Category: Uncategorized

  • New Episode, “Through the Looking Glass”

    The new installment looks at the existential insights of the now teenage reborn monk. The New Episode, “Reflections on Reality,” can be found

    HERE

  • Non-Self and Buddhist Practice – Part Three

    Uposatha Day, New Moon, April 3, 2011

    Sorry for this week’s tardiness. I am visiting my sister in Indianapolis, Dell laptop in hand, but without easy Internet access.

    Moving right along, we make our fourth step down the Noble Eightfold Path with Right Action. Recall that we are considering how each of the eight fundamental practices helps undermine one of the supports for the recalcitrant sense of self that causes us so many problems, until — KAFWUMP! — the whole conceptual, affective and behavior structure tumbles down.

    The Termite of Right Action.

    Last week I observed that Buddhist practice is to do something in spite of the self, without the approval of that constant scheming and demanding companion that tends to take charge but then almost invariably gets us and those around us into a lot of trouble. The practice of Wisdom is to look from outside the box to recognize the problem of the self and then to resolve to overcome it. The practice of Virtue is to replace the guidance of the self with the aspirations of harmlessness and of benefiting all living things as we act in the world. Right Speech, Right Action and Right Livelihood are practices of Virtue.

    Virtue is its own reward, that is, great joy and peace of mind arise with the practice of Virtue. It is thereby relatively easy, at least temporarily, to fall out of the groove of self-centeredness with regard to behavior, and into the groove of Virtue; people do it spontaneously all the time. This is groovy because it helps free us from the tyranny of the self. The Buddha taught that without doing this the rest of practice will bear little fruit.

    Virtue is not the only groove that takes us away from self-centered behavior. Much of religiosity provides other alternatives that are useful fill-ins when opportunities for benefit are few. For example, ritual also has the capacity to step outside of self-centered behaviors and attitudes, insofar as they are actions that are fixed and prescribed rather than driven by self-centered volition. Ritual generally differs from the virtue practices of Right Speech, Action and Livelihood in that it generally does not have benefiting others as its function, that is, it is not Virtue per se. But ritual does provide an alternative to self-centered activities that otherwise tend to dominate, and for this reason does have an important role in Buddhist practice.

    Outside of the religious context, also hobbies tend to provide alternatives to self-centered behavior. Examples are model railroading, knitting or bird-watching. They generally shape behavior in the direction of visible achievement and development of proficiency that fall outside of the normal demands of the self for sensual pleasure, abundance and influence. Given the relentless demands of the tyrant self, and the constant stress and anxiety they entail, it is not surprising that hobbies are experienced a relief from the work-a-day world. Much of religiosity actually bears a strong similarity to hobbies, for instance maintaining a beautiful altar with fresh flowers, learning chants by heart or preparing sumptuous meals to feed the nuns and monks. As long as competition and the need for recognition are kept at bey these are wholesome practices that chew away at the grip of the self.

    Be aware, however, that in all these “selfless” pursuits, the self, a very clever fellow indeed, almost always finds means of reasserting himself, for instance in the competitiveness of hobbies; in the need for recognition, as the **Best** knitter in Maplewood, or as someone who does really good bows, or is super-devout; or as a matter of publicizing one’s personal virtue to the world.

    We have seen that the operating principles of the self are greed, hatred and delusion, the natural tendency to separate himself conceptually from the rest of the universe, which then becomes both a resource in service of the self’s needs and wants, and a source of dangers to the self’s survival or ability to exploit resources, but in any case largely fabricated to shed its natural complexity insofar as these are not relevant to personal interests. Behaviorally this entails a strong tendency to harm, by violence to what the self finds dangerous, by depriving others of what it desires, by manipulating others to its will, for instance, by misrepresentation. Additionally the self’s needs and desires are generally insatiable, leading naturally to addiction, a snow-balling effect. Propped up by a trellis of verbal and physical actions on its own behalf, the self often becomes monumental.

    Right Action, alongside Right Speech breaks this development and begins eventually to chew away at the trellis by insisting on harmlessness, on respect for others’ rightful possessions, for uprightness and honesty, in all one’s actions, exactly the opposite of what the self tends to ask. One way in which Right Action is enforced is through the observation of precepts, rules of thumb to keep in mind in one’s daily activities. The most basic set of precepts is fivefold: (1) Don’t kill living beings, (2) Don’t take what is not freely offered, (3) Don’t misuse sexuality (usually a matter of commiting adultery), (4) Don’t tell falsehoods, and (5) Don’t intoxicate oneself. Virtue is further aided by developing a pure mind, one that does not tend toward greed, hate and delusion, and by recognizing the detriment of a life of non-Virtue. Fellow hungry termites of Meditation and Wisdom engage themselves here.

    Yet if we uphold the Precepts rigorously (catch pests and place them carefully outside) we observe a remarkable change: Things like kindness, and tenderness, not only for all the little creatures but for people as well, take root and blossom. Then a joyful disposition sets in and a bright and splendid garden begins the thrive. The self, all the while seeking and failing to find satisfaction and happiness by other means, is hard put to argue with the advantages of Virtue. This results in a greater leaning toward Virtue.

    In fact our behavior arises from a complex set of motivations and, whereas the drives of the self tend to predominate for most of us, we do at least occasionally flip into other modes, sometimes quite spontaneously, modes driven by a sense of duty, loyalty to family, country or people, compassion, kindness and foolhardiness. We sing the praise of heroes after they have, in some stupendous act of selflessness, thrown all concern for personal safety aside in favor of some greater cause, even while they presently, the self having reasserted himself, are trying to fathom what for the life of them they could possibly have been thinking at that moment of heraldry.

    Buddhist practice is doing something in spite of yourself. The purest forms of Buddhist practice manifest as Virtue, that is Right Speech and Right Action. Putting aside the self over and over again in the practice of Right Action introduces and then fortifies new habits of behavior that eat away at one of the major supports for the sustained fabrication of a separate self.

    The Termite of Right Livelihood.

    Right Livelihood differs from Right Speech and Right Action in that it serves as a determinant of the former and that it ties in directly with our sense of identity. Our choice of livelihood commits us to a set of social contracts and relationships that determine our future behaviors. It also determines quite directly who we become, that is who we think our selves are, and thereby represent a potentially dangerous strengthening of the sense of self at the conceptual level.

    Our livelihood commits us to patterns of behavior. If we choose to become a butcher killing becomes our commitment. If we choose to become a CEO of an oil company, environmental degradation becomes our commitment. If we choose to become a teacher, giving knowledge becomes our commitment. If we choose to become a paramedic, saving lives becomes our commit. With commitment comes habit patterns of speech and action. These are like the ruts worn in a path over which ox carts have passed for many years. At any point we could veer to the right or to the left, but we don’t. And when we don’t, the currently operative habit pattern becomes even deeper. These habit patters become etched into our character. If these are consistent with Right Speech and Right Action they will tend to eat away at the supports for the self, if they are not they will tend to strengthen the.

    Our livelihoods also define how others view us, and therefore how we view our selves. We acquire reputation and pride from our livelihoods which can harden into growing self-concern. We can also acquire a very fixed sense of one’s own importance: “I am a banker, Without me the economy ceases to function.” “I am a plumber; without me communal human life ceases to function; plumbers are the real unsung heros.” Soon our livelihood determines not only or capabilities but what we are dignified to do or not do. This is the process of becoming (Pali, bhava), included by the Buddha as one of the twelve steps of dependent origination, arising after clinging, that is, from having a stake in things, and giving rise eventually to rebirth.

    Becoming, or the sense of personal identity, arises with many kinds of social roles aside from livelihood, such as that of a benefactor of the arts, a parent, a devout Buddhist, a pillar of the community, an outcast, the town drunk. Roles are assigned various levels of respectability dependent on culture, which often have little to do with Virtue or benefit to others. But we buy into them and define ourself in terms of them regardless of their respectability. Selflessness would be not to identify with a particular role or to compare ourselves to others, even as low and unworthy. Monastics and in general clerics of various faiths are an interesting case because they inhabit socially defined roles, but ones that included an expectation of relative selflessness. There is a joke, which in Buddhist (I think it was originally Jewish) terms would read like this:

    A monk was observed kneeling after a flash of insight before the altar, head bowed and hands in anjali, muttering, “I am nobody, I am nobody.” An anagaraka (devout lay practitioner) understanding the meaning joined him, also intoning, “I am nobody, I am nobody.” The janitor then joined them echoing, “I am nobody, I am nobody.” Upon hearing this third voice, the monk looked up, leaned toward the anagaraka and whispered, “Look who thinks he’s nobody.”

    This kind of role has the helpful property that the more we identify with it the worse we fulfill it, and therefore the less there is to identify with.

    Next, the remaining Termites of:

    • Right Action.
    • Right Mindfulness, and
    • Right Concentration.

    Non-Self and Buddhist Practice – Part Four

    Uposatha Day, First Quarter Moon, April 10, 2011

  • Non-Self: The Problem of Having a Self 2

    Uposatha Day, New Moon, March 4, 2011

    A mind overcome with unskillful qualities borne of greed, aversion and delusion, his mind consumed, dwells in suffering right in the here and now, feeling threatened, turbulent, feverish, and at the breakup of the body, after death, can expect a bad destination. AN 3.69

    The self is born from functional behaviors that ensure survivability of an ongoing process, behaviors that protect from a dangerous world, and exploit resources of the world. It arises with greed and ignorance as a fabrication, a compounded thing, dependent on mind. We for the most part dwell in a world of our own fabrication, a world populated with selves, and a conceptual framework to make sense of it, a framework that leans toward seeking personal advantage. Now the first Problem with Having a Self is that the Self is a schemer and is capable of great harm while failing to recognize the harm it produces. We discussed this last week. This week I take up dukkha, personal suffering, and samsara, the round of birth and death where we really get stuck.


    The Suffering Self. The world can appear as a candy shop full of delicious sights, sounds and tastes that we want to make ours. We begin a life of toys, electronic gadgets, later power tools, fast cars, fast women, fast food. From a young age our consumer culture, with its relentless marketing of Stuff, cheers us on. The second problem with having a self is that we begin to have a stake in things. We seek to possess that for which we are greedy, and to maintain and protect it from loss. We seek to avoid or get rid of that which we hate and to keep it distant. And of course we have a stake in ourselves, which we seek not only to maintain and protect, but to enhance, to make special and distinct.

    So what is wrong with living like this? All of these things are compounded, they are fabricated as tractable islands of stability in a swirling whirling world of relentless change. The world as it really is out-paces our fabrications, and as a result one by one we see everything we hold dear slip away from us, and what we fear intrude, all too soon. We experience life as trying to hold on to a handful of sand and watching it run through our fingers. Things decay, they wilt, they die, they disappear, our once shiny new possessions, our good fortune, our fame, our friends, our loved ones, even our own body’s and our own minds all slip away, and even before they do we experience the insecurity that they will. Nothing is good enough, nothing lasts. It can’t, because our fabrications are always unrealistic ideals. This vexing ever-present gap, this lack, between our fabrications and the way things really are, is unsatisfying, it is tense, it is anxious, it is painful, it is suffering, dukkha. Alongside impermanence and unsubstantiality (non-self), suffering is the middle of the Three Seals of Existence, the stuff of all compounded things.

    “Monks, the All is aflame. What All is aflame? The eye is aflame. Forms are aflame. Consciousness at the eye is aflame. Contact at the eye is aflame. And whatever there is that arises in dependence on contact at the eye — experienced as pleasure, pain or neither-pleasure-nor-pain — that too is aflame. Aflame with what? Aflame with the fire of passion, the fire of aversion, the fire of delusion. Aflame, I tell you, with birth, aging & death, with sorrows, lamentations, pains, distresses, & despairs.” SN 35.28

    However, we are slow witted and don’t see the problem. It is as if everything we touch is red hot and burns our fingers, we feel the pain but, puzzled about its source, we continue to handle and pass things around anyway. Our minds deceive us; in spite of abundant evidence of our folly we continue to be seduced by the shiny fabrications and fail to realize that they are, in fact, unreliable, painful and insubstantial.

    A man who is greedy for fields, land, gold, cattle, horses, servants, employees, women, relatives, many sensual pleasures, is overpowered with weakness and trampled by trouble, for pain invades him as water, a cracked boat. Snp 4.1 Kama Sutta

    More than that, we want even more! Our common diagnosis of the dissatisfaction we are feeling is not that we need to let go of our stake in things, but that we simply do not yet have enough. Silly us. Never reaching the point of enough, the point of contentment, we distract ourselves increasingly with parties, games, public entertainment and private sexual intrigue. There is enthusiasm, laughter, thrills but there is always tension underneath. We get fat and drink too often, and still we cannot wash the lack away. We love and, while briefly rousing, there is no peace to be gained, either we stop or they stop and it turns to tragedy, sometimes hatred, depression, suicide, murder. Tension is the stuff of our lives, our sense of lack only grows, we even begin to lack kindness for those close to us, our feelings are blocked, we are emotionally dead. This is what Thoreau must have meant by “living a life of quiet desperation.”

    There is no satisfying sensual desires, even with the rain of gold coins. For sensual pleasures give little satisfaction and much pain. Having understood this, the wise man finds no delight even in heavenly pleasures. The disciple of the Supreme Buddha delights in the destruction of craving. Dhammapada 186-187.

    Eventually we die cheated and bitter because the promises of compounded things from which our stake in them arises, have been repeatedly broken. It was all meant to be so perfect.

    The Samsaric Self. It is through craving and pursuing thinks, through having a stake in things, that the fortress self takes shape. I start to divide the world into Good and Evil, based on the fabrications I like and those I dislike, what is reassuring and what is threatening, what is an instrument for me and what is an obstacle, who likes me and who dislikes me. There is *Me* at the center of a network of causality that includes these other elements and tends to exclude anything else. The rest of the world has become irrelevant, we become indifferent to it. This becomes the realm of my schemes.

    In my neediness, learn to scheme, present myself favorably, exhaust myself at work, eliminate competition, sometimes steal or lie, whatever it takes to satisfy those needs. I begin to build up stature, to become somebody, somebody with money and influence, somebody with a distinct character, a career path, a lifestyle, snazzy clothes. Then when I thought I would feel happy with what I have become instead I feel all the more threatened, since we now have so much more personal identity to lose and to protect than before. The stock market, the kid riding his bike past my shiny new car, the gossiping voices that suddenly become quiet as I enter the room, the storm in the county where I enjoy my weekend cabin, my irritable boss, all become threats that I counter with a larger portfolio, a two-car garage, a more loyal network of friends, an insurance policy, a position of more authority. Feeling decreasingly secure, I have been slurped into the vortex of … Samsara.

    My greed and hatred entangles me more and more in a web of unskillful impulses and habits and entangles others in the same, as others try to match my greed lest I take what they have or might want, try to match my hatred in self-defense, and seek revenge where my plans are most fruitful. Envy, resentment at the injustice, stealing a client, angry words. As my greed robs and impoverishes others and my fear and insecurity turns to hate and arouses fear, the world punches back, it tries to bring down what I have accomplished. All the while my search for personal advantage has set a poor example for others, destroying trust and ideals and turns others’ reserves of skillful intentions to cynicism. On the other hand, I seek alliances with others, friendships, insofar as they are of mutual self-interest, letting down my guard enough to engages in exchanges, treaties and cooperative endeavors from which we both benefit.

    As my samsaric life takes shape, it begins to express itself in characteristic patterns of behaviors. As such I become noted perhaps for my greed for material things, perhaps for my anger, perhaps for my inclination toward malicious gossip, perhaps for my restlessness as I become desperate for satisfaction, perhaps for my envy or jealousy, perhaps for my sexual affairs or for overeating or over-drinking, perhaps for my defensiveness and fear. As I act out any of these qualities I suffer, all the more when it becomes the emotional tenor of my life, and the lens through which I perceive reality. I find myself living in a realm of my own making, in fact, one of the following realms:

    • Animal Realm. This is the somewhat frantic, restless state that arises in response to the habit of turning all impulses (lust, greed, anger, jealousy, vengefulness, torpor, etc.) into action without reflection. A person of a passionate disposition lives in a world which pulls him this way, then that way, keeping him forever restless, unable to get his coordinates.
    • Hungry Ghost Realm. This is a state of constant lack or dissatisfaction that arises from the habit of trying to satisfy greed. A person of greedy disposition likewise lives in a miserly world, one that withholds what she seeks, who can never get enough.
    • Angry Titan Realm. This is the state of fury directed at all obstacles to one’s ambitions, that arises from the habit of acting out of anger. A person of angry disposition, who thinks angry thoughts, who acts repeatedly on his anger, lives in a world that is increasingly threatening, that is frightening and uncooperative or specifically conspires against him, and encourages even more anger in response.
    • Hell Realm. This is the extreme, overwhelming state in which greedy or hateful impulses have completely lost any bounds.
    • Deva Realm. This contrasts with the above. It is the comfortable, often complacent state relatively untouched by greed or hatred, in which one’s needs are satisfied. A person of a kindly disposition lives in a world of ease, where no personal needs are unmet, where others, even if not acting in an ideal manner, are forgivable.
    • Human Realm. This is a mixed state in which greed or hatred are present, but in which deliberate mastery of one’s emotional states are also possibilities. This is the best realm for Buddhist practice.

    Not only do habit patterns shape the emotional tenor of one’s life, but they actually begin to impact health and physical appearance. We are all aware that habitually angry people (titans) are subject to heart disease and other stress-related illnesses. They also take on the characteristic appearance of angry people; they enter a cocktail party and people immediately begin shuffling over to the other side of the room. They tend to look like Klingons. For denizens of Hell this is all the more so. Animals and hungry ghosts take on the effects of overconsumption, such as plumpness. Upturned noses, downturned brows, scowls, these become etched on people’s faces. These habit patterns begin also to shape the successes and failures in one’s life; people would rather do business with a deva than an animal, a human is more likely to have her act together than a hungry ghost. These habit patterns even to a large extent determine who your friends are; people attract others like themselves, or sometimes repel those unlike themselves. We fabricate our world at many levels.

    Not only will self-based habit patterns, attitudes and emotions determine your health, physical appearance and social context, but they will replicate themselves in others. For instance, your present alcoholism may still persist a century from now, in your great grandchildren, or in the great grandchildren of your current drinking buddies, and may have been alive in your great grandfather or in the great grandfathers of your drinking buddies. There is some evidence that humans absorb behaviors simply by observation. So, it is common that if a parent smokes, the child will grow up to smoke, if the parent is abusive, the child will grow up to be abusive. If the parents are studious and like to snack, the child will grow up studious and disposed toward snacks. The scheming suffering samsaric self you may have become will, in this sense, tend to replicate itself in your children and in others around you.

    Institutional Samsara. I’ve mentioned the capacity scheming suffering samsaric people have for creating alliances, friendships, cooperative agreements, and such. These often further coalesce into street gangs, armies, vigilante groups, sports teams, fan clubs, business partnerships, guilds, clubs, corporations, political parties, unions and governments. The Buddha pointed out how greed and anger give rise to war between armies. The military becomes an institutionalization of hatred, or more properly aversion, aversion toward threat and aversion toward obstacles to greed. Humans generally make their institutions in their own image, only generally more so. Since institutions are becoming increasingly influential in human affairs it might be useful to consider their role in samsaric existence

    American courts are fond of treating corporations as people, so it is worth taking them as an example to see how they actually are very much like selves. For-profit corporations are hungry ghosts, an institutionalization of greed, in fact boundless greed where contentment is not an option. This statement is not intended as a value judgment; they are actually structured with these functions in mind. A for-profit is a collaboration among stockholders, expecting returns on investment. and at the same time also institutionalize delusion insofar as they are chartered by governments to have limited liability for the consequences of their activities, such as harm to encountered populations or environments. (British corporations tend even to put the word “Limited” in their names, where American corporations use simply “Inc.” German corporations are clearest, adding “GmbH,” which stands for “Gesellschaft mit beschraenkter Haft,” i.e., “Company with limited Liability.”) This is quite deliberate: Early corporations were instruments of colonial expansion. Current American legal precedent even requires that corporations protect stock-holders’ interests prior any other interests.

    For-profit corporations are thus legally constituted as greedy selves, that ignore, by law, anything that is not self-serving. Of course most corporations produce a product or service for sale to customers, so out of self interest they also engage in collaborative exchanges and must cultivate amicable relations with their customer base, just as greedy people will cultivate friendships, and often provide them with quality products in return for their money, so the public perception of most corporations is often positive. However, the harm committed in the operations of often shockingly aggressive corporations is abundantly documented. In short, they operate as designed.

    An alarming property of human institutions is that they tend to take on a life of their own, often in spite of the intentions of the people involved. It is puzzling, for instance, that Burma, perhaps currently the most pristinely Buddhist country in the world, is ruled by a brutal military government, who are almost all ostensibly Buddhists! It is more apparent that corporations will do this. For instance, a CEO who neglects stockholder interest out of concern for migrating caribou, say, or for the damage a new monopoly would cause to the proper functioning of free markets, is commonly ousted and replaced by one who will focus entirely on profits. The second CEO takes on part of the character of the corporation and will suffer for it.

    Naturally since institutions are selves walking amongst us, they influence the thoughts and behaviors of others. A particularly vexing modern development within human institutions, afforded by technologies of mass communication, are public relations and marketing. Now, the problem with the marketing paradigm from a Buddhist perspective is that it generally relies on provoking the very factors of greed, hate and delusion, and in particular a delusive view of the self that underlies human scheming, suffering and samsara. It produces a society in which Buddha’s words, The All is aflame … aflame with the fire of passion, the fire of aversion, the fire of delusion,” are still true, but now someone is spraying gasoline from the air. Not only is the appeal of fabrications promoted, a set of values and attitudes that promote a self-enhancing consumer lifestyle is instilled in the culture. By Buddhist reckoning we should expect this to lead to a society which suffers enhanced levels of stress, anxiety, restlessness, despair, anger, fear, greed, envy, ill-will, and slimey behavior. Statistically I suppose this would be reflected in high levels of drug, alcohol and antidepressant use; suicide; divorce rates and crime. Still, most troubling about the power of public relations and marketing is that with too much exposure you live no longer in a world of your own fabrication, but in a world of someone else’s fabrication, fabricated for their own ends, not yours.

    Aaaall of this comes from a misplaced thought, the simple belief in an separate self. A little fabrication is a dangerous thing. We now see why, recognizing this perhaps for the first time in human history, the Buddha placed anatta, non-self as “the central doctrine of Buddhism, without understanding of which a real knowledge of Buddhism is altogether impossible.” Next week we turn to anatta in Buddhist practice, how we put what we have learned about anatta to work to alleviate the consequences of this misplaced thought, to end the harm we do others in the name of Self, the harm we do ourselves and the relentless suffering that shadows our lives.

  • Religiosity in Buddhism (Part 2 of 2)

    Uposatha, New Moon, January 4

    Last week I described religiosity as having an integral role in Buddhism, as the leaves and roots of the flower of Buddhism that thrive nurtured by the sun of Buddha, the water of Dharma and the Soil of Sangha, producing the strength to sustain the stem of Buddhist practice stretching upwards toward the blossom of Nirvana. If you are new to this discussion, please read last week’s episode here before proceeding.

    This week I would like to flesh out the role of religiosity in Buddhism in quite practical terms. First, we will see, following a specific example, the development of selflessness, how it contributes to higher attainments along the Noble Eightfold Path by inclining the mind already in a beneficial direction. Second, we will see how religiosity provides the most effective entry for the individual into Buddhist practice through the generation of conviction and energy.

    Working Together. Religiosity is one part of the Buddhist whole. Usually when something has multiple parts it is so that the parts can work together and performance diminishes or is lost altogether with the loss of any one part. For instance, you have two feet for walking; with one foot you could not even walk half as fast. The engine of your car has many parts. Remove a spark plug and performance will degrade noticeably, remove the fuel pump and it will fail altogether. Your washing machine is also something like that. A flower has many parts. Remove the leaves and roots and the flower would have no way to acquire nourishment, in fact I’m not sure what would hold the stem up. To understand how the various parts of Buddhism work together, let’s consider how they conspire to cultivate one quality, selflessness, or the realization of anattā, an essential attainment on the Buddhist path.

    First let’s begin with nutriment, the Triple Gem, the sun, water and soil that sustains the Buddhist flower. The Buddha exemplifies selflessness in his virtue, and inspires emulation thereof, in that his attainment represents the complete relinquishment of any sense of self. The Dharma teaches the philosophical basis of anattā and how to work with it in practice. The Sangha provides living examples of anattā in that it exhibits, or follows vows that restrict, self-serving behaviors. It is also the vehicle through which the teachings of anattā, and all other Buddhist teachings, have been successfully conveyed and taught through the hundred generations of Buddhist history to the present day.

    Entering the roots and leaves, that is, religiosity itself, confidence in the Buddha, the Dharma and the Sangha opens the Buddhist to the teachings of anattā and inspires him to develop its qualities as a part of dedicated Buddhist practice destined to blossom in Nirvana.

    Those who have joyous confidence in the highest, the highest fruit will be theirs. (AN 4.34)

    In addition, many practices running through all religiosity, including Buddhist, are physical expressions of selflessness, including bowing, which seems to be a natural embodiment or enactment with deep roots (consider that lesser dogs make a similar gesture to express submission), and including the various expressions of respect or veneration. The degree of resistance many Westerners new to Buddhist religiosity initially have to bowing is in fact clear evidence for its capacity to confront self-centered attitudes.

    When a noble disciple contemplates upon the Enlightened One, at that time his mind is not enwrapped in lust, nor in hatred, nor in delusion. … By cultivating this contemplation, many beings become purified. AN 6.25

    The Buddhist community has generosity in its veins and for the member of that community the need to protect personal interests wanes. All of these things serve to weaken that entrenched sense of self. We have seen the capacity of religiosity to encourage wholesome mental factors such as kindness and tranquility. This is the beginning of qualities further developed in the Noble Eightfold Path, which will itself as a whole further develop selflessness.

    Ascending the stem, we enter the Noble Eightfold Path along which the mind is tuned, honed, sharpened, tempered, straightened, turned and distilled into an instrument of Virtue, Serenity and Wisdom. The sense of self, tweaked, twisted, thinned, stretched, readjusted and spun, does not make it through to the end of the Path. This is the ultimate triumph of selflessness.

    The Growth of a Buddhist. A flower, out metaphor for the entirety of Buddhism, is one kind of plant and it grows in a certain way. We can compare it to three other kinds of plants that grow differently.

    The flower grows from a seed that finds itself in soil. With exposure to water and soil, roots grow into the ground, and leaves sprout above the surface and begin to absorb sun. Pretty soon the flower, thriving with confidence and energy, pushes a stem upward, ultimately to bloom.

    Grass also grows from a seed that finds itself in soil. With exposure to water and soil, roots grow into the ground and blades sprout above the surface and begin to absorb sun. Pretty soon the grass thrives with confidence and energy, but produces no stem and does not bloom.

    The tyke born of a devout Buddhist family will likely become either a flower or grass. In either case, his spiritual growth will begin the same way. The little seedling is brought into the presence of the Buddha, and monks and nuns and taught the forms of respect. He is exposed to the feel of a Buddhist community, and begins to absorb some Dharma. With growing conviction he becomes increasingly involved in the community life, developing merit in taking care of the temple and the monastics, in chanting vigorously, and such things. Maybe he takes refuge and begins to follow the precepts. Now, the prospect of advanced personal development in the Buddha’s way may or may not start to seem appealing as he reaches a critical decision point. If he undertakes meditation practice, study of the teachings and continues to deepen the practice of virtue, he will find himself firmly on the Path, and reaching upward toward Nibbāna. In this case he has become a flower, otherwise he will remain grass, nonetheless green and healthy.

    Mistletoe grows from a seed that is deposited in a bird dropping on a branch, stem or trunk of an existing plant. It develops enough of a root to absorb water and minerals from the host plant, but sprouts leaves and even flowers. It is a parasite.

    A graft is a branch or stem that is through human intervention cut from its original stock and attached to a lower part of another plant. Like mistletoe it absorbs water and minerals from the new stock, can sprout leaves, produce fruit and flower. It is a transplant.

    For the chap who comes to Buddhism later in life, spiritual development is commonly, but not necessarily, like that of mistletoe or of a graft rather than like that of a flower or of grass. Typically a Buddhist-to-be begins by reading about Buddhism, inspired perhaps by a vague sense that Buddhism is a good thing, maybe having seen the Dalai Lama on T.V. and thinking that was pretty cool, or inspired by celebrity Buddhists, or Buddhism’s reputation as “peaceful,” or by reading “Siddhartha” by Hermann Hesse.

    Now, this chap may or may not come from a previous religious tradition, possibly with a rich religiosity. The graft characterizes the first case. For instance, many who come to Buddhism have a degree of development in religiosity in the Jewish or Catholic tradition. Much of the growth of the roots and leaves has already been experienced and is, probably with mixed degrees of success, translated into Buddhist religiosity.

    The chap without a strong religious background, on the other hand, once my own case, is mistletoe. I suspect secular Buddhists are are almost always such chaps. As a result little attention has been given to the roots and leaves. Now, mistletoe grows slowly and does not really thrive the way the host plant would were the mistletoe not attached (this is a guess on my part—I’m not much of a botanist—but it supports the metaphor). Yet it can potentially bloom. In the meantime it gazes down upon the grass with disdain, little comprehending the roots and soil and the spiritual growth that is happening down there. It is common for Western hubris to see little value in Asian religiosity, little realizing how mistletoe is nourished through the roots and leaves of another, just as religiosity has sustained Buddhism for all of these years so that we can be nourished by its highest teachings. It is difficult, but that is where mistletoe needs to put down roots if conviction and zip are flow freely into practice.

    Most Buddhists world-wide are centered in religiosity, in the roots and leaves, not in the stem. They are aware of the stem, consider the Path upward, maybe make forays in that direction, and — this is almost uniquely significant in Buddhist religiosity — support generously the aspirations of the many who dedicate themselves completely to the path. However Buddhist religiosity alone — and this is probably true of most forms of religiosity — seems capable of achieving remarkable results. I see this in most Asian Buddhists I’ve known. I also see it in other religious traditions, which one way or another seem to produce some people of great attainment, even without a Noble Eightfold Path or anything resembling it! Admittedly there arises sometimes a dark side in religiosity; it can move toward exclusion, fundamentalism and superstition; I don’t want to discount that. But it also has a remarkable capacity for generating confidence, zip and many wholesome mental factors in its adherents, and can produce centered, composed, kind and insightful people, and do that all alone.

    Conclusion.The Noble Eightfold Path is the Buddha’s own checklist for personal practice. Secular Buddhists are right when they see in this teaching something way beyond common religiosity, in fact one of the most remarkable achievements in human religious, psychological and philosophical thought.*  However that personal practice exists in a human, a communal, an historical context in which religiosity has always played an indispensable role. A good part of the Buddha’s genius is found in how he shaped that religiosity to ensure that Buddhist practice would thrive, maintain its integrity and be transmitted to future generations. We have all been its beneficiaries.  Buddhist religiosity is the ideal platform from which to develop smoothly and decisively according to the Buddha’s instructions, along the Noble Eightfold Path toward the attainment of Nirvana.

    ————–
    * I won’t address some of the very narrow modern checklists which seem to missing whole flagstones in the Path of individual practice.

  • From Thought to Destiny: Rebirth

    Uposatha Teaching: First Quarter, October 16, 2010.

    Index to Current Series
    Thought – Act – HabitCharacterDestiny

    Destiny, as I will understand it here, deals with the long-term consequences of Karma. We have tracked Karma from Thought, to Act (Karma is, most properly your intentional actions, and this arises with varying degrees of skill), then to Habit and Character (Karma shapes who you are, it determines those things that differentiate you from others). On this developmental path one of two things can be expected happen to you in this life. First and most likely, you might die in the midst of your Karmic evolution. In this case, according to classical Buddhism, your Karma will produce a new Rebirth. That permits character along with habit patterns simply to continue to evolve regardless of the failure of the physical body. Second, Karma can come to an end inthe state of Nirvana, which is the ending of your Karmic life. Without a Karmic life there will not be another Rebirth.

    This all probably sounds abstract to most readers, not only because it is rather doctrinal, but also because it will seem far removed from your daily practice. Buddhism tends to be about the here and now, present action, present experience. That is why we ground our study in Karma as intentional action in the first place. We moved beyond that, to frame practice in a larger context, when we considered Habit and Character, but there we could track observable cumulative consequences of practice, which are helpful as a guide and inspiration for practice. Destiny frames all this in an even larger context. In this series I plan to post the next five times on Rebirth; it needs clarifying because this concept gets away from what most of us can readily verify ourselves. Then I will take up Nirvana, the ultimate aim of practice.

    There is little doubt that the Buddha taught Rebirth. He did not, however, highlight it as tenet of Buddhism, but rather as a presupposition. For instance, he does not seem to have made a statement such as, “There is Rebirth,” but rather simply referred to the process of Rebirth as something already understood. On the other hand, he made Rebirth a presupposition integral in his teachings, making Karma a condition for Rebirth, and making the ending of Karma, that is Nirvana, a condition for its end. He even defined the goal of his teachings in terms of the escape from the round of birth and death. In addition, he claimed to be able to see his previous rebirths and often referred to actions that lead to rebirth in realms of deprivation or bliss, such as hell or heaven realms. The language he used to describe rebirth, often in terms of “after breakup of the body,” suggest that his reference to rebirth was not metaphorical. Some modern writers have discounted the Buddha’s belief in rebirth, but the textual evidence suggests differently. It is indeed true that any individual statement from the early texts may in fact be a later embellishment, but the large quantity of references makes the case that the Buddha never taught Rebirth flimsy. It is true, however, that relatively few of the references are significant in understanding the point of the respective discourses, and also that in certain later (post-Buddha) texts, such as the Abhidhamma and the Commentaries, rebirth plays a much more prominent role.

    Some Western writers have suggested that the Buddha simply accepted Rebirth passively, that is, simply as a universally held view, the best that Science had to offer in his day. Rebirth, was indeed widely accepted during Buddha’s time, though not universally. It was apparently not represented in the Vedic tradition until very late. The Buddha also lived at a time, perhaps much like our own, where almost every viewpoint about anything had some currency. In fact the Buddha’s early teachings contain some lists of what he considered erroneous views, all of which presumably had adherents, and among these erroneous views is Annihilationism, the idea that we cease to exist completely at death. The references to Rebirth that occur in the Suttas also do not seem to be geared specifically to a naive audience; they occur regardless when the Buddha spoke to close enlightened disciples or non-Buddhist laypeople. The Buddha, with a clear record of challenging many popular notions, must have considered the merits of the doctrine of Rebirth, yet decided to accept it as a presupposition in his teaching. Since Rebirth is right there in his most authoritative teachings, we must assume he had compelling reasons for including it. I will address how compelling these reasons are in the course of this series of postings on Rebirth.

    Lets jump ahead 2500 years and around to the other side of the world. Cyclical rebirth has little currency in the West; generally the closest we come to it is the eternal life in Heaven or Hell, and most people who come to Buddhism do not believe in that. Furthermore it has far from eager support in the scientific community, the great arbiter of Truth in the West. This lack of scientific support could also once be said, fifty or a hundred years ago, about altered consciousness or enhanced states of awareness. However the latter are at least verifiable in subjective experience, and now indirectly even in brain waves, whereas few of us have any means of verifying the validity of Rebirth. For this reason I would like to take up the topic of rebirth carefully in a way that respects all of the different current viewpoints on this topic, including the view that the Buddha was right about Rebirth in a very literal way, the view that Rebirth is a useful artifact introduced for purely pragmatic reasons, the view that Rebirth is properly taken as a metaphor for something else, and the view that Rebirth is simply a mistake and is best discarded.

    What is Reborn? The two most common questions about rebirth are What is reborn if there is no self? and, What are the mechanisms by which whatever is reborn targets a new physical body? The first is not actually as paradoxical in Buddhism as many assume. Most people reason that since there can be no Self that carries over from one life to the next, there can be no Rebirth. One can just as well reason that since there can be no Self that carries over from year to year in this life, there can be nothing to connect you now with you as a baby, or as a 5-year-old, etc. If there is in fact a continuity, a history, that connects the present with the past and that thereby gives the impression of an enduring Self, there can be a continuity that connects one life with a next life and that thereby gives the impression of a Rebirth of the Self. Just as connecting yourself to that baby that lived X years ago requires no unchanging self, connecting yourself to that deva, or frog, or whatever, that will live Y years from now requires no unchanging Self. Let me describe an analogy, based on the metaphor of one candle lighting another found in Questions of King Milinda.

    Think of the Self as a grass fire. Let’s say that one bright and sunny day at 11 am some kids, Bif and Skipper, playing with a magnifying glass in a field on Hill A, start a small fire, add a few dry leaves but get bored, jump on their bikes and ride home. At 12 noon Hill A is ablaze, and up goes Bill’s house. At 2 pm Hill A is smoke and ash, and Hill B is aflame, and up goes Mabel’s house. At 4 pm the fire fighters have finally left the scene, and Bill and Mabel, furious, together having discovered the origin of the blaze, confront Bif and Skipper. The kids say, “But the fire that we lit was a different fire, it was over there and did not look at all like the fire that burned up your houses; it wasn’t even big enough to burn up a whole house.” In a sense they are exactly right, this view is that of No-Self, but it would not hold up in court. Conventionally we think of all of this as the same fire on the basis of a causal continuity that holds the whole burning process together. The causal continuity is found not in fire as a fixed entity, but in fire giving birth to fire each moment over and over. Our selves are like this, this life is held together only as a causal continuity, not as the persistence of any fixed object.

    Now, the next day another grass fire of mysterious origin is blazing away on Hill D, two hills away from Hill B, and takes out Chester’s house. I’ll tell you something that is unknown to Chester: This new fire was caused by a burning ember from the previous day’s fire, carried aloft by the wind and by its own heat clear over Hill C to land in some dry grass on Hill D, smolder all night and burst into flame at daybreak. Not knowing its origin, where no causal continuity is suspected Chester will call it a separate fire. Rebirth is like this, it is actually a causal continuity, most likely a mysterious one, without a fixed entity to be reborn.

    In the case of Rebirth the continuity is not found in heat, flame and ash, but in consequences of Karma, the evolving habit patterns and other aspects of character, insofar as these have evolved by the time of the failure of the body. You can think of it as the mass of issues left unresolved at the time of death, which will continue, or as Trungpa Rinpoche said, “Your neuroses are reborn,” except that much of your cumulative Karma is actually skillful, for instance a propensity toward compassion.

    How Does Rebirth Happen? Delusion of a separate self perpetuates itself, the karmic impulses that wrap themselves around that delusion creates the will to existence. The will to existence conditions Rebirth. It is through the delusional nature of the self that it perpetuates itself. Now, heat and wind are the mechanisms behind the rebirth of a fire. What are the mechanisms behind rebirth of a self?

    Conception of a new life requires three things: an ovum, sperm and kammic energy, that is, the continuation of Karmically determined mental processes. In recent times science has learned a lot about ova and sperm and the way in which they combine to produce a differentiated individual. The third factor, however, is outside the realm of any research I am aware of, and raises questions about how transmission of this Karmic energy occurs, or, during transmission how kammic energy exists with no corporeal support, that is, how mental states exist without a brain. The absence of a plausible mechanism, along with lack of personal verification, leads many in the West to question the veracity of this aspect of Buddhist doctrine. Furthermore, the value the Buddha placed on personal verification and his dislike of philosophical or metaphysical speculation lead many to question whether the Buddha really taught rebirth at all.

    Where Does Rebirth Happen? We saw in the discussion of Habit that the character of one’s cumulative karma can thrust one within this life into a state of woe and despair or of ease and bliss, figuratively in hell or heaven. Last week we saw that this falls under what is described as the Law of Karma or the ripening of Karma. Being thrust into a State of woe or bliss in this life has a counterpart in being thrust into a Realm of woe or bliss in the next life. Death and rebirth provide new opportunities for the ripening of karma, broadening the scope of the Law of Karma. Karma that has not reached fruition before death, will generally, in classical Buddhism, reach fruition in the next life or in a life thereafter,  in one of various ways. The most commonly mentioned is to thrust you into one of these realms, described in classical Buddhism as real places or states of being:

    • Human realm.
    • Animal realm.
    • Hungry ghost realm.
    • Hell realm.
    • Angry titan realm.
    • Heavenly. realm

    There are a variety of hells and of heavens. There are also a variety of animal species one might be reborn into. It is mentioned that human birth is actually a very rare thing, but the realm most conducive to progress on the Path. Additionally within one of these realms your specific circumstances may additionally reflect a ripening of Karma. So, within the Human Realm one might be born into varying circumstances as follows (AN 8.40 Vipaka Sutta).

    • Longevity. For instance, killing in the previous life leads to a short life in the current life.
    • Infirmity. For instance, drinking in the previous life leads to mental derangement in the current life.
    • Physical appearance. For instance, kindness in the previous life leads to beauty in the current life.
    • Influence. For instance, telling falsehoods in the previous life leads to being falsely accused in the current life. Divisive tale bearing in the previous life leads to loss of friendships in the current life.
    • Wealth. For instance, stealing in the previous life leads to loss of wealth in the current life.
    • Family status. For instance, arrogance in the previous life leads to lowly birth in the current life.

    Within each life you will commit a wide variety of kammic actions. Which one or ones will propel you into the particular realm in which you will live out your next life? It is variously assumed that either the particular thoughts before death, or specific heavy actions, like having murdered one’s parents, or particularly entrenched habit patterns will place the next rebirth. Thoughts before death are likely to reflect previous karma, as one who has lived a virtuous life will tend to be calm and satisfied at death, whereas one who has done much harm or entertained much greed will be agitated and full of regret. It is probably rare for one to lie on his deathbed bemoaning having tended to too many sick people or regretting not having purchased enough shiny gadgets. That moment tends to put one’s life into its proper perspective, perhaps for the first time. If a heavy action is not the determining factor in rebirth, it is generally assumed that it will be for some subsequent life. Often texts attribute to a small action, such as offering alms to a monk or killing a chicken, not only a felicitous or woeful rebirth, but a long series of such rebirths. I think it is safe to assume that this is simply a rhetorical device for expressing approval or disapproval of some action; if it was literally true then every day we would be scheduling tens or hundreds of future rebirths, quickly leading to an unmanageable backlog. It is far more plausible that little actions blend into one another, which as Nagapriya suggests would be like adding ingredients in small amounts to a cake in which the various flavors are experienced together. On the other hand, the Salt Crystal Sutta states that even a trifling act can take one to hell if the one’s overall karmic state is poor. Maybe it becomes like adding hot chile to the cake.

    The Future of Rebirth. I have presented a classical account of Rebirth here. Because elements of this account are subjects of skepticism in the West my plan for next weeks will be to look at Rebirth from a variety of angles. Next week we will make a side trip to the general issue of Truth In Buddhism or Buddhism with Beliefs, the Buddha’s criteria for evaluating doctrine, to gain some clarity of where he was coming from. The following week we consider the Pragmatics of Rebirth, remembering the Buddha always had a practical purpose in his teachings. Around about November New Moon day we consider the mixed evidence, some of it from science, for the Actual Truth of Rebirth. Then the week after that I make an attempt to pull together An Alternative Account of Rebirth that might hopefully be a bit more satisfying to the scientifically minded at the same time preserving much of the pragmatics of Rebirth. My intention is not to give a definitive answer to any of the questions like Do I need to believe in Rebirth to be a Buddhist?, or Does Buddhism need Rebirth?. Rather my intention is to provide a number of perspectives along with what is at stake in each perspective, then to let you decide how to integrate Rebirth into your understanding of Buddhism.

  • New Essay Added

    I’ve added a new essay to this site.

    Sex, Sin and Buddhism (see all)

    A supplement to Sex, Sin and Zen by Brad Warner

    Brad Warner writes near the beginning of his recent book, Sex Sin and Zen: “I only really know Zen, myself, so that’s all I’m going to be addressing here,” which appears to be accurate, but then, “… we Zen Buddhists tend to be so arrogant that we just call what we believe ‘Buddhism’ without specifying the sect. I’ll be doing a little of that, too. Deal with it.” What follows is my attempt to deal with it. …

    More

  • From Thought to Destiny: To Do Good

    Uposatha Teaching: First Quarter Moon, September 2, 2010.

    Index to Current Series
    Thought – Act – Habit – Character – Destiny”

    Bad deeds, and deeds hurtful to ourselves, are easy to do; what is beneficial and good, that is very difficult to do. Dhammapada 163

    We are considering the three systems of Buddhist ethics as advice for what actions we choose to perform. In last week’s episode we considered To Avoid Evil, which is To Follow Ethical Precepts. Next week we will consider To Purify the Mind, which is the most uniquely Buddhist approach to developing Virtue. This week we look at the most natural form of ethics, which arises naturally in humans as a result of our innate capacity for kindness, and that is, to seek the benefit of all and avoid harm to all.

    What is involved in Doing Good is not only to have a reserve of kindness and a willingness to sacrifice some personal benefit for others, but also to track as best as possible the consequences of one’s actions, whether completed, in progresses or under consideration. This entails the capacity to Do Good will vary considerably from person to person, particularly with regard to the last point. We live in a very complex world in which tracing consequences of action runs very deep, and ultimately, like the chess player who can only see a certain number of moves ahead, to Do Good we must all in the end follow our best hunch.

    Performing actions in the world is a huge responsibility. The depth of the consequences of our actions is captured in the Buddha’s exposition of causality, “because this arises that arises, because this ceases that ceases” as the pervasive operating principle in the world, but is most thoroughly expounded in the Mahayana philosophical tradition with the view that just as we depend on everything in the world (Joanna Macy writes, “The Amazon Rain Forest is a part of our lungs”), and everything in the world depends on us (we move our arm and the world moves). To see that this is true, consider the following:

    The actions you perform today will determine whether others live or die! This sounds implausible because we tend to think of the effects of our actions as extending only as far as we can track them, while they in fact extend forever. Suppose, for instance, you drive to the mall to buy a spiffy t-shirt, and as you enter the freeway a friendly car, cruising down the slow lane, slows down further to let you merge. However a less patient car behind that car decides it really wants to drive a bit faster and pulls into the middle lane, which then induces some further realignment for other cars further back. It is easy to see that the process of realignment will propagate, but even as the adjustments settle is likely eventually to influence the timing of entries onto and exits from the freeway further down the highway, entailing further realignments. In fact the realignments will propagate down the highway you are on, then onto roads and highways that intersect with this highway, then back onto the highway but in the opposite direction, and eventually deep into Canada, and deep into Mexico. Traffic flow will differ slightly over the map in the hours and days to come for your having made this trip to the mall. Now every day accidents happen on our highways and roads, many of them fatal. An accident generally arises due to faulty split-second decisions in the context of the particular immediate alignment of vehicles. Since your actions have propagated realignments throughout the road map, it follows that accidents, some fatal, will now happen that would not have happened if you had not driven to the mall, but also that accidents will not happen that would have happened.

    In meteorology they similarly talk about the Butterfly Effect, the influence the flight of a single butterfly will have on the occurrence or non-occurrence of storms and hurricanes in the decades and centuries to come. Similarly your actions will result in wars happening or not happening, corporations rising and falling, and so on. You are not a sole cause of any of it, but an enabler for virtually all, past a certain time horizon. Being in the world is a huge responsibility, whether you are a human or a butterfly. Not that we can actually track much of this.

    One way we extend our limited ability to track consequences is to deal in probabilities. This is called Being Careful. So, leaving a tool box just inside the door of a poorly lit room is probably not Doing Good because of the likelihood, not certainty, of an unfelicitous consequence for someone’s bodily well-being. Another way to extend our ability to track consequences is research or investigation. This is called Being In The Know. For instance, I might learn the many ways my purchasing and consumption choices harm the environment; cause pollution of air, rivers, ground and oceans; cause global warming; sustain harmful social and economic conditions, and I might adjust my choices accordingly so that the consequences of my actions move away from harm and toward benefit. In the modern globalized world both the need to understand consequences is enhanced since they propagate so rapidly, and our ability to track consequences is extended since scholars and journalists explain many causal relations for us. Being Careful and Being In The Know are huge obligations for humans (butterflies, I suppose, are off the hook).

    The most ancient discussions in Buddhism in this area of Doing Good is the ethics of eating meat, an issue which is debated to this day. A number of precepts from early Buddhism touch on this issue. One is the precept not to kill living (breathing) things. Another is the broad rule of Right Livelihood, one of the eight folds of the Noble Eightfold Path, which lists among wrong livelihoods that of slaughtering animals. And a third is the monastic guideline laid down by the Buddha concerning eating meat (Jivaka Sutta, MN 55). This permits monks and nuns to eat meat, but with a caveat:

    “Jivaka, I say that there are three instances in which meat should not be eaten: when it is seen, heard, or suspected [that the living being has been slaughtered for the bhikkhu]. I say that meat should not be eaten in these three instances”

    In the later East Asian Mahayana tradition one of the Bodhisattva Precepts, common to all monastics and many laypeople, simply prohibits adherents from eating meat altogether.

    Now, killing an animal is in itself considered harmful. However, at the Buddha’s time many lay people would kill animals to feed themselves and also offer to any recluses who came by in search of alms, Buddhist or otherwise. Doing Good entails that one’s own choices should not have killing an animal as a consequence. But notice how the Buddha’s caveat works to ensure exactly this. If the lay donors have already killed an animal for family conception and general recluse consumption, acceptance of meat by the bhikkhu seems not to have killing as a consequence. The bhikkhu has a clean bill of mental purity. Accepting the carnivorous meal furthermore also avoids offending, confusing or disappointing the donors. If, however, a family offers to provide a meal to some Buddhist nuns, say, and to kill a pig, say, to to do so, according to the Buddha they would have to refuse.

    However, the modern food industry works differently than this pastoral scenario. First, the person who slaughters the animal is generally far removed from the situation in which the meat is consumed. The donor more likely simply buys the already slaughtered meat at a grocery store, but creates a market demand such that new meat is killed to replace what is purchased. Second, harm to animals is greatly magnified in corporate farms. The Buddha refers in the Jivaka Sutta to “the pain and grief on being led along with a neck-halter” and “the pain and grief on being slaughtered.” Now we have to consider that these are often done in a much less humane way as heretofore, by poorly trained and poorly paid employees, and add to that the pain and grief of being raised indoors in crowded, smelly, poorly lit conditions, and of chickens having their beaks clipped off to prevent them from pecking each other out of stress. Tracing further we have to consider the impact of producing feed for the animals, which we know to be environmentally enormous, contributing significantly, for instance, we now know, to Global Warming. (We also have to compare the alternative to meat, that is the consequences of vegetarian food production, including the modern use of pesticides, etc., which can also cost many animals their lives.) In sum, whereas the Buddha traced out the consequences of accepting meat for his time, modern conditions entail that in the hopes of Doing Good, we do this work ourselves.

    Modern Buddhist controversy around eating meat I think has two sources, one having to do with how much weight is given to Avoiding Evil relative to Doing Good, and the other having to do with how much weight is given to Doing Good relative to Purifying the Mind. These are not always in accord. In the first case, the Buddha provided us with a clear guideline for Avoiding Evil in meat eating, and for some that is enough. For instance, in Theravada countries it is normal for monks to accept meat knowing it has been specifically purchased to feed the monks, since it has not litereally been slaughtered to feed monks. In the second case, the actual consequences of the development of Virtue seem to actually diminish the further one is removed from the act of slaughter. The karmic consequences for the monk who accepts meat will be much less than for the monk who kills the animal himself, as we will see beginning next week.

    Doing Good tends to be emphasized, at least doctrinally, more in Mahayana than in Theravada. It is neglected, for instance, in the Theravada Abhidhamma, but is highlighted in the Mahayana as part of the Bodhisattva ideal. This might partially explain the difference in the respective attitudes toward meat eating (allowing however that in Tibet not eating meat is hardly an option in the harsh agricultural environment). However, in general practice Theravada monastics are well known for their good works, for Doing Good, and there are, in fact, many Theravada monastics and sometimes monasteries are strictly vegetarian, citing ethical reasons. I have, or instance, met some very senior Burmese monks who have encouraged me never to accept meat from donors.

    Although Precepts can point out consequences that might otherwise be missed, occasionally they may contradict our commitment to Doing Good, for instance, in the case where the Gestapo shows up at your front door and asks you, gleefully aware that a Buddhist will not lie, if you are hiding Jews in the attic, or where you just happen to be returning from a softball game with a baseball bat in your hand and walk in right behind a man who has “gone postal” and is about start shooting at fellow employees. The inclination is greater in the Theravada tradition to obey the letter of the Precept, and in Mahayana to abandon Precepts more readily where this seems the more compassionate thing to do. The early Suttas give little advice on handling these contradictions, but one exception is MN 58, where the Buddha draws an analogy to the necessity of painfully digging a swallowed stone out of a baby’s throat with one’s finger, thereby causing harm but preventing greater harm. However the Buddha is not known ever to have justified anything remotely like a Just War or for that matter any taking of human life.

    A final point concerning Doing Good concerns who is the beneficiary of our kindness. It is a commonsense idea that certain people do not merit Goodwill, for instance, that criminals, torturers, murderers and people whose opinions or certain other attributed differ from ours, do not deserve to benefit from our deeds, in fact deserve to suffer from any misdeeds we might cook up. This idea is anathema to Buddhism (although there is a common misunderstanding in Buddhism that all personal suffering is caused by individual kamma and that helping them to alleviate the suffering means they will just have to burn it off later, a wrong view that I will discuss in future weeks). In fact, just as we try to develop Metta (loving-kindness) for everyone without discrimination, even for our worst enemies, all beings properly fall withing the scope of Doing Good. The thoughts of retribution that tell us differently are simply unskillful, and rooted in hatred. Thought they may be pervasive it is our aspiration to let them go and to Do Good without discrimination.

    Not the perversities of others, not their sins of commission or omission, but his own misdeeds and negligences should a sage take notice of. Dhammapada 50

    Here are questions to consider on this Uposatha Day: When is punishment Doing Good? You can consider punishment of children or punishment of criminals. What consequences of punishment can you trace that are harmful for others in addition to the person being punished?

  • From Thought to Destiny: To Avoid Evil

    Uposatha Teaching: Full Moon, August 25, 2010.

    Index to Current Series
    Thought – Act – Habit – Character – Destiny”

    This mind of mine went formerly wandering about as it liked, as it listed, as it pleased; but I shall now hold it in thoroughly, as the rider who holds the hook holds in the furious elephant. Dhammapada, 326.

    Last week I introduced the three ethical systems that inform our actions in Buddhism, Avoiding Evil, Doing Good and Purifying the Mind. This week I discuss the first of these in detail, which is in fact a variety of systems of vows or precepts.

    Precepts take the form of rules or regulations. Examples are “Do not kill living things,”Do not tell a falsehood. There are systems of five, eight, nine and ten precepts. The full set of monastics vows runs into the hundreds of precepts. Almost always stated as abstentions, precepts are valuable for their clarity in stating minimal standards of physical conduct. In Buddhism they are almost always a matter of vow rather than imposed by an outside authority such as the Commandments that Moses brought down from the mountain as a gift from God, or traffic laws imposed under threat of fine. Exceptions might be temple rules like, “Take your shoes off before entering.”

    Precepts can inform important karmic decisions, like whether or not to murder your annoying neighbor, or simply provide standards to ensure harmonious relations, much like many traffic laws, or simply to express some point of etiquette, like always bowing to the Buddha when entering a temple. One can, and will, create personal precepts, like feed the dog at 6:00 pm. And in fact personal vows are how we best live deliberately, how we take a stand and boycott banks or insurance companies, or food from factory farms, and stick with them.

    Westerners often have some resistance to precepts because they regard rules and regulations as infringing on personal freedom, or would like to keep their options open rather than to commit themselves to anything. Doing Good or Purifying the Mind seems to afford more opportunity for personal creativity, they reason. However, the notion of personal freedom referred to is almost always at odds with the Buddhist concept of liberation; the latter is not the freedom to do what you want but rather the freedom from having to want anything, that is, it is freedom from the tyranny of the self with its endless desires and needs, dislikes and fears.

    Precepts put these requirements of the self into a box that if useful will create an initial level of discomfort, but give an opportunity to understand that self’s needs and to develop humility and contentment. It will also expose consequences that might have happened along with intentions that might have been enacted; these will be left dangling where they can be clearly observed as harmful and ill-conceived. For instance, many Buddhist codes include a precept to abstain from gossip, which gives one pause as certain situations open up this enjoyable option. Without that precept that behavior is likely to go unnoticed as something that causes problems, in its consequences for the mind and for others, we will tend to be careless in that behavior.

    In following precepts we learn better to care for consequences and to cultivate skillful karma. There is a Zen saying that if you put a snake in a bamboo tube it will discover its own shape. In fact one of the common expressions for precepts is sekiya, rules of training; one might think of them as training wheels for the bicycle of practicing Doing Good and Purifying the Mind. Precepts will also in the end create a sense of ease as a break from the burden of the self.

    Taking this one step further, all of ritual falls withing the range of precepts. In ritual there is no direct moral component, yet there is what is considered proper behavior. But like moral precepts they afford the opportunity to engage in activities independently of the tyranny of the self and thereby to develop wholesome qualities of mind, and to experience a joyful sense of liberation. Ritualizing everyday activities has similar advantages in eliminating opportunities for personal choice.

    Last week I described precepts as naturally porous and rigid. The rigidity often shows up when two precepts contradict. For instance Just War might involve killing for some greater good. With the Gestapo at the door and Jews in the attic, a little lie might be justified. In Zen circles there is generally an assumption that precepts almost always contradict one another and that through wisdom one arrives at the appropriate call. It is interesting that the Buddha rarely sanctioned violating precepts. The one example I am aware of is in MN 38 where the Buddha was challenged for using disagreeable speech against Devadatta, his cousin who tried to create a schism in the Sangha, tried to kill the Buddha and other disagreeable things. The Buddha said that sometimes it is necessary to dig a pebble out of a child’s mouth even though it causes great discomfort.

    Next week we consider how to Do Good, that is to plan actions that are of benefit, even where the bottom line of the precepts does not require it.

  • Was Jesus a Buddhist Monk?

    The neat separation many of us make in our minds between Eastern and Western religion and culture belies many common historical origins and interconnections. We forget the common origin of most of the languages of Europe and India, along with Persian, Armenian and Hittite. We forget how Alexander, a Greek/Macedonian extended an empire all the way to India, stranding many outposts of Greek culture in palaces like Ghandara, in present day Afghanistan and Pakastan, later to become a major center of Buddhism. We forget that King Ashoka of 3rd Century B.C. India dispatched missionaries to spread Buddhism far and wide, including to Greece, Egypt, Syria and Italy, and how the Silk Road, the trade route through which Buddhism extended itself historically extended not only to China in the east, but to the Mediterranean and Rome in the West. Centuries later the extensive Arab empire would serve as a conduit between East and West.

    So it should not be surprising that parallels between Christianity and Buddhism have been recognized for some time. Some of these are physical artifacts, such as the similarity of the Christian gesture of prayer, which apparently has no Jewish counterpart, and the Indian anjali, carried wherever Buddhism has spread, or the Catholic rosary and the Indian mala. Scholars have pointed out similarities between many biblical and Buddhist texts. Most striking for me has always been the Buddhist flavor of the words of Jesus, particularly evident in the non-canonical Gospel of Thomas. And then there is the existence of similar monastic traditions in Buddhism and Christianity.

    I will let Ajahn Brahm fill in the next couple of paragraphs about recent discoveries of Buddhist communities around Alexandria Egypt dating since before the time of Christ, including the possible Buddhist identity of a monastic community called the Therapeutae and the possible affiliation of Jesus with that community or with some offshoot or sister community.

    [youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WpBKG2Lz8lQ]

    [youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kv27hu-Sxu8]
    Is Christianity with its Jewish influences—much as Zen with its Taoist influences—in the end a branch of Buddhism? Was Jesus the original Jew-Bu, a precursor to the many modern Jewish practitioners of Buddhism?

    When I was at St. Joseph Abbey last month, visiting with Father William and Brother Aaron, I was glad to see that they were not only aware of the evidence for the Buddhist origins of their own monastic lives but found it to be quite compelling. A further common development in the monastic tradition both East and West concerns higher education and research. Universities developed in India from Buddhist monasteries in the First Millennium A.D.— Nalanda is the best know example—, and in Europe from Christian monasteries several hundred years later. In my recent essay “Science and Vinaya” I point to parallels between the traditional Buddhist monastic community and the modern scientific community. Although I attribute the commonalities there to similarity in function, it may be that the roots of modern scientific discipline trace all the way back to the Buddhist Vinaya historically.

    This is all cool stuff, but still speculative

  • From Thought to Destiny: Introduction

    Quarter Moon Teaching

    Sow a thought,
    and you reap an act;
    Sow an act,
    and you reap a habit;
    Sow a habit,
    and you reap a character;
    Sow a character,
    and you reap a destiny.”
    – anonymous

    This quote may have a Buddhist origin. No one seems to know where it came from, but various Nineteenth Century Western writers referred to it without attribution and it seems now to be variously attributed to each of them, but some think it may be a translation from Chinese, so its resemblance to Buddhist thought might not be a coincidence.

    This poem concisely and precisely as pie captures the foundational set of Buddhist teachings on Karma. The word “karma” in Sanskrit, or “kamma” in Pali (which is roughly Sanskrit without r’s), means action, action of all kinds. For instance, you can recognize this root in the Noble Eightfold Path in which Pali “Samma Kammanta” is English “Right Action.”

    Traditionally the central concern of karma in India, before and after the Buddha, has been the relationship between our present actions and our future welfare or destiny. The Sanskrit word for action is Karma. For the brahmins since before the Buddha the ritual aspects of action were the determinants of destiny, and knowledge of the rituals gave brahmins their authority. The Buddha rejected this and stressed the volitional or intentional aspects of karma as the determinants of future welfare, character or destiny.

    So the Buddha often used “karma” in a technical sense as for something having two components: Intention and Action, that is, why you do something, and what it is you actually do. For the Buddha intention is critical: If no intention is present, for instance in the case of killing a bug accidentally, there is no karma at all:. It matters to the world, but not generally to the character, welfare or destiny of the actor. But if intention is present, then the nature of the intention will help shape character and destiny.

    There is a great assortment of intentions, but the Buddha recommended avoidance of those rooted in Greed, Hatred or Delusion, because actions that have these as intentional components (1) are likely to hurt others, (2) tend to make us greedy, hateful and deluded people and (3) bring us personal suffering, if not now then in the future. Through karma we not only make the world, we also make ourselves. The more you steal the more you become a thief, the more you kill the more you become a killer, the more you gossip the more you become a gossip. Actions become habits. These habit patterns form who we are, and even manifest themselves in characteristic physical attributes such as beauty or ulcers. In fact the Buddha often referred to a Law of Karmic Payback whereby we reap what we sow in some rather specific ways. Our character propels us forward into life circumstances, into new rebirths, into states of woe or bliss and eventually into nirvana, that is, the ending of Karma.

    So, the focus of Buddhist practice, that is, of the Noble Eightfold Path, is the choice of that first thought from which, as the poem tells us, everything else follows. Understanding what else follows is important in understanding the choice we make in the first thought. I herewith begin a possibly lengthy series of Uposatha Day teachings on the topic of this little poem. It will take us from Karma past Rebirth and on to Nirvana.

    This is a challenging topic that is often poorly understood. Aspects of this topic are also quite controversial in the West. Western minds, particularly the Law of Karmic Payback and Rebirth. This will require some careful consideration of a range of viewpoints.

    to be continued