Does Rebirth Make Sense?
Newcomers to Buddhism are invariably
impressed by the clarity, directness, and earthy practicality of the Dhamma as
embodied in such basic teachings as the Four Noble Truths, the Noble Eightfold
Path, and the threefold training. These teachings, as clear as daylight, are
accessible to any serious seeker looking for a way beyond suffering. However,
when new Dhamma students encounter the doctrine of rebirth, they often feel it
just doesn't
make sense. At this point, they suspect, the teaching has swerved off course,
foundering in pointless speculation and fantasy. Even modernist interpreters of
Buddhism seem to have trouble taking the rebirth teaching seriously. Some
dismiss it as just a piece of cultural baggage,
ßancient
Indian metaphysics,û that the Buddha retained in deference
to the worldview of his age. Others interpret rebirth as a metaphor for
changing mental states, with the realms of rebirth seen as symbols for
different moods and emotions. A few critics have even questioned the very
authenticity of the texts on rebirth, arguing that they must be interpolations.
A quick glance at the Pali suttas would
show that none of these claims has much substance. The teaching of rebirth
crops up almost everywhere in the texts, and is so closely bound to a host of
other doctrines that to remove it would virtually reduce the Dhamma to shreds.
We find, for example, that the Buddha explains his own enlightenment as the
realization of the three higher knowledgesÞthe first
two involving direct cognition of other livesÞand
also instructs his disciples how to attain these knowledges themselves. When
the texts speak about rebirth into the five realmsÞthe
hells, the animal world, the spirit realm, the human world, and the heavensÞthey never hint that these terms are intended
symbolically. To the contrary, they even say that rebirth occurs
ßwith the breakup of the body, after death,û
which clearly implies they mean the idea of rebirth to be taken quite
literally.
In this essay I don't intend to argue the case for rebirth. Instead, I wish to show that the
idea of rebirth makes sense. I will
be contending that it
ßmakes senseû in two ways: first, in that it is intelligible,
having meaning both intrinsically and in relation to the Dhamma as a whole; and
second, in that it makes sense, by
helping us to make sense, to understand our own situation in the world. I will
try to establish this in relation to three domains of discourse, the ethical,
the ontological, and the soteriological. Don't
be frightened by the big words: the meaning will become clear as we go along.
First, the teaching of rebirth makes sense
in relation to ethics. For early Buddhism, the conception of rebirth is an
essential plank of its ethical theory, providing an incentive for avoiding evil
and doing good. In this context, the doctrine of rebirth is correlated with the
principle of kamma. The teaching of kamma asserts that all our morally
determinate actions, our wholesome and unwholesome deeds, have an inherent
power to bring forth fruits that correspond to the moral quality of those
actions. Read together, the twin teachings of rebirth and kamma show that a
principle of moral equilibrium obtains between our actions and the felt quality
of our lives, such that morally good deeds bring agreeable results, bad deeds
disagreeable results.
It is only too obvious that such moral
equilibrium cannot be found within the limits of a single life. We can observe,
often poignantly, that morally unscrupulous people often enjoy happiness,
esteem, and success, while people who lead lives of the highest integrity are
bowed down beneath pain and misery. For the principle of moral equilibrium to
work, some type of survival beyond the present life is required, for kamma can
bring its due retribution only if our individual stream of consciousness does
not terminate with death.
It may be the case that this insistence on
some kind of moral equity is an illusion, an unrealistic demand we superimpose
on a universe cold and indifferent to our hopes. There is no logical way to
prove the validity of rebirth and kamma. The naturalist might just be right in
holding that personal existence comes to an end at death, and with it all
prospects for moral justice. Nevertheless, I believe such a thesis flies in the
face of one of our deepest intuitions, a sense that some kind of moral justice
must ultimately prevail. To show that this is so, let us consider two limiting
cases of ethically decisive action. As the limiting case of immoral action, let
us take Hitler, who was directly responsible for the dehumanizing deaths of at
least ten million people. As the limiting case of moral action, let us consider
a man who sacrifices his own life to save the lives of total strangers. Now if
there is no survival beyond death, both men reap the same ultimate destiny.
Before dying, perhaps, Hitler experiences some pangs of despair; the
self-sacrificing hero enjoys a few seconds knowing he's performing a noble deed. Then beyond thatÞnothing, except in others' memories. Both
are obliterated, reduced to lifeless flesh and bones.
Now the naturalist might be correct in
drawing this conclusion, and in holding that those who
believe in survival and retribution are just projecting their own wishes out
upon the world. But I think something within us resists consigning both Hitler
and the compassionate hero to the same fate. The reason we resist is because we
have a deep intuitive sense that a principle of moral justice is at work in the
world, regulating the course of events in such a way that our good and bad
actions rebound upon ourselves to bring the appropriate fruit. Where the
naturalist holds that this intuition amounts to nothing more than our own
ideals projected out upon the cosmos, I would contend that the very fact that
we can form such a conception of cosmic moral justice is deeply significant. It
shows, however vaguely, that we have some deep connection with an objective
ground of moral justice reflected subjectively in our moral sense.
Now, if we do indeed inhabit a morally
coherent universe, then moral justice must eventually prevail, and since such
justice clearly does not obtain within a single life, some form of survival is
needed to ensure its ultimate triumph. Two alternative forms of survival are
possible: on the one hand, an eternal afterlife in heaven or hell, on the other
a sequence of rebirths. Of the two, the hypothesis of rebirth seems far more
compatible with moral justice than the view of an eternal afterlife; for any
finite good action, it seems, must eventually exhaust its potency, and no
finite bad action, no matter how bad, should warrant eternal damnation.
The above considerations are not intended
to prove the truth of rebirth as a ground for ethics. The Buddha himself does
not try to ground ethics on the ideas of kamma and rebirth, but uses a purely naturalistic
line of moral reasoning that does not presuppose personal survival or the
working of kamma. The gist of his reasoning is simply that we should not
mistreat othersÞby injuring them, stealing their
belongings, exploiting them sexually, or deceiving themÞbecause
we ourselves are averse to being treated in such ways. Nevertheless, though the
Buddha does not ground ethics on the theory of rebirth, he does make belief in
kamma and rebirth a strong inducement to moral behaviour. When we recognise
that our good and bad actions can rebound upon ourselves, determining our mode
of rebirth and bringing us happiness or suffering, this gives us a decisive
reason to avoid unwholesome conduct and to diligently pursue the good.
The twin teachings of kamma and rebirth
thus shed light upon our situation in the world. They show us that our present
living conditions, our dispositions and aptitudes, our virtues and faults,
result from our actions in previous lives. When we realise that our present
conditions reflect our kammic past, we will also understand that our present
actions are the legacy that we will transmit to our kammic descendants, that
is, to ourselves in future lives. The teaching of rebirth
thus enable us to face the future with fortitude, dignity, and courage.
If we recognise that no matter how debilitating our present conditions might
be, no matter how limiting and degrading, we can still redeem ourselves, we
will be spurred to exercise our will for the achievement of future good. By our
present actions of body, speech, and mind, we can transform ourselves, and by
transforming ourselves, we can surmount all inner and outer obstacles and
advance towards the final goal.
The teachings of kamma and rebirth have a
still deeper ethical significance than as simple pointers to moral
responsibility. They show us not only that our personal lives are shaped by our
own kammic past, but also that we live in an ethically meaningful universe.
Taken in conjunction, they make the universe a cosmos, an orderly, integrated whole, with dimensions of
significance that transcend the merely physical. The levels of order that we
have access to by direct inspection or scientific investigation do not exhaust
all the levels of cosmic order. There is system and pattern, not only in the
physical and biological domains, but also in the ethical, and the teachings of
kamma and rebirth reveal just what that pattern is. Although this ethical order
is invisible to our fleshly eyes and cannot be detected by scientific
apparatus, this does not mean it is not real. Beyond the range of normal
perception, a moral law holds sway over our deeds and via our deeds over our
destiny. It is just the principle of kamma, operating across the sequence of rebirths, that locks our volitional actions into the
dynamics of the cosmos, thus making ethics an expression of the cosmos's own intrinsic orderliness. At this point ethics begins to shade into
ontology, which we will examine in the next part of this essay.
(to be continued)
Bhikkhu Bodhi
Add: The
TherigathaÞA Revaluation, Vijitha Rajapakse.
Wheel No. 436/437.
Parents and Children, Ven. Medagama
Vajiragnana Nàyaka Thera. Bodhi Leaves No. 151.
Recent Reprints
Practical Insight Meditation. Mahasi Sayadaw. BP 503S. $3.95; Rs. 100
The Seven Stages of Purification & the Insight Knowledges. Màtara Sri Nàõàràma.
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The Great Discourse on Causation. Bhikkhu Bodhi. BP 211S. $8.50;
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Analysis of the Pali Canon. Russell Webb. BP 607S. $3.50;
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In This Very Life. U
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Rebirth
As Doctrine and Experience. Francis Story. BP 402S. $10.00;
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The
Connected Discourses of the Buddha: A New Translation of the Saüyutta Nikàya.
Bhikkhu
Bodhi. This new translation of the complete
Saüyutta Nikàya is the product of over five years of work. Published by Wisdom
Publications in two clothbound volumes with over 2,000 pages, this beautifully
produced set is being distributed by the BPS in South Asia at a special discount
price of SL Rs. 6,400 (as against U.S. $120 in the West). Only a limited number
of sets are available, so those wishing to purchase a set should place their
order soon. The books may arrive in late December or January, but reservations
can be made. Include 15% for postage and registration. For sale in
The
Numerical Discourses of the Buddha: An Anthology from the Aïguttara Nikàya. Texts translated by Nyanaponika Thera and Bhikkhu Bodhi. This book
contains in one volume the three BPS Wheels originally issued as separate
booklets; the book includes sixty new sutta, with a double
introduction by Bhikkhu Bodhi. This Indian edition from Sage
Publications is for sale in
The
Work of Kings: The New Buddhism in
The nondescript title and subdued cover of
this book will ensure that it does not attract to itself the vituperation that
was vented upon Stanley Tambiah's
Buddhism Betrayed? and led to its banning in this country. But in its treatment
of the same theme, the recent history of the Sri Lankan Buddhist order,
Seneviratne's book cuts far deeper in its
analysis than the older title. While Tambiah's
mild and generally conciliatory study focused upon the historical events that
drew the Sangha into political activism, Seneviratne looks below the surface
for the causes that underlie this development. As an associate professor of
anthropology at the University of Virginia, he casts his project in the form of
an anthropological inquiry revolving around the question whether an ethnically
dominant Buddhist culture can effectively implement the universalistic values
of tolerance, non-violence, and pluralism basic to Buddhist ethics. The answer
he arrives at, based on this case study of the Sri Lankan Sangha, is a sadly
pessimistic one.
Seneviratne begins his narrative with
Anagarika Dharmapala, the charismatic leader of the Buddhist revival at the
turn of the last century. He discerns in Dharmapala's thought two major strands, distinct yet closely interwoven, each
pregnant with future possibilities. One, which he calls the
ßeconomic and pragmaticû
aspect, emphasised the need to improve the village-based economy through a
revitalisation of Buddhist lay ethics. The other, the
ßpolitical and ideologicalû
strand, painted an idealised picture of the ancient Sinhala state as a model
for national reawakening. What was distinctive about this picture was its blend
of politics, religion, and ethnicity, a blend that was to prove so portentous
later in the century.
Dharmapala saw the task of guiding the
Buddhist revival as devolving on the monks. In his often fiery essays and
speeches he urged the monks to give up their ritualism and temple comforts in
order to preach
ßtrue Buddhismû to the backward villagers. Partly under Christian influence, Dharmapala
believed that national regeneration required the adoption of such workaday
virtues as diligence, thrift, sobriety, punctuality, and honesty. By
propagating these values among the common people, he held, the monks could
promote the
ßtwofold goodû of economic progress and spiritual development.
While Dharmapala's message caused only slight ripples in the Sangha during his own
lifetime, beginning in the 1930s his words began to take effect. As Seneviratne sees it, his message made its impact in two great
waves corresponding to the two strands of his vision. In the 1930s and
1940s the economic-pragmatic prong of his agenda took off and inspired a number
of dedicated, energetic monks to throw their weight behind the nascent Village
Development movement. Seneviratne describes in detail the careers of three such
monastic
ßhero-giants,û who
moved among the villagers teaching them the disciplines needed for economic
betterment. However, despite their earnest efforts, the Village Development
movement ultimately failed, mainly because it could not cope with the
complexities of a modern national economy.
At roughly the same time that the
ßeconomic-pragmaticû
wing of the Dharmapalite agenda folded, its political-ideological message
resonated with the aspirations of a group of monks associated with the
Vidyalankara Pirivena. These monks, whose most articulate spokesman was Ven.
Walpola Rahula, heartily welcomed the idea that the task of the modern monk is
social service. But for these educated monks, eager to carve out a role for
themselves in the newly independent nation, the Sangha's commitment to social service meant above all participation in
politics. Thus, this group gave birth to the figure of the
ßpolitical monk,û who claimed that his role as policy
advisor and lobbyist was part of
ßthe
heritage of the bhikkhuû
coming down from the country's
ancient past.
Though controversial in the early days of
independence, the political monks were able to ride the waves of changing
social conditions and new educational opportunities to ensure themselves a
prominent voice in national affairs. In Seneviratne's view, it is this politicisation of the Sangha in the guise of
ßsocial serviceû that is largely
responsible for plunging the island into the prolonged ethnic crisis that has
engulfed it since the late 1950s. While the monks viewed themselves as the
guardians of
ßcountry, nation, and religion,û
Seneviratne holds that in practice this conviction has amounted to an ethnic
chauvinism with tragic consequences for people of all communities. He contends
that the idea of social service espoused by these monks has been little more
than a pretext for meddling in national politics, partly to bolster their own
prestige and partly to serve a divisive ethnicity.
In his chapter
ßThe Anatomy of a Vocationû
Seneviratne follows the evolving role of the monk into the 1980s and 1990s. He
shows how the redefinition of the bhikkhu's
task as social service has led to nothing less than
ßan opening of the floodgatesû
which allows the younger monks to do almost anything they please (p.210).
Educated in secular universities, exposed to urban culture, these new monks
have exchanged traditional monastic roles for a secular lifestyle that blurs
the lines separating the renunciant from the
layperson. While most social service monks pursue humble
careers as salaried school teachers, the smartest and most enterprising have
constituted themselves into a powerful monastic elite having close ties to
politicians, financiers, and business leaders. Their ranks even include
a Provincial Council member and the president of the national nurses union:
strange vocations for men who have ostensibly renounced the world to seek
Nibbàna!
The decline in standards of monastic
conduct has drawn sharp criticisms both from within the Sangha and from the
laity. Seneviratne surveys the main lines of criticism voiced in pamphlets,
songs, and the press, but the deepest and most trenchant critique is his own.
He can be hard, even scathing, when documenting the failings of the monks, but
one is left feeling that the value of his critique is diminished by a lack of
constructive counter-proposals. Perhaps as an anthropologist it is his job
merely to describe what he has observed and to leave the task of envisaging
alternatives to others. Nevertheless, the book would have been richer if he had
used his astute intelligence to offer more positive alternatives.
Seneviratne is also prone to make risky
generalisations, as for example when he treats the politically vocal monks as a
single block without acknowledging the diversity of views that actually exists
within the Sangha. Though ethnocentric attitudes no doubt dominate, the Sangha
also includes a group of influential monks who have consistently stood for a
just and peaceful solution to the ethnic conflict, and have done so on the
basis of the universalist ethics of Buddhism. In his
haste to criticise, I believe, Seneviratne has failed to give these monks due
credit.
Such oversights and omissions apart,
however, Seneviratne's book remains a work of
prime importance for understanding contemporary Sri Lankan society. Though it
is cutting, hard-hitting, and provocative, it makes many points that have long
needed to be made, and it makes them with a deeply stirring passion. One would
hope that at least parts of the book will find their way into an accurate
Sinhala translation, so that it can help the Sangha understand how it is seen
among the intelligentsia in the wider world.
Bhikkhu Bodhi
Having picked up the series two-thirds of
the way down and taken it back to ignorance, the Buddha next runs through the
entire series in forward order, beginning with ignorance. This time he follows
the standard sequence, which proceeds from ignorance to craving, then from craving
to clinging, and thence to existence, birth, and finally ageing-and-death. Thus
here all twelve factors are included. Still one more time, by questioning the
monks, he again traces the series backwards, starting from the very end and
working back to the beginning. It is this reverse series that we will use as
the basis for exposition here.
But first a few words about context. When
the Buddha introduces dependent origination at this point in the discourse,
this is not done arbitrarily but refers back to the problem with which the
sutta began. It will be recalled that when the discourse opened, the bhikkhu
Sàti had been going around claiming that
ßit
is this same consciousnessûÞconsciousness conceived as a
persisting selfÞßthat
transmigrates through the round of rebirths.û
The Buddha first refuted the conception of consciousness as an independent self
by pointing out that consciousness arises through conditions. With reference to
the present life, he showed that each type of consciousness occurs in
dependence on its own immediate conditions, namely, a particular sense base and
object. Now, at the present point in the sutta, the Buddha brings in the
teaching of dependent origination to reveal the structure of conditions that
underlies the round of rebirths inclusive of consciousness in its entirety. By
showing that in any given life consciousness is a conditioned phenomenon arisen
through conditions operating from previous lives, the Buddha pulls the rug out
from any attempt to posit consciousness as a permanent self.
The structure of twelve conditions defined
by the formula of dependent origination is entirely
ßimpersonal.û Its
twelve terms make no reference to a lasting subject or person who undergoes the
experiences they signify. Each term simply designates a particular aspect of
experience arisen from an antecedent condition and functioning in turn as a
condition for some other aspect of experience. The twelve factors constitute an
autonomous process. It operates entirely on its own, without any outside agent
directing it from above or any self-identical subject animating it from within.
To see the twelve factors functioning in this way, solely through their
interlocking conditional relationships, is to get a
glimpse into the selflessness and emptiness of all phenomenal existence.
In the catechism the monks reply to each
question the Buddha asks as if the answers were obvious to them, but for us, at
this distance in time and worldview, the connections between certain links are
far from self-evident. The first link is clear enough: Birth is the condition
for aging-and-death, for if we were not born we would not grow old and die. The
formula next says,
ßExistence is the
condition for birth.û This
proposition is not at all obvious, and even seems counter-intuitive, for we
normally think it is birth that brings us into existence. In that case, how can
existence be the condition for birth?
According to the suttas, birth (jàti) is not parturition, emergence from
the womb, but conception, the first spark of new life in the embryo. When we
ask about the condition for birth, what we are thus asking about is the factor
that initiates new life, and the answer to this question hinges on another
question:
ßWhat actually happens when life
springs up in the womb?û The answer the Buddha gives is that
consciousness
ßdescendsû into a newly fertilised ovum, thus giving rise to a new organism with a
material component (the fertilised ovum) and a mental component (consciousness
and its factors). So to inquire into the condition for birth is to ask what
propels consciousness into the fertilised ovum. This question refers us to the
prenatal background to conception; that is, it takes us back to the preceding
existence.
To make it clear how existence is the
condition for birth, the Pali commentaries distinguish two phases of existence:
a kammically active phase, kamma-bhava, when we engage in actions with the kammic
potential to generate new existence in the future; and a kammically passive
phase, upapatti-bhava, when we reap
the results of our past kamma. Throughout any given life, the two phases
incessantly alternate at lightning speed, somewhat like the current in a
florescent tube. But the kammically active phase does not bring forth its
results at once. Rather, the kammically active phase of one existence is the
cause of the resultant phase in a future life, determining the objective
external conditions under which we live and the subjective aptitudes and
dispositions within which our experience is framed. It is this kammically active
phase of existence that the commentaries identify as the meaning of bhava in the statement,
ßExistence is the condition for birth.û
Thus, from the commentarial point of view, this phrase means that our past
accumulations of kamma govern the conditions under which we will be reborn and
the passive experiences we undergo in life.
This explanation of
ßexistenceû cannot be found as such in the
suttas themselves, and perhaps introduces a technical distinction not explicit
in the original texts. When analysing dependent origination, the suttas define
ßexistenceû (bhava) simply by way of the three realms of existenceÞsense-sphere
existence, form-sphere existence, and formless-sphere existenceÞbut
without saying precisely how this should be understood in relation to birth. We
might see the idea underlying the term
ßexistenceû here to be the whole process by which our kammic activities direct the
stream of consciousness towards rebirth in a new realm of existence. Thus
ßexistenceû is the bridge connecting the
present life and the future life. It defines the process by which our kammic
accumulations, impregnated with ignorance and craving, constantly steer the
stream of consciousness towards new possibilities of existence, and at death
actually propel it into a new realm of rebirth. When that transitional process
is completed, then existence has issued in birth.
Existence in turn is conditioned by
clinging. The reason we engage in activities with the potential to engender new
existence is because we cling to our present existence made up of the five
aggregates. We cling to existence through our attachment to sensual pleasures,
through our views and opinions, through our expectations regarding the future,
and through our conception of our personal identity, our notions about who and
what we really are. Thus clinging is the condition for existence. Clinging in
turn is conditioned by craving: our strong attachment is rooted in an
unquenchable thirst for sensual pleasures and for continued existence. Craving
is conditioned by feeling, feeling by contact through the six sense bases,
contact by the six sense bases themselves, and the six sense bases by
ßname-and-form,û the sentient organism.
(to be continued)