I have just added a new episode, “G.I. Discipline,” to the series which has been following the adventures entailed in Little Johnny’s rebirth, after having been a monk, but not a very good monk, in his previous existence. The series so far can be found:
Please look for a new episodes every two weeks to one month.
New Moon Uposatha, July 15 (Index to Series)
Whether it be a householder or one gone forth, it is the one of right practice that I praise, not the one of wrong practice – SN 45.24
In summary of last week, Buddhism is practiced be different people at many different levels. It is most coherently defined for an endpoint on the scale of practice intensity. That endpoint is represented best by the Buddha. Those who fall short of the Buddha’s practice are not bad Buddhists or lousy practitioners, and should not feel guilty if they have failed to leave their family in order to “go forth” into monastic life, have not given up their livelihood, go to show or even drink a beer.
This is important to understand. In Buddhism our lives should incline toward the endpoint, few will actually get anywhere near the endpoint, at least in this life. This is different from more common religious practice. Islam, for instance, can require good Muslims to bow toward Mecca each day, because although inconvenient virtually everybody can do it and it is wholesome, so it asks people to do more than incline in that direction. Buddhism cannot require that good Buddhists dwell in emptiness for hours every day, because virtually nobody can do it, so it demands of people less than an immediate obligation to do it.
Now there are a variety of Best Buddhist Practices probably all readers have already brought into your lives, such as meditating, chanting, practicing generosity, following precepts, studying and listening to Dharma talks, reading essays like this. However, these compete with everything else in your busy lives that are not inspired by Buddhism, like having fun or working for a living. This raises an important issue in light of the most basic principle of Buddhist practice:
I am the owner of my actions (kamma), heir to my actions, born of my actions, related through my actions, and have my actions as my arbitrator. Whatever I do, for good or for evil, to that will I fall heir… – AN 5.57
This means that your development toward the perfection of character is a product of your actions, all of your actions, of body, speech and mind. Now, practice is actions, including actions of mind during meditation, but everything else you do is also actions and you are heir to that as well. Your path of development does not differentiate one bit what you are doing at work from what we are doing at the local Buddhist center. It is enormously important to be aware of this because our lives easily overwhelm our practice. This can not be overemphasized, so I will belabor this point for the second week in a row with another analogy.
Suppose you are knitting a sweater. You have maybe an hour every evening to work on it, so it takes a number of weeks to complete. You put it aside when you have other things to do and you pick it up again when you return to resume where you left off, and so you make steady progress and never backslide. Practice does not work like this.
Suppose instead that you are knitting a sweater, but you are never allowed to put it aside, you have to wear it, or that part of it that exists, while you are not knitting it. So, if you are washing dishes. making a presentation to the board, changing a flat tire, it is on your body. That is how practice is. This means that practice is easily soiled or unraveled by what you do with the rest of your day.
As Buddhists you can make a very radical choice, and that is to simply empty your lives of everything else in order to devote ourselves purely full-time to Best Buddhist Practices. This is the basis of the monastic life, the renunciate’s life. The reason many make this radical choice is that the Buddhist path is sophisticated, difficult to master, penetrates deeply, really does ask intense and consistent effort, and brings enormous reward. However, this radical choice appeals to relatively few people. Although lay life is a less radical choice it can support a comparably intense and consistent effort, …, if it is implemented properly.
Notice I refer to “monastic life,” rather than “being a nun or monk.” Living a monastic life is different than formal ordination. Formal ordination provides a social context which makes it easy to live a monastic life and plays other critical roles in Buddhism, but life-style is the key consideration in the Art of Lay Life. In fact, there are many formally lay people who live strictly monastic lives and many ordained monastics who manage to avoid a strictly monastic lives, and the fruits of their practice correspond observably to these circumstances. So “monastic life” is relative; some people live more monastically than others; chances are you already live more monastically than your next-door neighbor.
The Art of Lay Life is in essence that of living as monastically as possible with the understanding that your lives will include some elements that are not Best Buddhist Practices. With skill and careful planning the lay life can nonetheless make rapid progress along the Path.
Last week I stated the Art of Juggling. Here is the Art of Lay Life in brief:
The Art of Lay Life.
Select. Choose carefully what elements you want to juggle in your life. Remember that a lay life is a compromise between best Buddhist practices and whatever else you value, feel obligated, or just think of as cool. If you are like most people you already feel your life is too crowded and busy, and now you are trying to find room for Buddhist practice as well. Prune this down and select what is really important.
For instance, “family” is a core value and obligation for perhaps most people. “Success in business,” “personal appearance,” “romance,” “opera,” “football,” might be others. Upholding core values might entail bringing other elements into your life: To support a family you need your job, which maybe happens to be manufacturing landmines for foreign export. When you think about it, you really don’t need to play video games endlessly.
Reject. Now toss everything to the side that you think is important but has no place being juggled in a Buddhist life. Some things do not belong there for ethical reasons; they are significantly harmful. Other things do not belong because they make the mind dangerously vulnerable, either destroying serenity and leading to confusion and ignorance.
For instance, your job manufacturing landmines is clearly Wrong Livelihood, and will weigh on you karmically. Obsessive concern with personal appearance serves an unwholesome sense of self. Start by considering what elements of your life result in violations of precepts, for instance, killing, stealing, lying. Then consider what peace of mind requires. In our modern culture we typically juggle elements that are quite toxic to practice that were totally unknown at the time of the Buddha, such as the unskillful use of electronic media. Some clear choices are critical at this level.
Balance. The remaining elements are reasonably compatible with development along the path if they are skillfully juggled. Now, they can generally actually be shaped into objects of Buddhist practices themselves by tuning your relationship to them.
For instance, we can learn to treat some of the remaining elements in a less self-serving way. Aside from valuing family for its own sake, you may think of family as a means of personal advantage. For instance, having a beautiful wife or husband and children, and a children that has been admitted to Harvard enhances your prestige. A beautiful husband or wife might also improve the level of your sexual pleasure. Often, if your family, especially spouse, fails to meet your needs, divorce ensues. However, you can take all this self-centeredness out of your relation to your family — and similarly out of each of the elements of your life — by developing a sense of complete devotion to your family, which is to treat it as valuable in itself, unquestioned, to rival refuge in the Buddha, the Dhamma and the Sangha. Also you can learn to do daily tasks with mindfulness, as a meditation practices and with full awareness of ethical consequences. In short, the things you have chosen to include in your life for other than practice reasons can be turned into practices.
Simplify. In every other way, live like a monastic. Get rid of the clutter, the chatter, the habits and impulses that you would otherwise be juggling with your toes that don’t directly support what you have, through the above process wise reflection, decided to include in your life.
For instance, try to be more of a recluse and don’t spend so much time gossiping, don’t shop impulsively, reduce your expenses and allocation of time for errands, organize your life with these things in mind. You might want to move to a small house in the city to avoid the commute from the suburbs and the heating/air conditioning costs. Give attention to avoiding everything that has the small of “me” in it. Free up time and money by living on less.
In the next weeks we will look at each of these steps — Select, Reject, Balance and Simplify — in turn and in detail.
The key ingredient of any Buddhist life-style, and to the Art of Lay Life is Renunciation. “Renunciation” is not a popular word in Western Buddhism, and most American Buddhist teachers will avoid it. I believe this is because almost everything else in our culture inclines us the other way, to such a degree that the word suggests something subversive. Everyone knows monastics are renunciates, but lay people?
There are two forms of renunciation, mental and physical. We know about letting go of attachments; that is mental renunciation, which can also be described as releasing any personal stake you have in things. What I have been describing above is physical renunciation, giving up actual things and activities. Physical renunciation is what many find most disagreeable. Some teachers will tell you that you don’t need to worry about physical renunciation, it will follow once you master mental renunciation. This has the order reversed.
First, if you read through the monastic precepts, which define what it is to be a monastic, you will find something interesting: They are only about physical renunciation; there is no precept that is about letting go of some thought. This does not mean that beginning monastics have mastered mental renunciation, only that they better do so, or they will be unhappy in their new life.
Second, renunciation in life-critical non-Buddhist contexts do not postpone physical renunciation. Consider giving up a drinking or a smoking habit. It is hardly possible to begin the long process of recovery without first giving up actual physical drinking or smoking at the outset. You don’t begin by working with the mind to first remove all desire to drink or smoke first, all the while continuing to drink or smoke, then expect drinking or smoking to fall away by itself. I think of Buddhist practice as a kind of recovery from generalized substance abuse, as Samsara Anonymous.
Third, physical renunciation is far easier than mental renunciation, and aids the latter. This is actually why monastics and alcoholics first give things up physically, then focus on getting their minds to follow the body’s example. Mental renunciation can be very very hard, and it requires physical help. The same thing is found in meditation practice, in which we mentally renounce the monkey mind, the endless business of thoughts. Notice that it does not work, at least for beginners, to just stop thinking so much, one begins by stilling the body, by finding a comfortable, stable posture, by sitting, for instance, rather than walking or running around. The mind quickly follows the body’s example.
If this is disconcerting, keep in mind that Buddhist practice is as gentle and forgiving as you want it to be. It is not necessary to master the entire Art of Lay Life all at once. The four steps of the process should be gradually iterated into. At first there may be resistance to renouncing wild parties or the enormous prestige you know you are getting from your BMW, as well as a lack of understanding that you might benefit from renouncing these. Well, then at least give up your job working as a hit-man for the mob and become a cobbler. You will notice your meditation improve with time and a sense of well-being settle in. Later on you can revisit the wild parties and the image-enhancing car with a more stable, clearer, more developed mind. My own experience is roughly that I iterated over many years so much that nothing was left, so I became a monk. You don’t have to go that far, but beware that it could happen.
Download the new chapter, “A Mind Turned Inward” as well as previous episodes HERE.
I have been working on a literary project, a book, tentatively entitled Through the Looking-Glass: How to Become a Buddhist Monk or Nun, which describes autobiographically how and why one would do such an odd thing, in an attempt to inspire others to follow this noble pursuit. I have now begun to serialize it on this site and each new episode can be found:
HERE.
Two short prefaces appeared there yesterday, as downloadable pdf’s. I will post the first chapter in a couple of days, and after that chapters will appear at irregular intervals, probably averaging about two per month. I plan 16 chapters (most of which already exist in a rough form). I’ll post to this blog to announce each new episode. See what they do for you, and let me know.
Uposatta Day, July 8 
(Index to Series)
Energetic and heedful in his tasks,
Wisely administering his wealth,
He lives a balanced life,
Protecting what he has amassed.
Endowed with faith and virtue too,
Generous he is and free from avarice;
He ever works to clear the path
That leads to weal in future life.
Thus to the layman full of faith,
By him, so truly named ‘Enlightened,’
These eight conditions have been told
Which now and after lead to bliss.
AN 8.54
Lay Practice is consistently contrasted with Monastic Practice in the ancient Buddhist texts, throughout Buddhist history, and in all Buddhist countries and almost all traditions in Asia. Segmenting the religious community into a monastic and a lay component is a peculiarity of Buddhism, along with some sects of Hinduism and certain Christian sects. In the West we generally do not appreciate how deeply embedded this is in virtually all Buddhist societies in Asia, though we generally are aware that the Buddha and his closest disciples were monastics and that most of his teachings were given to monastics. Is this bifurcation necessary, or even desirable in the democratic West?
The core of Buddhist practice, what really distinguishes Buddhism from other religious practices, is the Noble Eightfold Path. Notably, the Eightfold Noble Path makes no distinction between Lay and Monastic, each is fully capable of observing all eight noble steps and neither is exempt from following all eight noble steps in the attainment of the highest goal. So, what is it that makes Lay Practice different from Monastic Practice?
Not a cookie-cutter religion. Practice obligations tend to be quite uniform in probably most of the worlds religions. Islam is a primary example because the daily obligations are well defined for all. Quakers are another; their governance is even highly democratic, and includes no clergy. Probably most Protestant sects can be included. I call these “cookie-cutter religions,” because a uniform definition of what is expected of the adherent, that they live according to a certain moral code, that they except a certain creed, that they follow certain daily ritual practices, would be expected to produce similar results. Of course people everywhere inevitably distinguish themselves in terms of level of commitment or laxness, but there is a lot of communal strength and conceptual appeal in the uniformity of the cookie-cutter paradigm.
Buddhism in its pure form could never be a cookie-cutter religion. Buddhism has an unusually sophisticated and deep-reaching system of practice with many interconnected parts, and a very long and rigorous path of practice passing through many different stages of development, generally conceptualized as proceeding through many lifetimes, and culminating in complete awakening. Because of the potential extreme depth of systematic Buddhist practice it is generally defined conceptually in terms of an ideal, in terms of what the most whole-hearted, committed and fortunate will undertake but few even of them will attain, in this lifetime.
Virtually everyone falls short of the Buddhist ideal, and to wildly varying degrees. It is recognized from the get-go that its adherents will differentiate themselves on the basis of faith, commitment, obligations and interests outside of Buddhist practice, preferences as well within Buddhist practice, zeal, opportunities for inspiration and instruction from others, and so on. As a result, some adherents will meditate, but not follow precepts, some will follow precepts and practice generosity, but fail to approach contentment in sensual matters. In short, in Buddhism there is very little uniformity of practice, and correspondingly there is little obligation to maintain some agreed standard of practice. The amount and nature of Buddhist practice are ultimately matters of personal choice and opportunity and correspondingly there is a great tolerance for a variety of personal choices.
Setting out on the Buddhist path is like taking a hike with a large and very mixed group of people of every age, state of health, type of footwear, backpack size, degree of inebriation, and so on. Such a group will spread out along the path, with the strongest, healthiest, be-hiking-booted, light-backpacked, boldest, most persistent and most enterprising leading the way. In the middle there might be a mutually infatuated teenage couple that keeps up in spurts, but keeps getting side-tracked and disappearing from the path for minutes at a time, some chubby middle-aged people who huff and puff, along with some fit but ancient birdwatchers. Falling way back are parents and their little kids who “cannot walk another step,” a couple of people sitting on a rock drinking beer, an elderly gentleman watching fire ants devour his cane that he had to abandon upright after it sank into a soft spot in the ground, and a lady who broke a heal upon encountering the first rock. The Buddhist path is defined with the leaders at the head in mind and the rest of us try our best to keep up but straggling to varying degrees; we do what we can, and often the accomplishments of the leaders, and tales of views from lofty heights inspire us to try a bit harder. The field guides, trail maps and high-tech hiking boots are generally designed with the leaders in mind.
No, the monastics are not necessarily the leaders. However, individually people do make practice commitments at different points in the mix, often very rigorous commitments, and Buddhism does provide standards and communal support at many different levels depending on individual commitment. The Refuges bring with them a certain incentive. There are various sets of Precepts, from five to over three hundred, that one can take for life or on special occasions. There are communal ritual practices, Dharma talks, meditation and other events to encourage structure in one’s practice. Working with a teacher can support a strong personal practice. Monastic practice is a particularly strong standard supported within the Buddhist community. The point is that Buddhism has its cookie cutters but a lot of different cookie cutters, including one that turns out nuns and monks, but also many adherents that aren’t cut to size by any of them.
The jugglers fallacy. A normal worldling life is full of different activities and commitments, obligations and worries. Many things we do are not chosen as a part of our Buddhist practice, or might even go against good practice. For instance, we do one thing because it is a family obligation or because it is our job and the boss says we have to do it. We do another thing because it seems like fun, even though it is not conducive to serenity and is of questionable virtue. We would rather gossip, listen to loud music, watch an adventure show, make love or sleep than meditate. These are all life-style choices. We each value different things and not all of our values come from the Buddha. I am a monk, so it is a good guess that my most of my values are in line with Buddhist teachings. However, I am also the father of grown children, and am fully aware of how meaningful and rewarding parenthood can be. Most people juggle a lot of things along with their Buddhist practice.
This issue of juggling is more thorny than most realize: Suppose we find our lives are divided between our Buddhist practice and other things at at a ratio of maybe 10%, to 90%. So, we calculate: “Hmm, if I practiced 100% I could become enlightened in 1 year. It follows that if I practice the way I am now doing, at 10%, I could become enlightened in 10 years; that seems both reasonable and acceptable.” This same logic is commonly used to compute time until completion for various tasks, for instance, for building a house when only weekends are available for working on it, or for attending night classes toward a college degree. However this logic is a fallacy when applied to Buddhist practice, what I will call the Juggler’s Fallacy. Why the logic of the Juggler’s Fallacy fails is that everything we do is relevant to our practice, potentially setting it forward or backward or into a tailspin. It doesn’t matter if we call it practice or not, nothing is ever excluded from practice, whether it is right practice, wrong practice or something in between.
The reason nothing is excluded from practice is that karma is the stuff of our practice, which is to say, our character and destiny develop according to our intentional actions of body, speech and mind. If this were not the case, practice would be fruitless. However, we are producing karma all the time, not just during the 10% of the time that we are “practicing Buddhism.” In fact, the 90% of the time we are doing something other than “practicing Buddhism” is bound to dominate our progress. This is, for instance, why Right Livelihood is so important; 40 hours working in a slaughter house is a lot of cumulative karma in a week, enough to overwhelm one hour of daily meditation regardless how many years, or in which jhanas, we meditate. We cannot even begin to make a separation between our practice and the rest of our life. Everything we juggle in our lives influences the progress we make along the path.
Monastic life is a life of not juggling. Monastic life is most supportive of Buddhist practice because it has nothing visibly in it, only our own untamed thoughts, that contradicts personal development, and because it has much that supports it. In fact almost every element of the monastic life is there because it is sound Buddhist practice. Even if my meditation is lax and my mindfulness sloppy, as I adhere to the monastic lifestyle, development will at least not regress. I might be like the chubby middle-aged people huffing and puffing, but will make progress. If my practice is ardent, as I adhere to the monastic lifestyle, progress along the Buddhist path will be very rapid indeed, and I could be up front strong and fit, and with high-tech hiking boots. The monastic life was carefully formulated and described in the Vinaya by the Buddha, who used elements of ascetic practices common in Buddha’s India. It is a life of renunciation, but not extreme asceticism. that pares away everything that I would otherwise have to juggle.
The Juggler’s Life. The Lay life is the juggler’s life, and most people will prefer to juggle many things that a monastic would turn away from. To begin with people’s values are informed through many influences, not all of which are Buddhist, and those values may be difficult to give up. Secondly, people vary in faith and may not be convinced about Buddhist values or that the monastic life is as advertised. Third, many people have family obligations, debts, etc. that keep them locked into the juggler;s life. The most notable deal-breaker for most is that monastics are strictly celibate! They also minimize family responsibilities, refrain from accumulating wealth or doing any kind of business or conducting a conventional livelihood. They restrain the senses by not going to shows, listening to music, and so on. Monastic life is simple, and believe-it-or-not quite joyful, but does not enjoy universal appeal.
Lay Practice is the art of juggling. Lay practitioners follow the Noble Eightfold Path just like monastics, but in addition must follow the extremely challenging ninth practice of Right Juggling in order to shape and balance your life in such a way that the less Buddhist aspects of your life are not overwhelming or neutralizing the benefits of Buddhist practice. Lay practice is challenging, but not limited in its potential to achieve the highest attainments of Buddhist practice. What is worrisome about the Western lay life is that so few people realize that there is an art to juggling, that if not mastered can make progress on the path all but impossible. I’ve often seen Buddhist practice accordingly end in frustration. I hope that the series I am herewith beginning will help readers master the Art of Lay Practice.
Let me present the Art in brief, but in metaphorical terms that may be cryptic enough to keep you in suspense until next week, but suggestive enough to inspire you to think about Lay Practice between now and then.
The Art of Juggling.
Select. Choose your balls carefully. Choose a set of balls that feel just right for you, that are the right size, weight and appearance, and that are not too great in number.
Reject. Get rid of balls that are defective or unjuggleable. This is a check on the result of the first step. You may have been captivated by a ball because of its appearance, for instance, but overlooked its drawbacks. Throw it out if it is really too heavy, light, small to be usable.
Balance. Have a wholesome, balanced relationship to your balls. Don’t be captivated by, nor proud of, the new shiny golden ball as it whizzes by. Your task is to juggle it faithfully and skillfully.
Simplify. Don’t juggle things that aren’t balls. That is, while you have, say, six balls in the air, don’t at the same time try to answer your cell phone, smoke, drink coffee or flirt with a member of the audience.
Uposatha Day, New Moon, June 30, 2011
Summary and Conclusion
Modern Buddhist commentators have not settled on an English translation for the Pali word “saddha,” often choosing a word like “confidence” or “conviction” to disassociate Buddhist faith from faith as it is uncomfortably understood in Western religion, and particularly from blind faith. I have chosen to use the word “faith” because I want to underscore that there is a commonality here, and in fact one that underlies virtually all human reasoning, religious or otherwise. Faith is what we need to deal with uncertainty, when we need to know more than we in fact do. Faith is the stuff of assumptions and beliefs, but also of values and aspirations. In an uncertain world, faith is not only a prominent part of human cognition, but an essential part of human cognition, necessary for getting out of bed in the morning, brushing your teeth, selecting a bottle of fine wine, applying for a job, watching a movie or becoming a Buddhist practitioner. There is not much difference in kind, for instance, between religious faith and political opinion, and in fact blind faith is quite alive in current popular political, social and economic thought.
However, Buddhist faith distinguishes itself within the whole realm of religious and non-religious faith. It has some affinity with scientific faith in working in close collaboration with discernment or knowing. As faith it jumps beyond what we know, but hopping rather than leaping is encouraged. Accordingly our faith will be limited as we start Buddhist practice, but it will grow as we begin to verify teachings in out own experience and begin to recognize in the Dhamma a very good track record. We are also encouraged to keep track of what we know as opposed to what we accept on faith, all the while investigating and challenging what we accept on faith to better ground it in knowing. This is why Sariputta could respond as he does in the following:
The Buddha asked Sariputta, “Do you take it on faith that these five strengths — faith, persistence, mindfulness, concentration, and discernment— lead to the deathless?”
Sariputta answered, “No, I don’t take it on faith. I know.”
As our practice reaches higher levels of attainment, and we verify more and more of the Dhamma in our own experience, knowing will replace faith. In contrast to science, however, the primary criterion that we place on faith is not, “Is it true?” but rather, “Is it of benefit.” (History has shown that science might have done well to keep the same question in mind.)
Discernment alone is sterile, has no zeal or values, it belongs to an impoverished world extending no further than our front porch. Faith alone is a bit whimsical, off the wall and often dangerous. Balancing the two entails living and acting resolutely in faith, while actively examining and trying to understand what we have faith in with a discerning mind. Doubt is a disruption of this balance when discernment eats away at resolution without offering anything better to replace our faith with. Buddhist faith is a skillful mental faculty which requires care in cultivation and development as a part of practice. In Buddhism we need to explore deep into our own minds, often into uncharted territory, including dark areas that we may have intentionally ignored. Accordingly, our faith requires an explorer’s boldness and resolution. Vow and devotion are primary manifestations of this that embrace what we choose to regard as valuable and meaningful.
Skillful faith brings with it a delight, a sense of certitude, as the we relax into our informed choices. Our perspective flips as our values and aspirations are no longer pursued for some originating motive, but for themselves. Sir Edmund Hilary when asked why he climbed Mt. Everest could only answer, “Because it’s there!” He might of answered, “So I can get famous,” “So I can write books, give lectures and make a lot of money,” or “So I can get a date,” but he didn’t. Instead he has what it Buddhism is a noble motive, doing something for its own sake with no personal stake in the outcome. Selfless devotion, also common among hobbyists such as birdwatchers and people who make ferris wheels out of toothpicks, faith at its best, creates strong marriages and serene and unwavering Buddhist practitioners.
Fini
This concludes the series on faith. After much response to my request for topics I have chosen to take up “Lay Buddhist Practice” next. I will keep the other suggestions in mind, but this important topic seems to be most stimulating of thoughts right now.
Uposatha Day, Last Quarter Moon, June 24, 2011
Wielding Faith II
Last week we discussed faith as a quality of mind that serves Buddhism well and that it is important to cultivate and develop as a part of Buddhist practice. I described faith as representing the explorer’s mindset in that it is bold, resolute and secure. I would like to discuss in more detail what these three properties entail.
Bold faith. This is the quality illustrated by the village chief plunging into the rising river to lead the villagers to safety. Buddhist practice likewise requires courage, starting out on the path is a bold step, undertaken without really knowing what we are getting ourselves into. And many bold steps stand before us on the way, entrusting ourselves to a teacher, attending our first long meditation retreat, examining qualities of mind and reality that we were comfortably in denial of. Small steps also require a corresponding level of boldness, such as doing your first bows (you will never understand the practice of bowing by examining it from the outside; on the other hand, maybe they are snickering at you in the other room), or trying out, even as a what-if, rebirth as a working assumption and seeing what your practice feels like in that context.
Boldness must be tempered by discernment. The chief must have made the best assessment he could under the circumstances before plunging into the mighty waters. A seeker really should read what Buddhism is about and talk with a few wise teachers before flying to Taiwan to shave her hair off and ordain as a nun. It would be bold to drive your car like James Bond but stupid. Always investigate as much as circumstances allow.
More problematic however is the opposite, seeking such an unachievable level of certitude that we freeze into inaction, thereby destroying a sense of adventure necessary for Buddhist practice and important in almost everything else we do in life. This makes for picky eaters, afraid of food poisoning, or of failure to balance carbs with lipoids. We will never get out of the house if we worry too much about stroke of heat, bite of frost, crash of car, sting of bee or bird dropping from tree. We see this very commonly among Westerners who will not venture beyond a very narrow range of Buddhist practices that are not too weird or unfamiliar and are fully justifiable in terms of their beginner’s notion of Buddhism. Naturally we do experience apprehension before we enter one of these steps due to the uncertainty; we don’t really know what we are getting ourselves into. However, without bold faith we fail to take the recommended step at all and further progress in our practice is closed to us. And they remain beginners. All this is Doubt, an unskillful mental factor, one of the five Hindrances to our practice.
Bold faith is encouraged and developed by having good friends and teachers in the Dhamma, studying their examples and learning of their experience.
As he was seated to one side, Ven. Ananda said to the Blessed One, “This is half of the holy life, lord: admirable friendship, admirable companionship, admirable camaraderie.”
“Don’t say that, Ananda. Don’t say that. Admirable friendship, admirable companionship, admirable camaraderie is actually the whole of the holy life. When a monk has admirable people as friends, companions, & colleagues, he can be expected to develop & pursue the noble eightfold path.” – SN 45.2
In Buddhism as in most religions various devotional and communal practices seem to serve the purpose of inspiring and strengthening faith, for instance contemplating the qualities of the Buddha, the Dharma and the Sangha. Overt expressions of respect likewise support a respectful mindset and encourage placing faith in wise individuals. Expressions of respect, beginning with bringing the palms together in anjali or gassho, is particularly characteristic of Buddhism.
Resolute faith. This is the quality of wholeheartedness and consistency. Faith is a decision we make and it is important we stick with it and run with it if the benefits of our faith are to be realized. Consider the way a lion hunts (you can watch your cat Fluff doing the same, but on a smaller scale). A lion stalks a zebra because the gain is great and it has faith that it might just succeed. Once it has made its decision, it puts its entire concentration and all the strength of its body into the effort, even though most of the time it will fail. A lion hunting a mouse, where the potential gain is small, puts its entire concentration and all the strength of its body into the effort. in exactly the same way. The lion is not half-hearted because there is only a 50% chance of success of only half a meal at stake, nor quarter-hearted because there is a 25% chance or portion. The lion is always whole-hearted. This is resolution. The village chief, even if he thinks it unlikely that he and the villagers will make it alive across the river, must have that same resolution, or else it will be certain that they will not make it. Being pessimistic or disheartened are not options, once we’ve decided doubt has no place. Resolution imitates certainty. At the same time, in the common cases in which our faith is in an outcome, it produces the greatest chances for success.
Without resolution we visit our original decision over and over. Imagine you are at a crossroads, out of water, you need to get to the spring. Which path to take? Once you make choice you should embrace your choice, plunge into it and proceed, exactly as if you really knew what you were doing. The alternative is doubt, apathy and despair that will sap your energy, make you unwilling to struggle through the brambles and overgrowth, climb up hills, ford the streams, retrace if you lose the path and persevere on what may be a long journey. Worse than that, you might decide to turn back to return to the crossroads, no wiser, and much more tired than you were before, about which decision is correct. Again, this is Doubt, the last of the Five Hindrances.
Resolute Faith is encouraged and developed through Vow, or its little sister Devotion (both word are variants of the same root). Precepts are vows to behave ethically. We establish our meditation practice by committing to a schedule of practice and then displaying resolution. Vow is not how we close options, it is how we manifest them at the most fundamental level, it is how we give our lives form, create the world we choose to live in, bring meaning into our lives. Realizing this opened up dimensions in my practice that I did scarcely knew were there, and led eventually to my bold and resolute ordination as a monk.
Secure Faith. The bold step of entering into Buddhist life is traditionally marked by a ceremonial expression of faith call the Triple Treasure, Triple Gem or Three Refuges, by uttering the words,
I take refuge in the Buddha.
I take refuge in the Dharma.
I take refuge in the Sangha.
When we place our faith in this way, we allow our actions, our values, our mindset, to be informed by these three sources of guidance. Hopefully we do that boldly and resolutely. The word “refuge,” however, refers to this third aspect of Buddhist faith, our opportunity to abide in this faith serene, seeing clearly and selfless. Dogen wrote, “Just as a child throws himself into his father’s arms, we should throw ourselves into the Three Treasures.” Just as a child relies on her parents to protect her from an uncertain world she barely comprehends, we can enjoy the same sense of security in our Buddhist faith.
This is not a matter of reassurance, a type of faith used to override discernment when things look bleak. In many religions reassurance takes the form of faith in an external agent or force that is at work with our interests in mind, much like parents in real life. God, Jesus, angles and nature spirits often serve in this role. For the Buddha we are the agents responsible for our own destiny through our practice, and yet in Mahayana Buddhism people often call on Avalokiteshvara (Guan Yin) for protection from dangers, and in Theravada chant special suttas, the Parittas, to offer such protection, much as Catholics use images of saints for different forms of protection. Because of their strong appeal it was inevitable that these would creep into Buddhism. But secure faith, or refuge, is another matter.
Rather secure faith arises when bold faith and resolute faith play right into the hands of Buddhist practice. In Buddhist practice we develop serenity, which lead to equanimity and samadhi, which support clarity of perception and selflessness. Faith not only enables us to enter into Buddhist practice, but also gives us a boost in the direction just described. Under natural circumstances serenity, clarity and selflessness are illusive because we engage the world seeking personal advantage. This keeps the mind in a state of agitation as schemes are laid, options considered, obstacles encountered and dealt with, justifications forged, outcomes fretted over, perspectives shifted in service to selfish motives. Buddhist faith replaces this with a framework that informs behavior based on other principles. Faith determines what is appropriate and resolution holds you to that. The scheming, misleading, fretting, waffling and the rest in the name of personal advantage becomes irrelevant, simply wheel-spinning. We tend to spin our wheels anyway, given the chance, but without the imperative to do so, we have the tools within Buddhist practice to quickly remove this tendency. We can relax into our faith with clarity and selflessness; problems disappear.
Vow is the easiest place to see this principle at work, and they can be wholesome vows of any sort, not necessarily connected with Buddhist practice. For instance, solidly married people, who take their vows seriously, generally find an ease in life much greater than single people on the prowl. They are almost always sexually or romantically attracted to others, but backed by resolution they are out of the habit of doing anything about it. If they succeed reasonably well in letting go of the impulses that might pop them out of their vows, their path becomes clear of underbrush and rubble and they can let go of self-interest. They experience a sense of liberation, not by getting to do what to some degree they might want to, but by not needing to.
Let me give two more examples that underscore the way this works. First, ritual has a natural meditative quality, which probably explains why it is almost universal in religious practice. Ritual prescribes a fixed and formalized set of behaviors in a certain context. No matter what impulses may be running around in our heads, they become irrelevant to the performance of a ritual. This makes ritual an opportunity to let go of these wheel-spinning impulses and settle down into the ritual with mindfulness, selfless, serene, clear and secure. Often, especially at the beginning, self-serving impulses may arise actually in close association with the ritual, for instance concern of mis-performance and making a fool of ourselves in front of an audience or showing off and trying to make a good impression on someone. But ultimately, with routine, about the time the ritual should be getting really boring, the ritual remarkably starts doing itself: The incense offers itself, the bows do themselves, the bells ring themselves. Mindfulness and clarity are the, the mind is silent, and the self simply disappears. This quality of rituals is exploited to good effect in East Asian Buddhism, for instance in Zen. For Dogen even meditation practice is treated as a ritual.
The second example has to do with the process of dying. A common phase in the dying process is denial, sometimes holding onto unreasonable hopes, for instance in a new breakthrough miracle drug that has just been developed. During this difficult phase the mind is agitated, exploring options internally, rebelling against doctors, in the interests of self-preservation. The fortunate enter a new phase when they totally give up any hope and face their impending death head-on. The change in their disposition can be quite remarkable: the troubles lift, they relax, their sense of humor returns and they become quite light-hearted. They have transitioned from uncertainty to certainty. Although the certainty does not bring good news, it does make the agitation, rebelling, hoping for a miracle, superfluous. They have the opportunity at that point to let go of the struggle and ease for a short while into a peaceful, aware unproblematic existence. This is like finding a refuge in faith, except the refuge in this case is in discernment, certainty, knowing. Recall the resolute faith imitates certainty.
Next week I will summarize and conclude this discussion of Faith.
Uposatha Day, Full Moon, June 16, 2011
Wielding Faith I
We live in a world of overwhelming uncertainty, and at the same time we need to live our lives, set goals, act in the world. There are some things we know, or pretty reliably know, from direct experience, but really not very much. The rest of what we have to go on is this guesswork we call faith. This world is pregnant with possibilities, and indeed of two kinds: First there are all the propositions that might turn out to be true or to be false. How do we choose? Second, as active agents we have a degree of creative control over the world, there are things we can will to be true or false. What do we value? As we all know we can make some really dumb choices on both counts. This is why we must learn the skill of faith.
One of the first things we can do is extend the range of the known by relying on others, but that requires putting our faith in someone else. We all do this. Faith in others occurs in all areas of human interest. What news sources do we put your faith in? Which friends are reliable sources of information about movies to watch? In the corner of our world of possibilities we have science, concerned at an expert level with expanding the range of the known. Do we have faith in those guys?
Even upon expanding the range of the known in this way, we do not have enough information to act in the world. What is worth doing? We do have basic instinctual drives, for instance for nourishment, procreation, and so on, that are wired into us. I don’t suspect most animals need to think about what are the worthwhile things to do in the world (“Fish gotta swim and birds gotta fly …”), and many people are the essentially the same (“… and I gotta love one man ’til I diiiiee”). But humans can question these motivations on the one hand, and look for higher or more satisfactory motivations on the other. Buddhism does this all over the place. At this level the realm faith becomes an adventure, inviting exploration, pregnant with possibilities.
So we populate our worlds with values, with what is worthy, or unworthy, of our attention. Scientists value solving mysteries, discovering truth; this is part of their faith and they allow that to inform their life’s activities. Christians value obeying God’s will. Others value sensual pleasures. The U.S. Marine Corps values courage and honor (according to some billboards I’ve seen), whereas the Army seems to value being all that you can be. Many of the Burmese I know who live in America express surprise at American values, “Everyone seems to just care about money.” As we choose values, we are still in the realm of uncertainty but with creative control, however still unable to predict the consequences of acting according to those values, along with the beliefs or working assumptions we’ve acquired. Our values get us into a lot of trouble, and conflict with each other, when we try to manifest them. There is a world of possibilities to explore.
The Buddha took great care to ensure that Buddhist faith is skillful. Faith at the most fundamental level is placed, as we have seen in the Kalama Sutta, in the value welfare and happiness and the avoidance harm and suffering, for all beings. (Buddhism is about virtue to the core.) The rest of faith must support this value. We have seen that this places a strong constraint on faith that protects us from its abuses. It is also important to put our faith in the wise and then have faith in what they seem to know, and he provides criteria for recognizing the wise.
Additionally the Buddha asks us to put as much reason and discernment behind faith as possible, so that faith comes for the most part in little hops rather than in great leaps, to see for yourself, and if your vision is blurry now to keep trying so that you will see in the future. In the Inquirer Sutta (MN 47) he even provides the example of faith in his own enlightenment and walks through what direct evidence the disciple can discern to support this hop of faith. Eventually reason and discernment should replace Buddhist faith entirely as these develop. Although the Buddha accepts that before that point we need to work with working assumptions on faith, he asks us to be clear that we don’t confuse faith with discernment, that we know where we stand. He also accepts that working assumptions have a practical value independent of whether they are actually true or not. In the Incontrovertible Teaching Sutta (MN 60) he explores the value of the working assumption in more detail than we have here.
If you walk around the monastery where I live in Texas you will find various cottages (kutis) for retreatants, each one named after a Buddhist value. There is Metta (kindness), Karuna (compassion, that is where I dwell), Mudita (joy in the good fortune of others), Uppekha (equanimity), Sila (virtue), Pannya (wisdom), Samadhi (concentration), Sacca (truth), Khema (security), Dana (generosity) and Satipatthana (establishment of mindfulness). These are all personal qualities that are encouraged in practice. We will someday have about fifty cottages, but will not run out of Buddhist values and will probably at some point have a cottage named Saddha (faith).
Faith is on many of the Buddhist lists, such as the Five Faculties and the Five Strengths. Faith is also said to become unshakable when one attains stream-entry. Faith is a condition leading through ease, joy, serenity, and concentration. The opposite of faith, doubt (vicikiccha) is likewise on the lists of Five Hindrances and Ten Fetters. However, according to our discussion so far, faith as a value might seem a bit out of place. First, faith as a general component of human reasoning is as likely, maybe more likely, to be unskillful as skillful; it often gets us in a peck of trouble. Second, including it as a value among values would seem redundant, like including “Obey all rules” as a rule among rules. So why do we value faith?
Saddha in Buddhism is generally taken in the sense of skillful faith, specifically the Buddhist take on faith. Moreover faith is a personal quality subject to cultivation and development in itself, one that has an energy, an emotive property of its own. I’ve described faith as opening up a world of possibilities for us to explore.
In brief, faith in Buddhism is the explorer’s mindset, with these properties:
Faith is bold. It carries discernment as far as it can, wide open to the possibilities, then makes its decision and plunges forth.
Faith is resolute. It sticks with its decision as if it were certain, unless it discerns a serious blunder.
Faith is secure. It relaxes into its resolution, does not waffle or argue with itself, it is a refuge.
Doubt, on the other hand, is the home-body’s mindset. It is wimpy, wishy-washy and nervous. It falters in an uncertain world. This is why in Buddhism faith is a virtue and doubt a hidrance. As states of mind faith and doubt are subject to Right Effort, we try to ensure the arising of faith that has not yet arisen and the maintenance of faith that has already arisen. We try to guard against the arising of doubt that has not yet arisen and to remove the doubt that has already arisen. Devotional practices aid us in the effort.
Thanissaro Bhikkhu in his essay “Faith in Awakening” describes what is at stake:
As in science, faith in the Buddha’s Awakening acts like a working hypothesis, but the test of that hypothesis requires an honesty deeper and more radical than anything science requires. You have to commit yourself — every variation of who you feel you are — totally to the test. Only when you take apart all clinging to your inner and outer senses can you prove whether the activity of clinging is what hides the deathless.
The Buddha also spoke (AN 4.34):
Those who have joyous faith in the highest, the highest fruit will be theirs.
In our next and final week I want to take up the psychology of faith in a bit more detail, and in fact to discuss these three properties of being bold, resolute and secure, why these properties are important and how they play out in Buddhist practice.
Dear readers,
During the last year or so I have posted to this blog every Uposatha Day. I’ve run several series of posts on such topics as the Noble Eightfold Path, History of Buddhist Cultural Adaptation, Karma and Rebirth, Buddhist Religiosity, Not-Self, and now Faith. And before all that I was posting a travel log from Burma. I want to ask my readership: What would you like me to write about in the coming months?
Incidentally, I am working on another literary project, a book, tentatively entitled Through the Looking-Glass: How to Become a Buddhist Monk, which describes autobiographically how and why one would do such an odd thing, in an attempt to inspire others to follow this noble pursuit. It started with my Burmese writings and has gotten out of hand. I am thinking of serializing it here, posting a chapter irregularly every couple of weeks, separate from Uposatha Day postings.
Anyway, let me know what Buddhist topics you might like to hear about.
In the Dhamma,
BC
Uposatha Day, First Quarter Moon, June 9, 2011
Kalama Sutta Workbook
Last week we discussed the Buddha’s advice on faith offered in the Kalama and Canki Suttas, what or who to believe in. In very brief summary:
Don’t place faith blindly in:
(1) Religious tradition (when this is conveyed without knowing).
(2) Inference and logic (when this gets abstract).
Do place your faith in:
(3) What is skillful, blameless, leading to welfare and happiness.
(4) What is approved by the wise (those who are said to know, and who are above any greed, hate or delusion that could lead them to mislead).
I would like, in this post to consider some examples. These examples are not limited to Buddhism or even to religion; I think the Buddha’s advice is quite far reaching. Religion is a Western concept in any case; whereas in the West we seem to organize human affairs into neat disciplines, such as religion, philosophy and science, at the Buddha’s time these distinctions would not hve been intelligible. My strategy will be simply to introduce an example of faith, and the comment on it from what I understand as the Buddha’s perspective, then move on to the next example.
Faith in the Buddha’s Enlightenment. This is said to be the basis of all Buddhist practice, so it is a good starting point.
Clearly faith in the Buddha’s enlightenment is communicated in a religious tradition (1), attested in ancient scriptures that have been communicated from generation to generation. Although the Buddha’s enlightenment can by no means be proven, it has been reproduced in the direct experience, that is, knowledge, of practitioners throughout the history of Buddhism into the present day. In this sense it is outside the criticism of the blind leading the blind. Although enlightenment is relatively rare nowadays (and those who are enlightened will rarely tell you so), the glimpse of enlightenment available to many adepts, those whose understanding allows them to verify the reality of the ultimate goal if not actually achieve it. Such adepts are called stream enterers.
Faith in the Buddha’s enlightenment is beneficial as an incentive to practice, and practice develops qualities that are skillful, beneficial and blameless (3). There are many very wise people who approve of faith in the Buddha’s enlightenment (4). Of course one should take great care that one understands the motives of teachers we have direct contact with, however we can also consider the testimony of many publicly known teachers, like the Dalai Lama, and many historical figures.
The Buddha discusses the difference between faith and knowing with respect to this specific object of faith in the Simile of the Elephant’s Footprint (MN 27). The simile is that of a woodsman who initially sees a footprint, then bank scrapings and so on, accumulating evidence about what it is he is chasing, but should not conclude that he knows what he is after until he actually sees it. So faith lives alongside healthy skepticism. We will see next week that neither entail absence of doubt.
In summary, faith in the Buddha’s enlightenment is a working assumption that arises from faith in certain people of wisdom, that is properly recognized as faith and not knowledge until such time as it may be seen directly in one’s own experience, and which is verifiably skillful and beneficial even if not verified to be factual. Similar things could be said about the many other foundations of Buddhism, such as the Four Noble Truths and the Triple Gem.
Religious Fundamentalism. This is a phenomenon first identified in certain sects of Christianity, but also well attested in Islam and Judaism, and probably found in many minor faiths as well. I am alarmed that much that characterizes religious fundamentalism seems to be replicated in the New Atheism (e.g., of Christipher Hitchens and Sam Harris). We should be on guard for any leaning in this direction within Buddhism, for the following reasons.
Fundamentalism generally involves a strict unyielding interpretation of scriptural authority, seemingly with little recognition of the not so subtle difference between knowing and faith, literal and figurative. It is therefore subject to the fallacy of the blind leading the blind (1). Interestingly even the scriptural authority is often bogus. It seems subject to readily generating inferences to create a world view that often seems at odds with what the original scriptures were reasonably trying to say (2). For some reason this often takes the form of a strict demarcation of Good and Evil as forces at work in opposing populations.
Fundamentalist faith tends to be placed in leaders who don’t rank among the wise, insofar as they tend to display a lot of hatred and anger, often greed for fame and wealth, and sometimes an insanely deluded worldview (4). Religious fundamentalism responsible for a great deal of harm, including militant violence (3). In sum, Fundamentalism suffers under the Buddha’s criteria, at least in its most visible forms, in every possible way. This might be why the tendency to fundamentalism has been so weak in Buddhism.
Political and economic discourse is full of -isms that are often accepted on faith with an uncritical fervor characteristic of religious fundamentalism. Often they go back to a scriptural source (like Das Kapital or Wealth of Nations) (1). Interestingly the views attributed to the source are often bogus (Karl Marx announced famously in his later years that he was not a Marxist, Adam Smith, contrary to what most people think, was clear about the essential role of government in regulating business to protect the proper functioning of the free market from the cleverness of big businesses, and to provide an infrastructure that is necessary but unprofitable for the private sector). Often an viewpoint evolves that sees such perfection in theory that the needs of actually people are overlooked (2).
Harm results as loyalty to, or confidence in the benefit of, the theory overrides the compassion that would respond to observable needs (3). The various -isms are often promulgated by pundits who display hatred and anger, mislead, and have greedy motives, or are employed by those with greedy motives (4). For Buddhists this message should be clear: Be very careful and sparse in your views and hold them lightly, seek out the truly wise, and never, never, never let go of compassion.
Boldly plunging into the rushing river. This is a theoretical example I introduced in the onset of this series. Because this serves well, I think, to improve our understanding of the boldness of faith, let me restate the example:
The flood waters are rising and huts at the river’s edge are already being swept away. The villagers panic as they recognize the foolishness of building their village against a sheer cliff. Most of them begin running frantically back and then forth along the river bank. The chief, on the other hand, grabbing up his youngest daughter in one hand and his embellished staff of authority in the other, shouts, “Follow me, gang!” and plunges into the water. Many others follow immediately. Still others, the more timid, wait until they ascertain the chief’s ascent up the opposite river bank, but many of these are swept away in the still rising waters for having hesitated.
Faith here does not have a scriptural basis (1). It also involves a judgment call, but no complex inferences or derivation of a viewpoint (2). Interestingly, if the chief were to get caught up in thinking about what he is doing he might get cold feet (the other kind of cold feet), lose his boldness and fail to act in the required way.
As I have told the story, welfare and happiness results as a result of this leap of faith (3), at least for most of the villagers. However, at the time the chief made his decisions that was not a predictable result. What is telling about this example is the degree of uncertainty in contrast with the urgency of a decision. Even if the result was less fortunate, the alternative of not making a decision would almost certainly lead to at least as much harm and suffering. Passivity would have been death. This is a clear case, for the rest of the people, of following the wise (4). We can presume if the chief did not have a reputation for wisdom many more would have perished.
Faith in Rebirth. Rebirth in its relationship to karma raises skeptical eyebrows in the West, sometimes through the roof. It is perhaps the sole core supposition of Buddhism that elicits this response, and even in the Buddha’s day seems to have been a matter of contention.
In the Buddha’s day it did not have the best scriptural pedigree; apparently it is not part of early Vedic thought. And the Buddha tinkered quite a bit with the model of rebirth current in his day. Today, of course, it falls under the authority of the Buddhist scriptures (1). But for the Buddha that is not good enough.
The importance of rebirth for Buddhism in in terms of the what it does for the timescale of Buddhist training, and the development of the human character that ensues. A human life is very brief and progress within a human life is typically limited. When we conceive of the practice and the fruits of the practice extending indefinitely into the future, the significance and urgency of our practice is multiplied a thousandfold. This is the benefit of faith in rebirth (3). It is not so important that we know that rebirth is actually true as that we accept it as a working assumption or a mindset that informs our practice. At the end of the Kalama Sutta the Buddha takes up this very issue and tells the Kalamas:
“‘Suppose there is a hereafter and there is a fruit, result, of deeds done well or ill. Then it is possible that at the dissolution of the body after death, I shall arise in the heavenly world, which is possessed of the state of bliss.’ This is the first solace found by him.
“‘Suppose there is no hereafter and there is no fruit, no result, of deeds done well or ill. Yet in this world, here and now, free from hatred, free from malice, safe and sound, and happy, I keep myself.’ This is the second solace found by him.
In other words, we have everything to gain and nothing to lose by living and practicing with rebirth in mind. This is analogous to plunging into the rushing river. Or, for that matter, in praying to God, just in case. It is also analogous to borrowing, spending, repaying and earning money, even though money does not exist except as a conceptual construct. Rebirth is also approved by the wise, beginning with the Buddha, and remarkably continuing to the present day in the teachings of many Western practitioners of advanced attainment (4).
The important point here is that the criteria the Buddha placed on faith is a pragmatic one; it is not one of verifiable truth, even while he sees faith evolving into knowing with the progress of one’s practice. Faith is something we can try on for size, loose fitting clothes we can check out to see what the style and the fit do for us. In contrast to narrow restrictive rigid belief, the kind fundamenalists endorse, Buddhist faith is expansive. Salzburg in her book on Buddhist faith writes,
Faith, … is … an active, open state that makes us willing to explore. While beliefs come to us from outside—from another person or a tradition or a heritage, faith comes from within, from our alive participation in the process of discovery.
Alan Watts similarly once wrote, “Belief clings. Faith lets go.”
But will faith in rebirth someday intersect with knowing? Do the enlightened see rebirth directly? If you are at the point in your practice in which this matters, you do not need someone else to answer this. But the question is an interesting one and, though speculative, perhaps usefully explored by those who cannot help but reject it out of hand. Luckily for you I’ve written a previous series of posts on the matter, I suspect with more philosophical speculation and pondering of views than the Buddha would endorse. They are linked from this page.
Consumerism. David Loy calls consumerism the dominant religion in Western society. It provides us with a set of values and principles that inform our behavior at the deepest level. The result has been that it has tended to displace conventional religions, and conventional religions have often responded by adapting (modernizing) their teachings to fit a consumerist mindset. This has been a struggle for Buddhism in Asia as societies modernize. Consumerism is based in the faith that, in spite of what the wise have consistently told us throughout history, we can buy happiness.
Some scriptural passages is Buddhism and Christianity and presumably other religions extol abundance or material comfort (1). In the story of Buddha’s enlightenment it is significant that the Buddha just prior to his enlightenment backed off of severe ascetic practice and indulged in the luxury of being well fed. This is the origin of the Middle Way, tuning one’s practice like a lute to be not too tight and not too loose. However this has little to do with the volume of modern consumerism, and Buddhist scriptures underscore repeatedly the dangers of greed, lust, seeking wealth and fame, all of that. Consumerism has so embedded itself in modern thought that the desirability of economic growth is generally a given in economic theory and policy. By inference this then becomes a further justification of consumerism, since it is on the basis of ever increasing levels of consumption that economic growth is possible (2).
That consumerism is skillful, harmless and leads to well-being and happiness is a natural assumption given that unexamined human impulses seem to work on that principle. However almost any other evidence points the other way if we bother to look at it (3). Consider, who do you know who is truly happy? Something quite striking in my experience is how much happier people are in Burma, one of the poorest countries in the world, than typical middle class Americans. Buddhist monastics, that font of wisdom (4), bely the faith of consumerism in that their lives are based on the exact opposite assumption, yet they are as a group the happiest people I know.
In summary, the Buddha gives us some handy criteria for evaluating where we should place our faith. I have presented a small set of examples to illustrate these wise teachings. These examples could be multiplied at will. Next week, perhaps the end of this series, in a post I thought I would call Wielding Faith, I want to consider faith as a kind of energy or power that is cultivated for its own sake in Buddhist practice, one that has an emotive component, is a motivator of practice, and offsets the Hidrance of Doubt.