Is it possible to live with
dignity in today's world, and if so, how can this be done? To raise such a
question may sound strange in an age like our own, when our frantic struggle to
make ends meet hardly allows us the leisure to ponder such abstract matters.
But if we do pause long enough to give this question a little thought, we would
realize soon enough that it is not merely the idle musing of someone with too
much time on his hands. The question touches on the very meaning of our lives,
and goes even beyond our personal quest for meaning to the very springs of
contemporary culture. For if it isn't possible to live with dignity then life
has no transcendent purpose, and our only aim in the brief time allotted to us
should be to snatch whatever thrills we can before the lights go off for good.
But if we can find a basis for living with dignity, then we need to consider
whether we are actually living as we should and whether our culture as a whole
supports a dignified lifestyle.
Though the idea of dignity
seems simple enough at first sight, it is actually more complex than one might
suppose. My Webster's Collegiate Dictionary (1936!) defines it as
ßelevation of character, intrinsic worth, excellence,
nobleness of manner, aspect, or style.û My Roget's Thesaurus (1977) groups it with
ßprestige, esteem, repute, honor, glory, renown, fameû Ð evidence that over the last forty years the word's epicentre of meaning has undergone a shift. When we inquire
about living with dignity, our focus should be on the word's older nuance. What
I have in mind is living with the conviction that one's life has intrinsic worth, that we possess a potential for moral excellence that
resonates with the hymn of the galaxies.
The conscious pursuit of
dignity does not enjoy much popularity these days, having been crowded out by
such stiff competitors as wealth and power, success and fame. Behind this
devaluation of dignity lies a series of developments in Western thought that
emerged in reaction to the dogmatic certainties of Christian theology. The
Darwinian theory of evolution, Freud's thesis of the Id, economic determinism,
the computer model of the mind: all these trends, arisen more or less
independently, have worked together to undermine the notion that our lives have
inherent worth. When so many self-assured voices speak to the contrary, no
longer can we view ourselves as the crowning glory of creation. Instead we have
become convinced we are nothing but packets of protoplasm governed by selfish
genes, clever monkeys with college degrees and business cards plying across
highways rather than trees.
Such ideas, in however
distorted a form, have seeped down from the halls of academia into popular
culture, eroding our sense of human dignity on many fronts. The free-market
economy, the task master of the modern social order, leads the way. For this
system the primary form of human interaction is the contract and the sale, with
people themselves reckoned simply as producers and consumers, sometimes even as
commodities. In vast impersonal democracies the individual becomes a mere face
in the crowd, to be manipulated by slogans, images, and promises into voting
for this candidate or that. Cities have expanded into sprawling urban jungles,
dirty and dangerous, whose dazed occupants seek to escape the pangs of wounded
pride with the help of drugs and loveless sex. Escalation in crime, political
corruption, upheavals in family life, the despoliation of the environment:
these all speak to us as much of a deterioration in
how we regard ourselves as in how we relate to others.
Amidst this wreckage, can the
Dhamma help us recover our lost sense of dignity and thereby give new meaning
to our lives? The answer to this question is yes, and in two ways: first, by
justifying our claim to innate dignity, and second, by showing us what we must
do to actualize our potential dignity.
For Buddhism the innate
dignity of human beings does not stem from our relationship to an all-mighty
God or our endowment with an immortal soul. It stems, rather, from the exalted
place of human life in the broad expanse of sentient existence. Far from
reducing human beings to children of chance, the Buddha teaches that the human
realm is a special realm standing squarely at the spiritual centre of the
cosmos. What makes human life so special is that human beings have a capacity
for moral choice that is not shared by other types of beings. Though this
capacity is inevitably subject to limiting conditions, we always possess, in
the immediate present, a margin of inner freedom that allows us to change
ourselves and thereby to change the world.
But life in the human realm
is far from cozy. It is, rather, inconceivably difficult and complex, rife with
conflicts and moral ambiguities offering enormous potential for both good and
evil. This moral complexity can make of human life a painful struggle indeed,
but it also renders the human realm the most fertile ground for sowing the
seeds of enlightenment. It is at this tauntingly ambiguous crossroads that we
can either rise to the heights of spiritual greatness or fall to degrading
depths. The two alternatives branch out from each present moment, and which one
we take depends on ourselves.
While this unique capacity
for moral choice and spiritual awakening confers intrinsic dignity on human
life, the Buddha does not emphasize this so much as he does our ability to
acquire active dignity. This ability is summed up by a word that lends its flavour to the entire teaching, ariya
or noble. The Buddha's teaching is the ariyadhamma,
the noble doctrine, and its purpose is to change human beings from
ßignorant worldlingsû into noble
disciples resplendent with noble wisdom. The change does not come about through
mere faith and devotion but by treading the Buddhist path, which transmutes our
frailties into invincible strengths and our ignorance into knowledge.
The notion of acquired
dignity is closely connected with the idea of autonomy. Autonomy means
self-control and self-mastery, freedom from the sway of passion and prejudice,
the ability to actively determine oneself. To live with dignity means to be
one's own master: to conduct one's affairs on the basis of one's own free
choices instead of being pushed around by forces beyond one's control. The
autonomous individual draws his or her strength from within, free from the
dictates of craving and bias, guided by an inward perception of righteousness
and truth.
The person who represents the
climax of dignity for Buddhism is the arahant, the liberated one, who has
reached the pinnacle of spiritual autonomy: release from the dictates of greed,
hatred, and delusion. The very word arahant suggests this sense of dignity: the
word means
ßworthy one,û one who
deserves the offerings of gods and humans. Although in our present condition we
might still be far from the stature of an arahant, this does not mean we are
utterly lost, for the means of reaching the highest goal is already within our
reach. The means is the Noble Eightfold Path with its twin pillars of right
view and right conduct. Right view is the first factor of the path and the
guide for all the others. To live with right view is to see that our decisions
count, that our volitional actions have consequences that extend beyond
themselves and conduce to our long-term happiness or suffering. The active
counterpart of right view is right conduct, action guided by the ideal of moral
and spiritual excellence. Right conduct in body, speech, and mind brings to fulfilment the other seven factors of the eightfold path,
culminating in true knowledge and deliverance.
In today's hectic world
humankind is veering recklessly in two harmful directions. One is the path of
violent struggle and confrontation, the other that of frivolous
self-indulgence. Beneath their apparent contrasts, what unites these two
vicious extremes is a shared disregard for human dignity: the former violates
the dignity of other people, the latter undermines
one's own dignity. The Buddha's Noble Eightfold Path is a middle way that
avoids all harmful extremes. To follow this path not only brings a quiet
dignity into one's own life but also sounds an eloquent rejoinder to the
cynicism and hollow pretensions of our age.
Bhikkhu Bodhi
Free Dhamma Book
Pa~nipadà: The Mode of Practice of the Venerable Acharn Mun. Acharn
Maha Boowa ¥àõasampanno. This inspiring book, translated from the Thai,
is a rich account of the meditative practices and teachings of the Thai
forest master Venerable Acharn Mun and his disciples. Acharn Mun was the
meditation teacher most responsible for the revival of the forest ascetic
tradition in Thai Buddhism in the first half of this century. This book of 450
pages with color photographs will be sent free of charge upon request, an offer
made possible through the generosity of the publishers. You need only send
stamps to the value of Rs.?? to
cover postage costs. This offer is valid only within
BPS
Distributors. We are pleased to announce the appointment of two new distributors of
our publications in the West. In
In
Memoriam. We
regretfully announce the death on 2nd November 1997 of Ven. Ayya Khema, the
German-born Buddhist nun who was so well known around the world for her direct
and lively style of Dhamma teaching. During the 1980s Ayya Khema had made
Buddhism Without Beliefs: A
Contemporary Guide to Awakening.
Stephen Batchelor.
It has often been said that
Western Buddhism is distinguished from its Asian prototype by three innovative
shifts: the replacement of the monastery by the lay community as the principal
arena of Buddhist practice; the enhanced position of women; and the emergence
of a grass-roots
ßengaged Buddhismû aimed at social and political transformation. These
three developments, however, have been encompassed by a fourth which is so much
taken for granted that it is barely noticed. This fourth development might be
briefly described as the transplantation of Buddhist practice from its native
soil of faith and doctrine into a new setting governed by largely secular
concerns. Stephen Batchelor's Buddhism Without Beliefs
is an eloquent and provocative attempt to articulate the premises of this
emerging form of Buddhism and to define its style of practice. Batchelor is a gifted
writer with a talent for translating abstract explanation into concrete imagery
drawn from everyday life. His book is obviously the product of serious
reflection and testifies to a deep urge to make the Dhamma viable in our
present sceptical age. Whether his vision is adequate
to that aim is a tantalizing question which I hope to touch on in the course of
this review.
The book is divided into
three parts, each with several short sections. In the first part, entitled
ßGround,û Batchelor sketches the theoretical
framework of his
ßBuddhism without beliefs.û He begins by drawing a sharp distinction between two
entities so closely intertwined as to seem inseparable, but which, he holds,
must be severed for the Dhamma to discover its contemporary relevance. One is
ßdharma practice,û the
Buddha's teaching as a path of training aimed at awakening and freedom from
ßexistential anguishû (his rendering of dukkha); the
other is
ßBuddhism,û which he views as a system of beliefs and observances
geared towards social stability and religious consolation. According to
Batchelor, if the Dhamma is to offer an effective alternative to mainstream
thought and values, it has to be divested of its religious apparel and recast
in a purely secular mode. What then emerges is an
ßagnosticû version of the Dhamma aimed
at personal and social liberation from the suffering created by egocentric
clinging.
The most controversial plank
of Batchelor's agnostic Buddhism is his claim that the ideas of rebirth and
kamma have no privileged place in the Dhamma. They are, he contends, merely
part of the ancient cultural baggage that the Buddha inherited from his Indian
background and need to be stripped away to reveal the Dhamma as
ßan existential, therapeutic, and liberating agnosticismû (p.15). For those of us who take a more traditional
approach to the Dhamma, the twin teachings of rebirth and kamma are the girders
that support the Buddha's whole program of deliverance. Within the framework of
the teaching they do not function as articles of belief commanding intellectual
consent, but as guideposts to right understanding that at once make known the
condition from which we need liberation (i.e. the round of re-becoming) and the
prospect of gradual progress towards the goal (i.e. through cumulative striving
over many lives).
The sharp dichotomy that
Batchelor posits between
ßdharma practiceû and
ßreligious Buddhismû is also hard to endorse. In its place we should
recognize, rather, a spectrum of Buddhist practices ranging from simple
devotional and ethical observances to more advanced contemplative and
philosophical ones. What makes these all specifically part of the Buddhist
Dhamma is that they are enfolded in a distinctive matrix of faith and
understanding which disappears when
ßdharma practiceû is pursued on the basis of
purely secular premises. Even Batchelor's contention that Buddhist religiosity
is defined by a set of beliefs seems to derive its plausibility from viewing
Buddhism in terms of a Christian model. As taught by the Buddha, the Dhamma
makes no demands for blind faith, for the invitation to
question and investigate is always open. In the Buddha's version of the
path, one begins with certain beliefs that one uses as guidelines to right
understanding and right practice. Then, when one's practice matures, one goes
beyond belief to personal realization based on insight. Once one arrives at the
far shore one can leave behind the entire raft (see MN 22), but one
doesn't discard the compass before one has even stepped on board.
The middle portion of the
book is called
ßPathû and provides a sketch of Batchelor's agnostic
conception of dharma practice. His explanations here are clear and lively,
allowing him to display the creative side of his literary gifts. Separate
sections deal with mindful awareness, insight into
emptiness, and the development of compassion, each introduced by a simple
example. He also includes a section on the twelve links of dependent
origination, which he interprets in an original way.
In the final part,
ßFruition,û Batchelor tackles the problem of the
encounter between Buddhism and the contemporary world. He here argues that the
meeting of Buddhism with the contemporary West has given rise to the need to
create, from the resources of the dharma, a new
ßculture of awakening that addresses the specific anguish of the
contemporary worldû (p.110). Such a culture must
respond to the unprecedented situation we find today, when the promise of
spiritual liberation has converged with a universal striving for personal and
social freedom. In attempting to create such a culture of awakening, he
stresses the need for dharma followers to preserve the integrity of the
Buddhist tradition while at the same time fulfilling their responsibility to
the present and the future. With this much I am in full agreement. Where I
differ with him is on the question of what is central to the Dhamma and what
peripheral. In my view, Batchelor is ready to cast away too much that is
integral to the Buddha's teaching in order to make it fit in with today's secular
climate of thought, and I'm afraid that the ultimate outcome of such
concessions could be a psychologically oriented humanism tinged with Buddhist
philosophy and a meditative mood.
[I would also maintain that
when the secular presuppositions of modernity clash with the basic principles
of right understanding stressed by the Buddha, there is no question as to which
of the two must go. Sam1sàra as the beginningless round of rebirths, kamma as
its regulative law, Nibbàna as a transcendent goal: surely these ideas won't
get a rousing welcome from skeptical minds. A sense of refuge, renunciation,
compassion based on the perception of universal suffering, a striving to break
all mental bonds and fetters: surely these values are difficult in an age of easy
pleasure. But these are all so fundamental to the true Dhamma, so closely woven
into its fabric, that to delete them is to risk nullifying its liberative
power. If this means that Buddhism retains its character as a religion, so be
it. In this I see nothing to fear; the greater danger is in diluting the
teaching so much that its potency is lost.]
Bhikkhu Bodhi
This is an abridged version
of a fuller review published in the online Journal of Buddhist Ethics .
According to the commentary
the sixteen defilements of mind are abandoned by the four noble paths in the
following sequence:
(i)
The path of
stream-entry abandons six defilements: (5) denigration, (6) disputatiousness,
(7) envy, (8) avarice, (9) deceit, and (10) hypocrisy.
(ii) The path of
non-returning abandons four: (2) ill will, (3) anger, (4) malice, and (16)
negligence.
(iii) The path of arahantship
abandons the remaining six: (1) covetousness and greed, (11) obstinacy, (12)
competitiveness, (13) conceit, (14) arrogance, and
(15) vanity.
The path of once-returning
does not abandon any defilements completely, but it
weakens the coarser aspects of the defilements to be abandoned by the two
higher paths.
The classification proposed
by the commentary is not in perfect agreement with the suttas. There is one
text in the Anguttara Nikàya (II,xvi,21; PTS ed. AN I
96) which states that the six defilements listed under (i),
which the commentary says are abandoned by the stream-enterer, are obstacles
for a trainee (sekha) bhikkhu, i.e.
for one who is at least a stream-enterer. This, of course, would not be
possible if the stream-enterer had abandoned them. It also seems that the
suttas use the term negligence (pamàda)
in so broad a sense that it can be taken to underlie all the other defilements,
which would imply that it is fully eliminated only by the arahant.
Nevertheless, regardless of
how this scheme is interpreted, the rest of the sutta makes it clear that at
this point the monk is not yet an arahant, for the Buddha will go on to show
what he must do to reach the final goal. While the text does not expressly
indicate his level of attainment, it drops several hints that he is a
non-returner. We will point these out below.
After declaring that the monk
has abandoned (in part) these defilements of the mind, the Buddha next draws
out the consequences. He first states that in abandoning the defilements the
monk becomes endowed with confirmed confidence (aveccappasàda) in the Buddha, the Dhamma, and the Sangha, each of
which is described by its standard recollection formula. Confirmed confidence
in the Three Jewels is the unique faith of a noble disciple, possessed only by
those who have reached one of the four stages of awakening. The confidence is
said to be confirmedÞavecca,
literally
ßby having undergoneûÞbecause it is based on direct perception of the Dhamma.
Having seen for themselves the truth of the Buddha's teachings, the noble
disciples never vacillate in their conviction that the Three Jewels are the
supreme objects of trust and devotion. They place perfect trust in the Buddha
as the peerless spiritual guide; in the Dhamma as the flawless map of the way
to final liberation; and in the Ariya Sangha as the community of those who have
won the transcendent path and gained access to Nibbàna the Deathless.
The faith of a worldling, no
matter how fervent and sincere, cannot be described as
ßconfirmed confidence,û for such
faith is vulnerable to doubt and may even be discarded through a change in
religious allegiance. When, however, a disciple arrives at the path of
stream-entry, he or she penetrates the ultimate truth and eradicates the lower
three fetters, including the fetter of doubt. With this step, the provisional
trust the disciple invested in the work of treading the path receives
indubitable confirmation, and this transforms that provisional faith into
confirmed confidence.
As the monk reflects on the
fact that he has partly abandoned the mind's defilements, and considers further
his fixed confidence in the Three Jewels, his reflection becomes the starting
point for a process of meditative development that culminates in concentration.
We can see in this a
ßfeedback mechanismû at work, by which the effort that the monk initially
put into the practice culminates in penetration of the Dhamma, which in turn
brings an upsurge of joy that inspires renewed effort and hence higher
attainments. As the monk reflects he gains enthusiasm for the goal (atthaveda) and enthusiasm for the
teaching (dhammaveda), and this gives
rise to gladness based on the teaching. As the gladness deepens it turns into
rapture (pãti); with his mind elated
by rapture his body becomes tranquil; tranquil in body, he
experiences inward happiness (sukha);
suffused by happiness, his mind gains concentration (samàdhi).
The Buddha praises this monk
thus:
ßIf a monk of such virtue,
such concentration, and such wisdom eats alms food consisting of choice rice
and various sauces and curries, even that will be no
obstacle for him.û Reading between the lines,
we see that these words imply that the monk is a non-returner. The reason is
that a non-returner has eliminated all sensual desire, i.e. all desire
connected with the
ßfive cords of sensual
pleasure,û and thus has no attachment to delicious tastes. Since the
monk can eat choice food without encountering any
ßobstacleû (antaràya)Þnamely, any craving for tastesÞthis means he has overcome the fetter of sensual desire,
which implies he is a non-returner. Thus elsewhere (SN 12:63/II 99) the Buddha
says:
ßWhen the nutriment of edible
food has been fully understood, the lust based on the five senses is fully
understood; and when the lust based on the five senses is fully understood,
there is no fetter bound by which the noble disciple will come back to this
world.û
(to be continued)