Buddhist Spectrum

The world of Buddhism: unity in diversity

Professor Y Karunadasa

Continued from December 22

In his well known discourse on the Parable of the Raft, the Buddha compared his Dhamma to a raft. It is for the purpose of crossing over and not to be grasped as a theory. The Dhamma has only instrumental value. Its value is relative, relative to the realization of the goal.

The vision that inspired Professor G P Malalasekara in establishing the World Fellowship of Buddhists

As an extension to this idea, it also came to be recognized that the Dhamma as a means can be presented in many ways, from many different perspectives. There is no one fixed way of presenting the Dhamma which is valid for all times and climes. The idea behind this is that what is true and therefore what conforms to actuality need not be repeated in the same way as a holy hymn or a sacred mantra. The Dhamma is not something esoteric and mystical. As the Buddha says, the more one elaborates it, the more it shines (vivato virocati).

In connection with this, what we need to remember here is that the Dhamma is not actuality as such. Rather, it is a description of actuality. It is a conceptual-theoretical model presented through the symbolic medium of language. There can be many such conceptual-theoretical models depending on the different perspectives one adopts in presenting the Dhamma. However, the validity of each will be determined by its ability to lead us to the goal: from bondage to freedom, from ignorance to wisdom, from our present human predicament to full emancipation.

We find this situation beautifully illustrated in a Chinese Buddhist saying that the Dhamma is like a finger pointing to the moon. This analogy has many implications. One implication is that any finger can be pointed to the moon. What matters is not the finger as such but whether it is properly pointed so that we can see the moon. Another implication is that if we keep on looking only at the finger we will not see the moon. Nor can we see the moon without looking at the finger, either.

We can therefore approach different schools of Buddhist thought as different fingers pointing to the same moon. If we approach them in this manner then we need to identify their common denominator, the most fundamental doctrine that unites them all? This is a matter on which we don't have to speculate. For the Buddha himself as well as all schools of Buddhist thought identify it as the Buddhist doctrine of the denial of soul/self/ego (anatta).

From its very beginning Buddhism was fully aware that the doctrine of the denial of soul was not shared by any other contemporary religion or philosophy. We find this clearly articulated in an early Buddhist discourse. Here the Buddha refers to four kinds of clinging: clinging to sense-pleasures, clinging to speculative views, clinging to mere rites and rituals in the belief that they lead to liberation, and the clinging to the notion of self. The discourse goes on to say there could be other religious teachers who would recognize only some of the four kinds of clinging, and that at best they might teach the overcoming of the first three forms of clinging. What they cannot teach, because they have not comprehended this for themselves, is the overcoming of clinging to the notion of self, for this, the last type of clinging, is the subtlest and the most elusive of the group. The title given to this discourse is the Shorter Discourse on the Lion's Roar. Clearly it is intended to show that the Buddha's declaration of the denial of soul is "bold and thunderous like a veritable lion's roar in the spiritual domain" (Ven. Bhikkhu Nanamoli).

That the notion of no-self is the most crucial doctrine that separates Buddhism from all other religions came to be recognized in the subsequent schools of Buddhist thought as well. Acarya Yasomitra, a savant of the Sautrantika School of Buddhism (5th c. C. E.) categorically asserts: "In the whole world there is no other religious teacher who proclaims a doctrine of non-self". We find this same idea echoed by Acariya Buddhaghosa, the great commentator of Theravada Buddhism when he says: "The knowledge of non-self is the province of none but a Buddha" (Vibhanga Commentary, 5th c. C. E.).

If there is one doctrine which is unique to Buddhism, it is the doctrine of non-self. If there is a doctrine which is unanimously accepted by all Buddhist schools, whether they come under Theravada, Vajrayana, or Mahayana, it is the doctrine of non-self. If there is a doctrine which, while uniting all schools of Buddhist thought, separates Buddhism from all other religions and philosophies, it is again the doctrine of non-self.

The whole world of Buddhist thought is, in fact, a sustained critique of the belief in self, the belief that there is a separate individualized self entity which is impervious to all change.

If we can thus establish the transcendental unity of Buddhism on the basis of the Buddhist doctrine of non-self, we can also establish it on the basis of Buddhism's final goal as well. When Maha Pajapati Gotami, the foster mother of the Buddha, wanted to know how one could separate the Dhamma from what is not the Dhamma, the Buddha said: Whatever that leads to the cessation of greed (raga), aversion (dosa), and delusion (moha) is the Dhamma, and that whatever that leads away from it is not the Dhamma. The Buddha compares greed, aversion, and delusion to three fires with which the unenlightened living beings are constantly being consumed. In point of fact, the final goal of Buddhism, which is Nibbana, is not some kind of ineffable mystical experience, but to lead a life free from greed, aversion , and delusion.

This, in fact, is the goal common to all schools of Buddhist thought, although it came to be described in different ways and from different perspectives.

What we have observed so far should show why what the Buddha taught gave rise to a wide variety of Buddhist schools and interpretative traditions in the continent of Asia. Another question that arises here is why what the Buddha taught came to be communicated through many Asian languages and dialects. Apart from the well known classical languages such as Pali, Prakrit, Sanskrit, Chinese, Tibetan and Mongolian, in the lost civilization of Central Asia alone Buddhist manuscripts in about twelve indigenous languages have been discovered. The reason for this "multi-lingualism" is that from its very beginning Buddhism did not entertain the notion of a "holy language." In point of fact, when it was suggested to the Buddha that his teachings should be rendered into the elitist language of Sanskrit, the Buddha did not endorse it and enjoined that each individual could learn the Dhamma in his/her own language (sakaya-nirutti).

From the Buddhist perspective, thus, the Dhamma as well as the language through which it is communicated, are both means to an end, not an end unto itself. The net result of this situation is what we would like to introduce as Buddhist pluralism, a pluralism that we can see whether we examine Buddhism as a religion, as a philosophy, or as a culture.

One area where we can see Buddhist pluralism is in the very idea of the Buddhahood. According to Buddhism there had been a number of Buddhas in the remote past and there will be a number of Buddhas in the distant future. The idea behind this is that Buddhahood is not the monopoly of one individual, but is accessible to all. What is more, the idea of a number of Buddhas ensures continuity of the opportunities for emancipation for all living beings at all times. Buddhism recognizes the immensity of time and the vastness of space and the existence of an countless number of world-systems. Considered in this cosmic context, to speak of one Buddha for all time and space is, to say the least, extremely parochial.

Another area where we can see Buddhist pluralism is in the Buddhist canonical literature (Tripitaka). If a Buddhist were asked, where do we get the teachings of the Buddha, he would say it is in the Buddhist Canon (Tripitaka). Since there are four Buddhist Canons, one in Pali, one in Chinese, and one in Tibetan, and one in Mongolian, he will have to specify to which Buddhist Canon he is referring. If he were to say, for example, it is the Pali Canon, again the reply is not specific enough because the Pali Canon has many volumes containing the teachings of the Buddha.

If he is asked to specify one particular volume or book in the Pali Canon which contains all Buddhist teachings in a summary form he will fail to identify such a volume or book. Buddhism could be the only religion with no single canonical work which contains all what the Buddha taught. Another aspect of Buddhist pluralism we can also see in the Sangha, the fraternity of monks and nuns. The Sangha, as we all know, is the Buddhist monastic organization. It could perhaps be the oldest social organization in the world, having the oldest constitution. If the Buddhist monastic organization exhibits many elements of pluralism the reason for this is that it was not intended to be a pyramid-like organization, a hierarchical organization, where at the top you find a supreme head. It is not centralized. Its principle of organization is not perpendicular and vertical, but horizontal and linear. This allows for diversity within the Sangha organization as we find it in Japan, China, Tibet, Mongolia, Sri Lanka and other Theravada countries.

The best example of what we call Buddhist pluralism we can see in Buddhist culture. What we want to stress here is that when Buddhism was introduced to a particular country it did not level down that country's cultural diversity in order to develop some kind of mono-culture. The various Buddhist countries in the continent of Asia bear evidence to this. The Buddhist culture in Japan, for example, is different from the Buddhist culture in Thailand, and both from that of Sri Lanka.

What we need to remember here is that Buddhism is not a culture-bound religion. Like a bird that leaves one cage and flies to another, Buddhism can go from one country to another leaving behind its cultural baggage.

If Buddhism did not level down cultural diversity, the main reason for this is that Buddhism's social philosophy does not unnecessarily interfere with the personal lives of its followers. We never hear of a Buddhist Food, a Buddhist Medicine, a Buddhist Dress, or a Buddhist Marriage, or a Buddhist way of disposing the dead. Why? Because these are things that change from time to time and from country to country. Therefore Buddhism does not superimpose on the individual a rigid and totalitarian social philosophy which is valid for all time. In concluding this speech we would like to draw your attention to another important aspect of Buddhist thinking. It is that as a religion Buddhism does not say that what is good and noble is confined to the words of the Buddha. In this connection a Mahayana Buddhist book says: "What is said by the Buddha is well-said. What is well-said is said by the Buddha." The first sentence is clear. What the second sentence means is that if there is anything well-said in any other religion, philosophy, or ideology, that too is said by the Buddha, in the sense that Buddhism endorses all that is good and noble from wherever it comes.

In the shape of a circle

Venerable Ajahn Chah

Translated from the Thai Thanissaro Bhikkhu

Continued from December 8

The Buddha wanted us to see sights, hear sounds, smell aromas, taste flavors, or touch tactile sensations: hot, cold, hard, soft. He wanted us to be acquainted with everything. He didn't want us to run away and hide. He wanted us to look and, when we've looked, to understand: "Oh. That's the way these things are." He told us to give rise to discernment.

Whoever sees the Dhamma sees the Buddha

How do we give rise to discernment? The Buddha said that it's not hard - if we keep at it. When distractions arise: "Oh. It's not for sure. It's inconstant." When the mind is still, don't say, "Oh. It's really nice and still." That, too, isn't for sure. If you don't believe me, give it a try.

Suppose that you like a certain kind of food and you say, "Boy, do I really like this food!" Try eating it every day. How many months could you keep it up? It won't be too long before you say, "Enough. I'm sick and tired of this." Understand? "I'm really sick and tired of this." You're sick and tired of what you liked.

We depend on change in order to live, so just acquaint yourself with the fact that it's all inconstant. Pleasure isn't for sure; pain isn't for sure; happiness isn't for sure; stillness isn't for sure, distraction isn't for sure. Whatever, it all isn't for sure. Whatever arises, you should tell it: "Don't try to fool me. You're not for sure." That way everything loses its value. If you can think in that way, it's really good. The things you don't like are all not for sure. Everything that comes along isn't for sure. It's as if they were trying to sell you things, but everything has the same price: It's not for sure - not for sure in any way at all. In other words, it's inconstant. It keeps moving back and forth.

To put it simply, that's the Buddha. Inconstancy means that nothing's for sure. That's the truth. Why don't we see the truth? Because we haven't looked to see it clearly. "Whoever sees the Dhamma sees the Buddha." If you see the inconstancy of each and every thing, you give rise to nibbida: disenchantment. "That's all this is: no big deal. That's all that is: no big deal." The concentration in the mind is - no big deal.

When you can do that, it's no longer hard to contemplate. Whatever the preoccupation, you can say in your mind, "No big deal," and it stops right there. Everything becomes empty and in vain: everything that's unsteady, inconstant. It moves around and changes. It's inconstant, stressful, and not-self. It's not for sure.

It's like a piece of iron that's been heated until it's red and glowing: Does it have any spot where it's cool? Try touching it. If you touch it on top, it's hot. If you touch it underneath, it's hot. If you touch it on the sides, it's hot. Why is it hot? Because the whole thing is a piece of red-hot iron. Where could it have a cool spot? That's the way it is. When that's the way it is, we don't have to go touching it. We know it's hot. If you think that "This is good; I really like it," don't give it your seal of guarantee. It's a red-hot piece of iron. Wherever you touch it, wherever you hold onto it, it'll immediately burn you in every way.

So keep on contemplating. Whether you're standing or walking or whatever - even when you're on the toilet or on your almsround: When you eat, don't make it a big deal. When the food comes out the other end, don't make it a big deal. Whatever it is, it's inconstant. It's not for sure. It's not truthful in any way. It's like touching a red-hot piece of iron. You don't know where you can touch it because it's hot all over. So you just stop touching it. "This is inconstant. That's inconstant." Nothing at all is for sure.

Even our thoughts are inconstant. Why are they inconstant? They're not-self. They're not ours. They have to be the way they are. They're unstable and inconstant. Boil everything down to that. Whatever you like isn't for sure. No matter how much you like it, it isn't for sure. Whatever the preoccupation, no matter how much you like it, you have to tell yourself, "This isn't for sure. This is unstable and inconstant." And keep on watching....

Like this glass: It's really pretty. You want to put it away so that it doesn't break. But it's not for sure. One day you put it right next to yourself and then, when you reach for something, you hit it by mistake. It falls to the floor and breaks. It's not for sure. If it doesn't break today, it'll break tomorrow. If it doesn't break tomorrow, it'll break the next day - for it's breakable. We're taught not to place our trust in things like this, because they're inconstant.

Things that are inconstant: The Buddha taught that they're the truth. Think about it. If you see that there's no truth to things, that's the truth. That's constant. For sure. When there's birth, there has to be aging, illness, and death. That's something constant and for sure.

What's constant comes from things that aren't constant. We say that things are inconstant and not for sure - and that turns everything around: That's what's constant and for sure. It doesn't change. How is it constant? It's constant in that that's the way things keep on being. Even if you try to get in the way, you don't have an effect. Things just keep on being that way. They arise and then they disband, disband and then arise. That's the way it is with inconstancy. That's how it becomes the truth. The Buddha and his noble disciples awakened because of inconstant things. When you see inconstancy, the result is nibbida: disenchantment. Disenchantment isn't disgust, you know. If you feel disgust, that's wrong, the wrong kind of disenchantment. Disenchantment isn't like our normal disgust. For example, if you live with your wife and children to the point where you get sick and tired of them, that's not disenchantment. It's actually a big defilement; it squeezes your heart. If you run away from things like that, it's being sick and tired because of defilement. That's not nibbida. It's actually a heavy defilement, but we think it's disenchantment.

Suppose that you're kind to people. Whatever you have, you want to give to them. You sympathize with them, you see that they're pretty and lovely and good to you. Your defilements are now coming around from the other side. Watch out! That's not kindness through the Dhamma; it's selfish kindness. You want something out of them, which is why you're kind to them.

It's the same with disenchantment. "I'm sick and tired of this. I'm not going to stay any longer. I'm fed up." That's not right at all. It's a big defilement. It's disenchantment only in name. The Buddha's disenchantment is something else: leaving things alone, putting them down. You don't kill them, you don't beat them, you don't punish them, you're not nice to them. You just put them down. Everything. The same with everything. That's how it has to be. Only then can you say that your mind has let go, that it's empty: empty of clinging, empty of attachment.

Emptiness doesn’t mean nobody exists. Or like this glass: It’s not the case that it has to not exist for us to say that it’s empty. This thermos exists; people exist; everything exists, but those who know feel in their hearts that these things are truths, they’re not for sure, they simply follow their conditions: They’re dhammas that arise and disband, that’s all.

Take this thermos: If we like it, it doesn’t react or say anything. The liking is all on our side. Even if we hate it and throw it into the woods, it still doesn’t react. It doesn’t respond to us. Why? Because it’s just the way it is. We like it or dislike it because of our own attachment. We see that it’s good or no good. The view that it’s good squeezes our heart. The view that it’s no good squeezes our heart. Both are defilements.

So you don’t have to run away from things like this. Just understand this principle and keep contemplating. That’s all there is to it. The mind will see that these things are no big deal. They’re just the way they are. If we hate them, they don’t respond. If we like them, they don’t respond. We’re simply crazy of our own accord. Nothing disturbs us, but we get all worked up. Try to see everything in this way.

It’s the same with the body; it’s the same with the mind; it’s the same with the moods and preoccupations that make contact: See them as inconstant, stressful, and not-self. They’re just the way they are. We suffer because we don’t want them to be that way. We want to get things that we simply can’t get.

Is there something you want?

“I guess it’s like when I want concentration. I want the mind to be quiet.”

Okay, it’s true that you want that. But what’s the cause that keeps your mind from being quiet? The Buddha says that all things arise from causes, but we want just the results. We eat watermelons but we’ve never planted any watermelons. We don’t know where they come from. We see when they’re sliced open and they’re nice and red: “Mmm. Looks sweet.” We try eating them, and they taste good and sweet, but that’s all we know. Why watermelons are the way they are, we have no idea.

That’s because we aren’t all-around. All-around in what way? It’s like watering vegetables. Wherever we forget to water doesn’t grow. Wherever we forget to give fertilizer doesn’t grow. Contemplate this principle and you’ll give rise to discernment.

When you’ve finished with things outside, you look at your own mind. Look at the affairs of your body and mind. Now that we’re born, why do we suffer? We suffer from the same old things, but we haven’t thought them through. We don’t know them thoroughly. We suffer but we don’t really see suffering.

When we live at home, we suffer from our wife and children, but no matter how much we suffer, we don’t really see suffering - so we keep on suffering.

To be Continued

Everlasting service to the Sangha

C M Kalubowila

The most venerable Rajakeeya Panditha Bopitiye Wansananda Thera, the present Anunayake of Sri Lanka Ramangna clan commemorates his 77 birth anniversary.

The most venerable, Rajakeeya Panditha, Bopitiye Wansananda Anunayake Thera of Sri Lanka Ramangna Maha Nikaya

He was born in 1934 in a remote village called, Paraigama which belongs to Pas Yodun Koralaye in the district of Kalutara.

His parents were Iddagoda Hewage Thomas Appuhami and Welipenna Vithanage Alice Nona. Iddagoda Hewage Dharmasena was their eldest son who entered in to the monastic life, on 3rd of May in the year 1946 by the name of Bopitiye Wansananda.

After being ordained as a monk he received his primary education at Siri Vijaya Dharama Pirivena in Induruwa. He studied there as a student of the most venerable Induruwe Uththarananda and Pandit Matara Dhammawansa Theras.

He ordained his higher ordinance in 1954 and at the same year he entered into the Vidyalankara university for his higher education. In university he acquired the 'Stubbs governor award' for archaeology donated to the past student.

After passing out in 1958, he joined as a teacher of Dharmodaya Pirivena in Wellawaththa and served there more then 10 years.

Later he moved to Payagala Dharma Gupta Pirivena and assumed the principal post. Subsequently he has become the chief incumbent of Athula Maha Viharaya also.

During the past period he has possessed so many higher ranks in the Ramangna Maha Nikaya before access to the present Anu Nayake post.

It's very appreciable that this pious and erudite monk serves to the public without any discrimination of caste or creed in our multi-ethnic area, according to the Buddhist-vision. To be engaged on his invaluable religious and social works further, may the Triple Gems Bless, on his 77th birthday commemoration. Long live our Anunayake Thera to serve the nation and the country.