The sacred mundane in Engaged Buddhism

The sacred mundane in Engaged Buddhism

by Sean Hillman
Religion Department
University of Toronto
April 2008

[based on "Engaged Buddhist Ethics" by James E. Deitrick]

The dialogue between Buddhist and the theistic traditions remains ongoing and fruitful. There are indeed many areas of mutual beneficial influence between them all, such as in the practice of monasticism which is shared by both Christianity and Buddhism, and in the great debate over how much energy spiritual practitioners should direct inwardly, in personal mental and emotional development, and outwardly, in relation to the basic, practical concerns of everyday life and in serving others. Deitrick's essay on "Engaged Buddhist Ethics" compares Buddhism to the liberation theology generally found in Christianity, and highlights the innovation of engaged Buddhist social ethics as being more concerned with immediate external problems, such as war and hunger, a focus which he refers to as being both "this-worldly" and the pursuit of a "mundane awakening." Although it can be useful to see what aspects of Buddhist soteriology match those found in Christianity, and helpful to explore what is unique in socially engaged Buddhism, in the process the author here may have created new and foreign distinctions in Buddhist thought and practice that are counterproductive: that between "this-worldly" and "other-worldly," and "mundane" and "sacred." This is not in keeping with the Buddhist approach of eliminating illusory dualism.

The term "mundane awakening" is used to describe the activities of the engaged Buddhist when addressing systemic problems in our world. The term is, to be frank, ridiculous. It might loosely be referred to as an oxymoron. Since awakening is a synonym for the highest attainment of Buddhahood, the most holy of accomplishments as it completely fulfils the aims of oneself and others, it cannot be said ever to be mundane, or in opposition to sacred. Although "mundane" is generally used to mean base or gross, the usage of "mundane" in this article seems rather to refer to external and practical matters. These are activities that might not generally be seen as spiritual, but that does not negate the possibility that they can be transformed into such. One can destroy the distinction between "mundane" and "sacred" with the following line of reasoning: every possible mundane activity is sanctified when infused with a sacred, or pure, motivation such as bodhicitta (Skt: “awakening mind”; the wish to become enlightened for the benefit of all beings). When analysed more closely, using the Tibetan Buddhist debate method of possibilities, the words that make up the term "mundane awakening" have 4 possibilities in relation to each other : there are activities which are both mundane and assist in awakening (caring for the sick), there are examples which are neither mundane nor awakening (non-existents such as a sky-flower), there are awakening activities which are not mundane (entering samadhi), and there are mundane activities which are not conducive to awakening (drinking alcohol). In keeping with his dualistic approach, the author also proposes engaged Buddhist practice as "focusing on the mundane causes of worldly suffering" rather than "the kind of suffering traditionally understood by Buddhists to arise from egoistic attachments." Such statements show a great lack in understanding of the teachings of the Buddha in relation to karma in particular, and cause and effect in general. For brevity, causes are simply divided into root, instrumental and direct. The root cause of our dwelling in cyclic existence is ignorance, the instrumental causes of having a human life are our parents copulating, and the direct causes of having a human life are the previous moment of mind and the previous moment of form. In terms of the type of suffering at issue here, practical concerns such as the unequal distribution of water, the fact that the engaged Buddhist goes after the direct and instrumental causes does not mean that they are ignoring the root cause or the need to address it! The engaged Buddhist will address the instrumental cause of water shortage by lobbying the governmental body who is in charge of water. They will address the direct cause by bringing water to the people or giving them a means to filter their local polluted water sources. They will address the root cause by instructing on the nature of reality, or at the very least teach the people who are lacking water about the workings of karma, that depriving others of resources results in being deprived oneself, and give them the methods to purify such past negative deeds to prevent future droughts.

To be fair, it is often useful to denote between opposites, and is commonly done in Buddhism with good effect. Actions are divided into virtuous and non-virtuous, beneficial and not beneficial, powerful and weak. We can also see the Buddhist use of dualistic demarcation when all beings are slotted as “sacred”, by way of possessing a Buddha-nature, and their behaviour which is not conducive to awakening is very appropriately labelled “mundane.” Let us look at a current social issue to illustrate this. The similarity between engaged Buddhist soteriology and Christian liberation theology is shown by the author to be the stress on “liberation from all forms of human oppression: social, economic, political, racial, sexual, environmental, religious.” When meeting with North American gay and lesbian Buddhists, His Holiness the Dalai Lama was asked what Buddhism has to say about homosexuality. No doubt they were anxious. Most religions reject homosexuality outright, and yet here before them was the Buddha of Compassion in human form. What would he say? His response was amazingly skilful, and used the technique of demarcation brilliantly. His Holiness unabashedly stated that, textually, the category of sexual misconduct includes a sub-section of “wrong orifice” which is any sexual activity that is not penile-vaginal. These activities the Buddha recommends against for people who hold the vow to abstain from sexual misconduct. They are not naturally negative actions, but rather are recommended abstinences. For a vow-holder, to engage in them would be non-virtuous because of the commitment to refrain. A gay monk is not engaging in ANY sexual activity, and yet still identifies as gay not by behaviour but by orientation. Their personal identity, in part, is one of being a gay person and their object of desire is not the opposite gender. Here, His Holiness very clearly and analytically demarks such behaviour, specifically for vow holders, as mundane or not conducive to awakening. Next, His Holiness states that nobody should be treated any differently because of their sexual orientation. Because all beings are sacred, and by the law of the land all humans are entitled to every human right, homosexuals are to be treated equally.

Attitudes towards the socially active Buddhist monastic

Attitudes towards the socially active
Buddhist monastic in Canada and India

by Sean Hillman
Religion Department
University of Toronto
March 2008

A recurring theme in socially engaged Buddhism, in its myriad manifestations, is its focus on tackling modern problems long-removed from the circumstances of the time when Shakyamuni Buddha turned the Wheels of Dharma in India. The engaged approach also skilfully adapts to address such unique modern quandaries, even going so far as borrowing methods of engagement from non-Buddhist systems as well as using methods that are not entirely in accordance with the letter of the Vinaya, both at times drawing accusations by some as straying from traditional Buddhist principles and practices. The Sri Lankan Sarvodaya Shramadana movement is an example of borrowing with its incorporation of the Ghandian principle and practice of non-harm (Skt: Ahimsa). The Taiwanese Tzu Chi and Fo Guang Shan organisations are examples of a looser interpretation of the Vinaya, as the ordained leader of Tzu Chi is the CEO of an international organization and Fo Guang Shan have ongoing involvement in politics. Similarly, for better and for worse, monastics in today’s world may find themselves, by choice or not, engaging in activities and living in environments which are unique in the history of Buddhist monasticism. Particularly, the socially active monastic often must pioneer ways of engagement that draw both admiration and scorn alike from other Buddhists. A monastic for 13 years, my attempts to be socially engaged both in Canada and India ensured that I did not become too isolated in study or retreat, but also led to many obstacles. Usually such obstacles came from rigid views as to what kind of activities is appropriate for a Buddhist monk to engage in outside of the monastic environment, and to what degree. It is very useful to explore these obstacles and their source.

As with modern engaged Buddhist movements, today's monastics face the challenge of living within a modern society while striving to stay true to the ethical training principles laid out by Lord Buddha in the form of the Pratimoksha vows, codified in the Vinaya texts. A contemporary Buddhist monastic may find themselves cloistered in a heavily traditional, community-based training environment aimed predominantly towards mutually supporting each other in the keeping of pure vows of morality. Thailand provides a good example of this and their communities are often used as a barometer as to what is current best practice in the realm monastic discipline. Although I initially yearned to belong to an Asian-based monastic community when first inspired to become a full-time mendicant, it was not possible at that time. I learned that I was not alone in experiencing obstacles to training in an ideal environment. Places such as Korea and Israel require military service (which mutually excludes ordination), and many anti-religious governments restrict religious rights and make it impossible to practice freely. In my particular case the main difficulty to overcome was not as grave as the former examples, but much more subtle. I was without a Buddhist familial and community heritage. This is an experience shared by practitioners who grew up in a place where the Buddhadharma does not yet have roots. As a result, there are monastic environments in traditionally non-Buddhist environments which are less than ideal, but given the context, are best attempts to work within their limits. For example, in the West there are many monastic communities that have monks and nuns living under the same roof, and some even have lay-people in charge of discipline, both of which I encountered and which are unacceptable from a strict standpoint of the Vinaya code and in relation to current best practice. Interestingly, such flexible interpretation of monastic ethics allowed me to begin on a course of engagement outside of my first community. Many, and I would even say most, Western monastics have at some point in their religious vocational career earned a living. Some choose to do so, some have no choice, but in every case the touching of money is the breaking of the vow to not handle precious substances. I have found no satisfying line of reasoning to counter this fact. Despite this, I took this as an opportunity to try and emulate Bodhisattva activities and chose a career that was based on usefulness and helpfulness: caregiving. I do not include my activities in health-care having to do with supporting lay Buddhists and teaching Dharma to Buddhists and non-Buddhists alike within the unique scope of social engagement because these are activities that monastics have done all along. My inspiration at becoming engaged grew exponentially and led to increased involvement in the palliative care and AIDS movements. I grew so full of confidence that I asked permission to receive further training in end-of-life care and to finish my university degree, with the hopes that I could become of even greater use, through the power of education. This became a problem for the leader of my community who saw my energy given to the greater community as a loss of energy for our own small Buddhist community. A sad irony, given the context of a renunciate faith community, I was stifled because the return earned in my pursuits would not translate monetarily. This was based on the misguided logic that it would be most meritorious and of the highest benefit to serve the Buddhist community, and our own community in particular.

Knowing that I had been in a questionable monastic community and still remaining hopeful that I could find a more traditional monastic setting in Asia, I moved to India. Livelihood was not an issue for me when in India since my requisites were fully sponsored. Being a caregiver for so many years led me to seek out ways to be of physical service in my spare time, away from (and yet complementing) meditation retreats and scriptural debate and study. Again, within the Buddhist context I was easily able to be of great service by teaching, organising ceremonial gatherings and giving ongoing support to Buddhists and would-be Buddhists. This was wonderful, and common. There was a need that I had that these activities did not meet. I wanted to do the dirty, hard work. Offering myself to both the local Tibetan hospital and old age home, the first flat out sent me away and the latter, although saying in words they were overjoyed to have me, made it quite clear that they found me to be a nuisance. They also preferred me to not wear the monk’s robes. My attempts to give nail-care to the local lepers drew mockery even from Western monastics, those I thought might have more sensitivity to social activities. Lastly, caring for the local dogs, both on my own and with visiting Dutch vets, drew great criticism from Tibetans and Indians alike. I could easily blame these reactions on the very rigid (even superstitious) religiously-based views around purity held by these Asian cultures. The service activities I have mentioned are indeed quite dirty. However, I feel that the main source of their aversion comes from long-standing beliefs, mutually reinforced by householders and monastics, as to what is within the scope of appropriate activities for a fully-ordained monk. “Monks should study or meditate…that’s it.” These are seen as “holy” activities. Contrarily, I feel that selfless service can be even more meritorious and necessary to complete the tripod of practice.

Interfaith & Inter-Buddhist Relations

Interfaith and Inter-Buddhist
relations

by Sean Hillman
Religion Department
University of Toronto
March 2008

[based on "The Compassionate Life" by His Holiness the Dalai Lama]

In the context of exhorting the necessity and means of developing compassion, a quality of such great importance in Buddhist practice that many texts start off with the words "Homage to Great Compassion" rather than to a deity, teacher or even Lord Buddha Himself, His Holiness the Dalai Lama (Tib: Kundun, "The Presence") devotes some time exploring how religious pluralism can be used to aid this process. There are many and ongoing attempts to positively address the reality of religious diversity in our world today, particularly in our city of Toronto, one of the most multicultural and multireligious cities in North America. One such activity is the occurrence of interfaith dialogue. Often positive and well-intentioned events, there are also instances of gatherings in the guise of interfaith dialogue which actually result in widening the gap between faith communities by being self-serving and divisive. There is such vast diversity in our local area that there is even pluralism to be found within Buddhism itself. One might assume everlasting good relations between people who follow the same teacher, especially one who gave methods to pacify negative emotions, but in reality there are some major difficulties in bringing Buddhists together at all, let alone to band together to act constructively. Let's explore the challenges and triumphs in both interfaith and inter-Buddhist relations.

“Multifaith” is a decent term which represents the mere multiplicity of religions, but it is “interfaith” which, although often used interchangeably with the former term, better lends a sense of a dynamic exchange between them. Kundun’s approach of utilising this exchange to “learn new ideas,..practices,..methods or techniques that [He] can incorporate into [His] own practice” I also personally find very powerful. The Jewish practice of refraining from certain actions one day per week during the observance of Shabbat is one that I have been exposed to since childhood and which more and more I see as a very effective means of increasing mindfulness, a practice which does not belong exclusively to Buddhism, of course, but is heavily emphasised. Kundun has also noticed that “some of [His] Christian brothers and sisters have adopted certain Buddhist methods.” One area I have found useful for Christian monastics from the Buddhist teachings are the extensive means for combating desire, such as the scores of textual meditations which break up the body into its component parts and highlight the body’s many impurities. I hold that this type of mutual exchange is in fact beyond simply practicing tolerance for other faith systems and practitioners, but in fact is a way of temporarily becoming the other which naturally leads to developing a feeling of closeness and empathy for them. This is not to discredit mere tolerance for others. Some, perhaps out of fear, are not willing to engage in practices of faiths unfamiliar to them. Bridging in this way is made particularly difficult if one holds the view that there is only one religious system that reaps good fruit. In such cases, willingness to even be in the presence of other faith practitioners and learning more about their religion is praiseworthy. To be sure, if we reached a ‘critical mass’ of this type of behaviour, never mind the mutual sharing of inner methods, I feel that it would systemically alter our planet and tip it towards peace. The dark side of multifaith gatherings is rooted in these problematic views: 1) there is only one system, 2) all other systems are ineffective or harmful, and 3) it is of utmost importance to convince everyone that there is no choice but to practise the one and only effective system. Here, Kundun’s statement that “without compassion, even religious beliefs can become destructive” plays out. It is of grave concern when, during supposedly interfaith events, our sameness is shown by the statement that "all of us worship and/or have been created by the same G-d." Although hard to imagine in the information age, it might be possible for a person or group to not know about the existence of non-theistic religions like Jainism and Buddhism. However, if someone makes such proclamations in full awareness of the existence of non-theistic systems, interfaith dialogue has been destroyed by the conscious exclusion of millions of spiritual practitioners who do not embrace a creator deity. It has then become a intertheist dialogue. This itself is fine, but it cannot accurately be called interfaith dialogue.

As in Christianity, there is great diversity within the umbrella of "Buddhism" as a whole, and in Toronto it shows. After 2500 years of the Buddhadharma entering new societies, different Buddhist cultural groups influencing each other as well as isolated regional development, the result is so many lineages that even Buddhist historians’ heads spin. We find ourselves living in an area where numerous such sects are in an historically unprecendented proximity. Boldly, and perhaps brazenly at times, Westerners can be found making their way into ethnically non-Western Buddhist congregations. Also, Westerners have their own congregations which are either affiliated with (and often under the auspices of) a particular ethnic manifestation of Buddhism, or a conglomerate which sometimes incorporates non-Buddhist elements. The landscape of Buddhism in Toronto is excitingly rich and relations between groups are constantly in flux. In my experience of organising events aimed at bringing Toronto Buddhist groups together, it takes great energy to break through the distance between some groups and convince them of the benefits of coming together to talk and eat, never mind celebrating! I cannot say with confidence that the Theravada-Bodhisattvayana divide is to blame for the resistance. It appears to me to be the impasses found between strong leaders of different groups, each equally concerned with distribution of control over the aim of the collective. At one event planning meeting, I remember being told emphatically what (from our own unique texts) our group would chant at an upcoming event. This imposition led to some groups leaving. On the other hand, an unforgettable moment that transcended the boundaries of sect was achieved at one such gathering, a Buddhist Celebration for Canada and World Peace held at Nathan Phillip’s Square. The chanting of the Heart Sutra by leaders from several Mahayana traditions was done together, simultaneously, in their respective languages! Remarkable. Kundun recommends that “a close relationship among religions is essential…for the benefit of humankind.” As a tradition that is renowned for its emphasis on harmony within and with others, it is perhaps even more incumbent for Buddhists to ensure good relations between their different groups.

Ambedkarite Buddhists

The inner and outer life of
Ambedkarite Buddhists

by Sean Hillman
Religion Department
University of Toronto
February 2008

In the introduction to “Action Dharma” Christopher Queen investigates engaged Buddhism, and traces a move from the altruism traditionally found in its long history to its modern manifestation where he highlights activism as a unique development. Queen brings to light an age-old debate concerning the relationship between the inner and outer aspects of a Buddhist’s practice on the path to enlightenment. The former we might call ‘private’ or ‘individual,’ and the latter we might call ‘social’ or ‘interactive.’ Do they help or hinder each other? Queen attempts to give an example of those who view the inner practice as an interference with the outer. Specifically, it is suggested that the Ambedkarite Buddhists of India, former Untouchables (Hindi: Dalit) in the Hindu caste system before their conversion, are wary of the inner practice of special insight meditation (Skt: Vipasyana, Tib: Lhak-Tong) for fear that the production of more even-mindedness will degrade their outer practice of activism against social oppression.

It sounds so very convincing when Queen portrays the Ambedkarite Buddhists, a convenient term not preferred by this community, as hesitant to enrol in Goenka’s Vipassana courses. It is, however, an untruth. At least as a generalisation which includes the entire group throughout the country, it is not the case. Gujuratis in and around Amedhabad are most devoted to this practice. In fact, it is proudly their main practice! At the behest of a British Gujurati Ambedkarite Buddhist leader from Valor, a small town close to the capital, I spent some time with this community in their private homes. A fully-ordained Tibetan Buddhist monastic at the time, I was absolutely struck by, and full of admiration for, their devotion to the Three Jewels. They embraced me as a member of the Sangha without question, even though most of the teachers that visit them are Theravadin (Ambedkar himself relied on the Pali Canon) and I was a blatant Mahayanist, wearing the burgundy robes that H.H. the Dalai Lama also wears. A monk by any other robe colour is still a monk! They constantly take the time to recite the refuge and lay precepts formulae in Pali. They carried my luggage, watched me eat and replaced a dish as soon as it was nearing empty, and prostrated with their head at my feet. Such veneration is in part customary in traditional Theravadin Buddhist communities in particular and Indian interaction in general, as elders are treated with the same respect. As a white foreigner (Tib: Inji) from a theistic culture depending on the kindness of others but belonging to a poor refugee tradition, I was a monk looked at askance whether on the streets of downtown Toronto, on the debating ground in Dharamsala or circumambulting the Mahabodhi Temple. Such respect was unfamiliar and unsettling. Yet I rejoiced in the merit accumulated by their attitude and behaviour. Queen duly recognises their religious fervour. He also mentions their activism to ensure equal status. I noticed, however, that the main thing they wanted to impress upon me was the high (not equal) status achieved by members of their community. Perhaps such a slant was due to my host being a leader with British citizenship, considered a higher achievement than anything attained within the confines of India. Although Queen notes their inner and outer practices, devotion and activism, he wrongly pinpoints the true area of avoidance in their practice. They thoroughly embrace meditation, but steer clear of teachings: written or oral. Not only was the local ‘monastery’ empty of Sangha (it operated as a guest-house and served as a sign of the low rate of ordinations from the Ambekarite Buddhist community), the library was empty of any canonical texts. The only books were those written by their revered founder, Dr. Babasahib Ambedkar. I was saddened and reminded that one of the signs of the gradual disappearance of the Dharma is the loss of scripture, which is not much worse than libraries full of dusty scriptures that nobody can read. I hoped that perhaps they received the Dharma orally. As is traditional from the time of the Buddha, I was regularly asked to give a short Dharma talk after the main meal, however it was apparent that the translator was distorting my words and I noticed that upon hearing about karma the listeners seemed to quickly disengage. Perhaps this is from a misunderstanding of karma as fixed, a necessary premise for the caste system to exist and understandably scary to former Dalits. Also, minutes later, I would be stopped just as I found the comfortable flow of discourse. For a Tibetan Buddhist used to teachings going on and on for days and weeks at a time, this was like merely nibbling an appetizer. My host openly bemoaned the lack of Dharma available to his family and community. I presented him with a rough plan to bring teachers and texts to his community. Somehow, between one day and the next, he had forgotten that his community needed help and politely informed me that they would be fine without help. The community’s resistance to certain ideas, and to change, was evident. Their devotion to Buddhism, shown in their embrace of meditation, refuge and precept-keeping, and in their veneration for Sangha, was inspiring. Their gratitude for their founder, who helped free them from ostracism, is at times worshipful (akin to the Lama worship found in the Vajrayana, for better or for worse) but obviously energising for their group.

To shore up the reality of this activist group simultaneously practicing inner exercises, and to defeat Queen’s inappropriate example, one can say that equanimity that develops equal concern for all beings: close, far and neutral, and those of low and high status, makes it easier to engage in actually getting involved in helping others, in social action, because one is more effective. Without extreme attachment and aversion one can see that everyone needs help and deserves respect and compassion, even the oppressor. The oppressor especially so, because unlike the oppressed who are burning off bad karma by suffering the results of past actions, the oppressor is creating new causes for future pain. Those that have experienced oppression, such as the Dalits, naturally develop a feeling of not wanting to experience it, and it is perhaps easier to develop the wish that no one else will suffer similarly. One might also develop the feeling that one has an obligation to do whatever is in their power to ensure this.

Merit sharing and changing karma

Merit sharing and changing karma

by Sean Hillman
Religion Department
University of Toronto
January 2008

"Sharing karmic fruitfulness" is introduced by Harvey in "An Introduction to Buddhist Ethics" (p.65) as a manifestation of generosity, one of many principal Buddhist values. Here the author shares both scriptural examples, as well as Buddhist rituals, where the principle of merit sharing is put into practice. In particular, a lesser text from the Pali Canon known as the Pethavatthu specifically mentions the explicit benefits that hungry ghosts (Skt: pretas) reap when food offered in their name leads them to the more fortunate rebirth as a celestial being (Skt: deva). Additionally there is mention of Theravadin dedication prayers which finalise acts of offering to the religious community (Skt: Sangha) and result in the extension of devas' fortunate circumstances, but without mention of a textual source. The possibility that one can influence another being's karma is a fascinating area of exploration which has far-reaching implications. There are texts which can shore up both sides of this debate, as well as there being practical benefits to both.

Firstly, let us look at the view that one being's karma cannot be altered through the effort of another. To do this we start with the continua of consciousnesses of sentient beings. Buddhism is often associated with the idea of "oneness," which can easily lead to fuzzy ideas both concerning the nature of consciousness and inanimate phenomena. If this often bandied-about term 'oneness' is in reference to the experience of a lack of separation between subject and object, as the moment of directly perceiving emptiness is described in "Stages and Paths" (Tib: Sa-lam) texts, that is acceptable. However, if the term 'oneness' refers to the idea that consciousness is one big undifferentiated ocean of energy, this can lead away from the view that beings each have their own, very much differentiated and individuated, mind streams. One of the benefits of helping practitioners become aware of the reality of the separateness (not to imply ‘disconnected’, but merely ‘not-one’) and individuality of the minds of beings would be to assist with taking responsibility for the karmic imprints on our mind streams. Perhaps it is to this end that the Buddha is quoted as proclaiming in the Mahaparinirvana Sutra to "be a lamp unto yourself, be a refuge to yourself" and not to encourage us to have an even stronger hold on this heap that we so love to label "self." Some, such as Pudgalavadins, decided mistakenly to run with this and other such quotes referring to the "self" as proof that the Buddha accepted an inherently-existent self. Such a self would be impervious to change from within or without because it would not fall within the scope of what defines interdependently originated phenomena: it would be free from causes, free from parts and not imputed by mind. This posited self which would exist from its own side also could not change because it would be a permanent phenomenon: “that which does not change from moment to moment.” How could this “self” have a mind? Since the mind is impermanent, meeting the definition of “that which changes moment to moment,” this would entail a permanent phenomenon possessing an impermanent phenomenon. Preposterous. From this line of reasoning it is safe to say that the Buddha mentions the self only as a convenient colloquialism, a nominal designation, referring to this assemblage of aggregates rather than something isolated and unchangeable. The changeability of the mind, and its karmic imprints, is the very basis for the Buddha revealing to us the means to purify. Again we are familiarised with the idea that consciousnesses are individual, and encouraged to take personal responsibility, when Acharya Dharmatreya tells us in “The Verses about Friends” (Skt: Mitra-varga; Thurman, Essential Tibetan Buddhism p.11) that "Buddhas do not wash away sins with water, they do not heal suffering by laying on of hands, and they do not transmit their understanding into others' minds; they introduce beings to freedom by educating them about reality." In addition to perhaps being a direct reaction to the view and practise of purifying by means of libation, which we see not only in Hinduism but also in the Jewish and Christian water-submergence purification rituals of mikveh and baptism, this verse is also possibly an indirect admonishment against the deep-rooted feeling that something or someone outside of ourselves can do the work to improve our lives. One does not need to be a theist to hold strongly to the view of other-powered liberation. There is a Chinese proverb that discourages grasping the feet of the Buddha in troubled times, an antidote to the hope that the Buddha will remove our suffering for us, as is often thought to be within the ability of an omnipotent G-d. Surely an infinitely compassionate being would remove our pain if it was within their ability. His Holiness the Dalai Lama has said in oral teachings that the best blessing one can receive is the one that one gives oneself, and constantly reminds mass audiences (which include both practitioners and the unaffiliated curious) that the thought that by merely coming to see the Dalai Lama one can be miraculously healed, is ridiculous. We can be dissuaded, through reasoning and reproach, from the false hope that our spiritual work will be done for us. The benefit of the view that one’s own actions of body, speech and mind are the only things that influence one’s own karma is that it forces one to get busy getting enlightened. A Western Buddhist joke in this regard has a practitioner giving a veggie-dog vender a five-dollar bill and asking for some change, and as the vender pockets the bill he gently reminds: “My friend, change comes from within.”

Next, let us look at the view that one being's karma can, in fact, be altered through the effort of another. The very existence of such examples as those mentioned above, in which pretas can achieve a better rebirth and devas maintain theirs’ because of the dedication of virtue on their behalf, has immediate benefits to the mind of a sincere practitioner. One does not just perform virtue only for its own sake, or merely for the seeds planted on one’s own mind that will yield happy future fruits, but virtuous activity serves as a catalyst to immediately generate empathetic concern for suffering beings. Not only that, one performs the action of dedication of merit as an attempt to actually alleviate that suffering (or maintain pleasing circumstances). One can feel compassionate, and perform an act of compassion. The idea that we can beneficially affect another being brings about great hope. It is the premise behind the practise of “Giving and Taking Upon the Breath” (Tib: Tong-len) where one visualises taking other being’s suffering into the heart, completely transforming it by the power of the compassionate motivation to become enlightened for the sake of all beings (Skt: Bodhicitta), and radiating blessings in the form of light which touch the formerly suffering beings, whose wishes are fulfilled. It is the premise behind the making of icons out of clay and cremated remains (Tib: Tsa-tsas) to lift beings to higher realms after death, a common and tangible bereavement practice. Even if one does not physically remove suffering in these ways, being in the presence of a being whose mind has been moistened by such practices aimed at helping others would be a palpable blessing. One would not be afraid of such a being, one who has our well-being truly at heart, thus it would be easier for virtuous and calm states of mind to arise in us. In this way our karma would be affected by the other, since the wholesome states of mind that arise in resonance with the other’s wish for our benefit naturally cause our own present and future happiness. Additionally, if the mind of one being is calmed by being in the presence of a tame and concerned other being, they will be more receptive to beneficial guidance, again causing the reduction of negativity and increased happiness now and later. Disregarding the possibility of changing another being’s lot by our actions, even the mere wish to do so is purifying and meritorious to the mind holding that wish. This purification and merit-accumulation from the mere wish to help others brings the practitioner closer to actually being able to help, making them more and more useful to beings all the way up to the full capacity achieved at Buddhahood. At that point, one has limitless “means of liberative technique,” Thurman’s wonderful alternate translation of ‘skilful means.’ By way of omniscience, a Buddha not only knows all the ways to best help others, but also clairvoyantly recognises each and every particular problem of those requiring help. The wish to benefit is the beginning of the path to enlightenment, the fuel during its course, and results in the ability to actualise that wish. Simply put, ordinary beings cannot see if their actions positively change the course of another’s karma, but the wish to do so will assuredly help lead them to the point where they have at their disposal every means to help others change their own karma.

Meditation in Mahayana Buddhism

Intentional Placement of the Mind
on the Object of Meditation
In Mahayana Buddhism:
Comparing Sanskrit and Tibetan
Texts with Those of Zen

By Bhikshu Tenzin Sherab
(a.k.a. Br. Sean Hillman)
University of Toronto
East Asian Studies
April 2007

Looking at Buddhist scriptures which are concerned with the practise of meditation, there is a recurring discrepancy that can be found between Zen texts on the one hand, and those from the Indian and Tibetan Buddhist traditions on the other. They are at odds in relation to the intentional placement of the mind on the object of meditation. The authors of the texts are not in opposition as to which objects the meditator is meant to use, which vary from the breath to the ultimate nature of reality, but rather whether there is the need to have the mind wilfully directed towards that object. Commonly it can be found that in Zen texts there is a call for the aspirant to not exert effort towards placing the mind on an object. The Indian and Tibetan texts vehemently disagree with this stance: there must always be an intentional moving of the mind towards, and placement upon, the object of meditation. In Zen there is encouragement instead for the mind to be left in its natural state or pervading some grander, nebulous or extremely subtle phenomenon such as one’s True Nature, the Big Mind or the entire body at the same time. Here it will be shown that this is quite different from other Mahayana texts, using shamata meditation in particular and specifically in comparison to Sanskrit and Tibetan texts. These non-Chinese groups of texts require, without fail, the meditator to exert effort to remain on the object in the practise of meditation.
We begin by looking at how the texts in our three traditions instruct the aspirant in regard to the activity of the mind in meditation with an excerpt from the Zen text “The Platform Sutra of the Sixth Patriarch” from Hui-Neng. Here, it is interesting that we find the term “abide” in the translation:
“If the mind does not abide in things the Tao circulates freely; if the mind abides in things, it becomes entangled.”1
“Abiding” is the very same word applied in the translaton of both the Sanskrit term ‘shamata’ and the Tibetan term ‘shi-nay’, both referred to as “calm-abiding.” In Sanskrit and Tibetan texts the meditator is instructed to abide on the object of meditation in order to achieve varying degrees of calmness, which results in the achievement of perfect concentration. There are numerous examples of texts that specify such placement of the mind, and, in addition to “abiding,” many terms referring to such placement. In a masterpiece of Buddhist instruction, the 14th century Tibetan scholar-saint Lama Tsong Khapa’s Lam Rim Chen mo (“Great Exposition on the Stages of the Path”), two entire volumes are dedicated specifically to meditation. In the sub-section “The Methods of Generating Faultless Samadhi” of this meditation manual “Calming the Mind and Discerning the Real,” there is an elaborate description on “how one performs at the time of fastening mind on a meditative object.”2 ‘Fastening’ appears again and again in Sanskrit texts as well. The Bhavanakrama explains that “the yogin fastens his mind upon the body form of the Tathagata…to accomplish calming” 3 and Aryasura concurs that the aspirant must “fasten his mind firmly to a single meditation object.” 4 Another term that is commonly used to describe the intentional directing of the mind towards an object is “fixation,” so much so that an oft used euphemism for shamata is “fixation meditation.” The Pratyutpana Sutra, one of the earliest sutras to be translated from Sanskrit to Chinese, similarly gives instruction on how to apply the mind when elucidating the Buddhanusmrti practise of recollection of the Buddha, in that “the bodhisattva should…fix his mind on those Tathagatas.”5 On the other hand, we can see an example in Zen texts of the habitual discouragement in regard to deliberate placement of the mind on an object when we read Japanese monk Ven. Takuan Soho’s “The Unfettered Mind.” He states that “the mind that becomes fixed and stops in one place does not function freely.” 6 The monk even goes so far as to make the sweeping statement that “in Buddhism we abhor…the mind remaining with one thing or another.” 7 He tops this off by saying that “putting the mind in one place is called one-sidedness…One-sidedness is despicable.” 8 Abiding (the Tibetan term “ney” is also used to for “to dwell”), fastening and fixation on the object of meditation are all encouraged in the Sanskrit and Tibetan texts, whereas the opposite is found in Zen.
Let us look at an object of meditation which would normally be seen as fitting in the category of vipasyana, or special insight, but which actually is held to be the highest of objects to be used as an object of concentration. This sacred object is emptiness, the nature of reality. Hui-Neng again gives us the Zen party-line with regards to directing the mind, this time when he admonishes the student against fixation on ultimate reality: “Do not sit with a mind fixed on emptiness.” 9 Other Mahayana texts greatly disagree. The 8th century Indian scholar-monk from Nalanda monastic university, Arya Shantideva, instructs himself in the great Mahayana text “A Guide to the Bodhisattva’s Way of Life”:
“…in order to dispel the obscurations
I shall withdraw my mind from mistaken ways
And constantly place it in equipoise
Upon the perfect object.” 10
This is an interesting verse to investigate because upon checking the Tibetan translation of the original Sanskrit, it appears the translator was using poetic license to make the verse flow better. It more accurately reads: “Also, always on the perfect object I meditate in equipoise,” and so is without any such word that resembles the verb “to place.” Although this verb is not present in the original, it may still be used as an example of explicit intentional placement on the object by virtue of the meaning of meditative equipoise. Since Shantideva was a follower of Arya Nagarjuna’s Madhyamika philosophy, it can safely be said without referring to other sources that the perfect object that he is referring to is emptiness itself. The Tibetan term “nyam par shak pa” (Sanskrit: samyapadyanata) is used synonymously with shi-ney (shamatha) and defined as “to concentrate on”11 so we are not referring here to special insight meditation, but rather on non-analytical fixation on emptiness.
To return to the first statement earlier quoted from Hui-Neng’s work, what is also fascinating is the use of the term “Tao.” Using a transliteration of the original Chinese rather than literally translating it as “The Way” may merely be the translator’s personal choice, but it may also indicate a Taoist influence on Hui-Neng, or a Taoist predisposition of his students. Here it is appropriate to briefly mention two Buddhist teachers influential in China that also share a common view on what is to be done with the mind in meditation and who both received a strong influence from Taoist philosophy. The first is the Chin Period master Fa-Wen (fl.374) who
“advocated the theory of the non-being of mind. By the non-being of mind is meant that one should not have any deliberate mind toward the myriad things.”12
It would be safe to have suspicion of a Taoist influence on this master because “one is reminded of the teaching of ‘having no deliberate mind of one’s own (wu-hsin)’ in…Chuang Tzu.”13 Next is the half-Chinese, half-Indian Seng-Chao (384-414) who
“served as a bridge between Buddhism and Taoism. His fondness for Lao Tzu and Chaung Tzu had a lasting influence on him. The Taoist idea…of…having no deliberate mind of his own [has] a prominent place in his philosophy.” 14
These three examples, of Hui-Neng, Fa-Wen and Seng-Chao, give us cause for further investigation into the degree to which pre-Buddhist Chinese thought, Taoism in particular, has influenced the change in meditation instruction from the Sanskrit texts towards that which we find in Zen texts, which discourage the intentional application of the mind towards the object in meditation.
A key factor in our discussion on the directing of the mind towards the object of meditation, or lack thereof, is that of the intention of the meditator. In Zen, we are most often told what NOT to do. Do NOT place the mind. Do NOT think. Do NOT exert yourself, which is reminiscent of the wu-wei of Taoism but vastly different from the Bodhisattva’s perfection of joyous effort. This remains within the scope of meditation as countless Mahayana texts state that all of the ten perfections are practised within each individual perfection. There is such thing as the joyous effort of meditation. A more modern Zen master, Shunryu Suzuki, teaches that “concentration is not to try hard to watch something…This is not concentration…Your effort should be directed at nothing.” 15 He goes on to say that “even to have a good thing in your mind is not so good….to have what [the Buddha] says in your mind is not so good.” 16 This is in direct opposition to a scholar-monk such as Lama Tsong Khapa who goes to great lengths to show the benefits towards achieving concentration which arises from exerting great effort and contemplation of powerful and holy topics. Je Rinpoche states that “[one must overcome] the sloth which lacks enthusiasm for cultivating samadhi” 17 and for the “elimination of…craving [one of many obstacles to concentration] one contemplates…the disadvantages of this life (found) in cravings, such as being killed.” 18 He encourages effort and virtuous contemplation to instill in the meditator the right frame of mind with which to accomplish the goal of meditation practise. Next we return to Ven. Soho’s text, where it is said that “when a person does not think, ’Where shall I put it?’ the mind will extend throughout the entire body and move about to any place at all.” 19 Again, this is at odds with the Indian scholar-monk Shantideva who writes:
“Having given up all other intentions
[save that of Bodhicitta],
Being motivated by only one thought,
I shall strive to settle my mind in equipoise
(by means of calm abiding)” 20
The Zen teacher recommends not directing the mind. The Indian teacher tells himself that he must consciously direct the mind.
It seems that the theme in Zen texts, when compared to the Sanskrit and Tibetan, is to prematurely jump ahead in the step-by-step instructions given by the Buddha and Indian commentators to be in a state which is the result of gradual practise. One is meant to progress in stages. Lama Tsong Khapa and Arya Shantideva are speaking to trainees at different stages on the path to enlightenment. In the case of Shantideva, the highest of adepts, he even writes to himself in the third person as if still a trainee! The difference between this approach and that found in many Zen texts can be seen clearly in “The Unfettered Mind” when Ven. Soho says that when
“viewed from the highest standpoint of Buddhism, putting the mind [in one place] and not allowing it to wander is a low level of understanding, not a high one. It is at the level of discipline and training.” 21
Zen texts speak of a very advanced state of development where the object of meditation is unnecessary because conscious effort has been transcended. Indian and Tibetan texts speak of the necessity of the object of meditation, because they are instructing practitioners of all levels according to their needs.


Endnotes
1) Yampolsky, Philip B. The Platform Sutra of the Sixth Patriarch p.136
2) Wayman, Alex Calming the Mind and Discerning the Real (Lama Tsong Khapa) p.103
3) Ibid. p.113
4) Ibid. p.114
5) Williams, Paul Mahayana Buddhism p.221
6) Soho, Ven. Takuan The Unfettered Mind p.33
7) Ibid. p.26
8) Ibid. p.31
9) Yampolsky, Philip B. The Platform Sutra of the Sixth Patriarch p.146
10) Batchelor, Stephen A Guide to the Bodhisattva’s Way of Life p.135
11) Hopkins, Jeffery Tibetan-Sanskrit-English Dictionary p.144
12) Chan, Wing Tsit A Source Book in Chinese Philosophy p.340
13) Ibid. p.341
14) Ibid. p.344
15) Suzuki, Shunryu Zen Mind, Beginner’s Mind P.113
16) Ibid. p.127
17) Wayman, Alex Calming the Mind and Discerning the Real (Lama Tsong Khapa) p.103
18) Ibid. p.99
19) Soho, Ven. Takuan The Unfettered Mind P.31
20) Batchelor, Stephen A Guide to the Bodhisattva’s Way of Life p.108
21) Soho, Ven. Takuan The Unfettered Mind p.30


Bibliography
1) Yampolsky, Philip B. The Platform Sutra of the Sixth Patriarch New York: Columbia University Press 1967
2) Wayman, Alex Calming the Mind and Discerning the Real (Lama Tsong Khapa) Motilal Banarsidass Publishers 1978
3) Williams, Paul Mahayana Buddhism Routledge 1989
4) Soho, Ven. Takuan The Unfettered Mind Kodansha International 1986
5) Batchelor, Stephen A Guide to the Bodhisattva’s Way of Life (Arya Shantideva) Library of Tibetan Works and Archives 1979
6) Hopkins, Jeffery Tibetan-Sanskrit-English Dictionary Tibetan Studies Institute 1992
7) Chan, Wing Tsit A Source Book in Chinese Philosophy Princeton University Press 1963
8) Suzuki, Shunryu Zen Mind, Beginner’s Mind Weatherhill 1970

On "The Unfettered Mind"

On "The Unfettered Mind"

Thought experiment on what religious scholar Jonathan Z. Smith's
take would be on Ven. Takuan Soho's "The Unfettered Mind"

by Bhikshu Tenzin Sherab
(a.k.a. Br. Sean Hillman)
University of Toronto
East Asian Studies
March 2007

Common to Zen writings, as well as non-Buddhist Chinese philosophical texts such as the Taoist “Chuang Tzu”, is the presentation of an ideal being, or state of being. This is typically starkly contrasted with the present state of the undeveloped, would-be or novice spiritual practitioner. Religious scholar Jonathan Z. Smith, in his essay “The Bare Facts of Ritual,” outlines a similar discrepancy between an ideal way of being and how things actually are in his description of the bear hunt in paleo-Siberian societies. His interest in the function of ritual, and his position that it is “to help overcome the contradiction between word and deed,” (p. 63) might suggest that his perspective on Zen monk Venerable Takuan Soho’s “The Unfettered Mind” would give emphasis to the gap that appears in this text between the goal and the ordinary practitioner’s current level of development. Additionally, Smith’s understanding of the “pivoting of the sacred,” which demonstrates a very close approximation to the reasoning that is used to stimulate an understanding of emptiness, would pique his interest in the Buddhist presentation of this view and the context in which it appears in Ven. Soho’s text.
Smith gives an elaborate account of the ritualised demarcation that is prescribed for the various stages of the hunt in a society that depends on such activity for survival. He is not only skeptical that such practices are followed, asking “can we believe that any animal would stand still while the hunter recited “dithyrambs,” (p. 60) but also provides many evidences that disprove such practices, such as the use of guns which precludes a bloodless and precisely targeted wound. There is great distance between the ideal hunt and actual hunting practices. Were he to open Venerable Soho’s text, he would assuredly be struck by his descriptions of the deity Fudo Myoo and the Bodhisattva of compassion Kannon, when placed beside the state of the ordinary man. Fudo Myoo’s “embodiment is that of immoveable wisdom” and the ideal practitioner is “able to physically practise…mental Dharma as well as Fudo Myoo.”(p.21) Kannon’s thousand-arm form is used to make clear to the one who strives for accomplishment, in this case the martial artist who is the recipient of Soho’s advice, “that if their immovable wisdom is let go, even if a body have a thousand arms, every one will be of use.” (p. 22) These high being’s attainments are in direct opposition to “the common man who has not found the path…[who] has had no wisdom” (p.26) and Ven. Soho continuously makes mention of the downfall of the untrained stopping the mind anywhere, in one’s own body or mind or on an external object, which brings about “an interval, and your own action will be lost.” (p.26) As in Smith’s presentation, there is great distance between these ideal figures and those struggling to achieve their level of ability. Another interesting parallel can be seen between the writings of two authors in their examples of protection from harm. To he who emulates Fudo Myoo, “”evil spirits will no longer proliferate.” (p. 21) Likewise, those who undergo the “kill” stage of the hunt properly will avoid the bear’s “posthumous revenge.” (p. 61)
Next we look at Smith’s analysis of sacred space, where he borrows Gennep’s term of “pivoting the sacred” which he describes as meaning “there is nothing that is inherently sacred or profane…but only…in relation.” (p. 55) Perhaps he has encountered the Buddhist philosophical presentation of ultimate reality, that self and phenomena are empty of inherent existence and, rather, exist in an interdependent relationship. Again, Smith would be enthusiastic to see Ven. Soho’s presentation of what resembles the ‘three spheres of emptiness’: “The opponent is Emptiness. I am Emptiness. The hand that holds the sword, the sword itself, is Emptiness.” (p.37) Usually one would find the actor, the acted upon and the action itself as the three-fold division of that which is empty. Here, the third emptiness is made to be the intermediary object between the players in this interaction. Regardless, even if emptiness is not explicitly explained by the Zen monk, it is implicitly shown to his student that the three empty objects are such due in part because they are in relation to one another. There is nothing that can be labelled ‘opponent’ without being in relation to another, and without a weapon! Remove one of the three, and there is no valid basis upon which one can superimpose the concept of “opponent.” This most powerful of resonings to get at the meaning of emptiness, the logic of interdependent origination, would surely impress and be intellectually understood by Smith.
It can be said that the two authors would agree that “although there occasionally are people who do understand, it does not often happen that they act accordingly.” (p. 28) It would be a lively meeting too, between scholar and monk, because they could discuss (over cups of Japanese tea!) the similarities between the Western academic and Buddhist presentations on lack of inherent existence.