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The Wish to Practise a Religious Life ~ Dharmavidya

Commentary upon the Summary of Faith and Practice, part two.

Text: wishing to practise a religious life

A Foundation
The wish to practice a religious life is the foundation of meaning and happiness. Nowadays, many people have no idea about living a religious life and view religion with suspicion. This is basically because religious institutions have, in many cases, been corrupted and this has got religion a bad name. A further cause has been the fact that throughout history there has been an on-going tension between secular and religious power and in modern times the secular state has very much come out on top, so that religion has become a personal matter, often seen as something of an eccentricity. Secular administration is good and necessary, but it can never yield the kind of ultimate satisfaction that the heart longs for. In the modern world, a religious life is certainly the kind of eccentricty that we should adopt.

Beyond Anomie
In parallel with the decline of the religious sense, there has been a general increase in narcissism, with its accompanying discontent, and, most importantly, in anomie. For the narcissist nothing is ever quite good enough and whatever satisfactions there might be pale very quickly. Anomie is the sense that nothing means anything, that there is no fundamental reason to bother about anything. Anomie can easily lead to a broad degeneration in morale. In order to prevent anomie leading to chaos, governments now have to keep the population happy in a secular way by holding up for our imitation a life of self-indulgence and distraction, delivered by big business corporations. All this is, however, circular. More distractions make life even more meaningless and more meaninglessness calls for more distraction.

Ultimacy
Religion cuts through this futility. By a religious life, one means a life directed toward ultimate purpose. Even if one only has a hazy notion of what the ultimate purpose of life is, the sheer fact of trying to turn toward it, even into a thick “cloud of unknowing”, can have a radical effect upon the tenor of one’s existence. Often enough, a religious life is substantially a search: a serious attempt to penetrate the mystery of ultimacy. In fact, a first and vitally important step can be the act of admitting to oneself and huge extent of one's ignorance. Strangely, it is by admitting that we are hopeless cases that new possibilities open up.

The Teleological Eye
In this search, however, we are not completely at a loss. We have some strong intuitions. We realise that what we are looking for has some close connection with beauty, truth and unconditional love. Simply knowing that what we are talking about is an End rather than a means tells us a lot. We could say that a religious life is one lived teleologically: it has in view ultimate ends. We cannot define ultimate beauty, ultimate truth or ultimate love, because ‘define’ means delimit and the ultimate does not have limits. Nonetheless, we can let the intuition of it into our lives and letting it in turns everything upside down.

The Big Picture
All of this naturally means taking a much longer and larger perspective. The self-indulgent approach looks for gain or profit immediately, or in the very near future. The religious person looks for a benefit that exists ultimately. This means that such a person will not “sell their soul” for a short term benefit. They live their life according to what they understand to be of ultimate value. I say, “what they understand to be” because we are in a process of discovery. Our understanding is continually being extended by experience and later may be better than it was in the past.

Faith & Experience
The truly religious person is not the one who clings to an unchangeable dogma, but rather the one who is willing to really experiment with his or her life in such a way that faith evolves on the basis of what is found out through the test of putting life on the line. Faith and experience feed each other. According as we put something to the test, so we come to have more or less faith in it, but we only take on such tests because of the faith that we have in the first place. The truly religious person is, therefore, always finding out more about what is true and beautiful, about love and what lies beyond conditions.

Nirvana
The Buddhist term nirvana refers to what is beyond conditions. In ordinary life we are surrounded by conditions, depend upon conditions and do what we do conditionally. This is inevitable. However, while we are inevitably living in the conditional world, it is possible to have a vision that goes beyond it and to make that the anchorage point of our life. A person who has such a sense of the beyond and takes that as the centre of gravity of their life is a religious person. Such people may have different terminologies, different ways of conceptualising what they are doing, different theories or philosophies, but they have something fundamental in common, and such people, if they are true to the ultimate vision rather than to the words and concepts that it is wrapped up in, can never be fundamentally at odds. Nirvana is, therefore, also peace in this world.

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Affinity with Infinity ~ Dharmavidya

Commentary on the Summary of Faith and Practice, Part One

Text: For those having a karmic affinity with Amitabha Buddha

This is the first phrase of the Summary. It tells us for whom this text is written and to whom it applies. An implication is that this is not for everybody. Not everybody has an affinity with Buddhism and even among Buddhists different people may have affinities for different Buddhas. This is, therefore a message of tolerance and openness. There is no attempt here to say that everyone must be the same.

Affinity
Affinity means a connection or association or friendship that feels natural. Many of us have had the sense, on discovering the Dharma, that we recognise something, almost as if coming home. Karma refers to the effects and consequences of intentional action. So the idea here is that through many lifetimes one has performed intentional acts that have strengthened the connection. So encountering the Buddha is not something entirely new.

Nyorai
Amitabha is a Buddha Tathagata. Tathagata is roughly a synonym of ‘Buddha’ but with somewhat different implication. The word ‘Buddha’ literally means ‘awake’. ‘Tathagata’ - in Japanese, Nyorai - however, implies a saviour - literally, one who comes from suchness. ‘Suchness' or ‘thusness’ - tathata - is a technical term in Buddhism. It refers to the source domain from which Buddhas come. - the Dharmakaya. Loosely we can think of it as the transcendental realm or the absolute. This is really indefinable and indescribable, so the term tathata is a makeshift designation, just saying ‘that’.

Amitabha
There are many Buddha Tathagatas. These are the great archetypes of Buddhahood. Amitabha - Japanese, Amida - is the most popular because he is associated with ‘all acceptance’. Amitabha loves and accepts people just as they are, just so long as they turn toward him and hear his name. In practice, this means that devotees of Amitabha stand in a particular relation of humility and gratitude in relation to Nyorai. Those who have an affinity to Amida are those who recognise their own limitations, vulnerability and foolishness and so feel immense gratitude for the all accepting grace of the Buddha.

The word Amitabha means ‘measureless light’ (Amita, measureless; abha, light). This Buddha is also called Amitayus which means measureless lifespan. These two together imply filling the whole of space and time. The principle that Amitabha represents is infinite. The Dharma is not just one idea, it is truth that permeates the universe. The Way of Amitabha actually underpins all true religion, even if completely different terminologies are used. This, therefore, is a generic spirituality that can appeal to people of many cultures. By putting down arrogance and receiving grace all shall be saved.

Protection
This means that in this style of Buddhism a person is not striving to become Buddha. One might become a Buddha, but if one does it will not be as a result of trying. It does not work that way. This is rather similar to the Biblical principle that the last shall be first and ‘Blessed and the meek’. Thus, in associating with Amitabha there is also a sense of spiritual protection and safety. By admitting one’s weakness one puts oneself in a position of vulnerability where one will be spiritually protected by the Tathagata.

Shravakas
Those who associate themselves with Amitabha by turning toward him and hearing his name are shravakas. This word is often translated ‘disciple’, but the word actually means ‘listener’. Shravakas listen to the name of Amitabha and this gives them joy. This joy is a sign of their natural connection, as when you hear the name of an old friend mentioned. Finding this Dharma we feel a great relief. Up to this point we have been struggling to pull ourselves up by our own bootstraps and becoming exhausted in the process. We have tried to overcome suffering and suffered more in the attempt. We have sought for liberation and become more lost and imprisoned in our own delusions. Now we can put all that burden down. What a relief!

 

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True Religion is Simple Faith ~ Dharmavidya

Continuing the commentary upon Summary of Faith and Practice

TEXT: wishing to practise a religious life in truly simple faith,

Truly Simple Faith

Truly simple faith is a precious jewel that is rarely found. We are talking here abpout a direct trust that has no secondary selfish motive. How unusual this is! Almost always we are caught up in our own desires and ambitions. Yet we can wish for it, we can have a longing for that simplicity that we have somehow lost. Too often Buddhist writings seem to offer some simple way to attain such a state of enlightenment as though once one had grasped this or that idea one would be there, but this is just catering to our spiritual ambition, our spiritual materialism. A person might get involved with a Buddhist sangha because he wants to train to be a Buddhist teacher, rather as one might train to be a school teacher or an architect. Generally such people underestimate the difficulty. However, the real problem is not so much the difficulty of the path or the training, it is that the very ambition to be the one who is going to tell others the truth is it self delusion. It is a desire to be superior when what is really needed is a true humility, a true recognition of one's human state.

Not a Job in the Normal Sense

A true Buddist teacher is not really in the same category as the school teacher, he or she is not a person with a professional job., at least not in the modern usage of these words. There was a time when the term “professional” referred to somebody who professed something and, ideally, professed a simple faith, but in our materialistic age it has come to mean somebody who is paid money for providing a service. Nowadays we have “service industries”. We have not quite got to the stage of having a religious industry, but our modernly educated minds do tend to think in that kind of way. The simple directness that characterises relations of true love only exists, if at all, in the intimacy of the family. Even there, these days, families are all too often really practical arrangements trading services and ruled by thoughts of rights, entitlements and fairness, none of which captures the spirit of love in pure form.

A Non-Buddhist Example

I think of the pedagogue Janusz Korczak who lived in Poland from his birth in 1878 until he died in a Nazi extermination camp is 1942. Korczak worked as a doctor and then as an author and child educator. He started an orphanage for Jewish children in Warsaw that was run on progressive lines, being a kind of mini children's republic. His life achievements were substantial and he was well known for them, but what stands out is the manner of his death. In August 1942 the Germans came and took all the children to be murdered in Treblinka. Korczak was at least twice offered sanctuary but refused to leave the children. The almost 200 children went to their deaths with much less fear and panic as a result of his calm presence among them. The saving of one's own life was not his priority. Although Korczak was not a religious man in the conventional sense, he was a person of simple faith in the sense that matters.

A Simple Bow, A Single Candle

The truly religious life may or might not be one of performing rituals, but it is one of simple faith that values wisdom and compassion above personal selfish ends. In my life I have met many people who know a great deal about religion and religious traditions. Some Buddhists are extremely erudite. I have become quite learned in this sense myself as a result of a passionate interest in the subject coupled with a love of study. Nonetheless, some of the people who have impressed me most have been simple devotees in countries I have visited who probably know very little of the theory, but whose innoicent simplicity is apparent in the way they offer a vase of flowers or make a bow before the altar. Our rituals can sometimes be elaborate and complex and there is something very beautiful about such correography and a group of people harmonising smoothly together. At the same time, the offering of a single candle is enough. Each moment of purity of heart is like a single flame, an instance of the universal light.

Unimpeded Light

To return to the simple heart of the matter can seem impossibly difficult when one is caught up in all the complexities of modern life. People turn to Buddhism for a bit of peace, and with some justification. However, simple faith does not necessarily mean doing little, nor forgetting the past and taking no heed for the morrow. Periods of solitude and retreat can be wonderful, but true faith renetrates and pervades and is not obstructed by circumstance. Even on a Nazi prison train on the way to the gas chamber it is available. This is the nature of what Buddhists call liberation. It is a light that is unimpeded by worldly concerns. We remember the warrior and the prostitute who came to see Honen near to the end of his life. "Are we not heading for hell?" they asked him. He told them that if they had the means to change their way of life, then of course it was good to follow more moral occupations, but even if they could not (and in medieval Japan people had little choice) it was no obstance to reciting the nembutsu with a pure heart and trusting in the grace of the World Transcending One. Simple faith may be rare in one sense, but it is universal in another: nothing can stand in its way.

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Slaves to Appearance ~ Dharmavidya

Continuing the commentary on the Summary of Faith and Practice - we are working backwards toward the beginning at the moment...

TEXT: freeing themselves of sophistication and attachment to all forms of cleverness,

COMMENTARY

Sophistication

The term sophistication has a number of related meanings, most of them pejorative. The history of the word lies in the classical world of Greece and Rome. Originally a sophist was a person skilled in worldly knowledge, and from this it became a person who sold such knowledge, and such people came to be known as ones who often used false or overly clever arguments to make something seem true when in fact it was not. Thus the term came to mean posing as overly clever. There is also a positive use of the term, as when one might say that Einstein's theory was more sophisticated than that of Newton, where one simply means that it took into account more subtle information. The reference here in the Summary is to becoming caught up in ideas and arguments that sound impressive but are more or less void of meaning. Buddhism has a lot of philosophy and over the course of Buddhist history there have been many different schools of philosophical Buddhism.

Theories

Reading Buddhist works it is relatively easy to start to think that what is required is to find and fully understand the right theory about Buddha nature or voidness or causality or something of this kind. For instance, there was at one stage an extended debate over the question of what we might call the atoms of time – what is the smallest conceivable duration? Is life made up of such particles of time? This was related to the idea of a “thought-moment” and related to theories about what happens in meditation and in daily life and how each thought-moment is related to the next. Is enlightenment a matter of one perfect thought-moment? If you are enlightened in one thought-moment, are you then necessarily enlightened in the next? … and so on. This also had relevance to theories of rebirth, either from life to life or from thought-moment to thought-moment, and are those the same thing or different? Then there was a big controversy over whether the past, present and future all exist, or only the present exists, or none of them exist, and so on. This debate goes on to this day. Check out a mindfulness programme and you will probably read somewhere on an early page the assertion that only the present moment exists. However, the All-exist School (Sarvastivada) was for a long time the dominant Buddhist form and although the school itself no longer exists (unless it was right, in which case, having once existed, it does still exist) Sarvastivadan thought still exercises some influence. All the Mahayana schools of Buddhism have Sarvastivada masters from that time in their lineages and the thought of, for instance, Zen Master Dogen shows distinct traces of Sarvastivada thought. Contemporary Buddhism is much pre-occupied with ideas about (a) non-duality and (b) inter-dependence, and to read many contemporary Buddhist writings one would soon get the idea that so long as you hold the right idea on these matters you are a true Buddhist and if not, not. Unfortunately, I myself count as a heretic on this criterion.

Receiving the Seed of Buddhahood ~ Dharmavidya

Summary of Faith & Practice Commentary

TEXT: the method of opening oneself to Amitabha's grace

COMMENTARY:

The Buddha has vowed to receive whoever turns to him in faith and calls his name. There are many ways of calling the name. Literally, we can say, “Amitabha” or “Namo Amida Bu” or some equivalent, or say a short prayer, such as the “Kimyo jinjipo mugeko Nyorai” (In the Tathagata of unimpeded light throughout the ten directions, I take refuge). These are all ways of taking refuge - entrusting oneself to a greater power.

Often, taking refuge, therefore, begins with realising one's own inadequacy. The first step, therefore, is commonly that of realising one's bombu condition. To call on the Buddha is to call upon Other Power and one does not do so if one's dependence upon self power remains intact. Only when we reach the point of a genuine “I can't” do we turn elsewhere for help.

Another way of approaching the subject is through the notion of offerings. In a number of scriptures it says that the way that people become Buddhas is via making offerings to innumerable Buddhas and in the Pure Land Sutras it says that what those who dwell in the Pure Land spend much of their time doing is making offerings to other Buddhas. This gives a wonderful basis for ecumenism within Pureland. Now we can see that entrusting oneself to the Buddha is an offering. When we say Namo Amida Bu we are saying thank you to the Buddha for the benefit he gives freely to us, and we are also giving ourselves over to him. One offers oneself. In this way, "Namo Amida Bu" means "I give you my life". It is clear enough from considering this that nothing else is necessary.

We have two primary auxiliary practices: nei quan and chih quan. In nei quan one looks inward and sees into one's dependent, fallible nature. This is insight meditation. It amounts to an investigation of “Namo...” It dwells on the question “Who/what is it that is calling out to Buddha?” Then in chih quan we offer all this to the Buddha who receives it with his universal smile and happy heart. We feel that he will know what to do with all our passion. This is offering. In return, we feel the peace of Buddha descend upon us, penetrating and permeating our body and mind. This peace is profound. Chih quan is, thus, “tranquil abiding”. However, in our practice, tranquil abiding is not a preparatory meditation, it is the grace of Buddha descending upon us. In this way we feel “...Amida Bu” enter into us, as the tathagatagarbha, the seed that will one day mature as Buddha. This seed is planted in us. Through these two auxiliary practices we have experience of our bombu state, entrusting ourselves, and receiving the peace of the Tathagata.

When people talk about “method” they tend to be thinking about a formula or protocol that can be consciously practised and applied in order to get a result. However, there it is no good just going through the motions if there is no genuine experience. The auxiliary practices do not coerce the Buddha into granting us something, they merely give us conviction by showing us experientially how Other Power works, but it does not work as a result of our action – it is working anyway. Just insofar as we have conviction we are less inclined to resist. The auxiliary practices are not actually necessary. All that is necessary is to turn one's heart toward the Buddha in faith and gratitude. All the rest is already completely assured. If one truly declares the nembutsu, nei quan and chih quan are implicit.

The principle of tathagatagarbha is based on the image of pregnancy. Once the seed is implanted, it will grow. It goes on growing whether the mother-to-be is thinking about it or not. In the same way, the seed of Buddhahood grows within whether we have conscious awareness or not. When we declare our love to the Buddha by calling out Namo Amida Bu, he comes and cherishes us and puts his seed in us. This seed will come to fruition far into the future. In the meantime it grows naturally. However, just as the father protects the mother during the time of pregnancy, so the Buddha protects us from spiritual harm as long as we carry his grace within us.

When we are married to the Buddha in this way it is natural that he welcome us home into his Pure Land when the time comes.

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Dwelling In This Settled Faith ~ Dharmavidya

Continuing commentary upon Summary of Faith and Practice

TEXT: Dwelling in this settled faith

COMMENTARY

Settled faith is anshin. An-shin literally means "the heart-mind at peace". We can speak of different modes or dimensions of faith and anshin is one of them. Thus we can distinguish between anshin, shinjin, bodaishin and abhilasa. The first three terms are Japanese and the last Sanskrit.

Shinjin means the kind of faith that suddenly dawns upon one. It is the experience of awakening or conversion. It may have the form of satori, or, in more traditionally Pureland terms, it is the experience of being "seized by Amida, never to be abandoned." It is the dawning of certainty and confidence. It is the time of turning. The Pureland scriptures say that one has only to turn one's heart toward Amida in order to be filled with grace and assurance. This, therefore, is a kind of ecstasy or catharsis.

Such heightened experiences are indelible, but do not continue on such a high pitch. They mellow and settle. Where, in shinjin, Amida may fill one's consciousness, in anshin, that faith has settled into the background of one's being. One does not think about it all the time, but it resurfaces frequently enough. In fact, every little act of life is somehow touched by it, as though the quality of the light in which one sees things has subtly altered. Life has a glow that was not there before.

When such settled faith is established it particularly manifests in two ways. The first of these is abhilasa, which is willingness. This position is sometimes likened to the good inn-keeper by the roadside. Travellers come along and one caters for them all. Some are rich, some are poor, some are good natured, some are surly, some are excellent guests while others make a mess or create trouble. Nonetheless, the good inn keeper welcomes them all, refreshes and rests them and then sees them on their way. This is a condition of non-possessive goodwill, wishing only that others thrive in their own way and succeed in their journey, along their particular path.

The second is bodaishin or bodhichitta. This is the "way seeking mind". It is also the path of self-abandonment in the service of all sentient beings. It is the mind of the bodhisattva. Here faith takes the form of spiritual altruism. Where abhilasa receives whatever comes, bodhichitta goes forth seeking ways to be of service. This is the path of the spiritual knight errant riding out from Shambhala, seeking the grail and rescuing all those in distress whom he meets along the way. In a sense, abhilasa and bodhichitta are two sides of the same coin.

We can see that settled faith is the enduring foundation. It is the maturing of shinjin into something solid and reliable, an inextinguishable flame. From that light the motivations of bodhichitta and abhilasa arise naturally. If one has the inner peace that comes from a settled faith, then there is no inner obstacle to one's going forth and whatever comes to you will inevitably be experienced simply as another step on the path. This is the epic of Buddhism, the flowing forth of the heart of the tathagata in its quest to save all sentient beings.

This is operationalised in the teachings of Honen in the act of senchaku. When one makes a decisive choice to enter into the refuge offered by the Buddhas and cries out "Namo Amida Bu", this is not a narrowing, but an opening up. All practices, all circumstances, and all conditions are suddenly transformed into the path of enlightenment. Fundamentally this is no different to the path of tantra or the path of zen – it is sudden awakening to the great liberation. This does not depend upon a particular practice. It is not a technical achievement. It is a turning.

When we are uncertain about something we feel anxiety. When the matter is settled that anxiety drops away. This can be happening at many levels. One can be anxious about whether there is sugar for the tea, or one can be anxious about whether the enemy are going to invade. There are many levels and degrees. The most profound level is spiritual. The person who is settled at the spiritual level will still experience all the lesser anxieties, but they will not go so deep, because below them is established the bedrock of anshin. With that basis one is “irreversible”. Spiritual progress is then inevitable. It may take a long time, but one's ocean of greed, hate and delusion has a limit, a bottom. That bottom is Amida.

This is like the little poem by Saichi...

The ocean is full of water

It has the seabed to support it

Old Saichi is full of blind passion

It has Amida to support it

Such is settled faith.

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Nien Fo ~ Dharmavidya

Commentary on the Summary of Faith & Practice (part 5)

TEXT (is) the practice of Nien Fo

COMMENTARY

Nien means mindfulness. It also means an impulse of mind. The Japanese form is “nen” which becomes “nem-” in terms like nembutsu. Fo means Buddha. Thus Nien Fo is the Chinese equivalent to nembutsu in Japanese. The characters are the same. So nien fo is mindfulness of Buddha or the Buddha impulse in the brain. Every moment of mental connection with Buddha is nien fo. This, therefore, is the most fundamental and irreducible atom of Buddhism, or, we can say, of refuge.

Nien Fo is, therefore, the gateway to all possible dimensions of Buddhist practice and it is enough in itself. All other forms of practice are extensions, elaborations, supports to or derivatives from nien fo. If the practice is not mentally connected with Buddha then it is not Buddhist practice and if one is so connected then the practice, whatever it might be, is an extra flourish, a decoration of the fundamental gateway which is nien fo. So, on the one hand, we can say that all Buddhist practices are simply different ways of operationalising nien fo; and, on the other hand, when nien fo is established, nothing more is actually necessary.

Thus Honen Shonin talked of the importance of senshaku – a selection. When we choose nien fo we establish ourselves in the light of the Buddhas, we open ourselves to them and their Dharma. If we have made such a choice truly and profoundly then everything we do will become Buddhist practice.

Traditionally, the method of establishing Buddha in one's mind in this way was by meditation. However, all “methods” have pitfalls. The pitfall of meditation is the danger of falling into self-power. One may readily start to think of meditation in much the same way as one might think of going to the gym – as a way of enhancing one's own power and ability. Rather than opening one to the power of the Buddhas, one starts to see it as a self-training for purposes of self-enhancement. This does not have to be so, but it is a common mistake.

In a valid sense there is no method for establishing one's connection with Buddha, any more than there can be a method for falling in love. Of course, one can do some things. If one wants to fall in love then it is no good hiding oneself away. If one wants to connect with Buddha one has to make oneself available. If we put ourselves in the places and amongst the people where the influence of Buddha is strong, then we are much more likely to find this refuge.

Then there is great power in the Name. When we say a name, we bring the object to mind. When we do so often, it starts to live within us. When everything we do is associated with that name, then that influence is never far away and begins to saturate our being.

Saying the name can carry a million different emotions. Sometimes one feels great gratitude that one's karmic continuum has somehow become manifest in a world where Buddhas are, have taught and have brought the Dharma into the world, where it is possible to make offerings and even to offer one's life in one way or another. Sometimes one feels hope and longing, begging the Buddhas to remain in the world teaching the Dharma. Sometimes one feels awe and amazement that there are kalyana mitras – spiritual friends – able to reflect that Dharma and help beings along the path. Sometimes one is lost in one's own worries and troubles, yet through the nembutsu one finds a calmer place.

The practice of nien fo can be associated with a visualisation of Amitabha or of the great bodhisattvas or the Pure Land of Sukhavati, yet this is not essential. It may be practised sitting in the lotus position or during mindful walking or in some other yogic procedure – all of these are good, but, again, not essential. The Buddha gave us any number of practices. The practice with nien fo is powerful. The practice without nien fo is an empty shell.

Perhaps the most valuable practice is making offerings. If our offering expresses nien fo, then it is a true offering and the physical act of making the offering, of generosity, of letting go, or expressing love for the Buddhas... these all enhance the nien fo impulse and help to make it real. In some approaches to Buddhism, making offerings is seen as only a preliminary practice, but when we read the great scriptures we read time and again that this or that bodhisattva became a Buddha because of making offerings to myriads of Buddhas. Nien fo is itself the ultimate offering and it makes all offerings deeply meaningful and loving.

I, an ordinary, foolish being, call with all my heart, upon the Buddha Tathagata. I offer my life. I open myself to your grace. Namo Amida Bu. Namo Amida Bu. Namo Amida Bu. That's all.

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Complete Assurance ~ Dharmavidya

TEXT: Amida will receive you and you may fear for nothing since all is completely assured

Continuing the commentary upon Summary of Faith and Practice

To be received and accepted as one is is the greatest wonder. To live in fear of rejection, although it inevitably includes a large element of fantasy, can be crippling psychologically. To be in a relationship in which one builds up hopes that “this time all will be well,” only to experience more rejection in the event, can be extremely wounding. Yet, all of these wounds are actually make-believe - just the shadow side of our own investments of hope and longing, our taking refuge in what is incapable of fulfilling such hope. We convince ourselves that we cannot live without the love of this or that person, this or that possession, this or that status in the eyes of the world, but this is not really true. One’s physical lifespan may be ended by a bomb or by starvation or a disease, but one’s love is not ended thereby. There is a “love that transcends understanding” that is a true refuge and is embodied in the Buddhas. That higher love - true love - knows no rejection.

Strangely, it is only the simple mind that knows this. The clever mind has a million complex doubts and calculations, but the simple reality of life is not encompassed by them. This is why the modern attitude often fails to yield real compassion, love, sympathy or peace, for all its sophistication. My teacher produced a book of Zen teachings. Her own teacher wanted the book to be called “Zen is Eternal Life”. My teacher realised that with that title nobody in the West would be interested. When the book first came out the publisher entitled it “Selling Water by the River” - a much more catchy title for the modern audience. For later editions, however, the other title was used - but only the aficionados buy Zen is Eternal Life even though the contents of the book remain the same. The modern person does not want eternal life. Only mundane things are permitted now. Hearts are no longer to be allowed to soar in religious ecstasy.

In the ordinary, mundane world, which is the only world that the modernly educated person is allowed to dwell in, one never actually encounters such complete acceptance. Yet the intuition of it lives in our hearts. Therefore, we look for it. We look for it in our loved ones and this is dangerous because when they turn out to be human we then criticise them for not being so perfect as to satisfy the intuition of unconditional love and acceptance that lives within us, like a memory of another world that we are not allowed to remember.

Pureland, however, is an ecstatic religion. It centres upon the anamnesis of that other world, the world before birth, whence children come “trailing clouds of glory”. And when we meet evidence that hints at that glory, the effect upon us is profound, and this is what the practitioner finds in his or her encounter with Amitabha. Here and there, in life, ordinary circumstance comes close to it - the gratuitous act of generosity, such as the one that triggered the enlightenment of Shakyamuni Buddha. When we encounter something like that it can be as if we fall through an invisible wall that has bounded our life. At such a moment we discover that that wall is illusory, that from the prison we have built for ourselves it is actually possible to walk out through the walls, for they are only stuff of our own imaginary making.

Psychotherapy depends upon this effect. Although the therapist is not a Buddha, she can occupy some approximation to that part for the limited time of a session, accepting the client to a degree that they rarely if ever encounter elsewhere. This has an opening effect upon the soul and energies pour out that otherwise remain trapped in the treacle of fear and doubt. Spiritual guidance is the same. The kalyana mitra transmits the knowledge of this love and is able to do so not through his or her own power, but because the grace of Amitabha flows through them. The disciple may then sense the boundlessness intuitively. Although the kalyana mitra may appear to be an ordinary person, she or he reflects the light of Amitabha simply by not posing. When we have simple faith, it is like taking off our fancy disguise; then, this unconditional love comes to meet us and enshrouds us, hiding our nakedness. Then we know that all is completely assured. That even if we fall into the fire at the end of the kalpa, that transcending love cannot be destroyed.

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Body, Speech and Mind ~ Dharmavidya

Commentary upon Summary of Faith and Practice (part 6)

TEXT
with body, speech and mind

COMMENTARY
This phrase occurs a great many times in Buddhist texts. Clearly it means “in all ways”. “Body” refers to behaviour. The body exists in the material world and moves about doing things. It is with the body that we enact the Dharma. “Speech”, here, includes thought: all conceptual activity. When we do things we hold a conception of what we are doing and why. We have a sense of the context that makes our action make sense. “Mind”, here, is, perhaps, a somewhat unfortunate rendering of the Indian word chitta. “Heart”, “soul” or “spirit” might all have been better, but the rendering “body, speech and mind” has become so universal that I think we have to live with it. So, although we say “body, speech and mind”, “spirit, sense and action” might better convey the meaning of the original expression as Buddha spoke it.

Everything we do is done in a certain spirit, makes sense in a particular way and manifests in some form of action. If we wish to understand another person it is not sufficient to observe his or her actions. We need to know what the sense of those actions is and in what spirit they are performed, otherwise we can easily misunderstand.

There is a story about a Buddhist temple in China where deer would come onto the land and the monks, feeling kindly disposed to the deer, would feed them. When the abbot heard about this he came out, forbade the feeding of deer and attacked the animals with his staff. The animals became frightened and ran away. The disciples were perplexed. “Aren’t we supposed to be kind and compassionate? What sort of an example are you - coming out and attacking defenceless animals?” The abbot said, “There are hunters in these mountains. The only defence these animals have is their fear. As long as they run away as soon as they see a human, they have a good chance of survival. If you take that away from them by taming them, they will soon all be caught and killed.”

What looks like compassion is not always the best kind. Action, concept and spirit must harmonise. Intelligence is needed. The “speech” element is an important link between spirit and action. There is always a danger that one take religious precepts in an overly simplistic manner and this then leads to pretense rather than the genuine thing.

The things we do have consequences. We can make this world better or worse; we can act in ways that are constructive or destructive, but many acts are both constructive and destructive at the same time, so this is not a simple matter. At the moment I am laying a path in the garden. To construct the path I have to dig up some of the lawn. One thing is constructed as another is destroyed. I judge that the overall effect will be an improvement, but there is no way to live that is completely free from the destructive side of all creative activity.

Furthermore, this all forms into a feedback loop. As we act we see what we have done and the sense of it transmutes. We are not omniscient, so we never see the whole project all at once. Only as it becomes reality do we see what we have done more fully and as we do so we are learning, changing and growing.

Buddhist training is a cultivation of body, speech and mind - of spirit, sense and action - and it never stops, never ends. It is not a matter of arrival, it is a matter of endless travel. At the beginning of our journey in Buddhism we take refuge, but do we know what refuge means - do we understand the sense of it, the real spirit of it, the enacting of it? Only vaguely. As we go on we are finding out. Amitabha may be at our elbow from the very beginning, but we do not know it. I do not mean “know” just in an intellectual sense - I mean in the sense that a person who walks a path every day knows that path. Yet even the person who walks the same path every day may still notice new things along the way.

“With body, speech and mind” designates the spirit of Buddhism: the self-entrustment to a wholehearted engagement with the practice, open to everything it brings.

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Shan Tao's Dream ~ Dharmavidya

Summary of Faith and Practice commentary, continued:

TEXT:

Saving grace, as was made clear by Shan Tao's dream and advice to Tao Cho, only comes through the sange-mon.

COMMENTARY:

Sange means confession or contrition. The sange mon is, literally, the “gate of contrition”. 

According to the story, toward the end of his life, Tao Cho was worried about his own karma. The thing that worried him was that during his time as a great teacher he had caused quite a number of monasteries and Buddhist centres to be built and in the course of building it is almost invariably and unavoidably the case that many small creatures get killed and their habitat destroyed. Tao Cho was worried that all this destruction would have created bad karma for him. After he had talked about this, sharing his concern, his disciple Shan Tao had a dream. In the dream Shan Tao saw that Tao Cho had to make a confession to the community. Shan Tao told Tao Cho about the dream. Tao Cho did as the dream instructed and soon afterwards Tao Cho died peacefully.

Tao Cho was able to receive the saving grace of Amida because he had opened his heart.

It is good to reflect upon the degree of sensitivity here. Where I live I am continually engaged in gardening and in building work. Inevitably worms and insects and occasionally larger creatures get damaged or die as a result of my actions. What about in the building of motorways or cities? The “modern” utilitarian way of thinking is insensitive to all this destruction of life. 

We see here the functioning of the master-disciple relationship in an interesting light. In this instance it is the master who receives advice via the dream of the disciple. Here again there is a great sensitivity at work. Because of the deep love between them, this is possible. Here there is no competition in cleverness or achievement, only two humble souls in deep communion.

When such fine sensitivity exists, then there is saving grace. By sensitivity, here, I do not mean pursuing principles to an extreme. What I am trying to find words for is a kind of tenderness in which the glory and tragedy of human existence - the fact that you cannot build even a temple without crushing beetles - yields a poignancy to all our being, both in ourselves and in relation to one another. This is why we take refuge.

Such tenderness existed between Tao Cho and his disciple and it is that spirit that is still being transmitted to us more than a millennia later.

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