Compassion without Drowning
` . . No
other being has such a dwelling as the Bodhisattva, the great being, except of
course the Tathagata. And why? Because these sons of good family, when they
course in the perfection of wisdom, aspire for the great friendliness, and see
all beings as on the way to their slaughter; they aspire for the great
compassion. Dwelling in that dwelling, they rejoice with the great sympathetic
joy, and aspire for the great sympathetic joy. But they do not become intimate
with that sign, but acquire the great impartiality . . .’
Over the
last few months many of us, I am sure, have been feeling some anguish and
despair over the state of the world. Where is it all leading? Where are we
going? What can Buddhists actually do for the world and for themselves when
faced with the full horror of samsara (the conditioned realm)?
One story has it that Avalokiteshvara’s head simply split from
the pain of seeing the full horror of the world. The Buddha Amitabha, his
spiritual father, put the pieces back together again which resulted in the
multi-faced depictions that we sometimes see today.
The
Beginning of Buddhism and Development of the Schools
Early in the
teaching life of the Buddha, Mahavira the great Jain teacher died. His death in about 527 bce
was—to the alarm of the Buddha’s followers—followed by great argumentation
about what Mahavira had actually said and what he had not. It was clear that
this might happen at some future date with the Buddha’s teaching and steps would
be necessary to prevent the problem occurring. The Buddha did not stay in one
place, but moved about over a wide area of northern India, teaching and
instructing any who would listen, as well as those of his monks who dwelt in
those places. For early on in his career as a teacher he had begun sending
monks out to spread the doctrine of enlightenment and liberation from
suffering:
`Go monks and travel for
the welfare and happiness of the people, out of compassion for the world, for
the benefit, welfare and happiness of gods and men. No two of you go the same
way. Teach the doctrine, monks, which is fine in the beginning, middle and end,
and proclaim the pure, holy life. There are beings, naturally of little
passion, who are languishing for lack of hearing the doctrine; they will
understand it!’
said the
Buddha as he dispatched the first sixty monks.
The
Buddhist Sangha was essentially an order of wandering mendicants and only later
with the favour of kings and the wealthy did it have places to reside in and buildviharas for the rainy season—the Deer Park and
the Jeta Park given by Anathapindika.
There
was a monastic rule forbidding the teaching of the doctrine ‘word for word’ to
lay persons, and there appears to have been an injunction against writing down the
scriptures to prevent them falling into the wrong hands. Whatever the reason
for this, it is noteworthy that despite the loss of the Indus Valley script,
two other scripts were introduced into India—Brahmi was already used in the
eighth century bce and Kharosti in the third century bce, both derived from
Aramaic script and probably introduced by merchants. So there were adequate if
complex writing systems available, even though none was utilised until the
first century bce in Sri Lanka. Instead, monks with good memories, called
Bhanakas, were employed. These probably rendered the sutras into gathas—groups
of rhythmic stanzas—for ease of memorisation.
Each
sutra traditionally began with the words, ‘Thus I have heard,’ with which
Ananda began the recitation of the sutras after the death of the Buddha.
Bhanakas were also required to recite the Vinaya rules and code of monastic
conduct. The Vinaya also seems to have contained the first stories of the
Buddha’s life, put to good use much later (2nd century ce in Sanskrit) in
Ashvaghosha’s beautiful Buddhacharita, a life of the Buddha.
It is
not to be thought, however, that all this evolved smoothly and without
problems. At one point: ‘A quarrel broke out between a Dhammakathika and a
Vinayadhara in such a marked way, that each group made the cause of one
individual member its common cause and participated in the dispute.’
Indications
of stages previous to this crystallisation into bodies are found in the Vinaya
in connection with the arrangements made by Dabba Mallaputta for the residence
of the monks. He arranged that the monks adopting the same mode of life (sabagha) resided in the
same place in order that the Suttantikas could recitesuttantas among themselves, Vinayadharas
discussed the rules of discipline with one another, and the Dhammakathikas
talked mutually about questions of doctrine, and so on. [N. Dutt. The spread of
Buddhism. 1980.] With monastic communities spread over an area of hundreds of
miles, it is hardly surprising that these groups inevitably developed their own
ways and traditions, which still fitted in with the code of the Vinaya
discipline. Little habits and idiosyncrasies grow into larger ones as time goes
by.
Even at
the passing of the Buddha, sadness was not universal, and not all the monks
were downcast. When he heard of the Buddha’s passing, the Venerable Subhadda
was very relieved at his departure. `We used to be annoyed by being told, “This
beseems you,” and, “This beseems you not,” by the Great Samana, but now he has
gone, we shall be able to do whatever we like; and what we do not like, that we
shall not have to do!’ If kaftans and long beards had been in fashion then, I
have no doubt the Venerable Subhadda would have acquired both.
The
Buddha’s passing presented the sangha with one great problem. There had been no
authority but the Buddha, and he had refused to pass this on, telling the monks
that the teaching should be their guide. But the Buddha’s teaching had never
followed a linear progression, and had been given to all sorts of people in all
sorts of different places and situations. His teaching was contingent,
responding to the needs of the time and the people involved, and it was
particularly hard to fit all the pieces together. In fact it was not until four
or five hundred ce that the Pali Canon reached its present form, nearly a
thousand years after the death of the Buddha.
Fortunately,
there was one recourse. Ananda, the Buddha’s cousin and attendant for twenty
years, had followed his master nearly everywhere and had a prodigious memory.
Mahakashyapa,
the elder, decided that a number of enlightened arahats should be gathered and
the sutras recited. The one problem remaining was that Ananda was not an
arahat, so he was sent away and told not to come back until he was. Meanwhile, the
arahats sat in deliberation in Sonbhandar cave in the Rajghir hills near the
city of Rajagriha.
Ananda
said sadly, ‘During all these years I have followed the Tathagata as his
attendant. Every assembly that has been held for consideration of the law, I
have joined. But now as you are going to hold an assembly after his death, I
find myself excluded. The King of the Law having died, I have lost my
dependence and helper.’ But Kashyapa sent him sternly away.
He found
a deserted place and strove earnestly to reach the place ‘beyond learning’.
Exhausted one day, he decided to lie down. Scarcely had his head touched the
pillow when he became an arahat.
Mahakashyapa
then said ‘Let Ananda, who ever heard the words of the Tathagata collect by singing
through the
Sutra-pitaka. Let Upali, who clearly understands the rules of discipline
(Vinaya), and is well known to all who know, collect the Vinaya-pitaka; and I,
Kashyapa will collect the Abhidharma-pitaka (the commentaries).‘
Hsuan
Tsang’s account goes on to describe how ‘going west from this point (where
Ananda had sat) 20 li or so, is a stupa built by the
emperor Ashoka. This is the spot where the `Great assembly’ (Mahasangha) formed their collection of
books (or, held their assembly). . . Those who had not been permitted to join Kasyapa’s assembly to
the number of 100,000 men, came together to this spot and said, ‘We too wish to
show our gratitude to Buddha and we also will hold an assembly for collecting
the scriptures.’
They too
collected the three main pitakas (baskets of teachings) plus the miscellaneous
pitakas (Khuddaka-nikaya) and the Dharani-pitaka. ‘Thus they distinguished five
pitakas. And because in this assembly both common folk and holy personages were
mixed together, it was called `The assembly of the great congregation
(Mahasangha).’ [Records of western countries. Hsuan Tsang Tr. Beale.]
This
account is interesting in all sorts of ways, but it is highly unlikely that the
Abhidharma (the commentaries) would have reached such a stage of development
that it could have been collected or recited at such an early date. If this
recitation actually took place, it would almost certainly have been of a
dvipitaka (two baskets—the sutras and the vinaya).
Whatever
version was finally accepted, it seems likely that even Ananda’s phenomenal
memory—after forty years of dhamma talks—was bound to be a little imperfect in
places, and that his version would not entirely coincide with all the others.
As time goes by, our memories change and evolve in the light of succeeding
events. As it was, the Venerable Punna, a highly respected monk, stated that he
would not give his agreement, but would rather keep to what he himself remembered
of the Buddha’s words.
Development
of the Schools
‘The
division, though not proceeding from radical differences in doctrine, grew
stereotyped in course of time, and fusion between them later on became
impossible due to the separatist frame of mind that their existence as separate
orders naturally developed. Thus the division which had commenced without any
doctrinal difference gradually gave rise to the latter and grew into
fully-fledged schools. History shows that this process of development actually
came to pass. For instance, the school of the Sarvastivadins (‘everything
exists’) who were connected with the original division of Abhidhammikas with Sariputra
at their head, affiliated themselves with Sariputra’s disciple Rahula, at whose
time doctrinal differences had not yet appeared. Similarly, the Sthaviravadins
(ancestors of the Theravadins) affiliated themselves to Upali, Mahasanghikas to
Mahakashyapa, and the Sammatiyas to Mahakatyayana. [N. Dutt. The Spread of
Buddhism. 1980.] If this happens in modern times to teachers almost all of
whose words are recorded on film, electronically, or in print—and it does—how
much more so in the case of a teacher who lived 2500 years ago and whose
teaching was committed only to human memory for five hundred years after he
gave it, and in a different if closely related language. The Buddha probably
spoke Magadhi and his talks would have contained local allusions and colloquialisms.
Professor Gombrich notes a number of puns and jokes in the early sutra material
not noticed when the sutras were finally written down in Sri Lanka in the first
century bce in a literary language, and put together from the accounts of numerous
redactors. The pieces had to be taken and carefully fitted together like a
jigsaw puzzle. But the Buddha had never given a linear teaching with a clear
development. His talks were spontaneous, and directly relevant to those to whom
he gave them. Therefore there are, unsurprisingly, various inconsistencies and
anomalies in the texts, which the later redactors tried to cope with, perhaps
further amending the texts to make them fit better as they did so.
The
period leading up to the lifetime of the Buddha was characterised by enormous
change. Cities replaced the villages and towns, and with them came a flood of
new ideas, and old ideas were subjected to analysis and testing. From India to
Greece, which was strongly influenced by Indian medical ideas, new religions
and philosophies sprang up and looked afresh at the world they lived in.
The
Buddha’s two principal disciples, the wise Brahman Sariputra and Mogallana the
thaumaturge, had been students of one of the principal Indian sceptics, Sanjaya
Belathiputta, who did not perhaps have a profound vision to pass on, but
encouraged doubt and questioning. When asked about the nature of existence, he
would neither accept the theory propounded, nor deny it. But neither would he
not accept it nor not deny it. He prepared them well for their meeting with
their future master. Philosophers, noblemen like Ananda, people of humble
background like the great Vinaya master Upali, who had been a barber, the
wealthy and generous Anathapindika, and Amrapali the courtesan, all fell
beneath the Buddha’s spell—people of all kinds and from all walks of life.
And what
was this? It was not a belief system or a tradition system like Brahmanism. It
was putting all that aside—all the wish fulfilment and idealism—and looking at
what is and how it is, which is seldom ideal and even less the fulfilment of
one’s wishes. What we know of the Buddha’s life exemplifies this. He tried all
the current teachings and systems and discarded them one by one as not leading
to emancipation. Systems of yoga, deep meditational absorption, asceticism, all
were discarded as inadequate, or excessive. It is this fresh and vital
perception that lies at the core of Buddhism, and it is also this that has made
it so distinctive and held it together for so long. It was straying from this
principle that led in many cases to Buddhism being supplanted by other
religions.
The
Buddha in effect produced a manual for seeing life as it is and dealing with it
and its problems, undeluded by idealistic belief systems or the claims of great
yogic power. What he found was not just the way to the ‘ending of all ill’, but
‘to be investigated and understood at this very moment by the wise’.
Perceptions that shake the world do not come shorter and more to the point than
this.
The
Burden of Selfishness, by Buddhadasa Bhikkhu
As soon as there is ‘self’, there is
selfishness. These
two are very different, nonetheless, they are inseparable. The ‘self arises,
then selfishness comes. And selfishness is a powerful and destructive burden
which can easily be observed in oneself and in the world.
Selfishness gives rise to love, greed, anger, hatred, fear,
worry, frustration, envy, jealousy, possessiveness. All of these are aspects of
selfishness. Love through fear and worry, are just different aspects of
selfishness. All this is such a powerfully destructive burden upon the mind. It
weighs the mind down. If we get outside of our little worlds and start to
observe what is really happening around us and also within us, if we come out
of our clouds, break free of our daydreams, and really look, we shall see all
this selfishness and all the harm and pain that it causes, both to ourselves
and to others, This is the burden of selfishness.
·
Selfishness is a terrible burden for the entire world. You can
see that all the problems, all the conflict, all the crises, are the result of
selfishness. Many people come to Asia to get away from the constant sense of
crisis that they meet with in the West. But they can’t escape it by coming to
Asia. The same problems are here as well! They may not notice them, of course,
because they don’t speak the language, or the crises come in a different form,
but the whole world is under this burden. All crises, wars, exploitation,
destruction of the environment, pollution, population growth that is still out
of hand in much of the world, the piling up of food by certain countries, other
countries starving — all of this can be traced back to selfishness. And
selfishness derives from the belief in a self or a soul. It doesn’t take much
thought.
·
Take the UN as an example. Here is this beautiful dream that the
politicians came up with. The United Nations was formed, supposedly, to create
peace in this world. How successful is it? The UN itself is handicapped by
selfishness. It is the selfishness of individual countries, or blocks of
countries. Little groups have banded together and cling to each other in
selfishness. And so the UN is unable to seriously do anything to develop peace.
This is just a symptom of the selfishness that not only dominates the world,
but is deeply rooted in ourselves.
·
So long as we cling to this illusion of a self, there will be
selfishness. And as long as there is this selfishness in us, we cannot blame
others for the selfishness we see around us. You are very deluded if you think
that you can separate yourself from that. Everything is oriented towards
ourselves. And selfishness prevents the arising ofdhamma or
the doing of that which needs to be done. This is a terrible problem for
everyone.
·
Selfishness arises because of vedana, the feelings we have towards
our sensory experiences — we like things, we dislike things, we’re uncertain of
things. Vedana is our master. We are at its
beck and call, doing whatever it tells us to do. With the arising of a vedana comes mental impurity, kilesa, defilements. These are foul
things which pollute the mind.
·
There are three basic kinds of defilement. The first is lobha, trying to get, trying to
become, trying to scoop up everything. This is often translated as ‘greed’ or
‘lust’. The second we call dosa. This is the opposite of the
first group. Dosa is the trying to get rid of things,
knocking them away, hitting them, kicking them, killing. This is usually
translated as ‘anger’, ‘aversion’, ‘ill will’, or ‘hatred’. The third kind of
defilement ismoha, the mind running round and
round. There is neither a trying to get, nor a trying to get rid of, just
confusion. The mind doesn’t know what to do, so it runs in circles. This is
what kilesa, mental
impurity, does to the mind. If you observe the mind closely enough, you will
see these defilements in action. And when you really see the defiled mind, you
will know what a burden it is, how ugly it is, and what damage it does.
·
Every time one of these defilements arises, it leaves a little
something behind. They are like pigeons! They always leave something behind.
And what they leave piles up in the depths of the mind. This dirt and filth
left by the defilements, we call ‘theanusaya’. This dirty pile of tendencies
has piled up in the depths of the mind. The more that these filthy tendencies
pile up, the easier it is for the defilements to arise. Each time a defilement
arises, it strengthens the tendency to defilement. And so, if we allow this to
continue, the defilements grow stronger and stronger, the anusayabecomes
stronger and stronger, the defilements occur more and more. The tendency develops,
say, for anger. And then anger itself occurs more and more. These kilesa,defilements,
are one burden and they cause this other burden— the familiarity with impurity
which can develop. These anusaya, then, in turn, cause further kilesa. This is how this whole burden
can develop. If you really observe it and experience it, instead of trying to
deny it, or convince yourself it doesn’t exist, — ‘Oh, I never get angry. I’m
never greedy. I’m never confused, or stupid,’ — if you begin to face these
things, then you will see what a problem they are. You will actually become
aware of this burden and weight upon the mind. And then you will understand,
not intellectually, but through your own experience.
·
Take a look back over your life and guess how many times the
defilements have arisen. How many times have you been angry, or greedy, or
confused? That is how much and how strong the anusaya, the ugly tendencies, are. It’s
as if you had a big jar for storing water. Water drips into it, one drop at a
time. The water accumulates and the jar begins to fill up. Each drop is a
defilement which begins to fill up the mind. The mind accumulates the habitual
defilements and the tendency towards defilement. Now, imagine, there is a
leak—a small hole appears in the bottom of the jar. The jar contains a lot of
water and so the water gushes out through that small hole at a tremendous rate
because there is so much pressure. The habitual defilements build up and then
gush out through the cracks in the mind.
·
Defilement arises. Defilement piles up as anusaya and then flows out, becoming
defilement again, which further strengthens the tendency, which further builds
up the pressure, which increases the amount of outflow, leading to more
defilement. If we allow this to go oh forever, it just gets deeper, stronger,
filthier and heavier, and causes more and more dukkha, more and more suffering for the
mind. It’s like being caught in the middle of the ocean, and being spun round
and round in some gigantic whirlpool. Does that appeal to you? Is this the kind
of life you want? This is something you ought to consider.
·
Now, imagine what would happen if there were enough
mindful-wisdom to prevent that outflow, so that when some object made contact
with the mind, the mind did not follow the tendencies that have built up.
Instead of allowing things to make leaks in that jar so that the water spurts
out, one could use sati-pahha, mindful-wisdom, to plug it up.
Every time something comes up to start a leak, mindful-wisdom could stop it.
Leaks would not then develop in the jar. Also, the jar would start to empty
itself of the water that has built up. In this way, the tendency to defilement
would weaken. And, if this course of action were continued with, diligently, no
more filthy water would be left in the jar. It could all be got rid of!
·
There are the arahants, the perfected ones — those
whose minds have completely shut off the outflow of impure tendencies. All
tendency to defilement has been cleansed; there is complete freedom from
defilement. This is the mind that has let go of the burden of life. This is the
mind that has put down all heavy loads and is light and liberated. This is the arahant, the perfected one.
·
Life becomes the burden because of this ‘I’, this illusion of
‘self. This extra weight is imposed upon life. And then life is nothing but
self, selfishness and defilement. In this way, life becomes a burden. Life,
free of this burden, is pure mind and pure body. It is at ease, clean, clear,
bright, light. It is not burdened.
Buddhism Compliments Christianity
and Islam.
·
Is the difference between Buddhism and
Christianity that Buddhism starts without belief and Christianity starts with
belief?
Dear Dhamma-follower,
Dear Dhamma-follower,
·
The best explanation I give for Buddhism compared to theistic
faiths is that Buddhism is a practice of realization and theistic faiths are
ones of revelation. They both have faith/belief. Faith means to have trust or
confidence in. However, theistic faith is faith in a culture’s understanding of
God and that they have received communications from that God as to the nature
of being.
·
In Buddhism, we have faith in the teachings of a man (the
Buddha) who has given us the tools to develop our own understanding of the
nature of being.
·
This is the true purpose of the Kalama Sutta. Do not believe
because of some external reason, but believe because you have put the tools to
use and seen that it works. It is not a sutta to be skeptical in our thinking
but critical in our thinking.
·
And thus, being a faith in a practice to understand human
nature, Buddhism is never in contrast to a belief in God. Those that do not
believe or question a world with a supreme creator are welcome, but do too are
those who believe in God.
·
The only conflict is with those with a God faith whose doctrine
and dogma prevent the compliment of meditation or the possibility that there is
no eternal “I.” To this end, the conflict of fundamentalist Christianity and
Buddhism isn’t about God or Jesus, but about the soul.
·
Many Christians whose faith is more liberal (e.g. belief that
the Bible may be more allegorical and open for interpretation or debate) have
found themselves practicing both Christianity and Buddhism without conflict. As
Jesus said, “Render up what is to Caesar’s.” In other words, what they develop
a Buddhist practice to develop the mind to be more compassionate and heedful
and they develop their Christian faith to be more reverent and spiritually
aware.
·
When the Buddha was asked about God, his questions were always
answered in some form with another question, “Why is that an important question
to you?” In one instance, when he was asked about the nature of the universe,
he responded, “I teach the understanding of suffering and the cessation of
suffering.” To that end, worrying about a question that could never be
satisfactorily answered was a fetter to enlightenment. This may be seen as then
a conflict to those of God-faith, but those who have a strong belief in God do
not ask “who created the universe?”, because they believe their already know.
·
In addition, there are Christians who are not interested in
Buddhist enlightenment but still practice Buddhism. They practice for
self-awareness to compliment their faith. They practice for mental peace to
compliment their spiritual peace.
·
For those Buddhists, like myself, who do not compliment their
Buddhist practice with any other faith; I do not start my practice with no
faith and meditate thinking “prove something to me.” I pay homage to the
Buddha, Dhamma and Sangha. Then I start my practice with full confidence that
the Buddha’s teachings are true and I will see progress. So far in my life, I
have seen my own development and the fruits of my labor. This gives me more
confidence to continue my practice.
·
Meanwhile, I welcome the Chris-Bu and Jew-Bu practitioners in my
temple. They may not have the same goal as I do when practicing, but that is
their path. Any practice that develops mindfulness, compassion, joy and
unconditional kindness is a good one.
कोणत्याही टिप्पण्या नाहीत:
टिप्पणी पोस्ट करा