Wednesday, December 30, 2009

Caring for the Dying Buddhist, and the Buddhist Caring for the Dying


Caring for the Dying Buddhist,
and the Buddhist Caring for the Dying

by Sean Hillman
Religion Department
University of Toronto
April 2008

Introduction

Humans have always died. Many religious systems hold the view that the human life-span has been degenerating through the ages. The Hebrew texts assign the earliest patriarchs with life spans over 900 years, and amazingly show an exponential decay curve after the flood leading to an equilibrium of seventy years of age after 20 generations. ^1 Both Hinduism and Buddhism refer to our current age as a degenerate one. The "Kali Yuga" is the final phase before the world system ends. In this age, morality has hit a low point and results in shorter life spans. In Buddhist cosmology, lifetimes are shorter in comparison to those during more pure ages, times very long ago (such as those during previous Buddhas) and also during times not as long ago (during the time of our current historical Buddha Shakyamuni and thereabouts). For example, "in the age when [the] human lifespan was 20,000 years, [Lord Buddha] had been a Brahmin disciple of the [previous] Buddha Kasyapa"^2 and five hundred years after Shakyamuni Buddha, the great scholar-saint Arya Nagarjuna is said in some sources to have lived for 700 years. From the earliest time in Buddhist history, Buddhist practice and teachings have spent a great deal of time addressing impermanence and death. "In the present aeon-ending Kali-yug, [Lord Buddha] saw that by the time human lifespan has decreased to less that one hundred years, and people are increasingly tormented by poverty and strife, they are better prepared to grasp the truths of impermanence and dependent arising, and more receptive to the teachings of spiritual liberation."^2 The above excerpt shows that recognizing the reality of impermanence is a necessary component in the process of becoming liberated. In cyclic existence, the most visceral experience of impermanence is death. The Buddha told His cousin and attendant Arya Ananda that a Buddha can live for an indefinite period of time, and yet He still manifested the appearance of passing away. The texts often point to this as one of the twelve particularly crucial deeds the Buddha performed for our benefit. If a fully realised being such as the Buddha passes away, how can we unenlightened hope to escape this? Although death and dying is a constant throughout the ages, what is perhaps unique to our current time is the phenomenon of Buddhists being cared for by non-Buddhists. We have the existence of different types of institutions and organisations that provide end-of-life care: free-standing hospices, hospice outreach programmes where care is provided in the dying person's own home, nursing and retirement homes, long-term care facilities, hospitals and so on. As well, we find growing numbers of examples of Buddhists caring for non-Buddhists at death-time. These two phenomena, non-Buddhists caring for dying Buddhists and Buddhists caring for the dying, lead to two specific and important areas of Buddhist social engagement: 1) educating palliative caregivers who have Buddhist clients about the unique needs of Buddhists at death time, and 2) Buddhists actively caring for the dying as a practice. The latter often includes not only front-line, hands-on palliative care delivery, but also the activities involved in building resources to increase and ensure equal opportunity access to palliative care for those who need it.

To put end-of-life care into a Buddhist context, first we will first look at the Buddhist philosophical understanding of death. Next, although there is often cultural variety in how Buddhists deal with death, teasing out some common Buddhist practices at death will demonstrate the sensitivities needed by non-Buddhists who care for Buddhists in multifaith care-delivery environments. Finally, the attitude and inner exercises used in a Buddhist approach to caregiving will show the practical application of Buddhist mental training in the context of palliative care usually kept private within the mind of a practitioner. These three explorations, hopefully, will not only give a glimpse into the world of palliative care given to, and given by, Buddhists, but also be useful in general to anyone concerned with preparing for their own death and helpful to anyone who cares for the dying and bereaved.

Buddhist philosophical understanding of death

The Buddhist view of death actually begins with birth. When a being is born, they begin to move towards death and, inevitably, move progressively through the experiences of the four sufferings of birth, sickness, old age and death. The Four Arya Truths, the main summary of the Buddha's teachings and the content of His first public lecture, establishes the reality of suffering as the starting point for entering into the Buddhist path. This First Noble Truth is not a morbid dwelling on suffering but is presented in conjunction with the other three: that there is a cause to this suffering, there is an end to this suffering and there is a cause to the end of this suffering. Seeing all four components of this paradigm instills hope that there is true relief, and motivates the spiritual aspirant to seek this freedom and to stop creating the causes of pain. The ultimate goal of practising Buddhism is freedom from suffering, and much more. The definition of a Buddha, a fully enlightened being, is a being free of all mental and physical suffering who is both omniscient, able to directly perceive all objects of knowledge, and possesses infinite compassion: the wish to remove all of the suffering of all beings. It is no accident that freedom from suffering and omniscience abide together in the mind of a Buddha. All sufferings come from ignorance. Generally, ignorance is a wrong understanding of reality which sees things as existing inherently and independently when in fact they exist interdependently. This root ignorance (a delusion itself) breeds more delusions which in turn bring about all wrong actions of body, speech and mind and result in suffering. Conversely, removing this ignorance ends the chain of cause and effect just mentioned: no ignorance means no delusions and the wrong actions they cause, and thus no suffering result. When applied to the actions of sentient beings, this chain of cause and effect is what is referred to as karma (Skt: “action”) and its manipulation is required for improving the quality of life. The logic of karma is that all happiness comes from virtuous actions of body, speech and mind, and all misery from non-virtuous actions from these same "three doors." From the Buddhist perspective, karma is totally changeable. That we can change our future by what we do now, and purify every negativity imprinted on our mind from past misdeeds, induces hope. It is the reasoning which shores up the view that each of us has the potential to become free from all suffering. It is of crucial importance to note that sufferings, including death, are not seen in Buddhist thought as a "punishment." Karma is not controlled by any one, human or divine, but rather our experiences are the mere ripening of past actions. Considering the seemingly cold and calculating nature of the natural law of karma, one may see a reasonable basis for feeling that oneself or others "deserve" what they are getting. To be sure, the etymological root of the word "deserve," from the Latin deservire meaning "to be worthy of," supports this.^3 However, the saying "they will get what they deserve" in modern colloquial usage, although in essence reinforces the reality and efficacy of cause and effect, usually has a negative connotation. It implies that the agent will suffer and, therefore, does not accurately represent the “like cause, like effect” aspect of karma. The agent also deserves happiness as a result of past positive actions! To defeat another modern misunderstanding, instant karma is generally nonexistent, despite the wonderful song by John Lennon. Although extremely positive and negative deeds can have ripening results immediately, such as those actions directed towards powerful objects (enlightened beings or one's parents), for the most part, actions ripen long after the fact, often many lifetimes later. The "why me?" syndrome comes from the fact that beings may not be able to trace what ripens now to a cause in this life. Despite this, through logic, we do have a natural sense of the cause. It makes good sense that poverty is a result of greed, separation from loved ones is the result of causing others to separate, and so on.

Death is the transition time where the mind leaves the body and moves onto the next life and must be seen in the context of karma and rebirth. The scriptures subdivide death into various types, as shown in Buddhaghosa's "Visuddhi Magga" (Pali: “Path of Purification”) where this prolific 5th Century Indian Buddhist commentator distinguishes between timely and untimely death:
"Timely death comes about with the exhaustion of merit, with the exhaustion of life potential (ayu), or with both. Untimely death comes about through kamma that interrupts [other, life-producing] kamma.
"Death through exhaustion of merit, here, refers to the death that comes about entirely through the finished ripening of [former] rebirth-producing kamma even when favourable conditions for prolonging the continuity of the life-potential may still be present. Death through exhaustion of life potential refers to the death that comes about through the exhaustion of the natural life potential of human beings, which amounts to only 100 years…
"Untimely death refers to the death of those whose continuity is interrupted by kamma capable of causing them to fall from their place [on a particular level of being] at that very moment…or for the death of those whose continuity is interrupted by attacks with weapons etc., due to previous kamma. All these are included under the [term] interruption of life faculty."^4

In addition to the division of death into types, the process of death itself is divided into stages which are determined by the sequential dissolution of the elements. As illustrated by the chart below, each elemental dissolution affects particular bodily functions, are accompanied by external signs and symptoms and internal visions that the dying person experiences. This happens long before clinical death and can a very useful measuring tool. For example, at the dissolution of the earth element, even if the dying person is safely supported by caregivers and bed-rails, they still have the experience of falling.
The importance of death in Buddhist practice is shown in the story of the Buddha Himself, an Indian Prince who lived 2500 years ago and who was inspired to entirely dedicate his life to becoming fully developed for the sake of others after seeing four sights: an old person, a corpse, a sick person, and a mendicant. Like for Prince Siddhartha, exposure to and contemplation of death prompts an urgent motivation for practising spiritual methods diligently and without delay. A practitioner ideally will prepare for death by contemplating it as often as possible because it is the most crucial time in one's life, since (due to karma), the last moment of one's mind in one life will determine what type of experience and existence one will have next. The inevitability of death is the great equaliser. Whether beautiful or ugly, poor or rich, all must die. It is even possible to see death as the ultimate challenge, showing how well one has prepared. Rather than a solemn and mournful event, with a worn-out body naturally comes the time to trade in the old ride for some new wheels. Normally we don’t wear old clothes because they no longer protect our body. Likewise, a broken body is no longer an effective basis for the mind. It must have a new support. This process of leaving the body is also an opportunity to practice. It is a means of purification since any suffering we have, as the experienced result of a former misdeed, is the burning off of some of our accumulated bad karma. Death is one of five events (along with sleeping, yawning, sneezing, and sexual orgasm) experienced by ordinary sentient beings where they naturally, without training, catch a glimpse of the Clear Light nature of mind. As such, the stages of dissolution at death, which are accompanied by changing states of consciousness including the arousal of the Clear Light Mind, are utilised by the Tantric meditator to develop accomplishments on the path to enlightenment. Such practices can be done long before death as well, as a practice in and of itself as well as a preparation for impending death.
"Buddhist tantra...is aimed at stopping death...and transforming [it] into Buddhahood. This is done through a series of yogas that are modelled on the process of death...until the yogi gains such control over them that he or she is no longer subject to dying. Since these yogas are based on simulating death, it is important for the yogi to know how humans die-the stages of death and the physiological reasons behind them."^6
Death is a vital time where the difference between an ordinary person, a practitioner and a realised being is displayed. An ordinary person might enter into death out of awareness and terrified, however the practitioner at the very least has the conscious wish to not have this experience. The consciousness of both the practitioner and non-practitioner will linger in the body out of attachment. A high being, one who has achieved realisations of a certain level, will not only meditate at the time of death but also have the ability to consciously leave the body, as well as wilfully direct their rebirth. They also will linger in the body, but not out of attachment. This lingering of the mind in the body shows a distinguishing characteristic of the Buddhist exposition of death in relation to modern medicine. Clinical death is generally defined as vital signs being absent and, with the exception of determining brain-function for those on life-support, is the only thing required for a physician to note when pronouncing death. In the Buddhist exegesis the mind does not necessarily leave when vital signs are absent. Clinical death, although a sign of a particular phase in the process of death, is not actually death. The Tantric texts explain that when the mind leaves the body, actual death, a drop of blood comes from the nose and a drop of semen (for males) is emitted from the penis. Displaying the simple beauty of nature, these vital fluids coming together at conception coincide with the entrance of the consciousness into the womb, and their appearance at death indicates its departure.

Common Buddhist Practices at death

It is important to emphasize that what is taught by the Buddha and what is understood, or even accepted, by a Buddhist don't always match. Buddhism, as a practise of mental and emotional development that is based on logical reasoning and not a system of tenets, is a religion that promotes questioning and healthy skepticism. The Buddha encouraged His students to check out the teachings "as a metal-worker burns gold to remove impurities." In Buddhism, we find not a system of belief, but rather methods that bring about ever-increasing mental and emotional stages leading toward the direct realisations of reality and compassion. Everyone has the freedom to practise as they wish, so the ways that people’s personal practices manifest are quite diverse. Suffice to say, the overriding theme with death practices is to ensure a peaceful and virtuous state of mind for both the dying and everyone around them, including spiritual and health caregivers and the bereaved.
There are some religious practices that are applied, or encouraged, in all cultural forms of Buddhism and some that are done only in some traditions. Starting with those that are common to both the Southern and Northern schools of Buddhism, many practices at death are mental exercises and some of these, in spirit, are common to other faiths as well. Generating virtuous states of mind such as love and compassion can come from analytical contemplation or even the mere remembrance of such qualities and those who embody them. Purification practices can be performed inwardly as well with such practices as the Four Opponent Powers during which one engages in recognizing past mistakes, feels remorse, resolves to discontinue harm and applies a virtuous counter-action. The Northern school often uses visualisation and mantra recitation (Skt: “mind protection” in the form of mnemonic formulas) to purify as well. As it was for the Buddha, for any practitioner, one's own or other's illness can be used as an opportunity to generate empathy. Feeling such things as "may no one suffer like this," or “may I experience this suffering on their behalf” are powerful means to both strengthen concern for others and generate merit. The First Panchen Lama verbalised such feelings of exchange in his Guru Puja text (Skt: “Offering to the Religious Master”):
"As no one desires even the slightest suffering nor ever has enough of happiness, there is no difference between myself and theirs; therefore, inspire me to rejoice when others are happy.
"Cherishing myself is the doorway to all downfalls, while cherishing my mothers is the foundation for everything good; inspire me to make the core of my practise the yoga of exchanging self for others.
"Therefore, O Venerable Compassionate Gurus, Bless me that all karmic obscurations and sufferings of mother migrators ripen on me right now, and that I may give others my happiness and virtuous deeds in order that all sentient beings have happiness." ^8
As in the merit generated by developing empathetic concern, merit can be generated internally by any virtuous mental practice. Concentration (Skt: Shamata), analytical (Skt: Vipassana) and visualisation meditation are practices found in most Buddhist contexts. The Seven Limb practice, although some of which is Mahayana specific, contains elements that are found in most traditions and can be recited inwardly or outwardly. It includes taking refuge in the Three Jewels of Buddha, Dharma and Sangha, making offerings, confessing past mistakes, rejoicing at one’s own and other’s virtues, requesting Dharma teachings, requesting the religious teacher to remain and dedicating the merit for the benefit of all beings. Making offerings can be done mentally but is a very strong external practice in every Buddhist community. Offering can be seen in every environment, from temple to the hospice, and can go from being as elaborate as offering up pleasing objects for each of the five senses, to being as simple as arranging some flowers and fruit. The same goes for virtuous verbal recitation and chanting. Almost every Buddhist will engage in, and resonate with, some form of recitation of scripture, prayers and mantras. Most religions will have some form of virtuous verbalisation before, during and after the death of a member, but in Buddhism it is of crucial importance for helping the mind of the dying person. It is held in Tantric texts that the last sense faculty to cease to function is that of hearing. When the mind leaves the body, the in-between state (Tib: Bar-do) is also described as one where the being has a subtle body that has the same faculties as in life, and thus can also hear. For these reasons, recitations are used to both trigger virtuous states of mind in the transmigrating being, as well as to guide them through the stages of transmigration, both in aid of a smooth transition. The famous “Tibetan Book of the Dead,” written by the Indian pandit Guru Padmasambhava, is used in the Tibetan tradition to navigate the bardo being through the tumultuous experience of being in between bodies. The Tibetan tradition has appropriated some other practices from the Indian tradition as well, well-suited to the time of death. Transmitted secretly, Phowa (Tib: “transference of consciousness”) is a very popular Tantric visualisation exercise involving both the red Buddha of longevity Amitabha as well as a wrathful, red female Buddha in the form of a yogini, or female tantrika. One projects one’s consciousness out of the crown with the purpose of going to Buddha Amitabha’s Pure Land, which is a refined plane of existence where becoming enlightened is the main activity. This practice, like all death practices, can be done at any time and is not reserved for the time of death. A common theme in Buddhist practice, it is something to be mastered in life in anticipation for death. Growing out of the tradition of mentally exchanging oneself for others, found in the Indian texts of both Arya Nagarjuna and Arya Shantideva, Tonglen (Tib: “giving and taking”) is aimed at transforming one's own and other's suffering. Visualising other people’s problems as black smoke, one takes it into one’s heart where it becomes light that, in turn, radiates out to the afflicted. They are then imagined to be free of all problems. One might wonder how, and for what purpose, a person who is afflicted themselves would imagine taking on more suffering. The suffering is not absorbed, but rather is transformed, and the overwhelming emotional event that occurs is the arising of exceptionally strong compassion. It is safe to say that this practice in general, and at death-time in particular, is one that is held in the highest of esteem in the Tibetan tradition because of its ability to make remarkable mental changes with a very simple method. Lastly is another practice that, although having some precedence in the Southern schools, manifests uniquely and with great fervour in the Tibetan and the Indian tradition that it arose from. Life-extension practices, often tantric and very often involving longevity deities such as the tantric aspect of Amitabha known as “Amitayus,” are used both to ward off untimely deaths caused by interference from other karma that would interrupt life, and also to ward off death caused by the exhaustion of life-enhancing merit by generating more of such. One very simple life-extension practice is in the saving and caring for other beings, such as in releasing bait to save their lives or caring for the sick and dying, because the karmic ripening result of such practices is long life.
Despite Buddhism being a non-theistic religion, one which is based on self-development and personal responsibility, often times a Buddhist will call on the Buddha for assistance, despite the Buddha Himself saying that "a Buddha cannot remove suffering like rain washes away dirt; only one's own effort can remove suffering." Although the result will not be the removal of suffering of one by another, such a plea at least directs the mind towards the Buddha and is therefore necessarily, from the Buddhist perspective, virtuous. It is even said that feeling anger towards the Buddha is still virtuous because of the limitless beneficial power of the Awakened One.

A Buddhist Approach to Caregiving

In general, caregiving emanates from our natural predisposition to care for one another. Because of this, all traditions, both cultural and religious, have developed methods over time to address the problem of illness and death. Some of the activities of a Buddhist who engages in caregiving as a part of their practice will be similar, if not identical, to those found elsewhere. That being said, there are some strong themes found in Buddhist caregiving that of course grow out of Buddhist practise and philosophy in general, and Buddhist death-practices in particular. Unlike the Christian monastic tradition of nursing, Buddhist monastic caregiving has historically been reserved for monks caring only for fellow monks. This comes from the admonition in the monastic discipline texts (Skt: Vinaya) against monks nursing, or providing medical treatment for, householders. Perhaps due to the overriding influence of the Bodhisattva texts and vows in the Northern schools of Buddhism, which place a greater emphasis on helping others as much as one is able, there is a new historical precedent of Tibetan monks becoming doctors and Western monastics in the Tibetan tradition engaging in caregiving in every possible way, to people of every background, including non-Buddhist householders who are dying. There may be a greater accessibility for Buddhist caregivers to deliver care to non-Buddhists, especially in the area of hospice, because of a lack in very strong family and religious community organisational infrastructure found in traditional Buddhist communities. Another possibility is that the statistically high number of Tibetan Buddhists engaging in hospice and caregiving with the sick might be the result of the Tibetan community being one that is oppressed within their borders, and composed of struggling refugees outside. Thus lacking the cohesive individual and systemic infrastructure found in more stable Buddhist communities, there is a greater need for, and more opportunity to, help.
Musings aside, as with the common Buddhist practices mentioned earlier, there are some aspects to Buddhist caregiving that are shared by every tradition, and some specific to the Northern school. As a practicing Buddhist, the Buddhist caregiver will be engaging in personal, inner development in some capacity. They will already have within their mind a habit of developing, feeling and expressing love and compassion to some degree. However small, they have some sense of wanting the recipient of their care to be happy and free from suffering. They will also have spent some amount of time contemplating death and impermanence, and thus will have done some preparation for their own death. Working on one’s own feelings about death will naturally help others approach it more realistically and with less fear if they are at all influenced by the caregiver. The Buddhist caregiver has at least heard about the inevitability and unpredictability of death, if they haven’t realised it yet, and they may even see themselves reflected in the dying person. They may even go farther and, through analysis, come to realise that since they themselves must definitely die, there is essentially no difference between the dying person and themselves. This is a simple form of selflessness. Another common practice will be seen across the tradition, and that is equanimity. The caregiver who is familiarised with equalising their feelings towards those close to them, those distant or against and those of neutral status, will have an easier time having affection for the dying person they are caring for. If the Buddhist caregiver takes the advice of the Buddha to develop a concern for others as a mother does for their only child, one can imagine the potential for very deep concern being generated in the caregiver’s mind.

The Buddhist caregiver from a Northern tradition, or rather with a Bodhisattva intention, will have some unique aspects to their caregiving approach. For starters, although there are many examples in the Southern tradition of usage of the logic of infinitely regressing rebirths to prove the connection each being has with all other beings, it is highly emphasised in the Northern schools. So much so that texts, such as the Guru Puja quoted earlier, refer to sentient beings as “mother beings.” Seeing the dying person as related to oneself is a very powerful way to provide care that is both genuine and powerfully beneficial. What is perhaps more difficult is seeing every recipient of care as loveable! Here, logic again comes in handy for the practitioner-caregiver. Since every being has been loved by at least one person, their mother, they must necessarily have some loveable characteristics. With difficult and resistant people, to find these traits is the challenge of the Buddhists caregiver. In such a case, there are a few very powerful means that come from the Northern tradition of mind-transformation (Tib: Lo-jong). The first is the life-altering practice of seeing problems and negativity as useful tools to develop our own inner qualities. With this approach, no matter what is happening in the environment, or even within one’s own mind, one can see it as an opportunity to train the mind. This means that the more difficult the situation or person is, the greater the potential to develop good qualities! This has very far-reaching implications and completely destroys the idea that one needs to remove oneself from problematic circumstances in order to be happy. The practice of taking problems onto the path is peerlessly summarised in these lines from the Eight Verses for Training the Mind by the Tibetan scholar-monk Geshe Langri Thangpa, which state:
“I will learn to cherish beings of bad nature and those oppressed by strong negativity and suffering as if I had found a precious treasure very difficult to find.”9 Another Lojong technique is to not expect appreciation, sometimes referred to as “giving up all hope of reward.” This, along with the former practice, is not to encourage others to be disrespectful towards their caregivers. Instead, it places the caregiver in a strong mental position where the mind can remain content and happy regardless of how the caregiver is treated. Otherwise, the caregiver’s emotional state is moved according to the whims of the dying person, which means that their locus of control is without rather than within. As is commonly said about the difference between practicing in isolation versus in the marketplace, it is easy to not get angry on the mountaintop while locked away in retreat. It is very difficult to not get angry when confronted with other beings, and being able to maintain one’s integrity when in relation with others is the greatest testament as to the strength of one’s training.

Conclusion

We live at a time, and in a place, where caring institutions must engage in multi-faith care delivery. People of every type of background need care at the time of death, and likewise, those who provide such care are equally diverse. In keeping with this shift, Buddhists are receiving care outside of the traditional circle of their familial and religious community, from both Buddhists and non-Buddhists, and Buddhists are taking care of people of every possible background. Everyone is coming into contact with views and practices that are different from, and unfamiliar to, their own. Although there are more similarities than differences between the various cultural and religious traditions, such as the common effort to become better humans who are more loving and who develop an ever-increasing understanding of how things work, it nevertheless remains important not to negate fundamental differences. These do not need to be a bone of contention but can instead be a happy source of variety. It is good to recognise and accept these differences, but it is possible to even go as far as to enjoy these differences and learn from one another. In the field of caring for the dying, what is crucial is providing the best possible care, equitably, to all who need it. In general what is most important is not the manner in which this care is given, but rather ensuring that there is the deep wish for the highest benefit for the dying person, and those connected to them. In the words of Geshe Langri Tangpa: “With a determination to accomplish the highest welfare for all sentient beings, who surpass even a wish-granting jewel, I will learn to hold them supremely dear.” 9 This will beatify all caregiving activities and will especially help during difficult times.


References

1. Mendez, Sr., Arnold C. WHY did people live longer BEFORE Noah's Flood than they did after it?
Bible Study Web Site

2. Akester, Mathew; Twelve Principle Deeds of Lord Buddha, Nagarjuna Institute, 2006

3. Harper, Douglas; Online Etymological Dictionary 2001

4. Buddhaghosa; The path of purification : Visuddhimagga; Shambhala Publications, 1976

5. Marilyn Smith-Stoner, RN, PhD, CHPN Phowa: End-of-Life Ritual Prayers for Tibetan Buddhists, Journal of Hospice and Palliative Nursing, Vol. 8, No. 6, Nov/Dec/ 2006

6. Lati Rinbochay and Hopkins, Jeffrey. Death, Intermediate State and Rebirth
in Tibetan Buddhism. Ithaca: Snow Lion, 1979

7. Tricycle Buddhist Review Fall 1997

8. Chokyi Gyaltsen, Panchen Losang; Guru Puja (Lama Choepa), Library of Tibetan Works and Archives 1979

9. Sonam Rinchen, Geshe; Eight Verses for Training the Mind Snow Lion Publications; 2006

By the merit of this research paper, and the accumulated virtue of the three times and ten directions, may all beings have boundless happiness, and especially for those who suffer from illness and the process of death and those that care for them, may they be free from all pain and may all be auspicious.

Sarva Mangalam

Buddhist End of Life Care in Toronto: Ritual Practice to Social Engagement, by Helen Craigie

Buddhist End of Life Care in Toronto: Ritual Practice to Social Engagement,
by Helen Craigie
[Masters Student in Religion (Buddhist Studies)/Bioethics, University of Toronto]
April, 2008

(based in part on an interview with Sean Hillman; transcript of full interview coming soon; much appreciation to Helen Craigie for allowing me to post her excellent paper on a subject dear to my heart)

Buddhist end-of-life care is a unique form of socially engaged Buddhism that has made a home in Toronto’s health care institutions. The compassionate practice of caring for the terminally ill is distinctly ritualistic in that it was part of the Buddhist tradition well before Buddhism made its way to the West. On the other hand, in the Western world there are examples of Buddhist palliative care participating in social activism at the ground level. Palliative care in the West has even developed into group movements to create centres for care that exist outside social healthcare institutions. Considering that there are elements of engagement from both sides of the extreme, where does this place Buddhist palliative care in Toronto within socially engaged Buddhism as a whole?

In Ken Jones’ work “Emptiness and Form”, he outlines different forms of Buddhist social engagement: “Two kinds of engagement can be arranged along a continuum. At one end Buddhist compassion is expressed in public and organized forms of service and caring – therapy, healing and healthcare (especially with the terminally ill)... At the other end of the Engaged Buddhist spectrum is an activism directed towards radical social change” (p. 2). Jones’ description places Buddhist engagement in healthcare at one end of the Engaged Buddhist spectrum, while radical social change is found at the opposite end. Bearing this in mind, Jones categorizes Western Buddhist focused palliative care in this manner because of its roots in upholding Buddhist ritual practice. However, because there are examples of groups creating separate social models for care, it can be argued that it belongs at other end of the spectrum as radical social change. In Christopher Queen’s collection of studies in engaged Buddhism entitled Action Dharma, he makes a clear distinction between social action and ritual action: “social action (caring for the sick or joining a peace march, for example), which is typically undertaken to relieve other’s suffering, and ritual action (meditation and devotional rites, for example)” (p. 2). Buddhist end-of-life care is unlike other forms of Buddhist social engagement in that the line between social action and ritual action is blurred. Its social action aims to reproduce Buddhist ritual practice in a Western situation. Its ritual action is through its connection with Buddhist traditional methods. Essentially, what transfers to our healthcare guidelines in Toronto is that basic understanding of Buddhist rituals used at the time of death is to be recognized by healthcare professionals. The Ontario Multifaith Council and the Trillium Health Centre understand a Buddhist idea of death to be a time of transition from one life to another (p. 9). In her book, Caring for Dying People of Different Faiths, Julia Neuberger describes the Buddhist's acceptance of death as `striking', noting that it may be difficult for care givers to fully comprehend their attitude (p. 70). What Neuberger found strikingly different about caring for the dying Buddhist is the Buddhist's attitude at this time of transition. Buddhists hold that the way in which a dying man or woman is cared for is crucial to the spiritual process. They will accept their death, and may request to be drug free. At the time of death, a Buddhist will need a calm atmosphere, and may request spiritual guidance. Neuberger notes: “the only certainty when caring for a Buddhist who is dying is that he will require as much time and space for meditation as possible”(p. 67). She points out that, although it may be difficult to meet these needs in a care facility, that mental preparation for the period of transition is crucial and should be respected as much as possible. To create a more accurate understanding of how this practice plays out in palliative institutions in Toronto, further research for this essay is sourced predominantly from a revealing interview with a Tibetan Buddhist who works as a nurse’s aid in palliative care in Toronto.

Sean Hillman is a former Tibetan Buddhist monastic. Since leaving the order he has returned home to Toronto and is now working in as a nursing assistant in palliative care at St. Michael’s hospital. Hillman sees his work as a socially engaged Buddhist in Toronto as a natural choice as he wanted his livelihood to be able to support his practice (par. 2). Studying and becoming a monastic in [India], as well as working with the dying in Toronto makes Hillman an ideal authority on Buddhist social engagement in end-of-life care in Toronto. When Hillman was asked whether there are ritualistic or social aspects of engaged Buddhist practice in the area of palliative care, he responded by saying that there are elements of both. His experience in trying to meet the ritual needs of dying Buddhists has required that he take social action. He explained that because of obstacles when trying to fulfill the religious wishes of his patients he has been in situations where he had no choice but to get involved at some level (par. 4). He identified unfamiliarity as a main contributor to the resistance from his peers. In his experience, palliative care practitioners had no experience with the types of requests they received from the patients. Hillman provided examples of how this has played out in his time at St. Michaels hospital:

“If you try to make something happen that is unusual, like spending a day chanting around a body in hospital, through familiarization it is becoming less unusual. If my patient's family says that they want to spend, let's say, 10 hours with the body, I have no choice but to get involved with whoever can make that happen” (par. 4).

Considering Buddhist palliative care practice in Toronto’s institutions, Hillman was then asked whether in modern Western healthcare it is the ritual practice, the Buddhist philosophy or something different [that has] carried over from the East? Hillman’s response to this question came from his knowledge of Tibetan Buddhism:

“The only thing that I can think of is the personal liberation vows that come from the time of the Buddha, which can in some ways be seen as specific to that time, where there are things that exist now that didn’t exist at that time like vehicles and electronic communication and so on, yet the spirit is still there. I think that the principles in the Buddhist teaching and also in practice can easily be applied to a modern situation, even though some of the situations are new” (par. 18).

In Hillman’s perspective, it is the basic principles of Buddhist philosophy that are being brought forth. He maintained that how these principles play out in modern situations differ depending on the individual’s background, karma, environment and predispositions. Even though the situation in which these principles are applied is new, the essence of Buddhist teachings remain the same.

Examples of Buddhist end-of-life care in the West show that engaged practitioners are not typically planning peace marches or protests to make social change. Instead, compassionate practitioners are typically active in working with the terminally ill and dying. In the context of palliative care in Toronto, as a place that recognizes religious diversity, what type of activism is necessary? Working in the palliative care unit at St. Michael’s hospital, Hillman has experienced barriers that have lead to him become actively engaged. In upholding policy that recognizes multi-faith palliative care [delivery], his means of engagement have played out through appealing to higher levels of power. Hillman was asked, “What is your means for peaceful change?”

“Through dialogue and through talking to all the levels of power. I’d say in a hospital environment there were times when I had to, for example, go to the head of the spiritual care department because going to the head of the nurses of this particular area wasn’t working to make the situation change when there was an obstacle with palliative care delivery for a certain patient”(par. 8).

Hillman explained one example where he was compelled to become active. The circumstances involved a palliative patient who was not competent enough to express his wishes. According to his charts, the patient was a long standing Buddhist yet the [staff] were continuously taking him to Christian mass. Hillman saw this situation as “obviously a breach of the rights of the individual, particularly to a vulnerable patient who is palliative” (par. 8). To address this situation, Hillman had to go above the heads of his peers and appeal to a higher level of authority. Drawing from his Tibetan Buddhist background, Hillman rationalized this particular set of events: “There are these worldly attitudes that we as practitioners are supposed to reduce and one of them is caring whether we are liked or not . . . And if I cared more about being liked more than caring about making change happened, then I wouldn’t have done it” (par. 9). It is with this frame of mind that made up-keeping moral standards take priority over his concern for how his peers would react: “I was just so enthusiastic about making this change happen that it overrode any sort of concern about how people would perceive me. Because in the end the result was achieved. And it made me happy” (par. 10)

Ken Jones makes reference to further manifestations of engaged Buddhism that are far more radical then most types of socially engaged Buddhist movements (p. 3). Jones provides examples of socially engaged Buddhist movements that share the goal of creating Buddhist alternative social models. In other parts of the world, Buddhist end-of-life care fits into this model of social activism in that the common goal is the creation of centres for alternative care outside of the normal system of care. Examples are found in Buddhist hospices like Amitabha Hospice in Auckland New Zealand, or the Zen Hospice in San Francisco. By building alternative models of health care, such as hospices outside of the hospital institutions, these groups aim to ensure a certain level of Buddhist integrity in end-of-life care. Hillman commented on the situation in Toronto: “We don’t have a freestanding Buddhist hospice in Toronto. We have budding hospice movements or groups, there is a growing interest and a growing awareness. [As] part of that, we look at what other groups are doing for palliative care for Buddhists” (par. 16). In reference to his experience in Toronto, Hillman goes on to say that a natural extension of looking into other situations similar to ours in other parts of the world, is that we reflect on what works and what doesn’t in our own system. We then understand why in other parts of the world the logical extension of this thought is to have a freestanding Buddhist hospice that delivers Buddhist specific care. Since multi-faith sensitive end-of-life care is already part of our social healthcare system in Toronto, it seems that there would be less necessity for reform. Hillman maintains that multi-faith sensitive care is already in government policy and reform is necessary for governments to uphold what is already intended to exist within the system (par. 16). Considering we don’t have a freestanding Buddhist hospice in Toronto, as an alternative way to experience Buddhist palliative care, is what is already practiced in Toronto’s institutions enough? Do we need a separate social model? Although his experience has encountered some obstacles, Hillman’s faith in Toronto’s healthcare policies remains optimistic:

“Things have progressed so much in our healthcare institutions now. There are things that you will find in Buddhism in our hospital now. There are meditation groups, there are alternative practitioners that come in and engage in alternative therapies in our own hospitals. Some of these barriers that might have in the past have needed a completely alternative system for alternative therapy to even be considered, I don’t think that we need now, given that our system is more open minded and has more experience with non-allopathic, non-Western traditional medical approaches to health and illness in palliative care. I think that we need a place that has a different approach but I think that we can do this within our system” (par. 16).

In addition to seeing positive changes in his workplace, Hillman attributes his motivation to work within the current system to Tibetan Buddhist wisdom. He said that in the earliest Buddhist teachings monastics were instructed by the Buddha to follow the law of the land. Hillman argues that this philosophy applies today in that “[W]e need to work within the context of our culture within our socio-political systems” (par. 14). Following this view, if we find gaps in our system of palliative care, our approach should be to insist on the system following through with its intention to benefit everyone equally. Working as a Tibetan Buddhist in palliative care in Toronto has provided Sean Hillman with remarkable insight into real world models of engaged Buddhism. Throughout the interview, Hillman addressed contemporary concerns with a combination of timeless Buddhist doctrine and real life experience in one of Toronto’s palliative care departments.

Considering that there are examples from both ends of the Buddhist activism found in Western Buddhist palliative care, it would be impossible to place this form of engagement into one category over another. Sean Hillman’s experience supports the belief that social activism is intertwined in Buddhism at its root principles. Hillman brought to light that palliative care in Toronto’s healthcare system is a compassionate practice that emphasizes the importance of recognizing the different rituals and practices in various religions. It is faith in this system and its policies in multi-faith palliative care that deters Hillman from resorting to radical Buddhist activism. On the ground level, however, the system is not perfect. There is still resistance to what practitioners are not used to and might deem ‘unusual’. It is in these situations where activism and engagement become necessary to uphold the integrity of our multi-faith respecting policies.

References:

Amitabha Hospice Service. (n.d.). Amitabha Hospice Service. Retrieved March 28, 2008 from Amitabha Hospice Service: http://www.amitabhahospice.org/

Hillman, S. (2008, March 9). Engaged Buddhism and End-of-Life Care in Toronto. (H. Nuttall, Interviewer) Toronto, ON, Canada.

Jones, K. (Unlisted). Emptiness and Form. Retrieved February 12, 2008, from Buddhist Peace Fellowship: http://www.bpf.org/tsangha/jonesform.html

Neuberger, J. (204). Caring for Dying People of Different Faiths Third edition. London, England: Radcliffe Medical Press.

Ontario Multifaith Council on Spiritual and Religious Care and Trillium Health Centre. (2008, April). How Different Faiths Approach Death and Dying. Toronto, ON, Canada.

Queen, C. (2003). Action Dharma New Studies in Engaged Buddhism. (C. P. Christopher Queen, Ed.) New York, NY, USA: RoutledgeCurzon.

Zen Hospice Project. (n.d.). Zen Hospice Project. Retrieved March 28, 2008, from Zen Hospice Project: http://www.zenhospice.org/

Tuesday, December 29, 2009

Jainism and Social Consciousness Conference 2010: University of Ottawa

Sallekhana-Santhārā-Samādhīmaraņa and End-of-life Care: Jain Voluntary and Controlled Death in Equanimity through Fasting and Reduction of Activity as a Model for Secular Health Care

Pt. 1 in a series
Choosing to die: autonomy and assistance

Sean Hillman
M.A. (c) Religion (Buddhist Studies)/Bioethics
B.A. East Asian Studies
Department and Centre for the Study of Religion
Joint Centre for Bioethics
University of Toronto, CANADA

The three-fold process of Jain voluntary death practice, Sallekhana-santhārā-samādhimaraņa, has brought benefit to Jain practitioners for millennia and holds the potential to bring future benefit to both Jains and non-Jains. Among those who are non-Jains, some will embrace transmigration (or some other version of a post-death continuity of existence) and karma as part of their world-view and some will not. Are there aspects of Jain death practice that can be maintained without such religious ideas? The goal of this paper, in addition to clarifying some aspects of death brought on by the stoppage of oral intake and activity both in Jainism and in secular end-of-life care, is to show that there are some powerful Jain ideas and practices that can potentially help the dying and the bereaved without reliance on religion. Although secular bioethics is not amenable to some aspects of Jain voluntary death practice, I will attempt to show that in secular end-of-life care settings (not only palliative/hospice environments but also emergency, chronic, acute and critical care settings where many people also die) the Jain emphasis on: (1) voluntary and autonomous decision-making to withdraw treatment, including (but not limited to) nutrition and hydration, conjoined with (2) interdepedent decision-making with qualified co-decision-makers, and (3) qualified assistance and separation from objects of attachment, have great potential to assist the dying and bereaved in the pursuit of an improved experience during life’s most difficult time. To accomplish this I will use Jain monastic texts such as the Ācārānga Sūtra, Ācārya Amitagati I's Yogasāra-prābhrta (Gift of the Essence of Yoga) and the Bhagavatī Ārādhanā, as well as the Catholic Health Ethics Guide and the Health Care Consent Act.

A Buddhist Perspective on Mental Health & Caring for Buddhist Mental Health Patients

A Buddhist Perspective on Mental Health & Caring for Buddhist Mental Health Patients

(summary of presentation for Cultural Diversity and Mental Illness conference; 10/29/09)

Sean Hillman, B.A. East Asian Studies; Master’s Student, Buddhism/Bioethics, U of T

The Buddha’s teachings, and Buddhist practice and study in general, are ultimately aimed at one thing: achieving a state of perfect mental health. This state is not seen as an ephemeral ideal, but rather, one that has been actually developed by many other humans in addition to the historical Buddha Himself, and one that every person has the potential to fully actualize. What does this perfect mental health look like? It is an enlightened mind. A Fully Enlightened being has both omniscience and unending great compassion. This infinite wisdom and unbiased concern for all sentient beings not only leaves its possessor with indescribable bliss, but, most importantly, it allows for flawless skill and ability in helping others to move away from the unenlightened state of suffering. The suffering that a Buddha leaves behind arises from delusions and manifests as afflicted emotions. How does Buddhist practice move the practitioner towards an enlightened mind? The path resembles its result, and thus can be fit into those practices which cultivate wisdom, and those which cause compassion to grow. Although Buddhism is often equated with meditation, and is an important factor, to be sure, it is only one of many concurrent practices. The texts subdivide Buddhist practice into three categories: concentration, wisdom and ethics. The calm-abiding and insight forms of meditation can help in the development of the first two, but it is important to note that the tidy categorization and listing that one finds in Buddhist texts may sometimes obscure the fact that all of the practices can be incorporated and mutually complement each other. In the context of mental health, the benefits that come from calm-abiding and insight meditation, such as more stability and an increased understanding of one’s own mind, will not be effectively seen if done independent from the third training of ethics, or restraining from harm and engaging in helpfulness. It is often said that ethics are the foundation upon which all spiritual practices are based. Simply, if one is causing trouble for others, how can one then expect to sit on a cushion with a settled mind? The disturbance caused to others comes from one’s own inner disturbance, and will result in more! Harming others mainly affects the one engaging in harm. In that moment the mind of the harmer must be in a state of suffering, and in the future the harm will return full-circle to the harmer. The interdependence of the practices that we see with the incorporation of the three trainings is mirrored by the interdependence encouraged in Buddhist thought in relation to how we interact to others. In changing our behaviour towards others it is necessary to change our view of actions and their results. One can boldly say that the contemplation of karma, or cause and effect, is the most powerful way to change behavior in light of the fact that wholesome actions lead to happy results, and harmful actions lead to miserable results. At the bedside, interdependence is a living reality in that the caregiver’s emotions have a strong influence on the patient, and vice versa. We might come across Buddhist mental health patients, and health care providers know already from their practice in a diverse cultural setting that none will be alike. It is helpful, regardless, to know that they might have a unique openness to such ideas as past and future lives, the existence of enlightened beings (and the potential to become one), and the law of cause and effect.

BOOK REVIEW: Buddhist Rituals of Death and Rebirth


BOOK REVIEW:
Buddhist Rituals of Death and Rebirth:
Contemporary Sri Lankan Practice and its Origins
(Rita Langer)

by Sean Hillman
Religion Department
University of Toronto
Dec. 2009

Rita Langer's dissertation on death, funerals and post-funeral rites in Theravada Buddhism skilfully integrates the usage of texts, both Buddhist and pre-Buddhist, with current ethnographic data from Sri Lanka. She sets out to show the influence of both Buddhist and pre-Buddhist (or non-Buddhist) death and dying practices and principles, as found in the texts, on contemporary Buddhists and is quite successful and convincing in her conclusions. A lecturer in Buddhist Studies at the University of Bristol, UK, this study fits into the broader context of her research into Theravada death rituals in Southeast Asia and China. Let us explore her methods and findings.

First and foremost, Langer relies heavily on texts in her analysis. She goes to the Buddhist Canonical texts, including all of the genres in the Pali "Three Baskets" (Tripitaka): Vinaya (discipline), Nikayas (discourses) and Abhidhamma (logic, metaphysics, psychology). Excerpts from the Vinaya give examples of monastic death activities, and those from the Nikayas include events in the Mahaparinibbana Sutta which concern the passing away of the Buddha. These are both relevant in establishing Buddhist norms around death practices, and Langer puts them beside the earliest Hindu beliefs and practices as found in the Vedas, Upaniṣads and Brāhmaņas in her search for remnants of Hindu belief and practice in Buddhism. The textual component of this search is not as compelling as that of her enthnography. For example, Langer does not make a strong case when she points to a lingering sybolism of the funeral pyre as a sacrifice. An ornament is offered to the Buddha's body at his funeral and she likens it to the offering of an animal skin in Vedic practice. It is a stretch. She belabours the point and spends far too long tangentially explaining Hindu practices unrelated to Buddhism, to no end. Actually, at one point Langer entirely reproduces full sections of her study word for word. The sections concern the fascinating connection in Buddhist practice with Hindu ideas of purity as found in practices of sifting bone from ash in remains. Fascinating, yes, but made redundant by the author. As well, for all of her extensive combing through the texts, which is the obvious result of an enormous amount of labour, Langer sometimes misses some key symbolism in both the Hindu and Buddhist texts. One Brāhmaņa passage refers to a sacrificial fire and Langer eagerly assumes that it refers to a funeral pyre and then extrapolates that, since the poor could not afford cremations (timber was costly), this would mean that such people could not ascend after death. However, in many Hindu and Buddhist esoteric texts the fire actually refers to life-energy itself, which defeats her later reasonings (anyone can ascend!). Such narrow readings are coupled with more blatant missed symbolic references, such as in the narrative of Indian king who laments the loss of his 84 000 cities at death, and his Queen's consolation that he should abandon desire for them. The number 84 000 is often and explicitly mentioned in the texts as the total number of existent delusions in the mind, and so, the Queen is actually asking her King to abandon delusions.

Textually, possibly the most impressive accomplishment in this study is Langer's extensive and impressive presentation on the process of the transformation of consciousness at death. Distilled, clear and easy to follow, she particularly sheds light on the complicated concepts of ripening and throwing karma as found in the Abhidhamma. The mental states that ripen at death, which also serve to throw the consciousness into the next rebirth, are likened to bulls in a pen. Strong bulls are habitual tendencies, and bulls near the gate are merely those that achieve pole position by their proximate location to the exit, like mental states that arise close to death-time for whatever reason. Although it is most likely that the strong bulls will escape first, a weak bull near the gate has a good chance as well. The story of the great Indian Dharma King Ashoka at death reinforces the metaphor, as Langer describes his feelings of remorse near his death (weak bulls near the gate, or proximate ripening mental states) throwing him into a lower realm for a brief time only (the bulls were weak). The King quickly ascends to a celestial realm for a lengthy span (strong bulls, or habitual ripening mental states) because of the strength of his previous vast, and ongoing, good actions. This imagery is a most powerful way for this complicated exposition of death-consciousness to be introduced and is useful at every level of familiarity with the Buddhist presentation on mind and mental factors.

Next is the ethnographic aspect of Langer’s study. During her 6 months stay in one particular Sri Lankan village Langer observed several events, including funerals and post-funeral activities which included an offering ceneromy six days post-funeral, and a religious discourse event seven days post-funeral. She also gathered information on the community's beliefs through interviews and questionnaires done with both monastics and householders. Noted during the interviewing process was an interesting difference in the openness of the informants depending on the language used and the subject matter at hand. Using English, rather than Sinhalese, and covering sensitive material, such as the existence of ghosts, both made for more guarded responses. This forced some reliance on secondary literature, with good effect, and a call for future study into how language choices affect the quality of interviews. Both the interviews and questionnaires find trends in modern practice and the views held by the community, but Langer also takes the opportunity to include interesting anomalies in the responses. She mentions the one person who says that people pray in advance to have a good last thought before death, and also points out one person who organizes a ceremony to dedicate merit to pets, much to the chagrin of the rest of the community. Such examples add perspective and also a lightheartedness to the dissertation. Here again, this time in enthnographic mode, we find Langer’s continued search for Hindu remnants in Buddhism as she compares modern Hindu and Buddhist death practices. In relation to the funeral, Langer observes both that “it is customary and expected that Brahmins are paid for their services” 1 and that “Buddhist monks replaced brahmins in their ritual function.” 2 Naturally it follows, then, that “any offering to the monks could be viewed in the light of a symbolic payment for the monks’ services at the funeral” 3 since “a monk who comes to a house for chanting or preaching never leaves empty-handed and there seems to be an unspoken understanding about which services require more substantial donations that others.” 4 Interestingly, but unmentioned by Langer, another Buddhist scholar independently notes this as well and this scholar also happens to be one that Langer herself relies on in this study. Gregory Schopen’s archaeological evidence of monastic practices, particularly those having to do with funeral practices, is a major resource for Langer’s section on Buddhist funerals. In regard to the monastic-lay relationship I found that, like Langer, Schopen refers to the “client relationship between monks and lay-brothers” 5 when monks are compelled to meet the request of laity, and the “exchange relationship” 6 when funeral duties are performed and the order receives something in return.

Langer makes an important finding when she noticed two symptoms systemic in the community which, Langer discovered, arise from the Sri Lankan confusion over the status of the dead. One is linguistic and the other ritualistic. The terms prēta and preta in Sanskrit, peta in Pali, and prētayā in Sinhalese are all from a similar etymological root but are used with interchangeable meanings of ghost, troublesome ghost (resembling a poltergeist), deceased, hungry ghost, deceased relative who is a hungry ghost, intermediate being, and ancestor. 7 Langer spends a great deal of time on this and it remains a tricky task to tease out all of the elements leading to this “conflation,” as she calls it. “On a conscious level prēta/peta is understood as a particular being belonging to a specific gati [realm], but on a practical, emotional level, the categories of ‘hungry ghost’ and ‘ancestor’ merge.” 8 The ritualistic symptom of the confusion over the status of the dead shows up with various contradictory customs Langer observed around the funeral, some in an attempt to keep the dead from returning and some to have them return. Digging holes along the funeral procession path is an example of the former, and a verbalised invitation and laying out of the deceased’s belongings is an example of the latter. About this issue she concludes: “In Sri Lanka (and Thailand) there appears to be a gap between the official Theravada doctrine of instantaneous rebirth, and popular practices which seem to suggest the belief in a liminal period after death.” 9 Apparently the result of confusion over what happens after death, Langer successfully shows this to be a Hindu remnant of spirit belief and/or a lingering pre-Buddhist custom of ancestor worship.

Langer’s dissertation is the result of a great deal of textual and ethnographic effort. It adds greatly to the study of Buddhism, death and dying and the Buddhist perspectives on such. It is an excellent resource and I have already used it personally in a recent research paper entitled “Tension Between the Buddhist Monastic Order and Buddhist Laity at Funerals Degrading the Holding of Monastic Precepts.” There are some weaknesses, however: excessive meanderings regarding Hindu practices beyond proving a relevant point related to Buddhist practices; repeated sections of content; difficult usage of foreign terminology lacking clear definition and her inconsistent interchanging of terms that may or may not be synonymous. On the other hand, I might be bold enough to say that her concise exposition on the Buddhist view of consciousness at death from the Abhidhamma might be unparalleled in Western scholarship. Langer also makes very useful connections that can be applied to modern times. In one Sutta commentary the idea that wrong view at death will detrimentally affect rebirth is presented, and there is the caution that even if one has developed sophistication in one’s views throughout one’s life, at death one can instinctively revert to the views of childhood. She suggests that this is a textual tool to both warn and encourage the practitioner. In the context of palliative care, a personal affinity of mine, there is a precedent at the bedside of patients reverting to their original tongue when approaching death. Here we see that principles in the ancient texts can be found to hold true here and now, and can serve to provide insight here and now, in a practical and powerful way. Langer’s findings regarding remnants of Hindu thought and practice in Buddhism are strong and deserve even more attention. The gist of this lingering pre-Buddhist influence on death activities is well captured by Holt: “Buddhist interpretations of death did not originate in an historical vacuum. Conceptions of…the prescribed behaviour relating to the dead…were modified adaptations of prevailing Brāhmaņical patterns of belief. This is especially apparent when we examine the beliefs and practices of the early Buddhist...” 10

Endnotes

1) Langer, 2007. 87
2) Ibid. 183
3) Ibid. 87
4) Ibid. 154
5) Schopen, c1997. (a) 74
6) Schopen, c2004. (b) 96
7) Langer, 2007. 150
8) Ibid. 159
9) Ibid. 82
10) Holt, 1981. 1

Sources

Holt, J.C. 1981. Assisting the Dead by Venerating the Living: Merit Transfer in the Early Buddhist Tradition, Numen XXVIII, 1-28.

Langer, Rita. 2007. Buddhist Rituals of Death and Rebirth: Contemporary Sri Lankan Practice and its Origins; London ; New York: Routledge

Schopen, Gregory; c1997. Bones, Stones, and Buddhist monks: Collected Papers on the Archaeology, Epigraphy, and Texts of Monastic Buddhism in India. Honolulu : University of Hawai'i Press a) The Ritual Obligations and Donor Roles of Monks in the Pali Vinaya, 72-85.

Schopen, Gregory; c2004. Buddhist Monks and Business Matters: Still more papers on Monastic Buddhism in India. Honolulu : University of Hawai'i Press
b) Deaths, Funerals, and the Division of property in a Monastic Code, 91-121.

Thoughts on tantra for a beginner

Sept. 18, 2010

Many non-Buddhists and beginner Buddhists consider attending tantric empowerments. Here are a few brief thoughts that I sent to a colleague regarding how secret tantra and wrathful practices fit into the path. I specifically make reference to the practice of Chod, or 'Cutting off the Self.'
http://www.bodhicitta.net/Chod.htm

Tantra traditionally requires extensive foundational practices such as refuge, ethics, purification etc. Its effectiveness also relies on some experience of Bodhicitta and emptiness (some say at least a good intellectual understanding). It is seen by many as a completion practice, not an introductory one. Historically, entrance into tantra would be determined in conjunction with a qualified teacher. Nowadays, there is a lot of tantra...everywhere you go you can get empowerments, grab books off the shelf...even before doing any other training...and it is hardly secret. We could see this as a degeneration of the system, or a necessary adaptation. His Holiness the Dalai Lama sometimes says that exposure to things like tantric chanting and ritual plants seeds on people's minds, at this point where we are not really qualified to enter into tantra, following the karmic logic that the seeds will ripen in the future and make it easier for us to enter tantra (which some texts say is required to achieve full enlightenment) in the future when we are ready. This is how Kundun justifies tantric monk tours and His own conferring of so many initiations, especially Sri Kalachakra. One also definitely makes a karmic connection with the tantric Guru. One needs to consider carefully if one wants this connection because it has implications for future lives.

There are different ways to approach it. Often tantric masters require students to have taken refuge, have bodhisattva vows (both of which can be done in advance and is often repeated during the ceremony proceedings), and require the taking of tantric vows and a commitment to do a daily practice, before allowing them to receive an empowerment. This is if one is taking the initiation fully. One can also receive empowerments as a blessing, and the requirements of the student are reduced. Lastly, one can sometimes just merely witness the ceremony. This could be out of a sense of curiosity or even, by extension, as an ethnographer. In these latter 2 approaches, a Buddhist might see such an act in the way that Kundun mentions...from the exposure, there is the planting karmic seeds on the mindstream for future ripening under the right causes and conditions.

Chod is a wrathful practice. I mention it because it can be quite shocking and even seem barbaric at the surface. One is offering the parts of one's corpse to different categories of beings in the cosmos...especially those most in need. I personally think the practice is profoundly powerful...it reduces attachment to the 'self' and body which can lead to realizations now and in the future, and prepare us for death most effectively. I have great reverence for Padampa Sangye (the Mahasiddha who brought the tradition to Tibet from India) and Machig Lhadron, his chief Yogini disciple. Fortunately, the best teachers will give great context to the practice so that people approach it in awareness and knowing the purpose of this novel and seemingly violent technique.

A book i found really helpful to clarify how to approach tantra in this age is a book on the Kalachakra by Alexander Berzin. I think you can read it all here:
http://www.berzinarchives.com/web/en/archives/e-books/published_books/kalachakra_initiation/pt1/kalachakra_initiation_02.html

Thoughts on Orientalism


by Sean Hillman
Religion Department
University of Toronto
Oct. 2009

Edward S. Said’s “Orientalism” brings to mind the 1937 multiple Oscar-winning movie “Lost Horizon.” A terribly expensive, beautifully made and ground-breaking piece of work for its time, it displays an illusory Tibetan world made palatable to Western sensibilities. Although the Tibetans are allowed to keep their fuzzy hats, they are made to walk single-file and beam quietly and serenely. Anyone who has attended a Tibetan gathering would know that this is as far as one could go from the uproar typical of events, including (and perhaps particularly) the religious. Traditional deep-throat monastic chant is replaced with Gregorian-falsetto, European furniture is inserted into the inner sanctum of the High Lama, and the High Lama himself is an ex-pat: he is not indigenous to Tibet or the magical Shangri-la but, rather, from the West! Although there is a faint Buddhist scent in his distilled philosophical maxim of “be kind,” the High Lama’s language is very clearly not that of a Tibetan Buddhist: “When the strong have devoured each other, the Christian ethic may at last be fulfilled and the meek shall inherit the earth.” (IMDB) This is very much in line with Said’s “real argument…that Orientalism is-and does not simply represent-a considerable dimension of modern political-intellectual culture, and as such has less to do with the Orient than it does with “our” world.” (p.12) Amazingly, beyond the colonially-minded move by the film-makers in making the chief figure of wisdom a Westerner amidst the exotic natives, the most profound words come from another Westerner in the cast. While on a plane escaping from a raging revolutionary battle in China, before they are skyjacked and crash in Tibet, British diplomat Robert Conway gets quite drunk. In the haze of intoxication he delivers a most powerful monologue suggesting that when attackers come to the border, pistols all aimed squarely at us, we should lay our guns down and politely invite them in for tea. What does it say when a drunken, uniformed Westerner presents a more radical plan for peace than Shangri-la’s appointed religious leader?

Perhaps the fascination in the uniqueness seen in the object of study, most often inflated and regardless of that object being theoretical or living beings, is a necessary step providing the impetus to become involved in a field of study, whether individually or collectively. Said points to the “virtual epidemic of Orientalia affecting every major poet, essayist, and philosopher of the [mid-1700s to the mid-1800s] period, [where] “Oriental”…was…synonymous with the exotic, the mysterious, the profound, the seminal.” (p.51). In my own case, I can see three major phases in my involvement in the study of the Far East. First, there was this fascination with the East and the transcendent associations imputed upon it. Families and communities are imagined to be more connected and every-day life is seen as imbued with a visceral spirituality, all very far removed from my own experience. I wanted to sit by the river with Chuang Tzu and couldn’t understand why The Last Emeror in Bertolluci’s film wanted so badly to come to the West when he so obviously had it made. This stage was fraught with a rejection of my heritage and an isolated contemplation of what I could piece together from Chinese, Indian and Tibetan textual fragments which led to great misunderstandings and an inner disturbance. Next was immersion in two cultures of interest, Tibetan and Indian, learning the language of the former but not of the latter. Not coincidentally I found it harder to feel at ease with Tibetans than with Indians, and in general there was great disillusionment regarding my image of a pure land in the East. Third was a return to the West and to Eastern texts informed by these experiences, with more respect towards the texts and my own heritage than ever, arising from the conviction in the text’s benefit personally and in my field of study and that my heritage contains basic operational tools necessary for understanding the world and operating within it. The mountain is a mountain again. Hopefully each stage is a maturation and I wonder if, beyond the first stage of fascination that prompts involvement, there are parallel stages in East Asian area-studies in the discipline as a whole. In Said’s picture of “Orientalism” it seems to not be the case as indicated by his depiction of what I refer to as the ‘immersion phase’ with “English Orientalists in India…[who] took from the classical Oriental past…a vision…which only he could employ to the best advantage; [and who] to the modern Oriental…gave…the benefit of his judgment as to what was best for the modern Orient.” (p.79) Rather than mere observation and learning, we see here a meddling which surely is one of the many pitfalls that leads to “obliterating…“the Oriental”…as a human being.” (p.27)