Dostoyevsky’s Brothers Karamazov I turned my copy over to James, who curiously remarked that the brother Alyosha Karamazov was just like me. At the beginning of the book Alyosha is a novice at the Orthodox monastery. He is described as having immense faith in a loving God, love for mankind and a capacity to do good. I don’t know which part of that James thought applied to me, but I suppose it is a complement especially coming from a little brother, who would normally have expected to be an object of abuse in the hands of a big brother (I left that up to Arthur).

    I got interested in electronics, and built a radio from parts and modified a war surplus WWII Command Receiver from an airplane to run on 120 VAC, and accidentally gave myself a 400 V. zap from the transformer I had put into it, when I forgot to unplug it in the middle of testing. In these days most radios ran on vacuum tubes. My brother Arthur became infected with my interest in electronics and would make that his life’s work. More than anything I read many books on Astronomy and Physics, and had quite a personal library on these topics. I was in awe.

    Awe turns to accomplishment and accomplishment turns sadly to pride. I began to pride myself on my knowledge of Astronomy in particular and used these visits to Lick Observatory to show off my knowledge during the public tours and nightly viewing opportunities. Once a large group of us was taking turns looking at the moon through one of the old but respectable refractor telescopes, and someone asked the guide, certainly a graduate student,

    “How far away is the Moon?”

    The guide answered, “About a quarter of a million miles away!”

    As various people gasped, I chimed in, “239,000 miles, to be exact.”

    The current term for annoying people like me at that time was “smart alec,” now it would be “nerd” or “dweeb.”

    On one trip my father was explaining to another guide that I wanted to be an astronomer when I grew up, and the guide turned to me and said, emphatically articulating each word, “Then You’ve Got to Study Math.” I would remember that in high school, taking math every semester and making sure to get an “A” every time, preparing myself to enter UC Berkeley, where my father had studied. I also studied German for two years in high school, because I thought German was the language of science. My boldness got me in over my head and I earned a D- the first term, but then my resolve set in and I earned a B+ the second and A’s after that.

    I had from the earliest age the selfless awe of a good monk, even if differently manifested. At some point it even occurred to me that academics are the modern monastic order, that they live with a certain distance from worldly life, with a pure and detached mind, capable of reflection from outside the box, and observant of a precise code of ethics. That appealed to me and attracted me to  a prospective academic career. I would one day discover that the ideal was far from the true when I would get to know enough real academics, but the monk does share with the scientist or academic a wonder for something of value that transcends the concerns of a petty self. A reserve of such self-disinterested energy, such awe, would be a near-constant throughout my life, often directing itself in unexpected channels, but consistently sustaining an explorer’s mind, bold and resolute. I’ve always been glad of that. Decades in the future it would even provide the energy behind my rediscovery and embrace of Buddhism.

    Graduate Student Days

    During this period I participated in two casual conversations concerning my chosen field of study but which also anticipated what I would years later recognize was the nature of my Buddhist faith. The first conversation was with someone I just happened to meet in a non-academic setting. It went something like this;

    “So, what do you do?”

    “I am a linguistics graduate student.”

    “Oh? What is linguistics?”

    “Well, …,” I very briefly explained what linguistics was and how  it fascinated me.

    “Is it, um, something you can make a lot of money doing?” he asked.

    “Hmmm, I’ve never thought about it. I suppose not.”

    “Why would you do something that takes so much work if you can’t make a lot of money? And why would you not think about it?”

    Why indeed? Nothing I said from that point on made the least sense to him. What he said made sense to me, but had a twisted logic to it, and the conversation quickly devolved into mutual bewilderment.

    How could he go through life without awe, without finding meaning and wonder in something just because it’s there? This was Language we were talking about here: the very center of human culture, the primary locus of ethnic and national identity, the chief channel for insight into the human mind and for its outward expression, the medium that Shakespeare and Goethe brought to mastery, living history in which almost every word or turn of phrase is the product an elaborate and ancient tale that began long before the pyramids were built, a system of mapping between sounds and meanings in such an intricately refined and contextually sophisticated way that humans were now just barely beginning to comprehend this product of their own minds. What do I and my petty personal interests have to do with it? Looking back I see that my astonishment spoke of the degree of my linguistic awe and devotion.

    The second conversation was with one of my classmates right after we had taken our oral examinations. Upon completing two years of graduate studies a student had to demonstrate his or her proficiency and general knowledge orally before two panels of about four professors each. One quizzed the student on syntax and the other on phonology. They could ask anything, and generally probed deeply. Their aim was to determine if the student had the wherewithal to complete the doctoral program and become an independent researcher, or if he or she should instead be granted a conciliatory MA degree and dismissed from the program.

    Every one of these professors was razor sharp and wanted not only to know if the student was thoroughly familiar with the research literature, but also if they could examine it critically and be able to defend a particular theoretical position, against which the professors would often play devil’s advocate to the surprise and dismay of the student.  I went in to the orals feeling confident and prepared and was more or less satisfied with the results.
    Naturally the students in my class compared their experiences of the orals after they were all completed. A number of students felt dejected and soon were no longer with us in the program. Phil, a personal friend of mine, apparently barely squeaked through, but would nonetheless go on to have a very successful career in linguistics. At this point, however, when I asked him how his orals had gone, he replied:

    “Well, I don’t know. The syntax one was really hard. They asked me something that didn’t seem fair. They asked me to argue for or against the validity of transformational grammar! What was I supposed to say? We have to assume Chomsky and the other people know what they are talking about!”

    Do we indeed? This made less sense to me than the other guy. This was carrying faith too far, to passively give allegiance to the prevailing paradigm and its originators. I had thought that as future independent researchers questioning the paradigm was the main thing we should be doing above all else, the one thing that we should bear constantly in mind. Not to reject it out of hand, but to check out how it was working for us. My own inclination by this time would have been to poke a few holes the paradigm where I was beginning to detect problems, even though that would have elicited a hornets’ nest of detailed counterarguments, rather than a mere swarm of follow-up questions, as four of the most brilliant syntacticians in the world would have taken me to task point by point. But they would have, I presume, respected my willingness and ability to take a stand on this issue. I doubt that unquestioned faith in the teachings was not what they were looking for.

    Again, I was astonished. Looking back I see that my astonishment speaks of the discernment that accompanied my awe for linguistic science. It was the explorer’s awe and had nothing to do with blind faith. Blind faith is in fact very common in science, but reverence, devotion and faith do not require checking one’s wisdom or discernment in at the door.

    Faith often gets a bad rap, but it is actually an unavoidable part of human cognition: It is how we humans deal with the fundamental uncertainty of our existence. Faith fills the gap between what we know — which is really very little, like a narrow strip of beach —, and what we need to know — which is really a  lot, like a vast jungle. Lest we are stranded in a narrow and timid strip of certainty we need faith, in fact bold and resolute faith, the willingness to give ourselves trustingly over to something that we do not fully understand and that therefore is not fully within the scope of our rational certainty, and that we will not understand until we’ve explored it. Awe inevitably sets one up for bold faith. Faith sometimes gets a bad rap because it has become publicly identified with a particular and extremely limiting strategy for facing the unknown. This is the faith of the timid, it is blind faith and fundamentalism. It is the insistence on an impossible certainty, it is recourse to a false sense of knowing. It is faith without admission that we don’t know what we are doing, without the mystery and wonder and delight in possibilities that otherwise drive us to explore the unknown boldly and resolutely. Bold faith opens up rather than closes possibilities. I would one day discover in Buddhism that same bold faith.

    Upon Returning Home from a Zen Retreat in Culture Shock

    In contemplating the challenge to my cultural sensibilities and natural inclination toward the casual, during the subsequent weeks I came up not so much with a resolution as with a way of arriving at one. The easiest response to my discomfort would have been,

    Balderdash! Ritual forms are nonsense, they are a perversion of real Buddhism, of real Zen, or … or else a cultural artifact of the East Asian cultures in which these ritual forms arose that are of little relevance in the critical-thinking West. Ha!

    With this response in hand I would have been free to seek out retreat centers that loosened up on this nonsense. I did not know at the time of the ubiquitousness of such Buddhist meditation centers, largely to satisfy the demands of the thriving “balderdash” community. But the “balderdash” response was not good enough: How would I know that the response is correct?

    In what for me was an almost unprecedented display of good judgment, of smarts and wisdom, I chose the opposite response: I accepted as a working assumption that there is a purpose for all of these ritual forms and related nonsense that I simply had yet to fathom. How could something persist generation after generation with no purpose? For this reason I make the decision to begin sitting every week with … Flint Spark’s group at the Clear Spring Zendo, the group infamous for its bows and ritual forms that until then had inhibited my participation.

    I did not yet know it, but this is the moment when I fully aligned myself with Buddhism, the moment when I acquired Buddhist “faith” and in return relinquished the arrogant assumption that I already knew what I was doing. I had already learned in my career as a scientist that there was little danger in such a leap of faith as long as one did not thereby relinquish wisdom and discernment as well. I had given myself over to Generative Grammar on a similar basis as a linguistics student, and in fact came eventually around to rejecting it rather soundly, yet in the meantime developed quickly into a scholar. If the ritual and bowing thing did not work out, I would simply give it up and be all the wiser for it. What I did now was to establish a general policy to accept with a degree of wholeheartedness whatever I was taught by respected Buddhist teachers or texts, at least until I got to the bottom of it in my own experience. This policy would serve me well in the years to come and sustain an explorer’s sense of curiosity throughout my career of training.

    In Buddhism we talk about the Three Refuges, which are the Buddha, the Dharma and the Saṅgha, as the beginnings of Buddhist faith. We are like the explorer, entrusting ourselves to the unknown terrain of the mind, but we have the advantage of a map to get us started, even if it is smudged and sometimes difficult to interpret: It is the teachings, a deep trust in the originator of those teachings and the advice of living interpreters and more seasoned explorers. We have hopes of liberation from worldly woe, but mixed in are less rational aspects that fuel the boldness and resolve Buddhist practice demands, including delight in new possibilities, a capacity for awe, deep reverence, and a bit of foolhardiness. Buddhist practice is not for the timid.

    Faith is an often misunderstood thing. You might, as I did, think of yourself as a person of reason as opposed to a person of faith, but faith is not like that. We are all persons of faith all the time, not just in matters religious but in everything, in our consumer habits, in our relationships, in our hobbies. Whether we are rational or not we have no choice! The reason is that we live in an inherently and exceedingly uncertain world and yet need to make decisions in that world. The persistent gap between what we know and what we need to know is huge; faith in all its guises is that which leaps over that gap. But although we have no choice about whether or not to have faith, we do have a choice about how deliberate and discerning we are in our faith, or what or whom we allow to inform out faith.

    For instance, in the choice I made to embrace ritual and bowing I did not become more a person of faith, I only traded one faith for another in choosing to let experienced Buddhist practitioners rather than uninformed prejudice inform my faith. The balderdash alternative would have rested on faith as well, which would have been the set of tacit unexamined assumptions that had inclined me so readily toward the “balderdash” response in the first place. What were those assumptions? Where did they come from? What is it that would have informed my faith in that case and why would that have been better than where I now decided to place my faith? Let’s look at that a moment. …

  • Robe Offering

    Uposatha Day, New Moon, August 17, 2012

    It’s been a busy week in Texas. Two weeks ago, after the full moon, we began our Rains Retreat. I have set a daily schedule that looks something like this:

    4:30 – Arise, coffee up and memorize Pali words

    5:30 – Meditation

    6:30 – Breakfast

    7:00 – Break, study Pali or whatever seems pressing

    8:00 – Sweep, clean the bath house

    9:00 – Pali, other chores

    10:30 – Meditation

    11:30 – Lunch

    12:00 – Break, Study, Write, chores (sometimes nap)

    2:00 – Meditation

    3:00 – Break, Study, Write, correspond (by this time its generally too hot for chores)

    7:00 – Meditation

    8:00 – Group Chanting

    9:00 – Catch up on news, write this blog, read, etc.

    If something else comes up I simply drop part of the schedule to attend to that. As many know we are involved in a massive construction project at the monastery. I often get called in to perform different tasks. A couple of days it was negotiating with Time/Warner to get our internet access moved to a different building. Today I spent the morning with 9 volunteers moving all of our books into our new library building. Sometimes I have visitors.

    Last weekend and this coming weekend the abbot and I travel to far flung regions of Texas in order to be offered robes. In the Burmese tradition lay people come to the monastery at the beginning of Rains to offer robes. About 100 people came to Sitagu Buddha Vihara to offer robes to two monks (I actually kept one because my old robes are getting pretty worn). However much of our greater  community seems to have been flung a bit too far in the big state of Texas, so we are traveling to them so that they have the opportunity to offer robes as well. Last weekend we traveled two days to Wichita Falls and back, staying at a Vietnamese monastery near Dallas that we know well. Next weekend we will travel 300 miles each way to some destination in East Texas. Receiving requires great effort!

     

     

  • Dogen’s Turtle

    Uposatha Day,Last Quarter Moon, August 10, 2012

    Recall that my Uposatha Day posts are going to assume a more spontanious form during the next three months of Rains Retreat.

    In my correspondence with students I found one simple quote from Dogen to be applicable twice in one week (this is a paraphrase):

    “If you come across a turtle stuck on its back, turn it over!”

    In our actions in the world it is very important to balance compassion with the virtues equanimity and wisdom. The problem is that our compassionate action gets mixed in with a lot of other motivations and habits. In short we find one way or another to make it about “me”. We are the one that has to solve this problem, we are the one who fails or succeeds, other people are obstacles to what we are trying to do, you are the one who does not receive enough support or acknowledgement. I think the way we think about compassion in the West is part of the problem, as something necessarily mixed in with anger and a degree of despair. Notice that the word even includes “passion.” In Buddhism compassion is stripped down to simply responding to the suffering of others appropriately. Your emotions just get in the way: They make it difficult to assess things objectively, they drain your energy and ultimately they undermine you very capacity for compassion. Compassion is simple: As Dogen wrote, “If you come across a turtle stuck on its back, turn it over!” It is that simple. Compassion does not have to arise from personal suffering-along.

    We all deal with issues as they come up as part of living in the world, but there are two ways in which we deal with issues: at a functional level and at a personal level. The personal level is extra, it comes from thinking we have a personal stake in circumstances or in the outcomes of dealing with the world. Thinking this way is being enchanted or clinging, and it is the source of suffering. At a higher level it is the source of entanglement in samsara as one thing leads to another (we are enchanted by our new cell phone so we hate the person who just sat on it … or who has one just like it). When we realize how painful our clinging is, how it leads to problems for us, then we become disenchanted. The Pali word is nibbida, which is sometimes translated as revulsion, but disenchantment or disillusionment is probably better. It is as if everything we had been touching were red hot but while we had known something was wrong we could not see the source of the pain. (See the “Fire Sutta”.) It is not just that everything is red hot, but we have been wrapping ourselves up in it. When we see clearly what is going on we stop doing it. An example is breaking through denial to clearly see one’s addiction to alcohol and the consequences it has had for one’s life … then giving it up.

    Now, a functional level approach to dealing with issues is like this: “If you come across a turtle stuck on its back, turn it over!” This requires no thought, no particular emotion; it is simply the right thing to do. The ideal would be to deal with all issues with perfect equanimity; as something comes up just do what needs to be done with no stress or anxiety. Now this ideal is almost impossible to attain, but luckily we can move toward it by degrees. I think the ideal itself is what is meant by the end of kamma, it is the way the arahant deals with issues. For the rest of us there is always a bit of personal involvement in outcomes, even if our motives are purely compassionate (bright kamma). When our motives are greedy or hateful we are very far from this ideal indeed (dark kamma).

    Disenchantment leads to renunciation (nekkhamma), that is, letting go of what we cling to. This can progress by steps, but the general trajectory is toward simplification. Renunciation generally involves an outward as well as an inward component. The outward is important because it is easier, and it provides a check on falling back into old mental (inward) patterns. For instance, say you have a fancy new car and you constantly fret about getting a dent or a scratch. Inward renunciation would be to let go of the fretting; outward would be to sell the car and get a junker (or alternatively to take hammer in hand and turn your fancy car into a junker!). Outward renunciation for the alcoholic is to give up drinking. Outward renunciation is immediate. Inward renunciation will follow very very slowly in this particular case.

  • American Folk Buddhism (17)

    First Quarter Moon, Uposatha, July 26, 2012            Series Index

    Conclusion to Series

    This will be the last and concluding episode in this, uh, longish series on American Folk Buddhism.

    In summary, I made a distinction between two kinds, or actually polarities, of Buddhism: Essential Buddhism and Folk Buddhism. The Refuges assure the authority of the former.

    Essential Buddhism is what is understood and sustained by Buddhist adepts who are thoroughly engaged in the study and practice Buddhism to the extent of significant attainment. It is generally beyond the grasp of most Buddhists who are simply more casual in their engagement or busy doing other things. Essential Buddhism is also functionally equivalent to what the Buddha taught but manifests in various forms, often culturally determined; for instance in East Asia it picked up many highly ritualized practices as effective instruments of mindfulness. In a sense there are multiple Essential Buddhisms, but in another sense there are very nearly simply different manifestations of a single functionally integrated system.

    Folk Buddhism is the popular understanding of Buddhism in a particular folk culture for which it provides accessibility to a much broader community, albeit with occasional loss of accuracy or sophistication. Folk Buddhisms are highly culturally determined and one Folk Buddhism is likely to appear incomprehensive to the adherents of another Folk Buddhism just as one culture will tend appear mysterious to the members of another. In the course of this series I have considered the Western cultural, and therefore non-Buddhist, sources of many prominent features of the emerging Western Folk Buddhism.

    The Refuges, or Triple Gem, establish the authority of Essential Buddhism over Folk Buddhism as it expresses trust in the originator, the teachings and the living adepts of Essential Buddhism. The Triple Gem gives Buddhism as understood and practiced in the entire community the comet-like shape in which the tail of Folk Buddhism is oriented toward the head of Essential Buddhism, without which Folk Buddhism would eventually float off into space as an amorphous cultic cloud, Buddhist only in name.

    Distinguishing between Essential and Folk Buddhism provides a framework for understanding and monitoring the process by which Buddhism is being assimilated into the Western cultural context. Ideally this process will:

    (1)   maintain the functional integrity of Essential Buddhism at all costs,

    (2)   establish the authority of Essential Buddhism over Folk Buddhism and

    (3)    result in a wholesome Western Folk Buddhism.

    The integrity of Essential Buddhism is threatened by the assumption common in Western circles that adapting Buddhism to the West is a matter of stripping Buddhism willy-nilly   of Asian cultural accretions in order to make it look more Western. This aesthetic would include, for instance, getting rid of rituals, robes, bowing, chanting (at least in foreign tongues), non-productive lifestyles and so on, not to mention renunciation. However, distinguishing between Essential and Folk Buddhisms highlights the danger of throwing out the baby with the bathwater, of hacking away at the corn when trying to remove the underbrush. Essential Buddhism is the baby, Folk Buddhism the bathwater. The functional role of any culturally arisen features of a transmitted Essential Buddhism is preserved only by leaving it intact or replaced by Western-looking counterparts. History seems to favor leaving such things intact, tending to lend Essential Buddhism an archaic flavor, for instance as retained in gestures of respect and in monastic garb.

    Establishing the authority of the Triple Gem ensures that any particular person immersed in Folk Buddhism knows where to look to deepen his practice and understanding of Buddhism, and that that Folk Buddhism remains recognizably Buddhist. That Folk Buddhisms vary so widely should not be a source of alarm as long as each Folk Buddhism is so anchored in the authority of Essential Buddhism. Without that alarm each Folk Buddhism can be appreciated and respected in its own right as an effective intermediary between a relatively uniform Essential Buddhism and the respective cultural context.

    A Western Folk Buddhism is wholesome or beneficial to the extent that it is friendly and not inimical toward Essential Buddhism. It is not necessary or desirable to preserve any particular Asian Folk Buddhism, which would be largely incomprehensible in a Western context in any case. It should be recognized that a pure Essential Buddhism goes “against the stream” in any cultural context and that the function of a Folk Buddhism is to carry the challenge of Buddhism into its cultural context, that is that it should make a real difference is people’s lives and attitudes in spite of the cultural context.

    In the course of this series I have examined some prominent features of the emerging Western Folk Buddhism in terms of their consistency with Essential Buddhism. These features are resistance to authority, particular forms of understanding and revering the Triple Gem, individualism, gender equality, consumerism, social engagement and the intermediating influence of psychoanalysis on the Western understanding Buddhism. The picture that emerges ranges between total accord and significant discord. Western Folk Buddhism is still quite raw but the master chef of Essential Buddhism should cook it up nicely with time.

     I have tacitly assumed throughout this series that the integrity of Essential Buddhism itself has been successfully preserved through history and transmitted to us in the West. I would like to conclude by considering the role of Western Buddhism in making this assumption even more true than it actually is. Essential Buddhism is probably not currently preserved anywhere in its pristine purity. Tradition has a way of tugging out its own roots: understandings become calcified, shortcuts establish themselves, assumptions are not often enough revisited and questioned, the history of each tradition has often been rewritten. For instance I feel that the Theravada would do well to look more critically at the way eating meat and gender roles are understood even among most of the adepts. In the West Buddhism in all of its aspects will be seen with fresh eyes. Scholars are challenging the accounts traditions generally have of their own histories, practitioners question the why’s and wherefore’s of everything and are open to debating these things. Eventually I predict a renewed and stronger purer Essential Buddhism will emerge in the West, one that will go on to reinvigorate all of Buddhism East

     

  • American Folk Buddhism (16)

    New Moon, Uposatha, July 18, 2012            Series Index

    Psychoanalysis and American Folk Buddhism

    The Four Noble Truths are often described in medical terms, in brief: Suffering is the symptom and the Noble Eightfold Path is the cure. Furthermore the causes of suffering that must be addressed are factors of mind. This suggests immediate parallels with Western psychoanalysis and these parallels also inform the popular understanding of Buddhism in the West. It even leads to the popular viewpoint that Buddhism is a kind of psychotherapy.

    It should be noted that whereas the European Enlightenment, Protestant Christianity and Romanticism were influences already present in Western culture before there was much awareness of Buddhism, psychoanalysis is hardly a century old and there has been a dialog between it and Buddhism along with other Eastern traditions almost from the start. To a large degree Buddhism has had the opportunity to shape psychoanalysis and that influence has picked up speed with time. William James apparently predicted around the turn of the Twentieth Century that in twenty-five years psychologists would all be studying Buddhism. However in twenty-five years they were all studying Freud, who considered Buddhism, along with all mystical or contemplative religion, a humbug, narcissistic and infantile and beneath the scientific approach he advocated for understanding the human mind. Some of his disciples even considered meditative states a kind of catatonia or dementia. Nonetheless Jung and many of Freud’s other students took an early interest in religious experience and in Buddhism in particular, perhaps initially on the sly, so that the influence of Buddhism seems never really to have gone away. Jung, Fromm and others, most of whom seem to have been conferring with D.T. Suzuki, certainly did much to influence a popular understanding that brought Buddhism and psychoanalysis into close alignment.

    I am far from knowledgeable in psychoanalysis nor in its relationship of Buddhism. Just as there are Buddhist adepts whose understanding is generally much more refined than that of Folk Buddhists, there are certainly adepts in psychology whose understanding is much more refined than that of Folk Psychologists and there are also people who are both Buddhist adepts and adepts in psychology who are daily developing a more detailed, and presumably valuable, understanding of the relationship of Buddhism and psychoanalysis than the typical Folk Buddhist or I would be aware of. Of course there is now a extensive literature on this topic. I will confine discussion to those elements of Western psychology that seem to impinge directly on Western Folk Buddhism and whether these are inimical or friendly toward Essential Buddhism.

    Emphasis on the Mind. A Buddhism colored by Western psychoanalysis is a Buddhism turned inward, concerned with the mind. This probably differentiates Western Folk Buddhism from most Asian Folk Buddhisms, which tend to be more outwardly directed, toward ritual and community observances, toward lore and toward ethics. This also goes far in according with Essential Buddhism, which is very psychological, very concerned with working with and training the mind even at very subtle levels. I would guess that the inward orientation of psychoanalysis also contributes to the huge interest in meditation in Western Folk Buddhism, in contrast to most of Asian Folk Buddhism. And in fact mindfulness practices in particular seem to have in turn insinuated themselves into modern psychoanalysis shorn of their Buddhist container.

    Functions. Traditionally psychoanalysis is about addressing pathologies, and Buddhism in contrast about addressing the things that ail people almost universally. Freud even described the former’s task as removing neurotic misery in order to return people to the common unhappiness that befalls normal people. Buddhism’s primary task in contrast is to produce saints, or at least people with exceptional qualities, qualities of equanimity, kindness, compassion, virtue, penetrating wisdom and absolute humility. Now the function of psychoanalysis has undoubtedly broadened over time, as psychoanalysis has become more broadly dispensed and perhaps as it has come more under the influence of Buddhism, broadened in some instances to what has been described as a science of happiness. However the popular view of psychoanalysis is still oriented around pathology. And the function of Buddhism, especially when regarded as a form of psychoanalysis, has probably narrowed in the popular view accordingly to become something like a cure for unhappiness.

    In practical terms people in the West generally come to Buddhism because life has been difficult. When Buddhism is popularly thought of in terms of psychotherapy this makes Buddhism that much more attractive. However then people relate to Buddhism as patients and Buddhist centers become something like hospitals, or at least outpatient clinics. One of the teachers at a meditation center where I once lived once remarked he thought of that center as a hospital; people were there as patients, and impatient for cure. This contrasts markedly with Asian Buddhism communities which are characterized more by a sense of common values, values exhibited by saints, qualities of equanimity, kindness, compassion, virtue, penetrating wisdom and absolute humility. People are not commonly patients in such communities but expect to find role models, kalyanamitta, remarkable people who inspire them to develop such qualities in themselves, perhaps only gradually but occasionally by fully entering a path of intensive practice.

    In short, Western Buddhist communities are generally places of cure, Asian are places of refuge. To a great extent this difference is attributable to the way its members enter the respective community, on the one hand because they find life so difficult outside, on the other because they are already born inside. Accordingly Western communities tend to focus on intense practice, while Asian on inspiration and wholesome intercourse with like-minded people. Viewing Buddhism as psychotherapy helps shape the Westerner’s popular relationship to Buddhism and the Buddhist community. Each of these kinds of communities has advantages and disadvantages. Western communities tend to be oriented toward serious practice, but can also be places of frustration and burnout. Asian communities tend to be happy harmonious inspiring supportive family-friendly environments in which more people think about stepping onto the Noble Eightfold Path than actually undertake it.

    Contents. Psychoanalysis and Buddhism are both concerned with the development of mind, but psychoanalysis has traditionally had a distinct idea of what that entails. In Freud’s approach this typically involves discovering the roots of psychosis in early childhood trauma or in complex configurations of factors buried in the past. I think this is still part of the popular understanding of psychoanalysis. Buddhism on the other hand is much less concerned with diachronic origins of problematic factors as with simply letting go of defilements as they arise in the present. The Buddhist project is briefly to purify the mind of factors rooted in greed, hatred and delusion, and particularly in an inappropriate sense of self, and to encourage their opposites, generosity and renunciation, kindness and compassion, and wisdom and humility, much like a gardener pulls out weeds and waters beneficial crops without worrying too much exactly where the weeds came from or how their seeds were transported there. In fact from the Essential Buddhist perspective too much attention to past root causes results in an distracted proliferation of self-directed thinking.

    Also common in early psychoanalysis and in its modern understanding is the consistent implication of social and cultural norms and constraints in the development of psychosis, as if without these one’s true self would emerge healthy and unfettered. It is easy to recognize the origins of this particular understanding in European Romanticism. There is no counterpart to this role for cultural and social pressures in Essential Buddhism other than to encourage some social norms as healthy and discourage others as unhealthy as determinants along with other innate and acquire tendencies of individuals’ karmic actions.

    Secularization. Finally, psychoanalysis and other forms of psychotherapy are often considered the secular counterparts of religion, insofar as they are concerned with psychological and spiritual well-being, yet generally lack the “religiosity,” with its aspects of the sacred, of ritual, of community functions and hierarchy and of ethics and of transcendent aspirations. Essential Buddhism has such religious functions, even if many are less prominent there before they are further enhanced and embellished in much of Asian Folk Buddhism. Therefore regarding Buddhism as a form of psychotherapy reduces the scope of Buddhism’s functions to produce a kind of secularized Buddhism. Certainly psychoanalysis has had an influence in the open advocacy within Folk Buddhism of a “Secular Buddhism” and even in the claim that that is what the Buddha expounded. I doubt that the Buddha gave much thought to he secular-sacred divide that obsesses monderists let alone attention to staying on one side of it.

    I’ve written elsewhere on the issue of secularity and religiosity in Buddhism and have had occasion to touch on many aspects of this here. Suffice it to say that psychotherapy generally has no Triple Gem, nor is the capacity of faith and reverence for opening up the full power of practice present, nor is much attention given to community, except for maybe encounter group, as something that embodies and imparts values, and also which provides special support for those who want to get real serious about practice. Perhaps most problematic is that the ethical dimension is largely neglected in favor of personal well-being, whereas everything in Essential Buddhism is imbued with ethics and virtue. Psychotherapy also generally does not reach beyond making this one life more comfortable and toward dedicating this one life to a much greater project as Essential Buddhism encourages.

    Conclusion. Almost two millennia ago as Buddhism was beginning to enter China Taoism seems to have provided a conceptual structure and vocabulary that aided in grasping this foreign import. I think however it is an exaggeration to say that that role has fallen to such a great extent to psychoanalysis in the West. Nonetheless psychoanalysis along with the Romanticism that preceded it did, in making the mind important, provide a huge prerequisite for grasping Buddhism’s full foreign import. And yet Essential Buddhism is not psychotherapy, at least in the popular form of the latter, and care should be taken to avoid Folk Buddhist tendency toward conflating the two.

    Next week I would like to end this series on American Folk Buddhism with an overview and general conclusions.

  • American Folk Buddhism (15)

    Last Quarter Moon, Uposatha, July 11, 2012            Series Index

    Social Engagement in American Folk Buddhism.

    In response to the American invasion of Afghanistan the Austin, Texas, chapter of the Buddhist Peace fellowship planned a walking meditation for peace. There was a massive anti-war rally already scheduled at a park in Austin, so we intentionally scheduled our walking meditation to take place about one and a half hours later. One of the other BPFers and I also made arrangements to get on the speaker list at the anti-war rally. The people at the anti-war rally heard the usual line up of angry speakers, who also led in chanting:

    What Do We Want?”

    “No War! “

    When Do We Want It?”

    “Now!”

    When it was our turn, Pamela read a statement that Ven. Thich Nhat Hanh had just made about the war the day before, then I announced our walking meditation for later that afternoon and invited people to participate.

    The procedure for our event was simple: Participants walked mindfully from the Capitol steps southward, about four abreast, past Texas State troopers and wandering tourists, the latter often startled to see these odd silent people looming from behind over their shoulders, slowly reached the South gate of the Capitol grounds on 11th Street, then formed a big J as the vanguard began to turn around, which then became a big U, then a big backward J as the leaders slowly and mindfully arrived back to the South steps, altogether taking about 40 minutes.

    We were astonished what a great mass of people showed up for this event; I had no idea who most of them were, not recognizing many from Austin’s Buddhist circles. After a few congratulatory words and after we started to break up I talked to a number of unfamiliar faces to discover Quakers, Unitarians, Catholics, presumably Secular Humanists, and many people who with no previous knowledge of the event had been passing by and thought it looked like a cool idea. Local TV news showed up as well. We would be pleased that evening that the local TV would run a long, very respectful piece on our walking meditation. The huge anti-war rally on the other hand would get only a brief disapproving mention.

    After the walking meditation an angelic young woman walked up to me and said, “I was at the anti-war rally. Could you Buddhists please come to more demonstrations like that? You are so peaceful. Everyone else is so angry I don’t really like to go to these rallies, but feel I have to.”

    Alongside gender equality, it is often said that social engagement is a peculiar hallmark of Western Buddhism. Nonetheless Engaged Buddhism as it has come to be called has its own peculiarities within the realm of Western social engagement. It is “so peaceful,” and it puts an inordinate emphasis emphasis on “Bearing Witness,” being present with problematic social problems rather than agitation. But as with gender equality American Folk Buddhism does tend to think of social engagement as a Western innovation that contrasts with the inwardly directed and passive track record of Asian Buddhism, which is much more interested in transcending the everyday world than fixing it.

    As with other features of American Folk Buddhism I would like to explore what the influences on social engagement are and how it stacks up against Essential Buddhism, whether it is friendly toward or inimical to Essential Buddhism no matter what its origin.

    Origins of Engaged Buddhism. Ashin Nyanissara, a young forest monk who became very ill and sought treatment at a hospital where he recovered. The hospital was run by Catholic missionaries in now independent Burma and as he had lay in bed he began to consider, “Why is it that in a land of devout Buddhists, people who learn kindness and compassion from infancy, there are no Buddhist hospitals.” He resolved at that point to devote his life as a monk to good works. Over the next decades he would found many hospitals, organize a project to bring clean running water into the Sagaing Hills in Central Burma allowing it to thrive, begin a massive relief project in the Delta Region hit by deadly Cyclone Nargis and promote advanced monastic education. (He also became my preceptor when I ordained in Central Burma.)

    Engaged Buddhism is actually not uniquely Western, at least no longer, but its Asian proponents often acknowledge their indebtedness to the example of Christian missionaries in Asia. Among these is Thich Nhat Hanh, who coined the term Engaged Buddhism, during the days of his early social work in Vietnam. In the Twentieth Century in fact many Buddhists and Buddhist organizations became active in everything from charitable work to political engagement throughout Asia in ways that had long been familiar to Christians in the West. Examples of other extremely prominent engaged Buddhists in Asia are the Dalai Lama of Tibet/India, A.T. Ariyaratne of Sri Lanka, Sulak Sivaraksa of Thailand, Aung San Suu Kyi of Burma, Ven. Ghosananda of Cambodia, Ven. Cheng Yen of Taiwan and Daisaku Ikeda of Japan.

    In the Christian West itself there is a natural assumption that religious organizations of all stripes will take on the work of social engagement in manifest forms from charity to political activism, alongside pastoral care of the congregation. It was natural that social engagement would become a part of the popular understanding of Buddhism in the West even if Buddhism did not come with good Asian exemplars.

    Interestingly, however, by the time Buddhism was establishing itself in Western America, Christian social engagement was already under strong Eastern Influence, for instance, in the activism of Dr. Martin Luther King, a devout follower of the methods of Mahatma Gandhi. Methods of nonviolence and of activism as a kind of personal practice, become the change one seeks, seem also to have been quickly embraced in American Folk Buddhism. Blanche Hartman, former abbess of the San Francisco Zen Center, reports coming to Buddhism in the Sixties because she could not reconcile the pacifism of her opposition to the Vietnam War with the militant attitudes of many anti-war activists. The social activism of American Folk Buddhism was not purely Western in origin.

    Essential Buddhism and Social Action. Nonetheless the impression persists that Buddhism has been traditionally indifferent to social welfare. Walpola Rahula, before he wrote What the Buddha Taught, argued that social activism in Asia was in fact discouraged through contact with the West. In The Heritage of the Bhikkhu makes the point that the impression of social indifference arose in colonial Asia as Western powers disenfranchised the monastic Sangha from its traditional social roles in order to appropriate its power and influence for themselves. He documents the role of monks in pre-colonial Sri Lanka as active engagement in education, in scholarship, in social services, in medicine, in providing political advice to kings and ministers and naturally in teaching the Dharma and in pastoral care. He then describes the way in which the colonial occupation changed both the status and the roles of monks in society, for instance, by mandating that children attend government schools, often staffed by Christian missionaries, rather than monastic schools. The result was to make monks socially irrelevant, a condition from which, after having forgotten their own history over centuries of colonial occupation, they still have not fully recovered in post-colonial Sri Lanka. Hence the reputation of the Buddhist clergy as unconcerned with social conditions.

    Let’s go back to the Buddha to see if we find any conflict between social engagement and Essential Buddhist practice. The Buddha was of course concerned with liberation from Samsara, that is, reaching a point where most of life’s contingencies no longer touch the practitioner personally. However this cannot be achieved without the practice of Virtue (sila) and without the development of qualities of kindness and compassion; these are among the parmitas (Palin: paramis), virtues to be perfected. These in turn involve a harmless and caring attitude for others’ welfare, no only in the sense of others’ liberation but also in others’ comfort in negotiating life’s contingencies prior to liberation.

    The Buddha’s life itself represents many instances of social engagement and compassionate action: personal care for a monk with dysentery, intervention to stop war, pastoral care of all varieties. Many of his teachings were social in nature: on the causes of human conflict and means to maintain harmony, on the relationship of crime to poverty on the social obligations of kings, employers, spouses, students, etc., on the misguidedness of caste distinctions, and as we have seen in the past weeks, of gender in determining one’s true worth. Sulak Sivaraksa and others have suggested that in creating the monastic Sangha the Buddha designed an ideal community, harmonious, cooperative, democratic, with an economy based in generosity not in greed, as an example to be emulated by the larger society. The insistence of the Buddha that monastics go on daily alms round would ensure continual contact of lay communities with this ideal. The monastic Sangha itself has not actually consistently functioned as an ideal community throughout history, always it would seem because lazy monks and nuns sometimes get lax about following the Buddha’s injunctions. However it has sustained itself remarkably well, longer than any other human institution on the planet that I am aware of.

    Nuns and monks, the members of this ideal community, may seem least likely to become socially engaged; they are after all renunciates who forsake worldly existence to devote themselves fully to liberation. The monastic code in fact enforces this. It is telling however that although there is a rule against virtually everything worldly nuns and monks could conceivably do for themselves (acquiring stuff, earning a living, even cooking up a meal … though things like sewing one’s robe and keeping things tidy are OK), what they can do for others is almost limitless: Charitable work, advocacy, education, clearing rubble, rescue work and so on . Of course laity are not subject to such rules in any case.

    In Ashoka (~304-232 BC) we have an example of a very early example of a benevolent Buddhist emperor wielding power according to Dharmic standards. His edicts engraved in still existent stone pillars tell of his good works in founding hospitals (even for animals), of building roads with rest stops, of his mercy in eliminating torture or mutilation of criminals and even the death penalty, his advocacy of non-violence at this (the Mauran) borders, of his promotion of general edication, of his tolerance of all religious faiths, and of his promotion of Buddhism internationally.

    Conclusion. I think it is safe to conclude that Engaged Buddhism is a friend of Essential Buddhism and represents an ancient tradition, even while its modern influences are varied and are substantially both Christian and Gandhian.


  • American Folk Buddhism (14)

    Full Moon, Uposatha, July 3, 2012            Series Index

    Consumerism in American Folk Buddhism.

    If anything characterizes American Folk Culture it is consumerism, the boundless commercial advertising whetting and then drenching our appetites for more and more, the commodification of everything under the sun, the common regard of financial wealth as one’s greatest spiritual aspiration and of poverty as the most abysmal failure, the mall shopping experience as one of our greatest cultural achievements and on-line push-button instant gratification as one of our greatest technological triumphs.

    It is a cinch that consumerism will have colored American Folk Buddhism, the popular understanding of American Buddhists, and will compel me to write about it here.

    If anything characterizes Essential Buddhism, the Buddhism as understood, maintained and transmitted by the adepts, it is the equation of craving with suffering, the imperative to let go of lust and greed, envy and competition, instead to cultivate contentment and to disentangle oneself from the samsaric snarl of impulse, and the embrace of renunciation as a way of life.

    It is a cinch that American Folk Buddhism, nestled as it is between the general American Folk Culture and Essential Buddhism will find itself in a process very much like trying to mix oil and water in a bowl or like trying to eat a snow cone in the shower.

    Let’s look at consumerism in Folk Buddhism today at three levels: first, Buddhism as an object of consumerism, second, consumer behavior as template for structureing Buddhist practice, and third, Folk Buddhism’s confrontation with the unwholesome aspects of consumer behavior.

    Buddhism as an object of consumerism.  Folk Buddhism is often a shopping experience: statues, malas, incense, artwork, cushions, sitting robes, Zen mindfulness bell clocks, books, fountains and chimes, subscriptions to magazines full of ads for more Buddhist paraphernalia, Buddhist mood music, luxury retreat experiences, any product with “Zen” scrawled on it (curiously “Vajrayana” does not seem to work and “Theravada” even less so). Of course people have always spent a lot of money on Buddhism; consider the million dollar pagoda we just build here at our monastery, whose motivation belongs to Burmese Folk Buddhism. Western consumerism involves primarily expenditures for oneself and lacks a community spirit.

    But in either case, consumerism about Buddhist stuff doesn’t worry me so much. First, it probably just offsets some other material distraction like fashions, power tools or hang gliding and therefore brings one no further from actual Buddhist practice, as long as the shopping experience is not misconstrued as real Buddhist practice. Second, some positive influence might actually come out of Dharmic shopping that might bring one closer to Buddhist practice: Once all of these things are purchased there is a bit of an obligation to offer the beautiful jade Buddha a stick of fragrant Japanese incense in the elegant ceramic incense holder or to actually take a book with its glossy cover of the shelf  and read it. True inspiration might with some luck ensue.

    Consumer Behavior as Template for Structuring Buddhist Practice. Consumer behavior seems widely to serve as a model in American Folk Buddhism, for how we to treat practice and for the way we to integrate practice into our lives. It probably also becomes a model for other aspects of our lives as well, such as our personal relationships, but we will focus on the way entering and integrating Buddhist practice parallels our consumer behavior with predictable consequences.

    To begin with, American  offers a veritable marketplace of  teachings, practices and teachers from which American Folk Buddhists are free to select those that appeal most, mixing and matching the various options much as they do with home furnishings or kitchen utensils.  Many teachers and authors correspondingly fall into the role of promoting and selling particular practices and teachings as commodities, often adapting them to increase their market appeal, for instance, favoring reassurance over challenge or ease over effort, and to to take care how they are packaged and presented, for instance, in the form of popular self-help books, lectures, seminars,  CD’s, stage performances, personal hourly consultations.

    These teachings and practices are then integrated into Folk Buddhists’ lives much as products are used to enhance those lives. Rather Buddhism is integrated piecemeal as enhancements into the old pre-Buddhist life, for instance, adding a meditation practice much as one would add a regular gym workout or skydiving lessons without otherwise changing any other parts of one’s life. Just as American homes and lives become cluttered with market products, Folk Buddhist lives become more cluttered with the accumulation of practices and teachings. Progress in Buddhist practice adds but rarely subtracts these. There is, for instance, generally no mention of renunciation as a practice in American Folk Buddhism, and only cursory mention of the practice of virtue or precepts, since these generally involve abstention from certain behaviors. A practice like meditation, on the other hand, fits well with the consumer product model as something we can add, devote time to and later even supplement.

    It seems to me that the consumer model of Buddhist understanding and practice distorts the content of Essential Buddhism in some profound ways. First, mixing and matching of freely selected teachings and practices damages the coherence of Essential Buddhism in which all the parts of the practices are intended to work together as a unified whole. For instance, the Buddha taught that you cannot have Right Samadhi without first establishing the previous seven factors of the Noble Eightfold Path, without, for instance, Right Intention, Right Action and the others. This is almost impossible to achieve by mixing and matching whatever has appeal to the spiritual shopper.

    Second the actual presentation of teachings and practices as saleable products or services with actual market values violates the Buddha’s principle that teachings should be offered freely. For instance, once when a layperson declared he was offering a meal in recompense for the Buddha’s offered teaching, the Buddha refused to teach! Or to eat. Furthermore selling Buddhism in this way tends to  bias what is taught in the direction of saleability and away from actual efficacy. Although I have no doubt that this bias is substantial in American Folk Buddhism, there does seem to be some restraint in this regard as well, presumably under the influence of Essential Buddhism. The crass promotion found in much of American religion through open proselytizing and TV programming is almost entirely absent.

    Third, the piecemeal accumulation of spiritual products largely excludes plunging boldly into a new way of life or taking on a Buddhist way of being in the world as the defining framework in which the details of one’s life are to be integrated. There is accordingly generally little mention in American Folk Buddhism of faith or vow, nor of aspects of Buddhism as a community project, nor a deep understanding of the Triple Gem. There is little opportunity for Buddhism to shake one’s life to the core.

    Fourth, “renunciation” and “restraint,” fundamental to Essential Buddhist practice, are relegated to the fringes of the Folk Buddhist vocabulary. But in fact virtually all of the progress one is likely to make on the Essential Buddhist Path will be directly correlated with what is given up or curtailed: the physical trappings of life, relations and obligation like debt and car ownership, self-view, identity or being somebody, behaviors like partying flirtatiously or channel surfing, and particularly the clinging emotions rooted in greed or anger. Practice in Essential Buddhis is no more and no less than a long process of disentanglement strand by strand from soap-operatic existence, of renunciation. Meditation has an ancillary role in this larger task; it provides a magnifying glass so that we may see and then disentagle the subtlest aspects of the clinging mind.

    Fifth, I fear that a Folk Buddhism built on the consumer model is very commonly a selfish Buddhism, one about self-enhancement, about making oneself special and envying others’ attainments rather than about the total selflessness encouraged in Essential Buddhism.

    Folk Buddhism’s Confrontation with the Unwholesome Aspects of Consumer Behavior. According to Wikipedia, “Consumerism is a social and economic order that encourages the purchase of goods and services in ever-greater amounts.” It is an order that goes beyond satisfying human need to feeding human greed, which Buddhism teaches will never ever be satisfied. Consumerism in some form has probably been a part of almost all folk cultures, but took on a particularly virulent form with the rise of the commercial marketing industry and public relations starting in America in the early Twentieth Century, which beginning with the great pioneer Edward Bernays developed the art of mass manipulation of human drives to specific ends. It was discovered that desire and craving could be stimulated to increase market demand and fear and hatred could be stimulated to promote a war or a political movement. Stimulation largely played upon the irrational, emotional and delusive aspects of human cognition rather than upon clear rational thinking, which was discovered to be not only harder to manipulate but in much shorter supply than anyone had ever imagined.

    Now, from the perspective of Essential Buddhism this is all an abomination. For Buddhism craving with its manifestations in greed, hate and delusion is the root of suffering. Buddhism is fully in accord with satisfying fundamental material needs, but the relentless intentional stimulation of dissatisfaction must for Essential Buddhists lead bottomless human misery. This conclusion is borne out in the modern world, particularly beginning in America as evident in the generally feeling of impoverishment even in the midst of wealth, the enormous degree of drug and alcohol abuse, the rate of suicide, the huge market for antidepressants, the ubiquity of daily fear, the widespread unraveling of social networks, the dissolution of  families and the renewed strength of class and racial oppression. And so much stuff, we are choking on it. Ultimately this order has produced endless war, poverty for much of the world’s population and brought us to the brink of ecological collapse, all driven by greed, hate and delusion.

    David Loy writes that

    “… our present economic system should also be understood as our religion, because it has come to fulfill a religious function for us. The discipline of economics is less a science than the theology of that religion, and its god, the Market, has become a vicious circle of ever-increasing production and consumption by pretending to offer a secular salvation.” — “Religion and the Market”

    Loy suggests that consumerism is displacing all of the world’s other religions in providing the answers to life’s problems. People are almost universally aware that something is dreadfully wrong in the world, but respond in different ways. For many the resolution is more consumption! For others it has been to turn to Buddhism. I think many people in the West are initially drawn to Buddhism because it conveys an image of simplicity, of not seeking happiness in worldly things, of refuge from the rat race of life. The British economist E.L. Shumacher who proposed an alternative “economics as if people mattered”in the 60’s and 70’s, and wrote the book Small is Beautiful, named his system “Buddhist Economics,” and he was not even a Buddhist. I am all for interreligious understanding, but it is clear that the values of the religion of consumerism is in actual fact almost entirely diametrically opposed to the values of Essential Buddhism.

    American Folk Buddhism, nestled as it is between the general American Folk Culture and Essential Buddhism, is right in the thick of this seismic contradiction of values. This is perhaps comparable to the situation within the Catholic Church in Latin America at various times and places faced with choices ranging from cozying up with the landed wealthy class thereby securing its own financial backing and safety, to becoming relentless advocates of the poor and dispossessed in accordance with the model of Jesus. American Folk Buddhists individually are faced with choices ranging from  practicing a stripped-down Buddhism that does not challenge the dominant religion of consumerism, to living according to Buddhist principles and (probably gradually) disentangling themselves from participation in the consumer culture. I think that since Essential Buddhism is so clear on this matter that the latter will be potentially among the greatest contributions of Buddhism to American culture.

  • American Folk Buddhism (13)

    First Quarter Moon, Uposatha, June 19, 2012            Series Index

    Gender Equality in American Folk Buddhism (4)

    Karl Marx famously stated, “I am not a Marxist!” I think this statement was in response to the popular understanding of Marx’s teachings that arose even in his lifetime, a Folk Marxism that no longer accorded to his satisfaction with what Marx was trying to get across. This was inevitable, since most radicals of Marx’s age were simply not as smart as Marx was. And yet Marx as a revolutionary had to come to terms with the Folk Marxists to aid in the birth of new economic order.

    The Buddha did not have in his vocabulary the ist-word needed to state, “I am not a Buddhist!” in his lifetime, but like Marx he had to come to terms with a Folk Buddhism. Who were these Folk Buddhists? They were those who had imperfectly assimilated the Buddha’s message, those who took refuge in the Buddha, the Dharma and the Sangha, yet whose understanding was still very much shaped by the (in this case, patriarchal) popular culture. Why did the Buddha need to come to terms with the Folk Buddhists? They were the bulk of his disciples. Although they might be of limited understanding one day, the next day through his influence their understanding might be greater. Some of them would become the adepts of the future, and the rest could be gently turned in a more positive direction to their great benefit. They were also the ones who provided for the material needs of the Sangha, the donors of food, robes, shelter and medicine that afforded the monastics the generous opportunity of the very pure form of practice he propounded.

    This week I wish to consider how the Buddha, in navigating this interplay between Essential and Folk Buddhisms, may plausibly have spun off an early form of gender inequality as a practical means of establishing a sustainable independent nuns’ order. Although he was apparently wildly successful in realizing the Essential ideal of equal opportunity for nuns in an inhospitable culture (as we saw in the Ashoka’s India last week), he may also have created a precedent in the Vinaya that historically would encourage the opposite result. This account may be as speculative as many others, but see if this does not seem plausible.

    Establishing the Monks’ Order. Before the nuns’ order came the monks’ order. Now aside from being a man of limitless kindness and compassion, the Buddha was a practical man of threefold brilliance. The first aspect of his brilliance was his own awakening, his insight into how things really are and the perfection of the human character. This second aspect of his brilliance was his teachings, his ability not only to express what he had attained but to provide a program of study and practice that others might grow in understanding and go on to replicate that attainment. The third aspect of his brilliance was the design of a community that provided individuals with the optimal conditions for study and practice and that would sustain, propagate and transmit Essential Buddhism for future generations. When we take refuge in the Buddha, the Dharma and the Sangha we are acknowledging this threefold brilliance.

    Now the Buddha’s establishment of a sustainable Bhikkhu Sangha was aided by precedent. Wandering mendicants were very common in India in masculine form, and their aspirations were respected, at least enough for people to offer alms to help sustain them. Nonetheless the Vinaya reveals a pragmatic Buddha that had to be very attentive to the relationship of the bhikkhus to the Folk Culture, in particular that it blend with its values and habits, maintain a respectful reputation and yet follow a strict discipline in accordance with his teachings. He imposed a uniformity of appearance on the monks so that people could recognize them as his disciples and thereby know what to expect and learn how to relate to this particular group. It has been suggested that in developing the governance of the Sangha he wanted to circumvent government (royal) interference by demonstrating its ability to regulate satisfactorily the behavior of its members. His overall achievement in governance is remarkable: that its gentle policies and regulations have survived as governments and empires have risen and fallen and survives today as possibly the oldest continuously functional organization on the planet.

    The give and take between Essential and Folk Buddhism is exemplified in the story of the sneeze that I related a number of weeks ago: The Buddha sneezed. A monk said, “may you live long,” which is like our “Bless you” or the German “Gesundheit.” The Buddha replied, “Do you think by your saying that that I will live longer?” “Well, uh [shuffle shuffle], no.” “Then don’t say it!” And so it was, the monks quit blessing anyone who sneezed. The Buddha here assumed the Essential Buddhist position, that in which monks do not offer blessings or spells in the manner of the Brahmins. However laypeople then began to complain that when they stood in the presence of a perfectly good monk, the monk would not bless them as was the norm in Indian culture. So the pragmatic Buddha rescinded the rule, saying, “Monks, laypeople are superstitious. They need to hear, May you live long.” He here had tactfully given way to Folk Buddhism where harmony was at stake.

    A large portion of the monks’ precepts were in fact either proposed by lay people or enacted in response to criticism from lay people, as long as they did not conflict with important principle of Essential Buddhism. Most of the rules of etiquette in the Patimokkha are like this, according to their origin stories in the Vinaya. So to a great extend the laity had considerable influence over the character of the Sangha according to their own culturally conditioned expectations. “Design-a-Monk®. The institution of the yearly three-month Rains Retreat (vassa) was, as another instance, in response to lay criticism that the Buddha’s disciples were out sloshing about stepping on crawling things during the long rainy season while other ascetics resided in one place for the interim.

    At the same time the Buddha kept the life of the Sangha consistent with Essential Buddhist principles where it mattered. When he saw monks engaged in potentially competitive behaviors, such as endearing themselves to laypeople in order to obtain more or better alms, he prohibited such behaviors. He also eliminated caste distinctions within the Sangha, even while this would almost certainly have displeased many of his supporters. Luckily in this case the presence of multiple castes in the Sangha would have been largely hidden from daily awareness under the uniform attire and bald heads of the monks.

    Establishing the Nuns’ Order. Establishing the nuns’ order required even more tact. There was apparently little in the way of a tradition of women among the ranks of wandering mendicants, except for recently among the Jains. This alone would suggest that much of the public that was already supportive of monks would be less supportive of nuns and would therefore make it more difficult for the nuns to receive adequate alms to support their practice. Unfortunately, unlike caste distinctions the presence of two genders in the Sangha could not be hidden from daily awareness under uniform attire or bald heads. Furthermore women were across the board expected in Indian society to be under the guardianship of men, except for the “loose women.” This circumstance might indeed improve the potential for garnering alms, at least from men, but would hardly be conducive to nun’s practice nor to their safety, nor to the reputation of the Sangha. Furthermore, the nuns would need a lot of coaching; few would have experience in the intense spiritual practice of the mendicant or yogi (although the monks’ order itself was but a few years old, many of its members would have had decades of ascetic practice behind them before joining the order). Also the nuns would be at a disadvantage in general education, education having been largely neglected for women of all social classes. Finally, the Jain experiment with nun ordination seemed not to be working out so well due to a “decay of morals” (as Ven. Prof. Dhammavihari puts it) stemming from mingling monks and nuns to an extent that they were finding each other far more interesting than sitting under a tree following the breath.

    According to what we learned two weeks ago the Buddha clearly wanted to offer women the same opportunities for monastic practice that his monks enjoyed since their potential was no smaller. Nonetheless it is already apparent why the Buddha would have balked when pressured to establish a nuns’ order or why he might have feared the consequences for the longevity of the Sangha: He may not yet have formulated a satisfactory solution for how a nuns’ order was going to survive in this hostile environment.

    Yet the Buddha relented and a hallmark of the Buddha’s solution was to uphold a clear separation between monks and nuns in order to avoid the weaknesses of the Jain monastic order. Nuns should have a quite independent order that would discourage romantic interludes and flirtatious behaviors vis-a-vis the monks, as well as discourage both genders from falling into well-worn domestic roles, which would generally be to the nun’s disadvantage. In order to achieve this the nuns would have considerable independence, be responsible for their own internal affairs and governance, maintaining harmony, etc. Once the nuns order was launched and the first nuns began to attain a level of seniority they would also be able to ordain their own new nuns.

    In spite of the relative separation, the Buddha’s solution also engaged the monks’ order in a supportive role, first to bring the nuns up to speed in terms of doctrine and practice and second to help protect the reputation and welfare of the nuns in this hostile society. This required the engagement of senior monks as teachers to “admonish” the bhikkhunis. Also monks living in the vicinity of monks would provide the nuns with some degree of protection from the dangers of the outside world. (We discussed already two weeks ago the restrictions on monks targeted to protect the nuns from misconduct on the part of some of the monks).

    Although the engagement of the monks’ in this supportive role was to be controlled and limited, the Buddha’s solution involved some PR: maintaining the public appearance of guardianship, of the bhikkhunis living under the wing of the bhikkhu sangha. This would help dispel the notion that these were loose women. I imagine that the public awareness of just how much independence the nuns in fact enjoyed might also even arouse envy of women lay Buddhists who were under the constant thumbs of menfolk more than symbolically.

    If this was, as I speculate, the Buddha’s solution to eking out an independent bhikkhuni sangha in a society hostile to this purpose, the Garudhamma rules would appear as an effective means of implementing this solution, as harsh as they seem at first sight from the perspective of our more gender-neutral culture. Notice that according to these rules the bhikkhus are substantially in a position of responsibility, not advantage, in this arrangement; the most substantial relationship between the two sanghas is the “admonition.” Furthermore the Vinaya takes special care that that relation not become abusive. For instance, an admonishing monk cannot show up among the bhikkhunis in the late hours, and must have certain qualifications, described as follows:

    A monk who is entrusted to preside over their welfare should conform to perfect standards of moral virtue. He should also possess a thorough knowledge of the teaching of the Master and know well the complete code of the Patimokkha covering both the Bhikkhus and the Bhikkhunis. He should be of pleasant disposition, mature in years and acceptable to the Bhikkhunis, and above all, should in no way have been involved in a serious offense with a Bhikkhuni. – Vin.IV.51

    Of course this bimonthly admonition would have most practical value in the early years of the bhikkhuni sangha, after which they would be expected to have acquired a level of competence similar to that of the monks, but no expiration date seems to have been foreseen. Oversight by the bhikkhus over actions of the bhikkhuni sangha such as ordinations (the Garudhhama rules were listed last week) may have had a practical function at first until bhikkhunis were up to speed, but would have quickly assumed a purely symbolic function along with the first Garudhamma requiring a gender-based hierarchy of respect (the prohibition of a nun from abusing or reviling a monk fits in here, though monks were already prohibited from abusing or reviling nuns or anyone else). These would not have seemed like harsh demands in the society in which the Buddha lived, where such hierarchies of respect were common, for instance, between castes, or fashioned within the bhikkhu sangha itself strictly according to ordination date (regardless of maturity or previous ascetic experience). In fact there is relatively little in the way of opportunity for abuse or oppression by the monks, only service.

    We do not know to what extent the Buddha is the author of the Garudhamma. Various inconsistencies call into question the account in which he declared them after Mahapajapati requested ordination. Yet even if much of the Garudhamma was added after the Buddha’s death, for instance, during the First Council, it may well have been with perfectly good intentions, that is, to strengthen not weaken the bhikkhuni sangha. This seems highly plausible to me. As mentioned India seems have been on a trajectory of every increasing patriarchy by the time of the Buddha, with forces increasingly aligned against the Bhikkhuni Sangha. The practice of sati, the self-immolation of widows on their deceased husbands’ funeral pyres, for instance, would not be known in India until several hundred years after the Buddha. This leads one to wonder to what extend trying to uphold the bhikkhuni sangha as the folk society became increasingly patriarchal, might in fact have contributed to the eclipse of Buddhism in India, roughly as the Buddha is alleged to have predicted.

    The ongoing and greatest historical difficulty with the Garudhamma is that they belong to an ancient Indian Folk Buddhism, not to Essential Buddhism, yet have scriptural authority and as such have persisted and been applied in cultures in which they made no sense, most of which were probably not as patriarchal as ancient India. In some societies the Garudhamma have probably had the opposite of their intended effect, the weakening of the nuns’ order by justifying symbolically a level of gender inequality that might not otherwise have occurred to anyone. It is ironic, for instance, that in Burma, which is known for its relative high degree gender equality, described by an anthropologist around 1970 in a book I read recently as having “among the most emancipated women in the world,” that where gender inequality is most evident is within the Buddhist institutions and practices. This does not seem to bother people in Burma much, but consider how this translates into lost opportunities for spiritual practice for a large part of the population over hundreds of years as well as into the loss of many teachers and role models for the rest of the population that a vibrant nuns’ order would have secured.

    Finally Back Home. If the Buddha were alive today, and had awakened in, let’s say, uh, Austin, Texas, founding a monastic sangha of any gender would be difficult. There is no significant precedent, for instance, of monastic support in the folk culture to build on. However certainly there would be no Garudhamma, for rather than protecting the nuns’ sangha a Garudhamma would degrade it. The gender equality called for in Essential Buddhism and in the Buddha’s deepest kind and compassionate resolve is already endorsed by American Folk Buddhism. To the extent that the Sangha observes procedures that have even the appearance of significant gender inequality damages the reputation of the Sangha in this folk culture. Somebody recently turned the Buddha’s alleged prediction cleverly upside down (I’ve lost the reference): If the perception of gender-inequality in the monastic Sangha in the West is not quickly resolved, we can expect that this Sangha will not survive for more than fifty years. Considering the already fragile condition of the Western monastic sangha I find this very plausible.

  • American Folk Buddhism (12)

    New Moon, Uposatha, June 19, 2012            Series Index

    For an updated version of the following post, see my essay What Did the Buddha Think of Women?

    Gender Equality in American Folk Buddhism (3)

    I hope last week I made persuasively the point that,

    Essential Buddhism is concerned with securing for women exactly the same opportunities and respect that men enjoy in spite of prevailing folk attitudes and in spite of inherent gender differences.

    From this we can see that the trend in American Folk Buddhism toward gender equality seems to stand in close accord with Essential Buddhism. Buddhism also stands in support of a broad social movement in Western culture and that movement reciprocally supports a correct understanding of Essential Buddhism. Great!

    However, what I presented as the proper understanding of this issue in Essential Buddhism is not what everyone East and West thinks of as Buddhism. Many observers compare Buddhism critically with the Catholic Church with respect to gender inequality as just another institution in which patriarchy has run amok. Many even accuse the Buddha personally of sexism! This week I want to begin to look at how the record of Buddhism become besmirched in this way, because it has implications for our regard for Essential Buddhism in the West. Also the contrasting situation in much of Asia is very illustrative of the tension that can arise between Essential Buddhism and Folk Buddhism when Essential Buddhism challenges the dominant culture as it often does and as it does in the West with respect to other issues. With respect to gender we see how badly the message of Essential Buddhism has shipwrecked on the rocky shores of Asian Folk Cultures for which Buddhism has otherwise generally been a civilizing force.

    Gender Inequality in Buddhism. The commonly cited and worrying instances of gender inequality in Buddhism include the following.

    1. Isolated statements attributed to the Buddha in the Discourses that seem to disparage women.
    2. The Garudhammas, special rules allegedly imposed by the Buddha on the founding of the Bhikkhuni Sangha that entail an unequal relationship between the two sanghas.
    3. The alleged reluctance of the Buddha to create a Bhikkhuni Sangha and his prediction that the lifespan of the Sasana would thereby be cut in half.
    4. The historical track record of Buddhism, including the many instances in later Buddhist texts that disparage women along with the relative invisibility and neglect of the Bhikkhuni Sangha historically.

    Here is an example of a isolated statement in the early discourses that disparages women:

    Venerable sir, what is the reason that women neither come to the limelight, nor doing an industry see its benefits?”

    Ananda, women are hateful, jealous, miserly and lack wisdom, as a result they neither come to the limelight, nor do an industry and see its benefits.” – AN 4.80

    Whoa! Where did that come from? Does that sound at all like last week’s Buddha?

    In fact this exchange is tacked onto the very end of a sutta which begins with the theme of “non-sensual thoughts, non-hateful thoughts, non-hurting thoughts and right view” and furthermore seems to bear no relationship to anything else in the sutta. Yet there it is, tacked on. The ancient Suttas have a complex history with much editing and insertion often by lesser minds long forgotten. The Suttas must always be read for the system that shines forth, the consistent message. What is remarkable is that wayward passages are not even more common. We have to conclude that such a remark was a later insertion and not the words of the Buddha.

    The Gardudhammas are a set of eight rules allegedly imposed by the Buddha in response to his step-mother Mahapajapati as her lobbying on behalf of the establishment of the Bhikkhuni Sangha finally succeeded. They are recorded in the Vinaya as follows:

    1. A nun who has been ordained even for a hundred years must greet respectfully, rise up from her seat, salute with joined palms, do proper homage to a monk ordained but that day.
    2. A nun must not spend the rains in a residence where there are no monks
    3. Every half month a nun should desire two things from the Order of Monks : the asking as to the date of the uposatha day, and the coming for the exhortation.
    4. After the rains a nun must ‘invite’ before both Orders in respect of three matters, namely what was seen, what was heard, what was suspected.
    5. A nun, offending against an important rule, must undergo manatta discipline for half a month before both Orders.
    6. When, as a probationer, she has trained in the six rules for two years, she should seek higher ordination from both Orders.
    7. A Monk must not be abused or reviled in any way by a nun.
    8. From today , admonition of monks by nuns is forbidden, admonition of nuns by monks is not forbidden. – I.B. Horner, Book of the Discipline, V.354-55

    As in the case of isolated statements, there is evidence that suggests that these rules, or at least some of them, are not authentic. See, for instance, Ajahn Sujato, Bhikkhuni Vinaya Studies, which can be googled on-line and is very thorough. Ven. Sujato makes an intriguing case that the Buddha might have imposed these rules specifically on Mahapajapati to curb her Sakyan pride. Although many inconsistencies have been pointed out with other statements in the Vinaya and with the equivalents or lack of equivalents in the Bhikkhuni Patimokkha, this research is as yet inconclusive and still a topic of much contention. Because the Garudhammas have been taken seriously throughout the history of Buddhism they certainly shaped historical Buddhist attitudes toward women and demand close evaluation.

    The Vinaya also tells us that Buddha at first resisted Mahapajapati’s lobbying effort until Ananda interceded on her behalf and elicited the famous statement from the Buddha reported last week that women’s capabilities for attainment and awakening were equivalent to men’s. It should be noted that the Buddha never refuses to found a Bhikkhuni Sangha, he simply puts Mahapajapati off with the words, “Don’t ask that.” But after he agrees to begin ordaining nuns he expresses some immediate regret concerning his decision.

    If, Ānanda, women had not obtained the going forth from home into homelessness in the Dhamma and discipline proclaimed by the Truth-finder, the Dhamma would have lasted long. The true Dhamma would have endured for a thousand years. But because women have gone forth . . . in the Dhamma and discipline proclaimed by the Truth-finder, now the Dhamma will not last long. The true Dhamma will endure only for five hundred years. Even, Ānanda, as those households which have many women and few men easily fall prey to robbers, to pot-thieves . . . in whatever dhamma and discipline women obtain the going forth . . . that dhamma will not last long. Even as when the disease known as white bones (mildew) attacks a whole field of rice, that field of rice does not last long, even so, in whatever dhamma and discipline women obtain the going forth . . . that dhamma will not last long.

    Even as when the disease known as red rust attacks a whole field of sugar-cane, that field of sugar-cane will not last long, even so, in whatever dhamma and discipline women obtain the going forth . . . that dhamma will not last long. Even as a man, looking forward, may build a dyke to a great reservoir so that the water may not over-flow, even so, were the Eight Garudhammas for the nuns laid down by me, looking forward, not to be transgressed during their lives.”

    Strong words. Again, some scholarship has questioned the authenticity of this statement. For instance, it is unusual for the Buddha to make a prediction about future history, one that also turns out to be way off base. During the First Council, a meeting of monks after the death of the Buddha to go over the teachings, some of the monks are reported to have reprimanded Ananada for his role in lobbying for the establishment of the Bhikkhuni Sangha.

    In any case the early Buddhist Sangha seems to have thrived and by the time of King Ashoka, the 3rd Century BC emperor of much of India and great exponent and supporter of Buddhism, nearly to have achieved gender equality! King Ashoka gives us a unique snapshot of the state of Buddhism in India a couple of centuries after the Buddha through his edicts and stone inscriptions, the earliest written texts related to Buddhism. In these many contemporary monks and nuns are named for their accomplishments as teachers, scholars and good works, including Ashoka’s own daughter, Ven. Sanghamitta, who founded the bhikkhuni sangha in Sri Lanka. What is striking is how prominent the nuns are in these inscriptions, apparently appearing almost as often as monks, evidence at least of King Ashoka’s high regard for the Bhikkhuni Sangha. Yet after King Ashoka there is suddenly hardly a mention of bhikkhunis in the historical literature; their role as teachers, philosophers or sisters of great attainment is hardly known. Moreover the Bhikkhuni Sangha died out in much of Southern Asia and was never established in Tibet.

    Sources of Inequality. So, what happened to the Buddha’s enlightened perspective toward women and nuns that we discussed last week? This includes his high regard for women’s capabilities for spiritual attainment and his thorough efforts at nurturing and protecting the nuns’ sangha that nuns might have exactly the same opportunities for practice as their monastic brothers. Can we reconcile that perspective with the Buddha’s reluctance to establish the Bhikkhuni Sangha, with the unequal garudhamma rules (assuming at least part of the traditional account is authentic), and with the lower status of nuns in much of the traditional and modern Buddhist world?

    It is clear that the source of the apparent contradiction has been one way or another an ongoing tension between the Essential ideal and the Folk Buddhist understanding of the roles and capabilities of women. Folk Buddhism has managed to overrun Essential Buddhism at certain points. I have no doubt that much of this has manifested in creative editing of the ancient texts. However, I would like to consider an alternative perspective to the apparent contradiction that may clear up whatever remains after later editing has been accounted for.

    The monastic Sangha is a complex institution. Although it provides the nun or monk with a valuable opportunity for study, practice and independence from the normal concerns of society so that the monastic soak in the Essential perspective, the Sangha functions within the context of a wider Buddhist community drenched in the Folk perspective. First the monastic Sangha is fragilely dependent on the lay community for all of its material needs. And second, the monastic Sangha traditionally provides the teachers for the lay community. This requires that the Sangha harmonize with the wider community, while called upon to uphold Essential Buddhism also functioning in a Folk Buddhist context.

    The Buddha in establishing the monastic code showed every sensitivity to this dual perspective of the monastic life, holding firm where the integrity of Essential Buddhism was at stake, yet giving way to the expectations of a Folk Buddhist community where harmony and the reputation of the Sangha requires it. At least some of the gender inequality of Buddhism may have arisen in this context. Next week I will provide a speculative but plausible scenario for how this might have played out in the Buddha’s design of the monastic code.