When
it comes to holidays, Buddhism has got to be the most efficient religion in the
world.
In Christianity, the commemoration of the birth, death, and resurrection
of Jesus takes up three major holidays. But Buddhism rolls the "birth, enlightenment,
and death of the Buddha all into one holiday -- Vesak, or Buddha Day -- which
occurs around this time of year.
Since one of the official sources of our living
Unitarian Universalist tradition is wisdom from the world's religions, the proximity
of Vesak provides a good excuse to reflect upon the life of the Buddha, his teaching,
and its relevance to our lives today.
Gautama Siddhartha grew up on what is
now the border between India and Nepal, the child of a local king and queen. As
the story goes, prior to his birth it was foretold that he was destined for "greatness
-- either as the ruler of a great empire or as a great spiritual savior.
His
parents had a strong preference that he go the emperor route. And they thought
they would rig the outcome by raising the child under most extraordinary conditions.
Gautama was for the most part kept within the palace grounds, surrounded by beauty
and pleasure. Unpleasantness of every kind was shielded from him.
Whenever
he did venture out of the palace, guards went ahead clearing from his path anyone
who was sick or dead or elderly. The idea of all this was to avoid giving him
reason to question his life and be drawn to spiritual reflection.
This was
his uncommon manner of life until the age of 29. Imagine for a moment the state
of mind this would have left him in, being carefully insulated from not only his
own personal misfortunes and frustrations, but the suffering of others as well.
Eventually,
it so happened that one time the guards missed a broken down elderly person. And
so Gautama had his first encounter with the reality of aging and physical deterioration.
A
while later there was another slip up and a sick person was encountered. Yet later
a corpse. So it was that despite all precautions Gautama encountered the realities
of aging, sickness, and death.
These experiences left him thunderstruck. His
whole view of life was overturned. He saw that life, rather than being uninterrupted
stream of happiness, inevitably involved pain and grief. And that people suffered
terribly.
Then on a fourth occasion, he encountered one of the many wandering
ascetics common in India even then. These mendicants, instead of seeking sense
pleasures, practiced extreme austerities and intense meditations in an effort
to transcend the world and its pain.
Gautama was so moved by human suffering
and the example of the ascetics, that he set forth from the palace seeking a solution
for the universal human predicament.
He studied under the most esteemed teachers
of the day, and he was an extraordinary student, quickly mastering their subtlest
teachings and attaining the deepest levels of meditation. Though meditative trances
produced experiences of tremendous bliss, they were only temporary escapes from
the world and its difficulties.
Seeing that the greatest teachers did not have
the answers he sought, he set off with a small band of ascetics, five in number,
and undertook austerities more severe than ever before, nearly to the point of
death. Though he was acclaimed for his discipline, he observed that it did not
yield liberation.
In this way, he realized that neither self-indulgence nor
self-mortification are the path to freedom.
So he left his ascetic companions
behind and set off on his own. He began taking adequate nourishment and caring
for his body -- but not so much as to bring complacency. This was his Middle Way.
As his strength and health and clarity of mind returned, he explored the depths
of human experience with single-minded determination.
One evening, seven years
after leaving the palace, Gautama felt he was at the brink of a great breakthrough.
He sat himself under the Bodhi tree and vowed not to rise until Complete Awakening
was his.
As he sat in meditation, great temptations came to him, distractions
of desire and fear and pride, but he remained steadfast.
His meditation deepened
throughout the night, into realms of consciousness previously unknown to humanity.
And as the morning broke, his awareness penetrated the final barrier. He saw through
all illusions to the true nature of reality -- interconnected and ever-changing.
With this realization, he became the Buddha, meaning One Who Has Awakened.
We
must understand that in Vedic India, the spiritual quest was all about achieving
union with the Unchanging Brahman. And the Buddha sees to the core of the matter
and reports that there is no Unchanging. Even Brahman is changing.
Legend has
it the Buddha sat in uninterrupted meditative bliss for 49 days. In time he arose
and set off to share his marvelous discovery. At first he had doubts, not as to
the value of his insight, but as to whether it would be possible to convey such
a truth to others. He nearly chose to withdraw into nirvana and be done with the
world, but he thought, "There will be some who will understand." And
for their sake, he began to offer his teaching.
Shortly, he came upon the five
ascetics, his former companions and admirers. It was obvious from his physical
health and vitality that he had abandoned his austerities. They ridiculed him
for having gone soft, but not for long. He preached to them his first sermon,
explaining the essence of his liberating discovery -- the Four Noble Truths.
They
were struck by the cogency of his message and became his first disciples.
Now
there are not many ministers whose career gets off to such a great start -- converting
the entire congregation with the first sermon.
Thereupon followed a forty-four
year ministry of teaching during which the Buddha gave lessons in great detail
and led many monks to full awakening.
And what are these Four Noble Truths?
The
First Noble Truth is that life is characterized by "dukkha," often poorly
translated as "suffering." You often hear it said, "Oh, those Buddhists
say 'life is suffering.' That's too pessimistic for me."
What the noble
truth of dukkha really means is that life as we ordinarily experience it has an
ever-present level of distress or dis-ease. Yes, there is happiness and pleasure
in life, but even these experiences contain the seeds of unhappiness, because
they are bound to pass away.
The great insight here is that dukkha is pervasive.
It touches us all, and not just once in awhile. We can perhaps learn to generate
more intense pleasures or more frequent pleasures, but still we are ill-at-ease
because of the insecurity of these things.
The Second Noble Truth is that the
cause of this distress is attachment. We crave and cling to what we like, and
try to push away what we dislike.
Above all, we cling to the notion that we
ourselves are, or ought to be, some sort of permanent fixture in the universe.
Because of this, not only is the prospect of death a source of great distress,
but anything which threatens our expansive sense of self (our bodies, our property,
our relationships, etc.) also yields distress.
This latching on to what must
change is a deep misapprehension of rea1ity. It's like trying to capture the wind
in a jar.
The Third Noble Truth is that it is posible to cut the roots of attachment
and gain freedom. It might be that there is nothing for it. But the Buddha says
there is a solution.
And the Fourth Noble Truth is the path or the way to gain
freedom. The Noble Path outlines a way of life which leads to liberation, with
three key features:
Mental discipline -- training the mind to observe without
bias.
Morality -- behavior which generates neither ill-will nor inharmonious
relations.
Wisdom -- an accurate apprehension of reality.
Anyone familiar
the medical model will recognize in the Four Noble Truths a familiar pattern:
What
is the first thing the doctor says when you go in for an appointment? What is
the problem? Answer: Distress or dukkha. So there is an assessment.
Then diagnosis.
What is the cause of the problem? Answer: Attachment or clinging.
Prognosis.
Is recovery possible? Answer: Yes, there is a cure. The prognosis is good.
Treatment.
What is the cure? Answer: Learn to stop setting yourself against reality, and
instead embrace your true nature.
Okay, that is a nice tidy model, but how
does it work in day to day life?
Say for example some one has done something
which aggravates you. Perhaps you react by saying, "What a jerk!" Look
objectively at the consequences of this response. It sets you against your neighbor
and harms relationships. It generates self-righteous anger and the suffering inherent
in that state of mind. And frankly, it distorts reality. That person is not "a
jerk." They are a struggling, yearning, loving, suffering being just like
yourself.
With practice, you can learn to observe more closely and notice deeper
truth, "I am really frustrated." This is true, and it does not generate
additional distress.
With yet deeper practice, you can see beyond the ego-centeredness
of even that and note with an element of compassionate interest, "Frustration
is arising." This leads to a very different experience from the practice
of reacting with blame and hostility, building up resentment and hostility.
This
practice does not make everything go your way. It's not a magic way to always
get your preference. What it does, though, is it rearranges the game and gets
you on the same side as reality, instead of against it. Come to think of it, if
you are aligned with and accepting reality, then, I guess you maybe do get your
way.
It could be said that the Buddha was an early humarnst. He was emphatlcally
pragmatic in his approach. People were constantly asking him metaphysical questions
about the nature of God and the heavenly realms. He would say, "Has this
to do with the nature of life's distress and the way to relieve it? If not, I
don't want to talk about it."
People would ask him if he was a god. He'd
say, "I am awake." When referring to himself he wouldn't say I or me.
He'd say "the tathagata" this or that. Now, tathagata is a play on words,
depending on the context it means "thus come" or "thus gone."
So in effect he went around referring to himself as, "This coming or going,
depending on how you look at it."
The Buddha was quite clear that liberation
was something that one could give to another through words or any sort of magic,
but one could, by practicing in the proper way, find for themselves.
Once the
Buddha visited the village of Kesaputta. The people came to him and explained
that a variety of yogis and teachers come through from time to time, each espousing
their own doctrine and condemning the teaching of others. The villagers were in
a constnat state of perplexity over who to believe.
The Buddha replied,
"Yes,
it is proper that you have doubt, that you have perplexity, for a doubt has arisen
in a matter which is doubtful. Do not be led by reports, or tradition, or hearsay.
Be not led by the authority of religious texts, nor by mere logic and inference,
nor by considering appearances, nor by the delight of speculative opinions, nor
by seeming possibilities, nor by the idea: 'this is our teacher.' But when you
know for yourselves that certain things are unwholesome, then give them up. And
when you know for yourselves that certain things are wholesome, then accept them
and follow them."
The Buddha would have liked the first of our Unitarian
Universalist Sources: "Direct experience of that transcending mystery and
wonder, affirmed in all cultures, which moves us to a renewal of the spirit and
an openness to the forces which create and uphold life."
Direct experience
which opens us to the forces creating and upholding life.
First-hand insight
into the interconnected and ever-changing nature of things, and a heart which
embraces reality as-it-is -- that is liberation.
A teacher may offer clues
worth investigating, but it is only through direct experience and the application
of wisdom in one's life that the fearful, prideful, half-living, delusional life
we commonly accept as normal is brought into accord with our true essential nature.
Of
course, people who did not fully realize his teaching were eager to put the Buddha
on a pedestal. But he would have none of it, for such devotion distracted from
the real task at hand, getting free of attachment.
At a gathering of the monks,
the Buddha said, "Well, disciples, I summon you to say whether you have any
fault to find with me, whether in word or in deed."
And one advanced student,
Sariputta, said, "Such faith have I that I think there never was, nor will
be, nor is now any greater or wiser than the Blessed One."
And the Buddha
replied, "Of course, Sariputta, you have known all the Buddhas of the past?"
"No,
sir."
"Well, then, you know those of the future?"
"No,sir."
"Then
at least you know me and have penetrated my mind thoroughly?"
"Not
even that, sir."
"Why, then, Sariputta, are your words so grand and
bold?"
I love the Buddha's down to earth, almost scientific approach to
the essential problem of the human condition. It is certainly not the only helpful
perspective on the subject. One can be a Buddhist and still observe the ways and
practices of other religions, but this wisdom is applicable across all social
and cultural situations.
The contemporary Thai monk Achaan Chah sums it up
with utter simplicity:
"Do everything with a mind that lets go. Do not
expect any praise or reward. If you let go a little, you will have a little peace;
if you let go a lot, you will have a lot of peace. If you let go completely, you
will know complete peace and freedom. Your struggles with the world will have
come to an end."
My friends, may you live with a mind that lets go. And
a heart that 1ets in. May you be free from craving and grasping. Free from aversion
and hostility.
Insisting on what you prefer may be the very thing that separates
you from what you really need.
Come home to your true self. Cultivate a radical
acceptance of the unfolding universe -- your home -- that you may have life, and
have it more abundantly.