"Like a cart for the supporting of burdens.”

Buddhism, General No Responses »
May 062011

You may have heard about the Dalai Lama’s recent remarks on the death of bin Laden – here’s how it was described by Mitchell Landsberg in the May 4th edition of the LA Times :

As the leader of Tibetan Buddhism, the 14th Dalai Lama says he practices compassion to such an extent that he tries to avoid swatting mosquitoes “when my mood is good and there is no danger of malaria,” sometimes watching with interest as they swell with his blood.

Yet, in an appearance Tuesday at USC, he appeared to suggest that the United States was justified in killing Osama bin Laden.

As a human being, Bin Laden may have deserved compassion and even forgiveness, the Dalai Lama said in answer to a question about the assassination of the Al Qaeda leader. But, he said, “Forgiveness doesn’t mean forget what happened. … If something is serious and it is necessary to take counter-measures, you have to take counter-measures.”

Here is a more detailed description from website of The Office of Tibet (my emphasis):

His Holiness . . . [gave] a public talk on “Secular Ethics, Human Values and Society“ organized by the University’s Student Interfaith Council and co-hosted by the Dalai Lama Foundation and the Dalai Lama Center for Ethics and Transformative Values . . .

His Holiness then answered questions, some of which were submitted through the Internet. The first question was on His Holiness’ emphasis on compassion as a basis of ethics.  It asked whether in some situation ensuring justice is more important than being compassionate to the perpetrator of a crime. It referred to the news of the death of Osama Bin Laden and the celebrations of it by some, and asked where compassion fit in with this and ethics. In his response, His Holiness emphasized the need to find a distinction between the action and the actor.  He said in the case of Bin Laden, his action was of course destructive and the September 11 events killed thousands of people.  So his action must be brought to justice, His Holiness said. But with the actor we must have compassion and a sense of concern, he added. His Holiness said therefore the counter measure, no matter what form it takes, has to be compassionate action. His Holiness referred to the basis of the practice of forgiveness saying that it, however, did not mean that one should forget what has been done.

This event of bin Laden’s killing is not easily resolved in our mind. We have questions, concerns. If we look at it strictly from the precept of not-killing as the great moral truth, as an ultimate or absolute truth, then we betray the ultimate truth. Mahayana teaches that the highest truth is no truth at all. Nagarjuna states, “Silence is the ultimate truth for the wise.”

Furthermore, he says:

All deeds are sunya (relative and contingent); and the deeds that are done with this understanding are called right deeds. The farer on the Great Way, the bodhisattva, comprehends the ultimate sameness of all deeds; and he does not take the good deed as meritorious and the evil deed as devoid of merit. For in the ultimate truth there is not this distinction of good and bad. In the ultimate sense, there are no deeds, good or evil. This is the true prajna (wisdom).

Nagarjuna’s not promoting a free-for-all attitude, a way to rationalize unwholesome behavior, rather he’s telling us good and evil are non-dual. If there wasn’t evil, how could there be good? Ultimately, though, they are just concepts. What’s more, when holding a moral truth to be absolute, we box ourselves in a corner. David J. Kalupahana, in his study of Nagarjuna, The Philosophy of the Middle Way, says, “A moral law that is incapable of accommodating any exceptions can be utterly useless and even harmful.”

The alternative is not very attractive. In the relative and mundane world, there are deeds and doers of deeds, actions and actors. And there is good and evil. Once we begin to make exceptions, we veer dangerously close to the idea that the end justifies the means. By justifying immoral acts owing to a good intention, we betray not only our highest ideal, that of the bodhisattva, but also the very real vows of compassion the bodhisattva makes on behalf of others.

Shantideva in the Siksha-Samuccaya (“Compendium of Teachings”): “It is armed with that compassion which takes just this bodily form, that a Bodhisattva refuses to do an evil deed, even for dear life.”

In the same work, Shantideva says that if a Bodhisattva commits a “sin” but commits it with no desire, no attachment, no hatred, and for the benefit of others, then no “bad sin” has been committed. Maybe back to the end justifying the means? I don’t know . . .

Something else: Shantideva quotes the Viradatta-paripriccha, “He who has a mind for the Dharma must carry his body about like a cart for the supporting of burdens.” And the Vajradhvaja Sutra, “For I have taken it upon myself, by my own will, the whole of the pain of all things living. Thus I dare try every abode of pain . . .”

While reading those lines, I thought about the Navy Seals who carried out the raid, particularly of the man, or men, who killed bin Laden. I always hear about our troops putting themselves in harm’s way, and frankly, most of the time it goes in one ear and out the other. But to put oneself at risk like that for the sake of others is a compassionate act. To take the life of another is a huge burden to assume, whether one is cognizant of it or not. It’s not an abode of pain I would enter eagerly.

Those Navy Seals deserve our compassion and our forgiveness, too.

Anyway, like you probably, I have not resolved all this myself. Which brings us to another truth: some things are never resolved. Yet we will keep searching for resolution, because we will never be completely satisfied with the state of things or the answers we have at hand. In the moment, yes. That’s contentment, peace, it’s real. In the long run, no. We should never be satisfied.

A bodhisattva vows to save all living beings and knows that it is impossible to save all living beings, yet keeps trying anyway . . .

 

Posted by David at 12:51 am Tagged with: , , , ,

The Chih-kuan Dharma Door Is Not Shallow

Buddhism, Meditation No Responses »
May 042011

Monday’s post featured a selection from Chih-kuan for Beginners by T’ien-t’ai master, Chih-i. A reader emailed this question: “What does “shallow” mean in this context: ‘Consequently the chih-kuan dharma door to enlightenment is not shallow.’?”

First, some background: Because it began as essentially a Madhyamaka school, Nagarjuna (150–250 CE) is traditionally held to be the 1st Patriarch of the Chinese T’ien-t’ai (Celestial Terrace) School, while Chih-i (538–597 CE), the 4th Patriarch, is considered its actual founder. Chih-i was one of the great philosophers of Buddha-dharma, and as I wrote the other day, is placed in the same class as the Buddha and Nagarjuna, which is why there is a tradition of regarding him as the “3rd Buddha.”

Chih-kuan for Beginners (also known as Hsiu-hsi chih-kuan tso-ch’an fa-yao; T’ung meng chih-kuan; Hsiao chih-kuan) is considered one of his minor works, but in actuality, it may be his most influential. It was the first popular introduction to meditation in Chinese Buddhism. In the 8th century, it became the model for meditation instruction in the Ch’an school. Japanese scholar Sekiguchi Shindai says that many later meditation manuals were also patterned on this short treatise, including Fukan zazen gi by Dogen (1200-1253 CE).

This introductory manual was supposedly written for Chih-i’s brother, Ch’en Chen, an army general. It’s said that Ch’en Chen was terminally ill but after performing the repentance mentioned in the text, he completely recovered. Most scholars, however, don’t believe that Chih-i personally wrote anything, rather his “works” are compilations of his lectures, fashioned into a number of individual texts, primarily by Kuang-Ting, his immediate disciple. Paul Swanson says, “It [Chih-kuan for Beginners] was probably compiled while Chih-i was sequestered on Mt. T’ien-t’ai (from the age of 38 [575] to 48)—a time when he had a ‘great awakening’ . . .”

Although Chih-kuan for Beginners is a rather short work, it nonetheless contains all the necessary instruction that one needs to begin and maintain a meditation practice. That is not to say that the text was intended to be used as a substitute for personal training with a qualified instructor. “Beginners” is a bit of a misnomer because, in spite of its short length, it goes into nearly microscopic detail on the “essentials” for practice, and thus, it is extremely valuable to more advanced practitioners.

“Consequently the chih-kuan dharma door to enlightenment is not shallow.” “Shallow” is meant literally. Even the simplest teachings of Buddha-dharma are extremely deep. Another translation reads, “If one understands accordingly, then it will be quite apparent that this Dharma entryway of stopping and contemplation is truly not a shallow one.” A few sentences on in the Luk translation it says: “Instead of slighting the seeming shallowness of the text, Truth-seekers should blush to find that these steps are difficult to practice.”

On one hand, Chih-i (or the compiler) is simply expressing some humility. It may be false humility as far as the “seeming shallowness of the text” is concerned, for anyone who reads Chih-i’s works, shallow is the last word that comes to mind. Nonetheless, humility is a good quality for both teachers and practitioners to cultivate.

Earlier in the selection from Monday’s post, Chih-i mentions that if meditation and wisdom are not in equal proportion the practice is unbalanced. To stay balanced I feel it’s important to always go back to the prime points, return to the basics. All these ancient masters say the same thing, that everything you need to fare on the Way you get at the very beginning. Chih-i tells us that the path does not go beyond the practice of chih and kuan, concentration and insight, or as Chih-i understood the terms, stopping and seeing.

That’s why I think it is important to have a “lifetime beginners” spirit, and why I am skeptical of those who claim to have attained arhatship or enlightenment. Even to suggest it says to me that there’s an attachment formed to the idea. So if you become enlightened at 27 or 33, what is there left for you? I can’t help but feel that the attachment only grows until it destroys the seeking mind, the beginner’s spirit. I don’t know if it is what Chih-i calls “stupidity” or “infatuation” but either way, I don’t buy it.

Buddha-dharma is both profound and simple. It is simple because what is so complex about a calm mind? It is profound because it is pointing directly at the true nature of reality, which ultimately is beyond our comprehension. Same thing with meditation. Counting your breath. What could be simpler than that? Staying in the present moment. At times, nothing can be more difficult.

Consequently the chih-kuan dharma door to enlightenment is not shallow. When receiving beginners to initiate them to the Path, it is easy to preach the Dharma which is, however, very difficult to practice. How, then, is it possible to expound in full what is deep and subtle?

For the benefit of beginners, I now briefly present the following ten essentials for treading the right Path so that they can achieve the progressive stages leading to (their realization) of nirvana. Instead of slighting the seeming shallowness of the text, Truth-seekers should blush to find that these steps are difficult to practice. However, if their minds are ripe for the teaching, in the twinkling of an eye their sharp wisdom will have no limit and their spiritual understanding will become unfathomable. If they aimlessly drag about words and terms and allow their feelings (and passions) to distort the teaching, they will fritter away their time and will fail to achieve realization; they are like a man who counts the treasures belonging to others. What advantages can they expect therefrom?

 

Posted by David at 12:01 am Tagged with: , , ,

Changing bin Laden's Poison into Medicine

Buddhism, General 2 Responses »
May 032011

Mahayana Buddhism posits an intermediate state of being, a period of time in-between death and rebirth. Its length differs by tradition, but commonly prayers and thoughts of loving-kindness are sent to the deceased who linger in that ku (empty) or bardo (transitional) state. You may not accept this notion, but that should not prevent you from sending Osama bin Laden your prayers and thoughts of loving-kindness.

As a way of developing abundant compassion, prayers for a monster can be very powerful, for you. When we practice loving-kindness meditation, one of the four types of persons we develop compassion toward is a “hostile” person. Someone with whom we are at odds , have difficulties about, who provokes our anger – bin Laden is certainly in that category. Sometimes practicing compassion should be a real challenge.

I saw a number of posts online yesterday that were a “Buddhist response” to bin Laden’s killing. This, I think, is an appropriate Buddhist response.

I also saw posts throughout the blogosphere that questioned the response of others, particularly those of the crowds in front of the White House and at Ground Zero Sunday night. My reaction was similar at first. I believe that life is precious, sacred. I believe that the murder of a murderer is still murder, whether carried out in an execution chamber or “in the field.” I believe it is inappropriate to rejoice at the death of another human being, no matter what that person may have done. What I saw reminded me of the rejoicing after the execution of Timothy McVeigh. That was not justice. It was vengeance.

However the more I watched the crowds Sunday, the more felt that this wasn’t self-righteousness or vengeance masquerading as justice, but rather a pure sense of joyfulness, the kind of feeling you would have after going through a long, arduous struggle and then suddenly realizing that you made it in one piece.

I also noticed that the rejoicing crowds were young. Just kids on 9/11. They grew up with the specter of terrorism hovering above their heads. Everyone has felt it. 9/11 changed the lives of nearly every person on this planet. The threat terrorism poses has made us paranoid, fearful, weary.

Last night, Thomas Friedman of NY Times said on CNN:

You know, our day is not September 11. Our day is the Fourth of July . . . I mean, we’re not the people who are exporting fear. You know, we’re the people about hope, freedom, opportunity. And we need to get back to that. I think President Obama has done a good job of getting us back to that in many ways.

But this idea as I say that everything is about national security and homeland security and these huge bureaucracies that have been created. Are they here forever? Is this it? Are we taking off our shoes and our belts and our clothes forever? At what point do we say, “You know what? We’ve got to accept a little more insecurity in our life so we can — we can live like Americans again.”

False or not, in the last two days many people have felt a renewed sense of security. They’ve grasped onto a little piece of hope that they are closer to living like Americans again. It’s produced feelings of joy and gratitude. Personally, I don’t feel like begrudging them that.

We should remember that as part of loving-kindness practice, we try to cultivate four qualities of love: friendliness (metta), compassion (karuna), appreciative joy (mudita) and equanimity (upekkha). Those are the qualities I saw in the crowds Sunday night. As an example, consider equanimity in the way it is described by Gil Fronsdal, a teacher for the Insight Meditation Center:

While some may think of equanimity as dry neutrality or cool aloofness, mature equanimity produces a radiance and warmth of being. The Buddha described a mind filled with equanimity as “abundant, exalted, immeasurable, without hostility and without ill-will.

I suspect that the people in those crowds were not actually rejoicing at a human being’s death, so much as they were celebrating a moment of hope, experiencing some long-sought closure. For the first time in a long while, many people feel that they don’t have to strain their eyes so hard in order to catch a glimpse of light at the end of the tunnel.

President Obama in the Situation Room monitoring the operation in real time

At first I questioned President Obama’s statements that justice had been done. That it was a good day for America. So what does justice mean here? In this case perhaps it’s a form of restorative justice in the sense that bin Laden’s death has helped to heal us, helped to make us a bit more whole.

One of the doctrines that Buddhism teaches is hendoku-iyaku or “changing poison into medicine.” 9/11 shocked and traumatized the world and I think there is no question than that bin Laden was the mastermind of that plot. If his death then contributes something positive to the world, even for a short time – if his poison becomes medicine that helps to heal the world – then isn’t that a good thing?

This event is an opportunity to cultivate the qualities that have been mentioned here. Sometimes great good comes in response to great evil, but it is up to us to make it happen.

I think it is also important to keep in mind that karma means action, and as a teacher once told me years ago, all karma is volitional. Whether you accept the doctrine of karma or doubt it, it remains a fact that people often choose their own fate. It has nothing to do with any sort of divine retribution. No one who sets out to be a terrorist can expect to live a long life. Therefore, the person most responsible for Osama bin Laden’s violent death was the man himself. He created his own karma, just as you and I do. Just remember that bodhisattvas vow to have compassion for all people, including those who bring suffering down upon others.

There has been a lot of rejoicing in the world as of late. The uprising in Egypt was a somewhat joyful revolution. In protesting against their country’s leadership, the people of Egypt also managed to celebrate their own sense of who they are. Over the weekend, Britons celebrated something I considered silly and trivial. They made a big production out of a simple wedding ceremony. But now I feel that I should have been happy for them, glad that they found some joy, and I am glad that a day or two later, many other people found some joy, too, and some hope. Hope and joy are often in short supply.

In his poem, “Letter from Li Po”, Conrad Aiken wrote:

Song with the wind will change, but is still song
and pierces to the rightness in the wrong
or makes the wrong a rightness, a delight.

Finally, I don’t see this as “an eye for an eye” kind of thing. Not with this president. I don’t believe President Obama is a man who would cavalierly make a decision that might result in the death of any living being or give in to feelings of revenge. I suspect he weighed the moral questions. Carefully. I can trust a guy like that.

It’s not for me to tell you who to send loving-kindness to, or how to view justice, and I’m certainly not trying to make an excuse for killing. I’m just saying . . . that Buddhism offers us some different ways to view this event . . . and maybe President Obama was right . . . maybe justice was done. Maybe it was a good day for America.

Posted by David at 2:29 am Tagged with: , , , ,

Chih-kuan: Balance Between Meditation and Wisdom

Buddhism, Meditation No Responses »
May 022011

It is an acknowledged but underappreciated fact that the modern Buddhist traditions of Japan owe a lot to the Tendai school and its Chinese parent, T’ien-t’ai. As I mentioned in a recent post, it was because of the efforts of Tendai founder, Saicho, that the Buddhist schools in Japan adopted the “bodhisattva precepts” as the basis of ordination. Furthermore, the Zen, Jodo (Pure Land) and Nichiren schools all originated from Tendai, as their founders were originally priests in that tradition.

Meditation as practiced by the Chinese Ch’an and Japanese Zen schools also developed out of the teachings of the de facto founder of T’ien-t’ai, Chih-i. Today, T’ien-t’ai is often described as a “philosophical school” however this is inaccurate, as it was also very much a meditation school. Buddhist scholar Neal Donner has noted that of thirty-five works by Chih-i which remain extant, about half deal with practice. Indeed,  Chih-i was the first Chinese Buddhist to produce a meditation manual. The fact that Chih-i’s contributions to Buddhist doctrine are such that he deserves to be placed in the same class as the Buddha and Nagarjuna is probably the chief reason that many scholars have tended to emphasize the philosophical aspects of his teachings at the expense of his meditation instruction.

Donner also notes (in The Great Calming and Concentration of Chih-i) that in his early works, Chih-i used the term ch’an (Chinese translation of dhyana or “meditation”) for spiritual practice and later replaced it with chih-kuan:

It is of great interest, however, that while Chih-i used the word ch’an in the earlier work, this was replaced by the word chih-kuan in the MHCK [Moho Chih-kuan] and others of the master’s later opera, so that since that time, it has been the term chih-kuan which has signified religious practice in the T’ien-t’ai (and Tendai) school, while the Ch’an school appropriated for itself the term which Chih-i had already discarded as not being comprehensive enough.

Zazen (Ch. zuo-ch’an), the heart of Ch’an/Zen practice means “seated meditation”, a somewhat generic term. Japanese Zen also uses the terms shikan and shikantaza. Shikan has two referents: it refers to chih-kuan, which is the Chinese translation of samatha-vipasyana (concentration and insight), a term for the traditional method of Buddhist meditation; and it refers to the system of meditation associated with Chih-i and the T’ien-t’ai school: chih-kuan or “stopping and seeing.”

The best explanation of Chih-i’s chih-kuan that I have found is in a footnote to the translation of T’ung Meng Chih-kuan (“Chih-kuan for Beginners”) by Charles Luk (Lu K’uan Yu):

Chih Kuan: samatha-vipasyana. Chih is silencing the active mind and getting rid of discrimination, and kuan is observing, examining, introspecting. When the physical organism is at rest, it is called chih and when the mind is seeing clearly it is kuan. The chief object is the concentration of mind by special methods for the purpose of clear insight and to be rid of illusion.

Donner makes some even more interesting points in the postscript to his thesis. He remarks on the differences between the Mahayana approach to meditation and that of the other branch, which the Mahayanists gave the derogatory name of Hinayana. The Mahayana understanding of emptiness led their meditation practitioners to recognize the non-duality of concentration and distraction. Hinayana practitioners, on the other hand, quoting the Chinese text Ta-chih-tu-lun, “[try to] exclude distraction and seek concentration, developing thoughts of anger amid dharmas of distraction, and developing thoughts of attachment amid dharmas of concentration.”

Donner further notes a tension in early Mahayana between the dhyana (meditation) approach and the prajna (wisdom) approach. He mentions the threefold division of the Eightfold Path, also known as the “three knowledges”, which is dhyana, prajna and sila (morality or ethics), saying “that dhyana (samadhi) and sila produce prajna – in this case, prajna is understood as an effect or result, though it may also be considered a cause, and then is better understood as ‘intellection,’ ‘gnosis’ or ‘discernment.’

And yet, sila was not truly “Mahayanized” until Saicho founded the Tendai school in Japan.

Chih-i’s meditation teachings some centuries earlier then focused essentially on dhyana and prajna. He was not the first Buddhist to stress the need for balance between the two, however, it is a message he repeats often. The key to understanding Chih-i is through appreciation of his non-dualistic, holistic inclination and his love for harmony and inclusion.

It is a message that has relevance to us today, as we see that some persons feel that Buddhism can be learned primarily from study and acquiring knowledge, while others believe that it is only through meditation that any benefit is realized.

Here are the opening paragraphs of Chih-i’s Chih-kuan for Beginners, as translated by Luk:

The attainment of Nirvana is realizable by many methods whose essentials do not go beyond the practice of chih (samatha) and kuan (vipasyana). Chih is the first step to untie all bonds and kuan is essential to root out delusion. Chih provides nourishment for the preservation of a knowing mind and kuan is the skilful art of promoting spiritual understanding. Chih is the unsurpassed cause of dhyana and kuan begets wisdom, he who achieves both chih and kuan is fully competent to work for the welfare of self and others. Hence, the Lotus Sutra says: ‘The Buddha while dwelling in Mahayana used the transcendental power of the dhyana and wisdom (prajna) which he had realized to liberate living beings from birth and death.’ Therefore, we know that this twin realization is like the two wheels of a cart and the two wings of a bird. Partial practice of them is wrong.

Hence, the sutra says: ‘The practice of dhyana alone, while wisdom is disregarded, causes stupidity and the practice of wisdom alone, while dhyana is disregarded, causes infatuation.’ Although stupidity and infatuation are relatively minor faults which differ from each other, their contribution to recurrent wrong views is identical.

If dhyana and wisdom are not in equal proportion, the practice is deficient; how can it lead to speedy realization of the Supreme Fruit? Thus is why the sutra says: ‘Sravakas [voice-hearers, disciples] cannot perceive the Buddha nature because of their excessive dhyana; Bodhisattvas of the tenth stage do not perceive it clearly because of their excessive wisdom; (and) all Tathagata Buddha perceive it clearly because their dhyana and wisdom are in equal proportion.’

Therefore, chih-kuan is the main gate to the great nirvana, the unsurpassed path of self-cultivation, the index to perfection of all excellent virtues and the true substance of the Supreme Fruit. Consequently the chih-kuan dharma door to enlightenment is not shallow.

When receiving beginners to initiate them to the Path, it is easy to preach the Dharma which is, however, very difficult to practice.

Posted by David at 12:12 am Tagged with: , , , ,

The Gospel of Buddha: "You May Wear Rags or Lay-Robes"

Buddhism No Responses »
Apr 302011

As I wrote last Tuesday, I’ve been reading The Gospel of Buddha by Paul Carus. If you missed that post, it has some background material about Carus, one of the pioneers of Buddhism in the west.

The book is subtitled “Compiled from Ancient Records” which means the Tipitaka. One story I thought unfamiliar concerns the bhikkhus and their robes. I must have seen it at least once since Carus’ source is The sacred books of the East by Friedrich Max Muller (1880). However, I haven’t read much from that since I was in college.

Carus calls the story “Jivaka, The Physician.” Jivaka, almost certainly a mythological figure, is said to be the most famous doctor in India during the Buddha’s time.

“Jivaka, The Physician” begins with this passage:

Long before the Blessed One had attained enlightenment, self-mortification had been the custom among those who earnestly sought for salvation. Deliverance of the soul from all the necessities of life and finally from the body itself, they regarded as the aim of religion. Thus, they avoided everything that might be a luxury in food, shelter, and clothing, and lived like the beasts in the woods. Some went naked, while others wore the rags cast away upon cemeteries or dungheaps.

When the Blessed One retired from the world, he recognized at once the error of the naked ascetics, and, considering the indecency of their habit, clad himself in cast-off rags.

Having attained enlightenment and rejected all unnecessary self-mortifications, the Blessed One and his bhikkhus continued for a long time to wear the cast-off rags of cemeteries and dung-heaps.

When he writes that the Buddha “retired from the world”, Carus is obviously referring to the Buddha’s “Great Renunciation”, which actually was not so great. After all, as the passage above indicates, didn’t the Buddha reject the severe renunciation and austerities of the “naked ascetics” and advocate a Middle Way? The Buddha did not retire from the world, quite the contrary. He was deeply involved in the world. He and his followers did not live in seclusion. They always stayed on the edges of towns and villages and interacted with ordinary people on a regular basis.

Perhaps, this was merely Carus’ choice of words, or maybe he borrowed it from one of his sources, but surely he must have been cognizant of the fact that the Buddha and the bhikkhus were not monastics.

In any case, as the story continues, the bhikkhus were visited with all kinds of disease from wearing the filthy rags. Then, the Buddha became sick. Ananda went to Jivaka, who was physician to King Bimbisara. Jivaka treated and healed the Buddha, Still, the Buddha and the bhikkhus continued to wear only rags. Sometime later Jivaka received a fine robe as a gift and he wanted to donate it to the Buddha.  After going back and forth about it with Jivaka, the Buddha finally consented to wear the robe and then he addressed the Bhikkhus,

Henceforth ye shall be at liberty to wear either cast-off rags or lay robes. Whether ye are pleased with the one or with the other, I will approve of it.”

When the people at Rajagaha heard, “The Blessed One has allowed the bhikkhus to wear lay robes,” those who were willing to bestow gifts became glad. And in one day many thousands of robes were presented at Rajagaha to the bhikkhus.

I was intrigued by the use of the term “lay-robes.” I looked at some of the other accounts, and while it seems that Carus condensed the story somewhat, “lay-robes” is consistent with other translations. Muller describes the robe Jivaka offers to the Buddha as both a lay-robe and “a suit of Siveyyaka cloth.” Hermann Oldenberg and Thomas William Rhys Davids in Vinaya Texts (1881) mention that Buddhaghosa gave two explations of Siveyyaka cloth, one being a cloth used in Uttarakuru for covering dead bodies, and secondly as a excellent cloth made in Sivi. Since all the translations indicate that the cloth was of the best material and other sources say that Siveyyaka cloth was valuable, I think it is safe to assume it was the latter. Vinaya Texts has “lay-robes” and S. Beal in his translation uses “householder robes.”

We should not take literally the stories we find in Buddhist texts, but rather understand them as allegory, and this is true for all ancient spiritual literature.  In creating these stories there was a message the original compilers were trying to convey, hidden in the symbolism or between the lines. What is the message here?

It seems to me that one point is about judging by appearance. Wearing a robe, or certain kind of robe, does not make a person a bhikkhu. It is something else, such as one’s dedication to the path, one’s commitment to the ethical way of life that Buddhism promotes. I think the implication of the story is if the bhikkhus were to wear lay-robes then how would people tell the difference between them and householders? In the relative sense, sure, they are differences, but ultimately, there are none. So, I think a second point is that by wearing “lay-robes” the bhikkhus were symbolically honoring the laity, saying we are essentially a one-fold sangha, not two or four-fold.

Today there is still a prejudice against lay practitioners and lay Buddhism and I feel it is really a divisive attitude. From time to time, I run across individuals who only want to practice with monks or at temples and monasteries. Somehow to them lay Buddhism doesn’t have the right stuff. And in at least one Buddhist tradition I have some experience in, the opposite is the prevailing frame of mind.

But the real truth is that it doesn’t matter whether your teachers or the people you practice with wear robes or blue jeans. I’ve encountered liars, fakes, ego-trippers and authoritarians wearing both. All that is important is the quality of the dharma you get. Capturing the spirit of Buddhism and practicing with some effort is all that matters in the long run.

Sessen Doji offered his body to a demon to receive a teaching composed of eight characters. Bodhisattva Yakuo, having no oil, burned his elbow as an offering to the Lotus Sutra. In our own country, Prince Shotoku peeled off the skin of his hand on which to copy the Lotus Sutra, and Emperor Tenji burned his third finger as an offering to Shakyamuni Buddha. Such austere practices are for saints and sages, but not for ordinary people. Yet even common mortals can attain Buddhahood if they cherish one thing: earnest faith. In the deepest sense, earnest faith is the will to understand and live up to the spirit, not the words, of the sutras.

- Nichiren, “The Gift of Rice”

A person who lives “up to the spirit, not the words” of the teachings can be a good mentor whether they wear a robe or a business suit, rags or t-shirts. And if we have that same attitude, we can practice anywhere, in a temple, in a tent – it’s not important. All we need is to see past appearance and capture the spirit.

Posted by David at 1:22 am Tagged with: , , , ,

Buddha, The Atheist Who Loved God, and The Other James Baldwin

Buddhism No Responses »
Apr 262011

Last week I found a copy of The Gospel of Buddha by Paul Carus at my friendly neighborhood thrift shop. It was first published in 1894 (this copy is from 1973) and I could tell from the title and from skimming through it that it was like a lot of other books on Buddhism from that period, but at only a $1.50, I couldn’t resist buying it. Besides, I had always thought Carus to be an interesting figure and thought it was time I should finally look at his work.

Painting used on the cover of the 1973 edition.

The writings of early scholars and interpreters of Buddha-dharma are saturated with Biblical language and to me they often seem hopelessly antiquated. This book is no exception. “Gospel” is a word that has almost exclusively Christian connotations. Its meaning in Old English is “godspell” or god (good) + message/news. Calling the teachings of Buddha “gospel” seems to be an unfortunate choice of words. Yet, when I got the book home and began to pursue it, I enjoyed the sections I read. Perhaps the rather spare, straightforward prose style had something to do with it.

Paul Carus (1852 –1919) was an author, a professor of philosophy, and a student of comparative religion. He was born in Germany and moved to the United States in 1884. During his life, he wrote 75 books and 1500 articles. Spinoza (1632-1677) who was critical of Western philosophy and maintained that God exists only as a concept, was a major influence on Carus as a philosopher.

Paul Carus

Carus described himself as “an atheist who loved God” and called his own philosophy a “Religion of Science.” In his 1896 book by the same name he wrote,

In order to establish the Religion of Science it is by no means necessary to abolish the old religions, but only to purify them and develop their higher possibilities, so that their mythologies shall be changed into strictly scientific conceptions. It is intended to preserve of the old religions all that is true and good, but to purify their faith by rejecting superstations and irrational elements, and to discard, unrelentingly, their errors.

You could say that Carus was the Stephen Batchelor of his day, although I feel he was closer in spirit to Joseph Campbell, who some seven decades later explained that religious teachings are misunderstood because we take the myths literally instead of understanding them as metaphors for spiritual truths.

In 1893 Carus met a young D.T. Suzuki in Chicago at a meeting of the World Parliament of Religion, where the latter had translated Shaku Soen’s public address. Carus persuaded Suzuki to stay in the US and gave him a job working for his publishing house. In 1898, Carus and Suzuki published the first US translation of the Tao Te Ching. Years later, Suzuki’s individual work would be instrumental in generating interest about Buddhism in the West.

The Gospel of Buddha was one of the earliest translations of Buddhist teachings into English. In telling the story of the Buddha and his dharma, compiled from a variety of Buddhist texts, Carus modeled his approach on the New Testament, which actually is effective as overall Carus toned down both the Biblical language and the mythological elements.

Here’s a short section that I liked, largely taken from S. Beal’s 1876 translation of the Chinese Dhammapada, called “The Light of the World”:

There was a certain Brahman in Kosamba, a wrangler and well versed in the Vedas. As he found no one whom he regarded his equal in debate he used to carry a lighted torch in his hand, and when asked for the reason of his strange conduct, he replied: “The world is so dark that I carry this torch to light it up, as far as I can.”

A samana sitting in the market-place heard these words and said: “My friend, if thine eyes are blind to the sight of the omnipresent light of the day, do not call the world dark. Thy torch adds nothing to the glory of the sun and thy intention to illumine the minds of others is as futile as it is arrogant.”

Whereupon the Brahman asked: “Where is the sun of which thou speakest?” And the samana replied: “The wisdom of the Tath?gata is the sun of the mind. His radiancy is glorious by day and night, and he whose faith is strong will not lack light on the path to Nirvana where he will inherit bliss everlasting.”

As I mentioned, Carus was interested in comparative religion. In the back of the book he put a Table of Reference where he cited the chapter and verse from the book, named the source(s), and then drew his “Parallelisms.” Most of the parallels correspond to verses in the New Testament Gospels, but in the case of this story, it’s with the story of Diogenes and his lantern.

The other James Baldwin

Here is that tale about the famous Greek philosopher as interpreted by James Baldwin – not the author you are probably thinking of, but another – a James Baldwin (1841–1925) who was white, from a backwoods Quaker family, a largely self-educated man who became a teacher at 24 and later embarked on a career in publishing as an author and editor of school books for the American Book Company.  This account of the Diogenes story is from Fifty Famous Stories Retold, a children’s book Baldwin published in 1896:

At Corinth, in Greece, there lived a very wise man whose name was Diogenes. Men came from all parts of the land to see him and hear him talk.

But wise as he was, he had some very queer ways. He did not believe that any man ought to have more things than he really needed; and he said that no man needed much. And so he did not live in a house, but slept in a tub or barrel, which he rolled about from place to place. He spent his days sitting in the sun, and saying wise things to those who were around him.

At noon one day, Diogenes was seen walking through the streets with a lighted lantern, and looking all around as if in search of something.

“Why do you carry a lantern when the sun is shining?” someone said.

“I am looking for an honest man,” answered Diogenes.

When Alexander the Great went to Corinth, all the foremost men in the city came out to see him and to praise him. But Diogenes did not come; and he was the only man for whose opinions Alexander cared.

And so, since the wise man would not come to see the king, the king went to see the wise man. He found Diogenes in an out-of-the-way place, lying on the ground by his tub. He was enjoying the heat and the light of the sun.

When he saw the king and a great many people coming, he sat up and looked at Alexander. Alexander greeted him and said,–

“Diogenes, I have heard a great deal about your wisdom. Is there anything that I can do for you?”

“Yes,” said Diogenes. “You can stand a little on one side, so as not to keep the sunshine from me.”

This answer was so different from what he expected, that the king was much surprised. But it did not make him angry; it only made him admire the strange man all the more. When he turned to ride back, he said to his officers,–

“Say what you will; if I were not Alexander, I would like to be Diogenes.”

Have a good day and remember to let your light shine.

Posted by David at 12:32 am Tagged with: , ,

Deaths at Kirti Monastery

Buddhism 1 Response »
Apr 252011

Following up on my recent post about the situation at Kirti Monastery in Tibet: Reports Saturday that Chinese police killed two Tibetan villagers during a raid on the monastery. The US-based International Campaign for Tibet say two monks were beaten to death Thursday after they tried to prevent police from detaining hundreds of other monks. The deceased were identified as two elderly Tibetans, 60 year old Dhonkho of Thawa Ghongma township and 65 year old Sherkyi of the Rako Tsang house Chashang township. The raid by Chinese police resulted in the arrest of around 300 monks who were taken to an undisclosed location.

Tibetans in exile around the world have gone on hunger strikes protesting the repression in Tibet and demanding the withdrawal of Chinese troops from the monastery.

The Tibetan government-in-exile Saturday once again appealed to the international community to persuade China not to use force against locals in northeastern Tibet.

Still, not a word mentioned on the cable news networks. Nothing on their websites. We know how many were killed in Libya and Syria, but not Tibet. We know what happened to Lindsey Lohan on Friday and how many hours are left until the Royal Wedding, but viewers are not informed about Kirti Monastery. No protests from the US Senate or the House of Representatives. Nothing from the White House.

Friday,  President Obama released a statement on Syria, in which he said “The United States condemns in the strongest possible terms the use of force by the Syrian government against demonstrators. This outrageous use of violence to quell protests must come to an end now. We regret the loss of life and our thoughts are with the families and loved ones of the victims, and with the Syrian people in this challenging time.”

And what about Tibet, Mr. President? As a well-known singer-songwriter once asked, “How many deaths will it take . . .”

China is an equal opportunity repressor. This past weekend, Chinese authorities detained several hundred congregants of an “underground” evangelical Protestant church in their homes while arresting 36 others when they gathered in a public square to hold Easter services.  The church is called Shouwang, or Lighthouse, maintains that it is not political and only interested in either returning to its rented space, from which they were evicted earlier in the month (unlawfully they maintain), or be allowed to hold gathering outdoors or in private homes.

This week the Dalai Lama will visit the United States.  On Wednesday, an announcement is expected on the new prime minister for the Tibetan parliament-in-exile . . .

Hopefully the visit will help focus some attention on the situation.

Posted by David at 1:01 am Tagged with: , ,

The Ch'an Poetry of Po Chu-i

Buddhism, Poetry 3 Responses »
Apr 232011

It’s still National Poetry Month, which is sponsored by the Academy of American Poets, so that means more poetry. Today, the quintessential Chinese poet,  Po Chu-i

Po Chu-i (772-846) was a government official who was a popular poet during the Chinese Tang dynasty. And a rather prolific one – he supposedly wrote over 2800 poems. He was also a member of the Hanlin Academy (“brush wood court”), an elite scholarly institution founded in the 8th century that lasted until 1911.

However, Po Chu-i himself was not elitist. He wrote deceptively simple poetry that was often sympathetic to the troubles and concerns of common people. He wanted to make his work accessible and it is said that if any of his servants could not understand one of his poems, he would immediately rewrite it.

A serious student of Ch’an, Po, like most Chinese Buddhists, also studied Taoism. The Taoist influence is evident in his poetry’s realistic quality and how it reflects the theme of harmony with nature and between people. However, the Ch’an influence was the greater of the two.

In his introduction to The Selected Poems of Po Chu-I, David Hinton writes, “Po’s poems often include the explicit use of Ch’an ideas, indeed he is the poet who really opened mainstream poetry to Buddhist experience, his work becoming a major source of information on Buddhist practice in his time.” (Which should tell you how little we know about Buddhism then.)

Burton Watson, translator of Chinese and Japanese literature, in his book Po Chu-i: Selected Poems, says that Po was most famous for his “simplicity of language” and for “an abiding desire to portray himself, whatever he may have been in real life, as a connoisseur of everyday delights, a man confronting the world, particular in the years of old age, with an air of humor and philosophical acceptance.”

Here is a poem that Hinton chose to translate almost verbatim, without any additional words, capturing Po’s simple poetic style:

Flower No Flower

Flower no flower
mist no mist

arrives at midnight
and leaves at dawn

arrives like a spring dream – how many times
leaves like a morning cloud – nowhere to find

Po also wrote poems of social protest. Early in his career, his politically flavored poetry caused him to be exiled to Hsun-yang where he served as Chief Magistrate. This poem from the Hsun-yang years was translated by Arthur Waley:

Visiting the Hsi-Lin Temple

I dismount from my horse at the Hsi-Lin Temple;
I hurry forward, speeding with light cane.
In the morning I work at a Govermnment office-desk;
In the evening I become a dweller in the Sacred Hills.
In the second month to the north of K’uang-lu
The ice breaks and the snow begins to melt.
On the southern plantation the tea-plant trusts its sprouts;
Through the northern crevice the view of the spring ooze.

This year there is war in An-hui,
In every place soldiers are rushing to arms.
Men of learning have been summoned to the Council Board;
Men of action are marching to the battle-line.
Only I, who have no talents at all,
Am left in the mountains to play with the pebbles of the stream.

Here are two poems that I translated myself:

Rain on Autumn Night

Cold, cold this third night of autumn
Rain makes me sleepy
Alone, this old man is contented and idle
It’s late when I extinguish the lamp and lie down
To sleep, listening to the beautiful sound of rain
Incense ashes still glowing in the burner
My only heat in this lodging
At daybreak, I will stay under the quilt to stay warm
And the steps will be covered by frosty red leaves

Lao Tzu

“Those who speak don’t know,
Those who know don’t speak.”
It is said that these words
Were written by Lao Tzu.
Now, if we are to accept
That Lao Tzu was one who knew,
Then why did he compose a book
Of five thousand words?

This poem, inspired by Po, was written by the great American poet William Carlos Williams, circa 1920:

To the shade of Po Chu-I

The work is heavy. I see
bare branches laden with snow.
I try to comfort myself
with thought of your old age.
A girl passes, in a red tam,
the coat above her quick ankles
snow smeared from running and falling –
Of what shall I think now
save of death the bright dancer?

W. S. Merwin, also a serious student of Buddhism, whom I wrote about in this post, composed this poem just last March:

A Message to Po Chu-I

In that tenth winter of your exile
the cold never letting go of you
and your hunger aching inside you
day and night while you heard the voices
out of the starving mouths around you
old ones and infants and animals
those curtains of bones swaying on stilts
and you heard the faint cries of the birds
searching in the frozen mud for something
to swallow and you watched the migrants
trapped in the cold the great geese growing
weaker by the day until their wings
could barely lift them above the ground
so that a gang of boys could catch one
in a net and drag him to market
to be cooked and it was then that you
saw him in his own exile and you
paid for him and kept him until he
could fly again and you let him go
but then where could he go in the world
of your time with its wars everywhere
and the soldiers hungry the fires lit
the knives out twelve hundred years ago

I have been wanting to let you know
the goose is well he is here with me
you would recognize the old migrant
he has been with me for a long time
and is in no hurry to leave here
the wars are bigger now than ever
greed has reached numbers that you would not
believe and I will not tell you what
is done to geese before they kill them
now we are melting the very poles
of the earth but I have never known
where he would go after he leaves me

Posted by David at 2:02 am Tagged with: , , , ,

Earth Day and Smokey the Buddha

General 2 Responses »
Apr 222011

It’s Earth Day, when each year we remind ourselves of all the things we can do to help and protect Mother Earth.

I remember the first Earth Day in 1970. It was called a “national teach-in on the environment.” Teach-in is term you don’t hear anymore. The first major teach-in was organized by Students for a Democratic Society (SDS) at the University of Michigan at Ann Arbor in 1965. What made Earth Day rather epic is that it was really the first mass movement born out of the counter-culture to gain wide-spread support from mainstream America. And that first Earth Day was a big deal. On April 22, 1970, over 20 million people participated – on the streets, in parks, churches and auditoriums, 2000 colleges and universities and 10,000 elementary and high schools.

We had a rally that day at my high school, which was not that big of a deal unfortunately. Just sitting in the bleachers on the football field listening to some students and teachers give speeches. Pretty boring, actually.

It is heartening to see how Earth Day has grown over the years, but disheartening to think that we are still abusing our planet in ways that could have been stopped at any time during the last four decades. Three years after that initial Earth Day celebration, the United States had the first “oil crisis” when OPEC decided on an oil embargo to protest the U.S. decision to re-supply the Israeli military during the Yom Kippur war. To save gas, Nixon reduced the speed limit on highways to 55. Here it is 2011 and we are still dependent on oil.

I’ve always thought of Buddhism as a “green” philosophy. Many of the core principles relate directly to our relationship with the environment, particularly interdependency (pratitya-samutpada), which teaches that all things, sentient and non-sentient, are interconnected. Japanese Buddhism has the term esho funi or “self and environment are two but not two.” Our environment is only a reflection of ourselves. If the Buddha were still around and if he was invited to speak at an Earth Day event, I imagine he’d tell us that we will never clean up our outer environment until we clear up our environment within. The green revolution is really an inner revolution. You already know that, yet I don’t think we can remind ourselves of it too often.

Since it’s also National Poetry Month, I think this is the perfect occasion to present Smokey the Bear Sutra, the poem that Gary Snyder wrote for the 1969 Sierra Club Wilderness Conference. It takes the form of a Buddhist sutra with Smokey the Bear as the reincarnation of Vairocana Buddha, a celestial Buddha who first appeared in the apocryphal Chinese text, Fan-wang ching or “Brahma’s Net” (also the origin of the Mahayana Bodhisattva ordination precepts). It is a somewhat satirical piece (some might say sacrilegious), but satire often allows a writer to communicate valuable principles without having to get up on a soapbox and preach.

 

Ancient statue of Smokey/Vairocana found in Chinese cave

SMOKEY THE BEAR SUTRA

BY GARY SNYDER

Once in the Jurassic about 150 million years ago, the Great Sun Buddha in this corner of the Infinite Void gave a discourse to all the assembled elements and energies: to the standing beings, the walking beings, the flying beings, and the sitting beings–even the grasses, to the number of thirteen billion, each one born from a seed, assembled there: a Discourse concerning Enlightenment on the planet Earth.

“In some future time, there will be a continent called America. It will have great centers of power called such as Pyramid Lake, Walden Pond, Mt. Rainier, Big Sur, Everglades, and so forth; and powerful nerves and channels such as Columbia River, Mississippi River, and Grand Canyon. The human race in that era will get into troubles all over its head, and practically wreck everything in spite of its own strong intelligent Buddha-nature.”

“The twisting strata of the great mountains and the pulsings of volcanoes are my love burning deep in the earth. My obstinate compassion is schist and basalt and granite, to be mountains, to bring down the rain. In that future American Era I shall enter a new form; to cure the world of loveless knowledge that seeks with blind hunger: and mindless rage eating food that will not fill it.”

And he showed himself in his true form of

SMOKEY THE BEAR

A handsome smokey-colored brown bear standing on his hind legs, showing that he is aroused and watchful.

Bearing in his right paw the Shovel that digs to the truth beneath appearances; cuts the roots of useless attachments, and flings damp sand on the fires of greed and war;

His left paw in the mudra of Comradely Display–indicating that all creatures have the full right to live to their limits and that of deer, rabbits, chipmunks, snakes, dandelions, and lizards all grow in the realm of the Dharma;

Wearing the blue work overalls symbolic of slaves and laborers, the countless men oppressed by a civilization that claims to save but often destroys;

Wearing the broad-brimmed hat of the west, symbolic of the forces that guard the wilderness, which is the Natural State of the Dharma and the true path of man on Earth:

all true paths lead through mountains–

With a halo of smoke and flame behind, the forest fires of the kali-yuga, fires caused by the stupidity of those who think things can be gained and lost whereas in truth all is contained vast and free in the Blue Sky and Green Earth of One Mind;

Round-bellied to show his kind nature and that the great earth has food enough for everyone who loves her and trusts her;

Trampling underfoot wasteful freeways and needless suburbs, smashing the worms of capitalism and totalitarianism;

Indicating the task: his followers, becoming free of cars, houses, canned foods, universities, and shoes, master the Three Mysteries of their own Body, Speech, and Mind; and fearlessly chop down the rotten trees and prune out the sick limbs of this country America and then burn the leftover trash.

Wrathful but calm. Austere but Comic. Smokey the Bear will Illuminate those who would help him; but for those who would hinder or slander him…

HE WILL PUT THEM OUT.

Thus his great Mantra:

Namah samanta vajranam chanda maharoshana Sphataya hum traka ham mam

“I DEDICATE MYSELF TO THE UNIVERSAL DIAMOND BE THIS RAGING FURY BE DESTROYED”

And he will protect those who love the woods and rivers, Gods and animals, hobos and madmen, prisoners and sick people, musicians, playful women, and hopeful children:

And if anyone is threatened by advertising, air pollution, television, or the police, they should chant SMOKEY THE BEAR’S WAR SPELL:

DROWN THEIR BUTTS

CRUSH THEIR BUTTS

DROWN THEIR BUTTS

CRUSH THEIR BUTTS

And SMOKEY THE BEAR will surely appear to put the enemy out with his vajra-shovel.

Now those who recite this Sutra and then try to put it in practice will accumulate merit as countless as the sands of Arizona and Nevada.

Will help save the planet Earth from total oil slick.
Will enter the age of harmony of man and nature.
Will win the tender love and caresses of men, women, and beasts.
Will always have ripened blackberries to eat and a sunny spot under a pine tree to sit at.

AND IN THE END WILL WIN HIGHEST PERFECT ENLIGHTENMENT

…thus we have heard…

(may be reproduced free forever)

 

Posted by David at 12:21 am Tagged with: , , , ,

Kirti Monastery: “A Jail Filled with Monks”

Buddhism, General 2 Responses »
Apr 202011

Young monk Phuntsok

On March 16, 2011, coinciding with the third anniversary of the widespread demonstrations that rocked Tibet in 2008, a young Tibetan monk named Phuntsok Jarutsang set himself on fire to protest the Chinese government’s continued repression of the Tibetan people. Police officers extinguished the flames and then proceeded to beat the young monk mercilessly. He died in a hospital early the next morning from injuries sustained from the beating. He was 21.

According to the Tibetan Centre for Human Rights and Democracy, on April 9th, Chinese security forces cordoned the Ngaba Kirti Monastery restricting the movement of monks with no one being allowed to go in or out. The monks have been living on food offered by locals through the monastery administration as the Chinese authorities have prohibited local Tibetans from offering food to monks directly. Chinese officials maintain that the situation at Kirti Monastery is “normal.”

Yesterday a report surfaced from Tibetan sources that gives a clearer picture of the situation: The source called the monastery “a jail filled with monks.” Monks are not allowed to leave their quarters after 8PM.  The monastery’s medical facilities has been shut down. Chinese authorities have constructed walls around the monastery.  Soldiers and police enter monks’ quarters at random and ransack them, and some one hundred monks have gone missing or are unaccounted for in the area since the March 16th incident. Authorities have also subjected the monks to extensive “Patriotic Reeducation” sessions that in some cases have lasted for hours.

On April 16th, the Tibetan Parliament in exile appealed for the United Nations to intervene. The UN has yet to respond.

From what I have seen, the cable news networks and my local channels have ignored this story. They keep me up to date with what is happening in Libya, but nothing on Tibet. It’s an old story. It doesn’t have the large scope that the Middle East has, there is no oil in Tibet, and I suspect China’s influence has something to do with it, too.

Six decades have passed since China invaded Tibet. The Dalai Lama gets lip service from US presidents but little else. In 1990, Iran invaded Kuwait and within months, we were chomping at the bit to go and liberate a country that is but a fraction of Tibet’s size. The disparity is obvious. Tibet is only important to Buddhists and liberals and social activists and people of that ilk. Our president, whom I admire, is two out of three there, so I wish he were more outspoken on the subject, and a few others to boot.

Tibetan Prayer Wheel (Mani Khorlo)

I don’t know what to say except that it’s tragic. I don’t know what else to do other than be one of the voices calling attention to China’s cruel repression, even though, if you’re reading this, chances are you are part of the choir. I may have some strong opinions about the validity of lineage claims and some of the historical misrepresentations about monastic Buddhism, but that does not mean that I am against Buddhist monks or want to see that aspect of Buddhism disappear. We owe so much to the monastic tradition. One thing is sure, without it, there would be no Buddhism today. Had there not been such a tradition in Tibet, perhaps many important sutras and teachings would not have been preserved. This is just one contribution to world culture Tibet has made. Comparing Tibetan texts with Chinese versions has helped scholars understand how the sutras were compiled, how they were revised, which are apocryphal and so on.

Tibet has given us a rich and unique culture to appreciate – and we should not forget that uniqueness is also part of diversity, for diversity means not merely to tolerate or accommodate differences, but to also celebrate and, in some cases, preserve them. Tibet is home to a culture suffused with ancient wisdom, one that struggles to maintain its identity as it faces an uncertain future. Based on the Buddhist concept of dependent arising, their struggle is also ours.

Meanwhile, the siege of Kirti monastery continues . . .

May all types of harm and violence in these snowy lands,
Be swiftly pacified and eliminated entirely.
May precious sublime bodhichitta
Arise naturally in the minds of all beings, human and non-human alike,
So that they never again think or act in harmful, violent ways.

May the minds of all be filled with love for one another!
May the whole of Tibet enjoy abundant splendours, happiness and wellbeing!
And may the Buddha’s teachings flourish and endure!
Through the force of the truth embodied in the Three Roots, the Buddhas and their heirs,
And through the power of all the sources of merit throughout samsara and nirvana,
And of our own completely pure, positive intention,
May this, our prayer of aspiration, be fulfilled!

“Prayer for Peace and Stability”, Jamgön Kongtrül Lodrö Thayé (1813-1899)

Posted by David at 1:27 am Tagged with: , , ,
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