When the Dalai Lama recently revealed his support for the use of medical marijuana, advocates of the drug discovered they had a new ally. But are the Dalai Lama’s views on medical cannabis breaking rank with the traditional Buddhist stance? Or are Buddhists generally in favour of medical marijuana as well?
Primary to the debate is what Buddhism calls the “five precepts”: refrain from taking life, don’t take what’s not yours, avoid sexual misconduct, don’t speak falsehoods, and avoid intoxicants.
It’s the last precept that’s a sticking point when it comes to medical marijuana.
Rev. Dr. Bhante Saranapala, a Buddhist monk and preacher working at the West End Buddhist Temple and Meditation Centre in Mississauga, Ontario, contends that the fifth precept forbids marijuana in any form.
“The five precepts are moral principles, and one of them is to refrain from intoxicants. If any substance leads to heedlessness, or could make one unconscious, you have to refrain, regardless of whether you think it’s good,” he says. “It alters the pure nature of the mind.”
The possibility exists, he added, that “you would not understand what you’re doing, or what you’re saying (while high). That’s why this is distinct.”
Historically there are few, if any, references in Buddhism regarding marijuana as a medicine, according to an article on Beliefnet.com.
Yet, the San Francisco Patient and Resource Center notes that Buddhists have used cannabis in tandem with meditation practices “as a means to stop the mind and enter into a state of profound stillness, also called Samadhi.” They add: “Various spiritual texts, including the Buddhist Tara Tantra, list cannabis as an important aide [sic] to meditation and spiritual practice.”
One source notes that Buddha himself believed cannabis was a cure for rheumatism.
Brian Ruhe, of the Theravada Buddhist Community of Vancouver, sides with the Dalai Lama on the issue.
“I’m in favor of [medical marijuana] as well. I explain it by saying the idea of medical marijuana is reducing suffering, and reducing suffering is good. In this case it’s reasonable, showing intelligent use for that situation,” he adds.
Ruhe has been a practicing Buddhist for 22 years and spent seven months as a Buddhist monk in Thailand in 1996.
“Medical marijuana is OK because Buddhism is a path of intelligence, discernment and compassion, not just following rules,” he contends.
“The Buddha said his teachings were not internally inconsistent because sometimes he would say one thing to a person, and something else to someone else. This is an example.”
Ruhe, also the author of two books on meditation and a teacher of university-level courses on Buddhist philosophy and meditation, emphasizes that the medicinal aspect is key. “You should avoid recreational marijuana, to avoid deluding thoughts.”
Sean Hillman, a Buddhist scholar-practitioner and a University of Toronto doctoral student in Religion, Bioethics and South Asian Studies, says that “it is difficult to establish an authoritative stance” on many issues.
As such, “what people choose to ingest is their private business, not subject to Buddhist religious scrutiny,” Hillman notes.
He spent 13 years as a Buddhist monk, ordained by the Dalai Lama. His research straddles religious studies and medical anthropology, with a strong interest in the interaction between religion and end-of-life decision making.
“Simply, when the pain at hand is addressed without any intoxicating side effects, medication has been administered correctly and pain management is effective,” he states.
“Finding the best delivery method and dosage are the challenges. If there is intolerable pain, it is not yet managed. Going beyond this threshold can lead to side effects, including drowsiness and even respiratory failure. I would ask if it is possible to treat illness by this means without side effects.”
The real challenge, therefore, may not be inherent in the chemistry of the drug. Unwieldy side effects are “obstacles on the various Buddhist paths,” as Hillman puts it.
Ajahn Punnadhammo, a Buddhist monk ordained in Thailand in 1992 who runs the Abbot of Arrow River Forest Hermitage in the Thunder Bay, Ontario, region, says most Buddhists would find medical marijuana acceptable because the use of opiates as painkillers for severe injury or illness has already been around for decades and Buddhists don’t oppose that medicine.
“Recognizing that any of these substances are open to abuse, most Buddhists would accept their proper medical use with due caution,” Punnadhammo adds.
==
How do Buddhists view medical marijuana?
The Medical Marijuana Review
Posted on January 2, 2014 by Dave Gordon in Feature Story
http://medireview.com/2014/01/how-do-buddhists-view-medical-marijuana/#.UuffYxb0DUT
Tuesday, January 28, 2014
Monday, May 6, 2013
Fair Distribution in Jain Monastic Food Acquisition
Sean Hillman B.A., M.A.
Doctoral student, Religion/Bioethics/South Asian Studies
Department for the Study of Religion
Joint Centre for Bioethics
Centre for South Asian Studies
University of Toronto
This paper began as a textual investigation into the normative
prescriptions on the procurement and eating of food in three Indic monastic
codes of discipline: the Jain Ākāraṅga Sūtra, the
Pali Buddhist Vinaya, and the Swaminarayan-Vaishnava Shikshapatri
Bhashya. However, as the research unfolded, it became clear that there was
far too much material in these three codes, and their commentaries, for a paper
of this size. As such, the focus will be squarely on Jain monastic food orthodoxy
as found in a close reading of two primary texts that have ascetics as their
main intended audience: the Ākāraṅga Sūtra and Ācārya
Amitagati's Yogasāra-prābhṛta (Gift of the Essence of Yoga). The latter
includes a contemporary commentary by the translator Dr. C.S. Jain. Along with a
textual analysis of the primary texts, some ethnographic sources will help
demonstrate if contemporary Jain food orthopraxy is in agreement or at odds
with the orthodoxy of the texts.
There are endless discussions about what Jains normatively can and
cannot, and descriptively do and do not, eat. The forbidden foods, and proper ways
of preparing and eating food, are well documented. The central issue I chose to
explore within this paper, however, is the doctrinal restrictions related to
the procurement of food and drink by Jain monastics. As such, the scope
of the study was initially narrowed down to two main questions: (1) Under which
circumstances can the Jain monastic receive and not receive food? And, (2) From
whom can the Jain monastic receive and not receive food? I also began to comb
the texts to discover whether Jain monastics can ask for food verbally
or indicate hunger by physical gestures. Again, there was an
overabundance of material. These removed sections will be grist for a future
study.
I aim to demonstrate that the Ākāraṅga Sūtra contains
a more subtle approach to non-violence (ahimsa) than by way of mere
restrictions that are meant to protect humans, animals, insects, plants,
microscopic organisms and elemental beings from physical harm and that which
threatens life. Unlike the Yogasāra-prābhṛta, the author(s) and
redactors of the Ākāraṅga Sūtra are
proponents of the fair distribution of resources, demonstrated by
numerous precepts designed to protect donors, other Jain monastic and non-Jain alms
recipients from resource deprivation by requiring the monastic to not divert
food to themselves that would otherwise rightly go to another.
The Texts
The Ākāraṅga Sūtra and Yogasāra-prābhṛta
generally frame the usage of food quite differently. In the initial section
of the former, we find food consumption normalized: “As the nature of this
(i.e. men) is to be born and to grow old, so is the nature of that (i.e.
plants) to be born and to grow old…as this needs food, so that needs food”
(Jacobi 10). In the latter, engagement with food is villainized: “A yogī,
established in detachment, does not entangle (himself) in the obstructions
caused by…the food… For one indulging with indolence in activities like taking food…continued
violence has been described” (vs. 14-15 Jain 2003, 175-176) Despite such
disagreements, both texts give guidance to the Jain monastic on how to properly
acquire food.
My choice of the Ākāraṅga Sūtra is
based on the primacy given to it as a monastic discipline text in the Jain
traditions. It is “[t]he first Aṅga” or ‘limb’ from among the eleven still
extant (out of the original twelve) (Jaini 52) and is “appropriately called Āckāra
(Conduct), [as it] forms the law book for Jaina monks and nuns. It regulates
their conduct by delineating the obligatory vows…and also by giving specific
instructions pertaining to permissible methods for obtaining such requisites as
food, clothing, lodging, and medicine” (Jaini 52-53). Relevant to an
investigation into textual Jain monastic food regulations, it is also a text that
includes both monks and nuns in its discussions. Two sections are of greatest
relevance to our topic: the first book’s seventh lecture on ‘Liberation,’ and
the second book’s first lecture on ‘Begging of Food,’ with a heavier emphasis
on the latter. As for the Yogasāra-prābhṛta, I find the text quite
compelling despite several difficulties including the fact that it was written
exclusively for male monastics to the complete neglect of nuns. Jain’s
translation and annotations are also fraught with constant grammar and spelling
errors, and his commentary is only distinguished by paragraph indentations
rather than more typical and obvious markers (explicit mention of a
commentarial section, font changes etc.) He also adds words and phrases to the
root text within parentheses, presumably to clarify the meaning, but does not
explicitly indicate that they are his additions. At times these additions seem
to be considerably and alarmingly interpretive.
The most concerning feature of the Yogasāra-prābhṛta is the manner
in which it unabashedly deprecates females. I fear my potential for releasing a
tirade as my (albeit modern) feminist sensibilities are deeply offended, and cannot
restrain myself from at least briefly mentioning the misogyny of the author and
translator/commentator. Both writers hold that women have both physical and
mental obstacles that block them entirely from becoming liberated (Jain 187-189).
Amitagati lists seven problematic mental states that all women suffer from, ‘indolence’
being the main one which Jain unpacks as fifteen types of ‘psychoses.’ Next,
Amitagati tells the reader that certain parts of the female body are prone to
the “generation of subtle jīvas” (Jain 188) such as under the breasts,
in the armpits and genetalia. Due to this, he concludes that “the (necessary)
restraint is not possible in women” (Ibid.). I fail to see how this does not
similarly occur under the arms and genetalia of males, but there is no
symmetrical mention of this fact. Strangely, Amitagati then allows for women to
practice as monastics in the immediately following verse, and Jain assures us
that this can only at best lead to a male rebirth. Although men are not made
out in the text to be particularly prone to any mental or physical problems
based on gender, Jain attempts to temper his misogynistic position by stating
that “all male human beings are also not so qualified, as only a few of them
get liberation after undergoing the course of necessary discipline” (Jain 188).
It is also the position of many Jains that it is impossible for any human being
to become liberated in this age and our particular cosmographical location.
Regardless, the bias against females is undeniable and cannot be ignored.
As difficult as it is to suspend one’s disbelief in this matter, for this
paper the focus is on food regulations within a singular chapter in the Yogasāra-prābhṛta
that explicitly addresses monastic discipline, as the introduction states: “Chapter-8:
This chapter deals with the conduct of the truth seeker, which has to be
essentially observed by him” (Jain 2003, xvi).
Dating both texts is a difficult task. Starting with the Aṅga texts, the
Indian Historiographer Dr. Jyoti Prasad Jain suggests that those who would
become the Digambara began redacting and writing their canon around the end of
the first century B.C.E., “preserving the bulk of the twelfth Aṅga...together
with fragments from the other Aṅgas” (Jain 2006: 182), whereas those who
would become the Śvetāmbara resisted canonical writing until the late fifth
century C.E. They preserved “substantial parts of the remaining eleven Aṅgas”
(Ibid.). One might think that the Digambara emphasis on orthopraxic
discipline would mean that they would be intent on preserving the Ākāraṅga Sūtra, but the evidence as to when and which sect wrote the first Aṅga seems lacking. A wide window of time, no doubt, we can at best say it is from the late urban/early classical period with the lower limit of its composition as first century B.C.E. and sometime after the late fifth century C.E as its upper limit.
Locating Ācārya Amitagati's Yogasāra-prābhṛta
temporally is made difficult by the fact that there are two Jain scholar-monks
by the same name, and that our author “has not mentioned the date of the
composition of his work” (Jain 2003, xiii). The one indicator that remains is
that one of the two Ācāryas mentions the other: “Amitagati-II has immensely
praised Amitagati-I, in his work, Śubhāṣita-Ratna-Sandoha, which was
composed by the latter in the tenth century A.D. when Muñja was in throne”
(Jain 2003, xiii). The Encyclopaedia of the Hindu World describes this Amitagati as a “Sanskrit poet, who was a Digambara Jain ascetic and pupil of Mādhavasena. He is the author of the Subhāṣitaratnasandoha ‘Collection of Jewels of Happy Sayings’ (A.D. 1014)” (Gar 384). The dates given have a discrepancy of a century. Sen’s Ancient Indian History and Civilization confirms the reign of the Paramara King Munja as “between A.D. 970 and 973” (319). This still doesn’t tell us which period is correct in placing the text that retroactively mentions our Amitagati. Is Jain’s suggestion more accurate because he has a dynastic reference? It is unclear. We can say at best say it is an early medieval text composed sometime around or before the cusp of the tenth and eleventh centuries C.E.
Jain Monastic
Food Acquisition
In discussing Jain
food pujas, Indologist John E. Cort states that “[f]ood is necessary to
maintain the physical body which is both an obstacle to liberation and a symbol
of bondage… food is part of the physical fuel that drives the round of rebirth”
(2001: 78). Immediately we can see an inherent tension in the life of a Jain
monastic: dependence on food for survival prevents liberation. This is because
Jains hold that every single action and interaction, physical, verbal
and mental, causes some relative degree of harm to others and oneself
and thus binds the subtle substance of karma to the soul, especially the
interactions involved with procuring and consuming food since “[f]ood fuels the
calamity of bodily existence, and is also associated with the sins inevitably
occasioned by its production and preparation” (Cort 1998: 158). Cort also states that “[b]ecause of the spiritual hazards of eating, fasting is
central to both lay and monastic practice among Jains” (Ibid. 152). As such, Jain monastics aim to eventually quit the desire for, and eating
of, food altogether with ritual/voluntary fasting unto death (sallekhana),
a feat that we might call the ultimate austerity. Among the Jains I have
encountered, sallekhana is held in the highest of esteem by monastics
and lay-people alike and those who do and have done the practice are publicly revered with
great pageantry during the event, and with shrines and glowing storytelling
post-mortem. There are monastics still engaging in the practice today and
although theoretically possible for lay-people, their engagement in sallekhana
is quite a rare occurrence. Most will expressly hope to be able to perform the
ritual sometime in this or in future lives. Eating and drinking, as the most
important of the physical needs, are also the most difficult to renounce. To
stop the influx of karma, throughout their religious career Jain monastics
train for total mental equanimity and inaction in many ways, including
restricting the frequency of eating and types of foods consumed, and various
lengths of fasting. With these aims, and in relation to procuring the food and
drink necessary for “keeping the body going while on the road to liberation” (Cort 1998: 158), monastic texts and practice serve to minimize the negative results
of physical, verbal and mental actions through prescription
and proscription. Although not perfectly avoiding all activity, such
regulations ensure “[t]he mendicant recipient is protected by asceticism”
(Ibid.).
There is some variation in the sources as to the manner and frequency that
Jain monastics go out to beg for, or receive, food. With regard to this, the late German Indologist Hermann Georg Jacobi references the Kalpa Sūtra: “The Gaina monks
collect food in the morning or at noon … They generally but once in a
day go out begging; but one who has fasted for more than one day may go a
begging twice a day (f7. Kalpa Sūtra, Rules for Yatis, 20)”
(xxv). In contemporary practice, variation in the way of, and the number
of sessions for, receiving food seems to be based on sectarian differences. In
brief, Cort found that “[t]he Mūrtipūjak [Śvetāmbar] procedure of gocarī contrasts sharply with the much more formally ritualized
practice of āhār-dān or gifting of food among the
Digambar Jains,” (Cort 2001: 107) where some monastics in the former sect
collect on behalf of fellow monastics and request alms with a verbal cue, and
the latter sect only ever collect their own alms and indicate hunger by a mere physical
gesture. British Historian William Dalrymple noted that his monastic
informant “Prasannamati Mataji
belonged to the order of “white-clad Digambara nuns, or matajis” (2). Of the two major Jain sects, the Digambara are renowned for their strict religious life: “probably the most severe of
all India ’s ascetics” (Ibid.). As such, this nun reported that during her ordination ceremony her Guru “told us clearly what was
expected of us…to take food only once a day” (21) and that “[f]or many years, I
fasted, or ate at most only once a day” (4). It was also
observed that “[a]t ten o’clock each day, Prasannamati Mataji eats her one daily meal (11). Cort
observed a different approach among Śvetāmbar Jain monastics, who received food
three times daily: “Late morning is time for another food-gathering
round… Late afternoon is the time for the final food-gathering round and meal,
eaten before sunset (2001: 103). That there is no discernable pan-Jain
standardized requirement as to the number of alms-rounds will not at all hinder
this investigation.
We will next proceed to fair distribution in Jain
monastic food acquisition in two thematic sections: (1) not taking the
food of others while receiving food; (2) not taking the food
of fellow monastics after receiving food on their behalf.
Not Taking
the Food of Others While Receiving Food
The Ākāraṅga Sūtra holds the
resources of others as deeply valuable, and deploys an impressive number of
strategies to protect them from going to Jain monastics inappropriately. The
monastic is told to avoid public celebrations that offer food since “[w]hen a man goes to a much-frequented and vulgar entertainment…he
receives what should be given to others” (vs 4 Jacobi 95-96). There is also
one verse which shows a specific concern for ensuring that the Jain monastic
does not divert resources earmarked for the householder themselves: “there are some faithful householders …who will speak thus:… let us give to
the ascetics all food…that is ready for our use, and let us, afterwards,
prepare food for our own use.’ Having heard such talk, the mendicant should not
accept such-like food” (vs. 1 Jacobi 111). Monastics are also not to go
on alms-round to homes while food is being prepared:
A monk or a nun desirous to enter the abode of a
householder, should not do so, when they see that the milch cows are being
milked, or the food…is being cooked, and that it is not yet distributed. Perceiving
this, they should step apart and stay where no people pass or see them. But
when they conceive that the milch cows are milked, the dinner prepared and
distributed, then they may circumspectly enter or leave the householder's abode
for the sake of alms. (vs. 3 Jacobi 98)
This verse appears
to serve a dual purpose. Like the previous example, we see here another effort
to not lead the devoted Jain layperson to give what has already been portioned
off for their personal use. Additionally, following this precept is an attempt
to uphold another major requirement of Jain food orthodoxy and orthopraxy:
ensuring that no food has been prepared specifically for the monastic,
as this would directly implicate them in the karmic accumulation from any harms
done to living beings during such preparation. Anne Vallely, an anthropologist
of South Asian religions with a particular focus on Jainism, found this in the
contemporary practice of Jain nuns who informed her that “food must never have
been prepared expressly for them” (Vallely 3).
Another intriguing verse offers a special scenario:
If a householder
should fetch fossil salt or sea salt, put it in a bowl and return with it, a
monk or a nun on a begging-tour should not accept it… But if he has
inadvertently accepted it, he should return with it to the householder, if he
is not yet too far away, and say, after consideration: ‘Did you give me this
with your full knowledge or without it?' He might answer: 'I did give it
without my full knowledge; but indeed, O long-lived one! I now give it you;
consume it or divide it (with others)!' Then being permitted by, and having
received it from, the householder, he should circumspectly eat it or drink it (vs.
7 Jacobi 116).
Such food items are worrisome possibly because they are rare and costly.
First and foremost, our authors attempt to ensure that a householder does not
mistakenly give something that they either do not wish to give, or are in need
of for themselves. Checking with the donor is out of respect for both of these
possible valid reasons for not giving them. They are not made to be forbidden
items, but must be eaten clandestinely presumably so others do not see a
monastic taking precious food which would be considered unseemly by some and
harm the reputation of the order.
There are many verses, indicating a much greater textual concern,
which aim to ensure that the Jain monastic does not divert resources from
others who similarly rely on donated food, including non-Jains. Five of these
are explicit about avoiding this. One is generic: “A monk or a nun on a
begging-tour should not accept food…which for the sake of another has been put
before the door” (vs. 7 Jacobi 113). Two mention particular recipient-types;
one of which is found in the concluding lines of the begging of alms lecture: “the seventh rule for begging food. A monk or a nun may accept food…which is
not wanted by bipeds, quadrupeds, Sramanas, Brahmanas, guests, paupers, and
beggars” (vs. 9 Jacobi 118); and the other is the first mention of five recipient-types
that are given great importance by the text: “A monk or a nun
should not accept of food …which they know has been prepared by the householder
for the sake of many Sramanas and Brāhmanas, guests,
paupers, and beggars” (vs. 12 Jacobi 91). Next: “When a monk or a nun on a
begging-tour knows that a Sramana or Brāhmana, a guest, pauper
or beggar has already entered (the house), they should not stand in their sight
or opposite the door. The Kevalin says: This is the reason: Another, on seeing
him, might procure and give him food” (vs. 5 Jacobi 101). Lastly: “When a monk
or a nun on a begging-tour perceives that a Sramana or Brāhmana, a beggar or guest has already entered the house, they should not overtake
them and address (the householder) first” (vs. 6 Jacobi 102). The presence of
“Sramanas and Brāhmanas, guests, paupers, and beggars” at
food-related events is a frequently repeated refrain to continually reinforce
the concern of not taking the due share of these others and to cover various
possible scenarios, such as with the following: when such folk “are entertained
with food” (vs.1, Jacobi 92); during “assemblies, or during offerings to the
manes, or on a festival… when on such-like various festivals” (vs.3, Jacobi
92-93) these people are given food, but the prohibition is waived if “all have
received their due share, and are enjoying their meal” (vs. 4 Jacobi 93); “a
wedding breakfast in the husband's house or in that of the bride's father” and
“a funeral dinner or to a family dinner where something is served up,” unless
no such people are there and, further, the waiving of this prohibition
“applies, according to the commentator, only to sick monks, or such as
can get nothing elsewhere” (vs. 2 Jacobi 98); when “the first portion of the meal
is being thrown away (f1: In honour of the gods) or thrown down, or taken away,
or distributed, or eaten, or put off, or has already been eaten or removed”
since such people may “go there in great
haste” (vs. 1 Jacobi 99). At first glance we might assume that these
restrictions are displaying a non-sectarian motivation. However, it is also
possible that such textual moves are intended to avoid the Jain monastic order
from gaining the reputation among the community-at-large and the others who
similarly rely on the kindness of others, including those of other sects, of
interfering with others’ alms.
The purpose of one
particular precept is not made explicitly clear but follows directly after a
verse that prevents the Jain monastic from diverting the due share of other
beggars, which might indicate that it, too, is for the same purpose. In this
case, however, the recipients are animal scavengers: “When a monk or a nun on a
begging-tour perceives that many hungry animals have met and come together in
search of food, e.g. those of the chicken-kind or those of the pig-kind, or
that crows have met and come together, where an offering is thrown on the
ground, they should, in case there be a byway, avoid them and not go on
straight” (vs.1 Jacobi 102-103). There is another verse in this lecture on
begging of food that recommends steering clear of animals, but has to do with
protecting the mendicant and other life from harm (vs.3, Jacobi 100). Based on
the context of the verse in question, and the unlikeliness that the monastic
would take up such food from the ground (since taking up food “placed on the
earth-body”( vs.4 Jacobi 106) is prohibited and the “monk or a nun may accept
food which had been taken up from the ground” only if “placed in a vessel or in
the hand” (vs. 8 Jacobi 118)), I conclude that the concern is not the taking
of such food by the monastic. In walking close to the animals, there is the
potential for them to scatter out of fear and lose the opportunity to partake
of the food. An even more nuanced possibility is that after scattering the
animals may very well return, as we all have observed in nature, but the
original and natural order of arrival to the food would be disturbed by the
monastic. A variation on the theme of not depriving others of what would be rightfully
theirs, this would be a very subtle approach to non-harm, indeed. There is
another verse that may depict a similar interest in the needs of animals: “A
monk or a nun on a begging-tour should not accept any such-like raw unmodified
substances as sugar-cane, which is full of holes, or withering or peeling off
or corroded by wolves” (vs. 12 Jacobi 110). Its contextual placement has more
to do with avoiding food items that are still growing or potentially teeming
with life, such as with tiny beings that take up residence or are born in the
small spaces within plant-life. Also, ideally the cane would not have been
procured specifically for the monastic. However remote, these points do not
eliminate the possibility of a multi-purposed verse interested in protecting
plants, plant-dwelling beings, and wildlife food sources.
Not Taking
the Food of Fellow Monastics Having Received Food on their Behalf
While researching Jain ritual/voluntary death (sallekhana) in India in the summer of 2010, many of my interlocutors informed me that a
Jain monastic is not an appropriate person to be the donor of any items because
of their adherence to non-possession (aparigraha). As such, “the mendicant is dependent upon the laity for food and all the other
necessities of life” (Cort 2001: 105). Such ethnographic accounts might lead us to believe that Jain
monastics do not give food to other monastics but there are both textual and
anthropological evidence that show certain circumstances whereby the Jain
monastics distribute food to other monastics. Our two texts disagree as
to whether a monastic can give away food that has been given to them. Verse 64
of the Yogasāra-prābhṛta states: “The morsel of food placed in the hand
(of a saint) is not fit to be given to any other (person) (by the saint). If it
is given so, the saint should not take food (thereafter). If he takes (food)
(even then), the saint commits blemish (for himself)” (Jain 2003, 194). Jain
adds in his commentary that “[t]he saint must partake of food as offered by the
householder… He must not meddle with it or spare it for use by others. This
rule should be observed very strictly by him or he will incur sin for himself” (Jain
2003, 194). The verse taken alone does seem to allow for the monastic to give
away food that has been given to them, under the requirement that they do not
eat any more. I assume this to mean during that session of eating, and not
forever and always. A negative karmic result is said only to come if, having
given food away, the mendicant eats again and not by the mere act of giving
food away. The commentary has a stricter position than the verse. It does not
allow for the food to be given to another as the negative karmic consequence
comes from any act other than partaking of the food as it is. The commentary
also seems to suggest that the food offered must be eaten in its entirety and
not altered, such as with making small piles with the fingers to more easily
place food in the mouth.
Although there is a verse
in the Ākāraṅga Sūtra that forbids monastics from giving
food to fellow monastics, it is only under very specific circumstances: “A monk or a nun on a begging-tour should not give, immediately or
mediately, food…to…a monk who avoids all forbidden food, to one who does not”
(vs.10 Jacobi 90). This prevents cross-contamination between those whose food practices
differ. Otherwise, there are many situations outlined where it is
permissible, and even required, to give food to fellow monastics (and even
non-Jains). We find the following admonishment in the “Begging of Food”
lecture of the Ākāraṅga Sūtra:
A monk or a nun, having received a more than sufficient
quantity of food, might reject (the superfluous part) without having considered
or consulted fellow-ascetics living in the neighbourhood, who follow the same
rules of conduct, are agreeable and not to be shunned; as this would be sinful,
they should not do so. Knowing this, they should go there and after consideration
say: 'O long-lived Sramanas! this food…is too much for me, eat it or drink it! After
these words the other might say: 'O long-lived Sramana! we shall eat or drink
as much of this food or drink as we require; or, we require the whole, we shall
eat or drink the whole.’ (Vs. 6 Jacobi 112-113)
Here, giving
leftover food to fellow Jain mendicants is made to be a requirement, with
the fault lying in not attempting to give the leftover food to
them. If we consider this verse and verse 64 from Amitagati’s text, the root
verses alone, it appears as though: (1) having leftovers is anticipated and a
faultless possible outcome, and (2) having such leftovers and giving them away
to another Jain monastic, after the mendicant themselves has completed eating
what they require, is also at least not a breach in conduct. The
chronologically later text has thus amended the earlier textual requirement to
seek an appropriate recipient of leftover food.
There is another verse in the same lecture of the Ākāraṅga Sūtra which shows the monastic as one who receives food and
distributes it to fellow Jain monastics:
A single mendicant,
having collected alms for many, might, without consulting his fellow-ascetics, give
them to those whom he list; as this would be sinful, he should not do so.
Taking the food, he should go there (where his teacher…is) and speak thus: 'O
long-lived Sramana! there are near or remote (spiritual) relations of mine…forsooth,
I shall give it them.’ The other may answer him: ‘Well now, indeed, O
long-lived one! give such a portion!' As much as the other commands, thus much
he should give; if the other commands the whole, he should give the whole ’ (Vs.
1 Jacobi 113).
Again we see a discrepancy between our two texts.
In this case, for fear of the mendicant making distribution decisions based on
attachment, they are required to consult their teacher for permission and
guidance. The texts suggests that the teacher may well answer agreeably
to the request, but leaves room for the teacher to suggest otherwise in the
service of fairness. This practice of collecting alms on behalf of other
monastics is supported in ethnographic accounts of contemporary Jain practice. As briefly mentioned earlier, in the Digambar āhār-dān food gifting “each mendicant, no matter how senior, performs his or her own
food-gathering round” (Cort 107), whereas Śvetāmbar monastics do collect on behalf of other monastics. In a section entitled The
Daily Routine of a [Śvetāmbar] Murtipujak
Mendicant under ‘Gifting’ (Cort 2001: 100), the ethnographer
describes how “some of the mendicants go to the nearby homes of Jain laity to
collect food and water in their wooden bowls, a ritualized action known as gocarī” (102) and, while doing so, “[h]ow much the mendicant takes depends upon
the number of mendicants for whom he or she is collecting food” (107). The
potential for favouritism mentioned in the Ākāraṅga Sūtra verse above is solved in contemporary Śvetāmbar
practice not by consultation with senior monastics but by equal distribution to
all mendicants (103).
The “scholiast says that [it] should only be resorted to under pressing
circumstances” (Jacobi 102), but the Ākāraṅga Sūtra text does have an allowance for the Jain monastic
to not only divide up donated food according to his best discretion, but also
to give to non-Jain beggars:
Another man may bring and
give him food…and say unto him : 'O long-lived Sramana! this food…has been
given for the sake of all of you; eat it or divide it among you.’ Having
silently accepted the gift, he might think: 'Well, this is just (enough) for
me!' As this would be sinful, he should not do so. Knowing this, he should join
the other beggars, and after consideration say unto them: ‘O long-lived
Sramana! this food…is given for the sake of all of you; eat it or divide it
among you.’ After these words another might answer him: ‘O long-lived Sramana!
distribute it yourself.’ Dividing the food…he should not (select) for himself
too great a portion, or the vegetables, or the conspicuous things, or the
savoury things, or the delicious things, or the nice things, or the big things;
but he should impartially divide it, not being eager or desirous or greedy or
covetous (of anything) (vs. 5, Jacobi 101-102).
Despite the scholiast offering
the escape clause that this applies only in times of dire need, it is an
impressive verse nonetheless. Firstly, giving food to a monastic under the same
rule is one thing, and our texts disagree (to some extent) as to the
appropriateness such a practice. Giving food to non-Jains, who may or may not
even be mendicants, is another matter entirely! It is surprising since many
verses allow the monastic only to “share with his
fellow-ascetics in the neighbourhood, who follow the same rules of conduct, are
agreeable, and not to be shunned” (vs. 7 Jacobi 116). The food is not only to be portioned out equally, but the recipient who has
the unusual charge of dividing up the food is asked to leave the worst for
themselves. There seems to be an internal contradiction in these final lines
since they both call for negative partiality, giving the best and leaving the
worst, as well as impartiality which would mean that every recipient would get
equal amounts of both the best and worst foods. Both principles are evident but
the competing injunctions for fair distribution and abandoning desire in this
excerpt seems to be won by the latter, if the word-count is any indication of
emphasis. A similar warning is given for ordinary circumstances as well: “A single mendicant, having
received some food, might eat what is good, and bring what is discoloured and
tasteless; as this would be sinful, he should not do so” (vs. 3 Jacobi 114). When
there is enough to distribute, eating before returning to the religious
community does not seem to be problematic, nor is the equal distribution of
portions mentioned here. Rather, the act of eating what is best and leaving the
dregs for fellow monastics is proscribed. The verse leaves room for two
possibilities: the recipient (a) eats the dregs themselves and leaves the best
for others, or (b) ensures that every monastic (including themselves) gets an equal amount of both the best and worst parts of the food.
Lastly we have two examples of monks concealing food by
various means in order to divert them for their own use. The first has the
recipient monastic disguising the food to deceive others as to its quality:
A single mendicant,
having collected agreeable food, might cover it with distasteful food,
thinking: 'The teacher or sub-teacher…seeing what I have received, might take
it himself; indeed, I shall not give anything to anybody!' As this would be
sinful, he should not do so.
Knowing this, he
should go there (where the other mendicants are), should put the vessel in his out-stretched
hand, show it (with the words): 'Ah, this! ah, this!’and hide nothing. (vs. 2
Jacobi 114)
Using the hermeneutics of suspicion we can surmise that this sleight of
hand was known to our author(s) in a historical context where living off of the
kindness of others, both by religious practitioners and ordinary folk, is a
long-standing practice. It likely did not arise out of pure imagination and
they hoped to nip this trick in the bud. What complicates this scenario is the
potential for the teacher to disregard the code and take the best for
themselves! Going by the spirit of the law, the authors might hope that the
teacher would follow the same repeated principle of not taking the best food. The
next and final example has mendicants giving food for the sake of fellow
mendicants who are sticken with illness via an intermediary monastic:
Some mendicants say
unto (others) who follow the same rules of conduct, or live in the same place,
or wander from village to village, if they have received agreeable food and
another mendicant falls sick: 'Take it! give it him! if the sick mendicant will
not eat it, thou mayst eat it.’ But he (who is ordered to bring the food)
thinking, ‘I shall eat it myself’ covers it and shows it (saying): ‘This is the
lump of food, it is rough to the taste, it is pungent, it is bitter, it is astringent,
it is sour, it is sweet; there is certainly nothing in it fit for a sick person.’
As this would be sinful, he should not do so. (vs. 1 Jacobi 116)
This is among the few concluding verses of the ‘Begging of Food’ lecture
and features the particularly despicable possibility of a monastic hiding food
items and lying about the nature of those items in order to eat
food meant for a sick mendicant. I think it is significant that this section of
the Ākāraṅga Sūtra ends on such
a note. It gives a special emphasis on ensuring a fair share of food for the
most vulnerable members of the Jain monastic order.
Conclusion
In discussing the relationship between Jain monastics and lay-people, the
Ākāraṅga Sūtra gives great value to the resources
of householders. It also holds fair distribution in esteem, in both the
contexts of Jain monastics among themselves and between Jain monastics and
others who depend on food donations, both of human and animal species. I
propose that this is a very subtle manner of practicing non-violence that comes
from a deep concern for the well-being and integrity of Jain ascetic
practitioners and those they come into contact with over the course of their
religious careers. Having pored over every verse related to the topic of food
in this text, the sheer quantity of verses that push for protection of the due
share of non-Jain dependents betrays an anxiety that likely has to do with
protecting the reputation of the Jain monastic community. This is also supported by the constant
mention of various activities that are ultimately allowable but which should be
done in secret rather than in full view of watching eyes. There is some
indication that the Ākāraṅga Sūtra considers the
reduction of desire in the monastic as a more weighty requirement than fair
distribution. As for the conduct chapter of Ācārya Amitagati’s Yogasāra-prābhṛta,
despite leaning away from the idea, it does leave room for the monastic to give
food to other monastics. A similar emphasis on fair distribution as we see in
the temporally earlier Ākāraṅga Sūtra is
entirely absent.
Citations
Cort,
John E. Open Boundaries: Jain Communities and Cultures in Indian
History (SUNY Series
in Hindu Studies). State University New York Press, 1998.
Print.
__________.
Jains in the World: Religious Values and Ideology in India Oxford University
Press, 2001. Print.
Dalrymple, William. “The Nun’s Tale.” Nine Lives: In Search of the Sacred in Modern India Bloomsbury (2009): 1-28. Print.
Gar, Gaṅgā Rām (Ed.). Encyclopaedia
of the Hindu World: Ak-Aq. New Delhi :
Ashok Kumar Mittar, 1992. Print.
Jain, Dr. C.S. (Tr. &
annotations); Ācārya Amitagati's Yogasāra-prābhṛta (Gift of the
Essence of Yoga). Bharatiya
Jnanpath, New Delhi ; 2003. Print.
Jain, Dr. Jyoti Prasad. Religion
and Culture of the Jains. New Delhi :
Bharatiya Jnanpith, 2006. Print.
Jaini, Padmanabh S. The Jaina Path of Purification.
Motilal Bariarsidass, 1998. Print.
Jacobi, Hermann (tr.). Jaina Sutras Part I: The Ākāraṅga
Sūtra, The Kalpa Sūtra. Oxford University
Sen, Sailendra Nath. Ancient
Indian History and Civilization: 2nd Edition. New
Delhi : New Age International
Publishers, 1999. Print.
Vallely, Anne. Women and the Ascetic Ideal in Jainism.
Doctoral Dissertation, Department of Anthropology: University
of Toronto
Saturday, March 9, 2013
Urban Monasticism Interfaith Symposium – Opening Address
Urban Monasticism Interfaith Symposium
The Rabanus Project: The Christianity and Culture Student Association
University of Toronto
Wed. Mar. 6, 7:00pm
Charbonnel Lounge, 81 Saint Mary Street, Elmsley Hall
Moderated and Opening Address by
Sean Hillman B.A., M.A.
Doctoral student, Religion/Bioethics/South Asian Studies
Department for the Study of Religion
Joint Centre for Bioethics
Centre for South Asian Studies
University of Toronto
Venerable clergy, religious leaders and esteemed guests, welcome and I wish you a good evening. It is my very deep privilege to be your moderator for this multifaith symposium on Urban Monasticism, a topic that is very dear to my heart. Much thanks to Leigh Kern and the Rabanus Project of the Christianity and Culture student association at the University of Toronto for inviting me to participate and for organizing this important event. I also want to thank our speakers and panelists in advance for being here to share their insights with us and helping to make this gathering the memorable event that it will become. By happy coincidence I know some of our panelists personally and warmly welcome them to this inter- and intra-faith dialogue about the practice of contemporary monasticism which is one of many sources of common ground between religious traditions, both theistic and non-theistic, a commonality that can only bring about increased understanding, inspiration and harmony while also not losing their own particular flavour. In order of their appearance tonight: Jodie Boyer Hatlem and Steve Grant, The Reverend Bhante Saranapala, Kamalini Devi Dasi and Jason McKinney.
I am going to open the evening with a few words focusing briefly on several themes and sharing a few stories that come out of my experience of being a former monastic, 9 years of the 13 of which were spent as a Tibetan Buddhist monk living in our city of Toronto. Throughout that time, some recurring aspects of that experience were: (1) the uniqueness of monastic practice suited to individual dispositions, (2) relationships with householder city-folk, and (3) the various means of support for monastics.
First I’ll address religious practice. Right up until the final 6 months of my ordination, I really had never questioned my monkhood. The question that did often arise in my mind was, “what to do with my life as a monk?” I generally characterize a Buddhist mendicant lifestyle as having three components which can be engaged in simultaneously, but typically one is emphasized over the others: they are study, meditation and service. As a temple-dweller while in Toronto I mostly engaged in service by way of caring for the ill in hospital settings, something that deeply influenced my spiritual and later my academic life, and the karma-yoga (or service meditation if you will) of helping to build both literally and figuratively, a burgeoning urban temple community of monastics. I used to joke at that time that I could be found in one of three places: the temple, the hospital or the hardware store! During this time I yearned for formal intensive study of scripture and elaborate meditation retreat. To be sure, my original intention to ordain included a vision of being in a grass hut in Thailand, begging for alms. But downtown was where I found myself. I suggested an exchange program with India, but it was deemed that I was needed more for both my financial and physical contributions to the temple. I even proposed returning to university but was appeased by being allowed to take additional palliative care training. I was a proponent of the idea of our community starting a self-sufficient cottage-industry of outreach end-of-life care with the hope that it would eventually become a Buddhist Hospice. Ultimately, this community veered too much from its original mission and I left for India with the express purpose of engaging in purification retreat and studying the texts in Tibetan. Upon reflection, the most blissful times were those when I was fully absorbed in one of these three modes of practice. Bathing my patients as if they were the Buddha Himself. Meditating in a small mud-hut at the feet of the Himalayas. Debating the scriptures with fellow monks under the moonlight. The setting mattered little. The degree of one-pointedness determined the depth of my practice.
Next is the relationship between the monastic and lay-people within the cityscape. The reactions to a tall, lanky white guy with shaven head in burgundy robes ran the gamut. Some of the most memorable:
- while walking through the airport, a fellow traveller hissed: “parasite!”
- from an endearing Native on Queen St., with a shaky bow: “Good evening, Your Honour. What are those clothes you are wearing?”
- crossing the street to get to duty at the hospital, a voice called out: “faggot!”
(I guess they found the ‘dress’ offensive)
- But at Casey House Hospice, a male-nurse very dramatically observed the lower-robe, called Shantub in Tibetan: “I love your dress!” To which I replied: “Thank you! It’s a style 2500 years old!”
- in line at the grocery store: “You’re going to hell!”
- walking the streets in the bustling Givatayim section of Tel Aviv: “KRISHNEH?”
- also in Israel, during the Jewish holiday of Purim where dressing up is common, one merchant told me that he thought I was in a monk costume but then realized I actually was a monk!
- That same day, another Israeli asked if I was a Nazir, a term meaning ‘hermit’ and the closest in Hebrew for monk. I said ‘cain’ (yes), to which he replied, “Ohhh! So, no f*%cking?!” So, he got the gist.
From genuine curiosity to the sacred and profane, people often do not know what to make of monastics in the city-scape. There is no precedent for ascetics in certain settings. In some traditional Buddhist environments, like Sri Lanka, daily alms-rounds are commonly practiced and the mutuality between householder and monastic Buddhists allows for those who have “Taken the Going Forth” to uphold such vows as only eating food that has been given and not handling currency, and for laypeople to have a place of refuge where they can practice and receive guidance. Elsewhere the sight of robes can stand out, even endangering the monastic is locations of intolerance. There are, however, some communities in places we wouldn’t necessarily associate with Buddhism, such as England, where monks have been performing the alms-rounds for quite some time. Locals are now used to seeing monks begging and the practice has become naturalized through familiarity. By monastics being in the public sphere, and through dialogues such as this, we can come to have a glimpse into a lifestyle we may have not even heard about in an increasingly secularized modern world.
Lastly, how does a monastic receive the basic resources necessary for a contemporary ascetic lifestyle? In an urban setting, this can be complicated. Many temples have no monastics, many monastics have no temples. Some live in satellite locations off-site from a main temple. In some contexts, after dwelling in a monastery as a fully ordained Bhikshu for five years one can choose to live a solitary life. I did this for a few years in Toronto. Unlike my time in India which was fortunately funded by a generous sponsor, back in the city I had to fend for myself. I did not belong to one of our local communities and had to earn a living by returning to caregiving. This held great potential for virtuous activity, but resulted also in personal income nonetheless. The definition of the vow of poverty for tax-exemption according to the Canada Revenue Agency is a clergy-member who hands over all of their income to the order. In my temple-dwelling days this is what I did, I had no personal funds, but upon returning from India I had no place except alone. Many communities and monastic funds exist, but some cannot access this support. Many of my colleagues in India were sincere practitioners of this ilk. For some it means disenfranchisement, for others it is enough cause for disrobing in thinking that one is not really being a monastic when one cannot adhere strictly to the normative prohibition against working and handling money. I do not hold a firm stance on this as I once did. Although ordaining is a heteronomous decision made collaboratively between the candidate and the preceptor, I feel that one’s monastic lifestyle ultimately is a personal decision in a changing world. One of the main screening questions in seeking ordination from His Holiness the Dalai Lama is “how will you support yourself?” not “to which local community one will belong and be supported through?” Lama Osel, the Spanish reincarnation of the amazing Lama Yeshe, who helped bring Tibetan Buddhism to Westerners in the 60s and onward, once said: “those that are ordained should stay ordained. Those that are not ordained should ordain!” When it comes to monastic vows of discipline, for some it is all or nothing, for others a phase as in the Hindu stages of life, or Ashramas, for which there is a similar tradition in the Southern Schools of Buddhism in which adolescents spend time at the monastery holding basic novice vows. Some stay, some do not and see the time retrospectively as a formative period in their spiritual development. Although I gave my monastic vows back, I still revere the monastic discipline, hold monastics and my own time as a monk in the highest esteem, and even occasionally take temporary novice vows. In knowing how difficult it can be for some of our brothers and sisters to receive support for their striving to hold monastic vows purely, I aspire to one day be able to repay the kindness given to me by promoting awareness of monastic issues, and by offering up my own meagre practice, study and service and hopefully also contributing financial resources to monastic communities and the increasingly common and less anomalous independent monastics, if I ever move past being a poor graduate student!
The Rabanus Project: The Christianity and Culture Student Association
University of Toronto
Wed. Mar. 6, 7:00pm
Charbonnel Lounge, 81 Saint Mary Street, Elmsley Hall
Moderated and Opening Address by
Sean Hillman B.A., M.A.
Doctoral student, Religion/Bioethics/South Asian Studies
Department for the Study of Religion
Joint Centre for Bioethics
Centre for South Asian Studies
University of Toronto
Venerable clergy, religious leaders and esteemed guests, welcome and I wish you a good evening. It is my very deep privilege to be your moderator for this multifaith symposium on Urban Monasticism, a topic that is very dear to my heart. Much thanks to Leigh Kern and the Rabanus Project of the Christianity and Culture student association at the University of Toronto for inviting me to participate and for organizing this important event. I also want to thank our speakers and panelists in advance for being here to share their insights with us and helping to make this gathering the memorable event that it will become. By happy coincidence I know some of our panelists personally and warmly welcome them to this inter- and intra-faith dialogue about the practice of contemporary monasticism which is one of many sources of common ground between religious traditions, both theistic and non-theistic, a commonality that can only bring about increased understanding, inspiration and harmony while also not losing their own particular flavour. In order of their appearance tonight: Jodie Boyer Hatlem and Steve Grant, The Reverend Bhante Saranapala, Kamalini Devi Dasi and Jason McKinney.
I am going to open the evening with a few words focusing briefly on several themes and sharing a few stories that come out of my experience of being a former monastic, 9 years of the 13 of which were spent as a Tibetan Buddhist monk living in our city of Toronto. Throughout that time, some recurring aspects of that experience were: (1) the uniqueness of monastic practice suited to individual dispositions, (2) relationships with householder city-folk, and (3) the various means of support for monastics.
First I’ll address religious practice. Right up until the final 6 months of my ordination, I really had never questioned my monkhood. The question that did often arise in my mind was, “what to do with my life as a monk?” I generally characterize a Buddhist mendicant lifestyle as having three components which can be engaged in simultaneously, but typically one is emphasized over the others: they are study, meditation and service. As a temple-dweller while in Toronto I mostly engaged in service by way of caring for the ill in hospital settings, something that deeply influenced my spiritual and later my academic life, and the karma-yoga (or service meditation if you will) of helping to build both literally and figuratively, a burgeoning urban temple community of monastics. I used to joke at that time that I could be found in one of three places: the temple, the hospital or the hardware store! During this time I yearned for formal intensive study of scripture and elaborate meditation retreat. To be sure, my original intention to ordain included a vision of being in a grass hut in Thailand, begging for alms. But downtown was where I found myself. I suggested an exchange program with India, but it was deemed that I was needed more for both my financial and physical contributions to the temple. I even proposed returning to university but was appeased by being allowed to take additional palliative care training. I was a proponent of the idea of our community starting a self-sufficient cottage-industry of outreach end-of-life care with the hope that it would eventually become a Buddhist Hospice. Ultimately, this community veered too much from its original mission and I left for India with the express purpose of engaging in purification retreat and studying the texts in Tibetan. Upon reflection, the most blissful times were those when I was fully absorbed in one of these three modes of practice. Bathing my patients as if they were the Buddha Himself. Meditating in a small mud-hut at the feet of the Himalayas. Debating the scriptures with fellow monks under the moonlight. The setting mattered little. The degree of one-pointedness determined the depth of my practice.
Next is the relationship between the monastic and lay-people within the cityscape. The reactions to a tall, lanky white guy with shaven head in burgundy robes ran the gamut. Some of the most memorable:
- while walking through the airport, a fellow traveller hissed: “parasite!”
- from an endearing Native on Queen St., with a shaky bow: “Good evening, Your Honour. What are those clothes you are wearing?”
- crossing the street to get to duty at the hospital, a voice called out: “faggot!”
(I guess they found the ‘dress’ offensive)
- But at Casey House Hospice, a male-nurse very dramatically observed the lower-robe, called Shantub in Tibetan: “I love your dress!” To which I replied: “Thank you! It’s a style 2500 years old!”
- in line at the grocery store: “You’re going to hell!”
- walking the streets in the bustling Givatayim section of Tel Aviv: “KRISHNEH?”
- also in Israel, during the Jewish holiday of Purim where dressing up is common, one merchant told me that he thought I was in a monk costume but then realized I actually was a monk!
- That same day, another Israeli asked if I was a Nazir, a term meaning ‘hermit’ and the closest in Hebrew for monk. I said ‘cain’ (yes), to which he replied, “Ohhh! So, no f*%cking?!” So, he got the gist.
From genuine curiosity to the sacred and profane, people often do not know what to make of monastics in the city-scape. There is no precedent for ascetics in certain settings. In some traditional Buddhist environments, like Sri Lanka, daily alms-rounds are commonly practiced and the mutuality between householder and monastic Buddhists allows for those who have “Taken the Going Forth” to uphold such vows as only eating food that has been given and not handling currency, and for laypeople to have a place of refuge where they can practice and receive guidance. Elsewhere the sight of robes can stand out, even endangering the monastic is locations of intolerance. There are, however, some communities in places we wouldn’t necessarily associate with Buddhism, such as England, where monks have been performing the alms-rounds for quite some time. Locals are now used to seeing monks begging and the practice has become naturalized through familiarity. By monastics being in the public sphere, and through dialogues such as this, we can come to have a glimpse into a lifestyle we may have not even heard about in an increasingly secularized modern world.
Lastly, how does a monastic receive the basic resources necessary for a contemporary ascetic lifestyle? In an urban setting, this can be complicated. Many temples have no monastics, many monastics have no temples. Some live in satellite locations off-site from a main temple. In some contexts, after dwelling in a monastery as a fully ordained Bhikshu for five years one can choose to live a solitary life. I did this for a few years in Toronto. Unlike my time in India which was fortunately funded by a generous sponsor, back in the city I had to fend for myself. I did not belong to one of our local communities and had to earn a living by returning to caregiving. This held great potential for virtuous activity, but resulted also in personal income nonetheless. The definition of the vow of poverty for tax-exemption according to the Canada Revenue Agency is a clergy-member who hands over all of their income to the order. In my temple-dwelling days this is what I did, I had no personal funds, but upon returning from India I had no place except alone. Many communities and monastic funds exist, but some cannot access this support. Many of my colleagues in India were sincere practitioners of this ilk. For some it means disenfranchisement, for others it is enough cause for disrobing in thinking that one is not really being a monastic when one cannot adhere strictly to the normative prohibition against working and handling money. I do not hold a firm stance on this as I once did. Although ordaining is a heteronomous decision made collaboratively between the candidate and the preceptor, I feel that one’s monastic lifestyle ultimately is a personal decision in a changing world. One of the main screening questions in seeking ordination from His Holiness the Dalai Lama is “how will you support yourself?” not “to which local community one will belong and be supported through?” Lama Osel, the Spanish reincarnation of the amazing Lama Yeshe, who helped bring Tibetan Buddhism to Westerners in the 60s and onward, once said: “those that are ordained should stay ordained. Those that are not ordained should ordain!” When it comes to monastic vows of discipline, for some it is all or nothing, for others a phase as in the Hindu stages of life, or Ashramas, for which there is a similar tradition in the Southern Schools of Buddhism in which adolescents spend time at the monastery holding basic novice vows. Some stay, some do not and see the time retrospectively as a formative period in their spiritual development. Although I gave my monastic vows back, I still revere the monastic discipline, hold monastics and my own time as a monk in the highest esteem, and even occasionally take temporary novice vows. In knowing how difficult it can be for some of our brothers and sisters to receive support for their striving to hold monastic vows purely, I aspire to one day be able to repay the kindness given to me by promoting awareness of monastic issues, and by offering up my own meagre practice, study and service and hopefully also contributing financial resources to monastic communities and the increasingly common and less anomalous independent monastics, if I ever move past being a poor graduate student!
Wednesday, January 2, 2013
Hindi presentation on His Holiness the 14th Dalai Lama
Sean Hillman B.A., M.A.
Doctoral student, Religion/Bioethics/South Asian Studies
Department for the Study of Religion
Joint Centre for Bioethics
Department for the Study of Religion
Joint Centre for Bioethics
Centre for South Asian Studies
University of Toronto
This is only my second time composing a short piece in Hindi ever! Hence the childlike tone...
This is only my second time composing a short piece in Hindi ever! Hence the childlike tone...
आज मैं परमपावन दलाई लामा के बारे में बात कर दिया जाएगा। मैं एक तिब्बती बौद्ध हूँ। मेरे गुरु का नाम जेट सोन जमफेल ङवङ लोबसङ येशे तेनजिन ग्यात्सो पवित्रता चौदहवाँ तिब्बत के दलाई लामा। तिब्बतियों उसे ज्या एल वा रिनपोछे कहते हैं। यह "कीमती धर्म राजा" मतलब है। उसके लिए एक और नाम कुंदुं उपस्थिति जो का मतलब है। वह तिब्बती लोगों और दुनिया भर में तिब्बती बौद्ध धर्म के लिए आध्यात्मिक मार्गदर्शक है। लगता है कि तिब्बती बौद्ध धर्म वह करुणा अवलोकितेश्वर की बोधिसत्व का एक उद्गम है। यह भगवान कृष्ण और भगवान राम के रूप में हिंदू अवतार के लिए इसी तरह की है। वह चौदहवाँ वें दलाई लामा है, लेकिन वहाँ कई अवतार थे पहले दलाई लामा वंश शुरू कर दिया। तेरहवां वें दलाई लामा एक पत्र लिखा था, इससे पहले कि वह मर गया। यह जहां वह पुनर्जन्म हो जाएगा के बारे में गुप्त जानकारी थी। जब चौदहवाँ वें दलाई लामा बहुत छोटा था उसका नाम लमो दोंदरुप था। उस समय, वहाँ तेरहवां वें दलाई लामा के पुनर्जन्म के लिए एक खोज थी। एक महत्वपूर्ण लामा एक विशेष झील है, जहां लोगों को आभास होता है करने के लिए चला गया। वह एक नीले रंग की छत के साथ एक घर में देखा। इस के बाद खोज समूह घर मिल गया। जब वे आए, छोटे लड़के उन्हें नाम से जानते थे। वह भी अपने पिछले जीवन से उसकी माला को देखा। वे उसे अपने पिछले जीवन से कई धार्मिक वस्तु दिखाया। उन्होंने यह भी उसे इसी प्रकार की वस्तुओं से पता चला है कि नए और अधिक सुंदर थे। वह सही ढंग से अनुमान लगाया है जो लोगों को उसे करने के लिए था। दलाई लामा तिब्बत के सिंहासन पर एक कम उम्र में रखा गया था। साठ तीन साल पहले, चीनी तिब्बत पर आक्रमण किया। दस साल बाद दलाई लामा कई तिब्बतियों के साथ तिब्बत छोड़ दिया। वह तब से भारत में रहता है। दलाई लामा चार बजे सुबह में हर दिन हो जाता है। वह प्रार्थना करता है और ध्यान। नाश्ते के दौरान वह विश्व समाचार सुनता। उन्होंने विज्ञान के क्षेत्र में बहुत रुचि है। उन्होंने कई पुस्तकें लिखी है। वह दुनिया भर में यात्रा को पढ़ाने के। उन्होंने यह भी धार्मिक और राजनीतिक नेताओं से मिलता है। वह काफी प्रसिद्ध है। अपने नामक “कुंदुं” जीवन के बारे में एक फिल्म है। विश्व शांति के लिए उसका काम उसे शांति पुरस्कार “नोबेल” प्राप्त। उन्हें उम्मीद है कि तिब्बतियों स्वायत्तता मिल जाएगा। वह कहता है कि वह सिर्फ एक साधारण भिक्षु। मुझे लगता है कि वह एक बुद्ध है। वह मेरा नायक है।
Today I will be talking about His Holiness the Dalai Lama. I am a Tibetan Buddhist. My Guru’s name is Jetsun Jamphel Ngawang Lobsang Yeshe Tenzin Gyatso, His Holiness the 14th Dalai Lama of Tibet. Tibetans call Him “Gyalwa Rinpoche.” This means “Precious Dharma King.” Another name for him is ‘Kundun” which means “The Presence.” He is the spiritual guide for the Tibetan people and Tibetan Buddhists around the world. Tibetan Buddhists think he is an emanation of the Bodhisattva of Compassion, Avalokiteshvara. This is similar to Hindu avataras such as Lord Krishna and Lord Rama. He is the 14th Dalai Lama, but there were many incarnations before the Dalai Lama lineage started. The 13th Dalai Lama wrote a letter before he died. It had secret information about where he would be reborn. When the 14th Dalai Lama was very young His name was Lhamo Dondrub. At that time, there was a search for the reincarnation of the 13th Dalai Lama. An important Lama went to a special lake where people have visions. He saw a house with a blue roof. After this, a search-group went to find the house. When they arrived, the small boy knew them by name. He also saw His mala from His previous life. They showed him several religious items from His previous life. They also showed Him similar items that were newer and more beautiful. He guessed correctly which ones belonged to Him. The Dalai Lama was put on the throne of Tibet at an early age. Sixty three years ago, the Chinese invaded Tibet. Ten years later the Dalai Lama left Tibet with many Tibetans. He has lived in India since then. The Dalai Lama gets up at four in the morning every day. He prays and meditates. During breakfast He listens to world news. He is very interested in science. He has written many books. He travels around the world to teach. He also meets religious and political leaders. He is quite famous. There is a movie about his life called ‘Kundun.’ His work for world peace gained him the Nobel Peace Prize. He hopes Tibetans will get autonomy. He says that he is just a simple monk. I think he is a Buddha. He is my hero.
Vocabulary:
Precious कीमती
The Presence उपस्थिति
Spiritual Guide आध्यात्मिक मार्गदर्शक
Emanation उद्गम
Compassion करुणा
Similar to लिए इसी तरह की
Lineage वंश
Before he died इससे पहले कि वह मर गया
Reborn पुनर्जन्म
Secret गुप्त
reincarnation पुनर्जन्म
Special विशेष
Lake झील
Have visions आभास होता है
Search-group खोज समूह
Previous life पिछले जीवन
Rosary माला
Religious items धार्मिक आइटम
Guessed अनुमान
Throne सिंहासन
Invaded आक्रमण किया
Pray प्रार्थना
Meditate ध्यान
World news विश्व समाचार
Science विज्ञान
Religious धार्मिक
Political राजनीतिक
Leaders नेताओं
Famous प्रसिद्ध
Autonomy स्वायत्तता
Simple monk साधारण भिक्षु
Hero नायक
Today I will be talking about His Holiness the Dalai Lama. I am a Tibetan Buddhist. My Guru’s name is Jetsun Jamphel Ngawang Lobsang Yeshe Tenzin Gyatso, His Holiness the 14th Dalai Lama of Tibet. Tibetans call Him “Gyalwa Rinpoche.” This means “Precious Dharma King.” Another name for him is ‘Kundun” which means “The Presence.” He is the spiritual guide for the Tibetan people and Tibetan Buddhists around the world. Tibetan Buddhists think he is an emanation of the Bodhisattva of Compassion, Avalokiteshvara. This is similar to Hindu avataras such as Lord Krishna and Lord Rama. He is the 14th Dalai Lama, but there were many incarnations before the Dalai Lama lineage started. The 13th Dalai Lama wrote a letter before he died. It had secret information about where he would be reborn. When the 14th Dalai Lama was very young His name was Lhamo Dondrub. At that time, there was a search for the reincarnation of the 13th Dalai Lama. An important Lama went to a special lake where people have visions. He saw a house with a blue roof. After this, a search-group went to find the house. When they arrived, the small boy knew them by name. He also saw His mala from His previous life. They showed him several religious items from His previous life. They also showed Him similar items that were newer and more beautiful. He guessed correctly which ones belonged to Him. The Dalai Lama was put on the throne of Tibet at an early age. Sixty three years ago, the Chinese invaded Tibet. Ten years later the Dalai Lama left Tibet with many Tibetans. He has lived in India since then. The Dalai Lama gets up at four in the morning every day. He prays and meditates. During breakfast He listens to world news. He is very interested in science. He has written many books. He travels around the world to teach. He also meets religious and political leaders. He is quite famous. There is a movie about his life called ‘Kundun.’ His work for world peace gained him the Nobel Peace Prize. He hopes Tibetans will get autonomy. He says that he is just a simple monk. I think he is a Buddha. He is my hero.
Vocabulary:
Precious कीमती
The Presence उपस्थिति
Spiritual Guide आध्यात्मिक मार्गदर्शक
Emanation उद्गम
Compassion करुणा
Similar to लिए इसी तरह की
Lineage वंश
Before he died इससे पहले कि वह मर गया
Reborn पुनर्जन्म
Secret गुप्त
reincarnation पुनर्जन्म
Special विशेष
Lake झील
Have visions आभास होता है
Search-group खोज समूह
Previous life पिछले जीवन
Rosary माला
Religious items धार्मिक आइटम
Guessed अनुमान
Throne सिंहासन
Invaded आक्रमण किया
Pray प्रार्थना
Meditate ध्यान
World news विश्व समाचार
Science विज्ञान
Religious धार्मिक
Political राजनीतिक
Leaders नेताओं
Famous प्रसिद्ध
Autonomy स्वायत्तता
Simple monk साधारण भिक्षु
Hero नायक
Saturday, September 15, 2012
Talk given at opening ceremony for Heart Shrine Relic Tour visit to Tibetan Canadian Cultural Centre, Toronto
Sean Hillman MA, BA
Doctoral student, South Asian Religions/Bioethics
Department for the Study of Religion
Joint Centre for Bioethics
University of Toronto
(composed in collaboration with Ven. Gelong Khenpo Kunga Sherab, University of Toronto)
Firstly, before
speaking briefly about the enshrining of remains in general, and the Heart
Shrine Relics in particular, I would like to take this opportunity to publicly
thank the Tibetan people, both those in Toronto
and those in India ,
for their warmth and helpfulness over the years. In the mid-90s when there were
only about 500 Tibetans distributed between the city-triad of Toronto ,
Lindsay and Burlington , I met my
first Tibetan: the amazing Gelak of The Tibet Shoppe renown. I remember how
engrossed I was in the recording being played overhead in the store, the
chanting of Drepung Loseling monks, and Gelek telling me that he had come to be
used to such magnificent sounds. My uncle had given us some money as a gift and
instead of buying a tabla-set, I bought a Tibetan jacket, my first mala and
some other ritual accoutrements. Since that formative time period I have participated
in many Tibetan-organized events: the annual celebration of HHDL’s birthday, Lord
Buddha’s birthday or Saka Dawa, March 10th uprising protests in Ottawa and
Toronto (during which I would sometimes get on the megaphone to shout slogans),
and countless other activities with the Canada Tibet Committee and the Canadian
Tibetan Association of Ontario. At those times and at events such as this, the
Tibetans are ever-gracious hosts that welcome us into their homes & sacred
spaces so that we can share in special events and the love, enjoyment and merit
they produce. During my time in India I lived & studied with Tibetans in
Dharamsala, and often in the Hunsur & Mundgod settlements of the southern
state of Karnataka (which have the largest concentration of Tibetans in India
& strangely is a region with terrain as vastly different from Tibet as one
can find, and one often plagued with drought) and again and again they were
ever embracing of me as an Inji Buddhist monastic among them. My classmates at
the Institute of Buddhist Dialectics called me by the name of 'Canada' more
than my own ordination name of 'Sherab,' and they came to be close friends and
siblings during the course of our debate training. This weekend we once more
experience the kind hospitality of the remarkable Tibetans that have chosen Toronto
as their new home & place to raise the next generation of Tibetan Canadians.
I actually live in Parkdale and my wife Alex often has to restrain me from
talking to every Tibetan we pass by on the street. You make me feel more
at home by bringing a taste (literally and figuratively) of my second home of India .
For those of you that live here, I want you to know that so many of us feel
immensely grateful that our city is graced with your presence. It is from the
bottom of my heart that I thank the Tibetan people that I have known, and with
profound respect and love I offer my undying support for the cause of Tibet
which continues to be under siege & pledge whatever meagre service I can
offer towards the preservation of the Tibetan cultural, linguistic and
religious heritage of People of the Snowy Lands.
Today is one of
the rare occasions when I have the chance to speak both as a Buddhist practitioner
and an academic in South Asian Studies. Over the years I have had some exposure
to the relics: here at the Tibetan Canadian Cultural Centre, at Sri Lankan,
Chinese and Vietnamese temples, and at the Lama Yeshe Ling Tibetan Buddhist
Dharma Centre in Burlington . Every
time I come into their presence I find it almost impossible to believe that
these substances were physically connected to some of our greatest historical Buddhist
heroes: Lord Shakyamuni Buddha Himself, the great reformers Arya Atisha and
Lama Tsong Khapa, the spiritual partner of Guru Padmasambhava Yeshe Tsogyal,
and even some contemporary masters such as the peerless Kalachakra Guru of HHDL
and one of my teachers, Kirti Tsenshab Rinpoche. I haven’t had any of the special
experiences that many people have described as a result of being near the
relics, but they surely remind me of the kindness of my teachers, of their
teachings on wisdom and compassion, and they never cease to fill me with much
devotion. I even have pictures of the relics on my shrine so I can attempt to
make this well of devotion somewhat lasting. But it is the story of their
worldwide travels and their frequent return to our city that
really maintains the
inspiration.
What is the
purpose of enshrining and venerating relics?
I cannot say anything above and beyond what has been said before on such
a topic, but I will say that perceiving the relics brings us into an
unbreakable karmic connection with the masters from which they arose. At most
the relics bring us closer to enlightenment by allowing us to accumulate merit
by way of our offerings given with devotion, a compassionate wish to benefit
all beings, and a correct view of reality; they light a fire under us to
practice with haste in light of our impending and indeterminate demise, and at
the very least (but still of crucial importance) they serve to allow us to
gather together in solidarity as Buddhists and fellow human beings (and
actually sometimes animal beings have the chance to be exposed too), all of
which can only serve to help us feel less alone in our struggle towards
temporary and ultimate happiness. Rather than the melancholy that usually
attends ordinary funerals, the death of adepts is often an extraordinary event
accompanied with perceivable signs such as those environmental (rainbows,
odours, raining flowers and so on), those internal to us, and those in the form
of special remains such as those that have emanations of deities arising from
the matter. Such signs can lead us from the sadness of the loss of a great
teacher to the joy that celebrates the vast accomplishments of yogic masters,
and give us the hope that we too can have an extraordinary death that is no
longer something to cause us dread, but one in which we can potentially enter
in awareness and with realizations of the deepest empathy for others and the
actual way in which phenomena exist. These qualities will surely lead to an
auspicious human rebirth so that we can continue to try to improve ourselves so
we are better able to help others.
This is why Lama
Zopa Rinpoche has said that the Maitreya Project to build a 500-foot statue of
the Future Buddha in the location of Lord Buddha’s Parinirvana in Kushinagara ,
India
Intro to talk on Buddhist Perspectives on Social Justice at event hosted by Interfaith Dialogue Institute (IDI)/Faith Communities in Action Against Poverty (ISARC)/Church of the Holy Trinity
Sean Hillman MA, BA
Doctoral student, South Asian Religions/Bioethics
Department for the Study of Religion
Joint Centre for Bioethics
University of Toronto
Full talk can be seen here:
Buddhist Perspectives on Social Justice, Sean Hillman (IDI/ISARC interfaith dinner)
For the sake of brevity, rather than a broad spectrum talk about the
various social injustices perpetrated internally within the Buddhist traditions
themselves, those social injustices that have Buddhists as their target, and
the many ways in which these problems have and have not been addressed by
Buddhists and those concerned with their well-being, I will instead briefly
zero in on a particular case of a Buddhist death in a Toronto Catholic hospital
to highlight some key issues with end-of-life care delivery to diverse patient
populations. My ongoing research project has as its object of focus Buddhists,
Hindus and Jains of South Asian descent, and as its main concern the unique,
religiously-based conceptions of these groups that affect their end-of-life decision-making.
Although my upcoming ethnographic fieldwork will be investigating how religious
ideas affect end-of-life decision-making of adherents within India ,
some of the questions that I have asked in my earlier work concern South Asians
in diaspora:
- Can South Asians have their religious needs met in end-of-life care settings in diaspora?
- Can healthcare providers with a different worldview than their patients successfully meet their patients’ religious needs?
I have some current and emerging
questions yet to be answered and hopefully something we can discuss during our
gathering today:
- Is the term ‘diversity’ a useful one? Here in Toronto we pride ourselves with our incomparable diversity, but does the defining of a patient group as ‘diverse’ actually distance healthcare providers from the ‘other’ that we are caring for? Is such terminology actually an ‘othering’ technique?
- Is it possible for cultural-sensitivity training and diversity education in healthcare to be an overdetermination of the unique needs of certain patient populations?
- Is there a point at which accommodations for unique religious healthcare needs actually begin to impinge on other patients by taking away from their due share of resource entitlements?
These questions
are not comfortable ones, which is that they challenge my own ideas as an
academic, as a caregiver and as a Buddhist. Growing up in quite a sheltered
Jewish environment, and subsequently being exposed to an almost unlimited
number of people of various backgrounds both in hospital and in my travels, I
came to cherish diversity. With newly opened eyes, I then also came to directly
experience the mistreatment of some patients from diverse backgrounds. Such
obvious and undeniable ethical breaches strongly influenced me in the personal,
religious and academic spheres of my life to tackle the problems in healthcare
delivery to diverse patient populations: not just to point at the difficulties
but to attempt to discover and offer solutions as well. I aspire to compile a
South Asian Religious Health Ethics Guide to assist those of South Asian
descent and those caring for them, and it may well end up being gray literature
addended to my dissertation or a separate project. My very recent discomfort
with how we address diversity in healthcare, however, has arisen from
problematizing my own work. With the distance of time and analysis I could see
in retrospect that my deep concern with meeting the religious needs of my
patients was at times not totally helpful but was, in fact, troublesome for my
co-workers, my patients and their families, and myself as well. I will come
back to this point in the narrative of the case study.
Before
I touch on the case study, I wish to say that I firmly position equity in
healthcare delivery to diverse patient populations as a matter of justice. From
a Rawlsian standpoint, utilising his second principle of justice, we can argue
that the requirement of the difference principle to arrange social and economic
inequalities to be of the greatest benefit to the least-advantaged members of
society can and should include the ill and the dying without a breach in logic.
I would even be so bold as to say that the conditions of the fair equality
of opportunity principle need not merely refer to access to offices and
positions in society, but also to healthcare.
[case study can be found in "A Bioethical Analysis of a Buddhist Death in a Catholic Hospital"]
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