Essay #3
Interpreting the Dharma: Teaching What the Buddha Taught
Skeptics have suggested to me that Buddha taught about karma only because it was the accepted worldview of his time. I would counter this claim by reminding them that Buddha rejected every other major Vedic doctrine—Brahman, atman, the caste system, etc.—so, why not karma too? Actually, Buddha’s explication on karma was also a significant departure from tradition. Nevertheless, secular practitioners advocate a “Buddhism without beliefs” by stripping it down to a kind of ‘self-help’ philosophy or psychology. However, basic Buddhist teachings such as reincarnation and the existence of enlightened beings are not cultural embellishments, but still some people feel it is necessary to deliteralize any religious dogma not palatable to Western sensibilities.
Of course, a Buddhist Teacher must employ skillful means to make Buddhism more accessible to Western students, but he or she should feel under no obligation to compromise on its essential teachings just to make Buddhism more acceptable. Maitreya said that “if we impose our own interpretations or omit anything we are destroying Buddhadharma” (Joyful Path of Good Fortune, p. 22; see also Great Treasury of Merit, p. 41), so we must investigate what is open to interpretation and what is not.
The saying goes “there’s nothing new under the sun,” but no religion besides Buddhism teaches renunciation of pervasive suffering (nor, by extension, the mind of great compassion), and it also has a monopoly on teaching emptiness of inherent existence. Therefore, it will be helpful to analyze the above concerns in light of these two important subjects.
Past and Future Lives
Buddha said that we should know the full extent of suffering. He taught that there are three types of suffering: manifest suffering, changing suffering, and pervasive suffering. The first is plain to see (even animals understand it): our daily physical and mental pain. This is the type of suffering that is obvious to anybody, and it is the most difficult to ignore. The second type is identified by practitioners of many religions when they recognize that “ordinary happiness and enjoyments do not last, but invariably change into suffering and disappointment, and as a result seek a more refined form of happiness through spiritual practice” (Great Treasury of Merit, p. 210). Our occasional worldly happinesses are just changing sufferings, which is to say that in short order they reveal themselves to be merely a temporary reduction of suffering, not an actual permanent release from suffering. From a Buddhist point of view, however, true renunciation is specifically a wish to abandon pervasive suffering, which is discussed only in Buddhadharma (Joyful Path of Good Fortune, pp. 307-308, 479). Simply put, pervasive suffering means that all of samsaric existence is pervaded by suffering. Our human body and mind have arisen from contaminated causes—namely, appropriating aggregates which mistakenly appear to be inherently existent—and so they can never produce anything but suffering in return. It is our strong identification with contaminated aggregates, being the very basis for all the sufferings pervading the six realms of samsara, which Buddhists are renouncing.
Buddha did not come just to point out the negative experiences we normally identify with suffering: poverty, disease, famine, war, stress at work, difficult relationships, financial problems, or even traffic jams. We always like to talk about the day-to-day ‘practical’ applications of Buddhist thought, but Buddha’s compassion for us is principally concerned with the countless sufferings awaiting us in future lives. In his very first teaching, Buddha taught about the ‘four rivers’ of suffering: birth, ageing, sickness, and death. One meaning of this is that every moment of our life, from beginning to end, is in the nature of suffering. Given that we are all grown up now, it is more meaningful to think of suffering in terms of ageing, sickness, death, and then rebirth all over again! Geshe-la explains that “when Buddha says, ‘You should know sufferings,’ he means that we should know the sufferings of our future lives” (How to Solve Our Human Problems, p. 7):
We may wonder why it is necessary to contemplate sufferings such as birth, aging, sickness, and death, especially since we have already experienced the first and can do nothing to avoid the others. The reason is that by meditating on these sufferings we realize that the very nature of samsaric existence is suffering, and that until we escape from samsara, we will have to experience the same pains in life after life. This induces a strong wish to escape from samsara by abandoning its cause, self-grasping. This wish is renunciation. Introduction to Buddhism, p. 70)
Some skeptics have replied that we are simply back-reading into the text the teaching on past and future lives. They believe that this was not an original teaching of Buddha. Indeed, many Western Buddhists consider the doctrine of six realms of rebirth to be a fabrication of Mahayana Buddhism, and prefer to stick to the ‘unadulterated’ teachings of Theravada Buddhism. Such an opinion is ill-informed at best, for throughout the Pali canon we read about the many planes of existence, which we normally summarize as the six realms of samsara. In addition to this exegetical approach, I also consequentially point out that if rebirth is done away with, then there is no cyclic existence. If there is no cyclic existence, then there was no point in Buddha teaching the four noble truths or the 12 dependent-related links. Then you have to ask yourself, “What’s left?” The truth is that all the teachings within Buddhism are intricately interwoven, and once you start tugging on and pulling out even a single thread not to your liking, the whole tapestry will begin to unravel.
Emptiness of Inherent Existence
Some individuals have said I am being a bit dogmatic on this point, which brings us back to the bigger question of whether the teachings on past and future lives are to be taken literally, or are they merely metaphors about this life alone? Every Buddhist scripture is classified either as definitive or interpretive. It is the teachings on emptiness which are definitive, while every other Buddhist teaching requires interpretation (Ocean of Nectar, pp. 273-274). The word literal is sometimes used as a synonym for definitive, which conversely might be taken as license by some to say that the teachings on reincarnation and the existence of enlightened beings and so forth are all metaphorical. I believe that, in general, all Buddhist teachings—whether definitive or interpretive—are to be taken literally, with the latter always being interpreted in light of the Prasangika view of emptiness. For example, we can take Buddha at his word concerning everything he said about reincarnation, as long as we remember that the self does not inherently exist; that is to say, it is a conventional self that takes rebirth, not an inherently existent self. Moreover, Buddha’s silence in response to the so-called ‘10 unanswered questions’ is not for those who speak the language of the middle way (Ocean of Nectar, p. 304), as is demonstrated in the Ananda Sutta.
Of course, Buddha sometimes does use metaphorical language as a teaching device to convey a spiritual truth. One of my favorites is the analogy of the blind turtle, as taught in the Chiggala Sutta. However, we cannot say that the predicated truth of a metaphor is yet another metaphor! Still, is there a danger that a literal reading can lead to extreme views? For example, oftentimes when I refer to the literal existence of enlightened beings such as Avalokiteshvara or Manjushri, even fellow Mahayanists object that I am reifying them. But something existing literally does not necessarily make it inherently existent, or else emptiness (as a definitive teaching) would also have to be inherently existent! Besides, you don’t exist merely metaphorically, do you?
The Buddhist notion of hell realms, however, is still a bitter pill to swallow, but Geshe-la explains that “The hells are not places with distinct geographical locations, nor do they exist from their own side; they are merely appearances to an impure mind, just like a nightmare” (Great Treasury of Merit, p. 206). And, it is not only hell realms that many Westerners have a problem with; we also have difficulty accepting the possibility of Pure Lands!
We may find these stories difficult to believe, but this is because we do not understand the relationship between our mind and its objects. We feel that the world exists ‘out there,’ independent of the mind that perceives it; but in reality objects are totally dependent on the minds that perceive them. (Eight Steps to Happiness, p. 118)
What we see is merely an appearance to our mind from our mind. Of course, right now we have no power over our mind, and so we have no corresponding control over our experiences. However, in Ocean of Nectar (p. 4), Geshe-la tells a fascinating story about how Chandrakirti was responsible for supplying all the monks of the monastery with milk and butter. Chandrakirti let the animals roam free and, with the power of his lucid mind, was able to obtain all the milk he needed from an image of a cow he had painted and hung up on a wall. The Abbot of the monastery exclaimed, “Glorious Chandrakirti perfectly sustains and nourishes the monks by drawing milk from pictures of cows!” Skeptics probably regard this story as little more than a fanciful myth meant to inspire the faithful. This may be one of its purposes, but its true import is stated in the colophon to Guide to the Middle Way, a great treatise on emptiness composed by Chandrakirti “who, by drawing milk from a picture of a cow, destroyed the conception of true existence” (emphasis added). If through patient contemplation and meditation we work out the full implications of emptiness of inherent existence, the reality of such miracles—and, in fact, the reality of all Buddha’s teachings—becomes an inescapable conclusion.
Stories such as this one, however, are not easily received by new ears. Therefore it may be difficult to accept and believe such things. If we want to know whether a particular food is delicious or not we can only find out by tasting it. In the same way it is only by practising the teachings of Buddha that we shall understand the qualities of Dharma. At the moment we have not yet experienced the taste of the Mahayana Dharma, so of course it is difficult to accept. But if we eat this food we shall come to know its taste. (Meaningful to Behold, 5th ed., p. 52)
Conclusion
Geshe-la says that many fundamental Dharma teachings are inextricably linked together and are not intended to be understood merely metaphorically (Meaningful to Behold, 5th ed., p. 35). While the West has a great suspicion of literalism, to ‘sanitize’ the teachings for newcomers would be doing them a great disservice—we are teaching them ‘Buddhism without Dharma’. A Teacher’s goal, therefore, is to teach from his or her own personal experience and Dharma realizations, because in the end this is what will make it acceptable to Western minds.
P.S. There are those on the internet who object to the NKT’s interpretation of emptiness, especially when used in Dorje Shugden apologetics. They say that we are falling into extreme views by neglecting the conventional truth of cause and effect, naming an unsuitable basis of imputation as a Buddha. This is because, for them, Dorje Shugden does not function as a Buddha, which in turn is only because they lack the cause—pure view—for receiving Dorje Shugden’s blessings. (A friend once explained this to me as “You’ll see it when you believe it.”) Consequentially speaking again, I would respond with two simple questions: (1) Does an object’s function exist from its own side? (2) Does the validity of an object’s basis of imputation exist from its own side? I believe that the story of Chandrakirti mentioned above answers this quite definitively!