Category Archives: Religion
Fundamentalism and Interpretation
Major religious figures such as the Buddha, Moses, Jesus and Mohammed revealed eternal truths in specific times and places. The truths they revealed must be understood within those contexts. We might prefer, if it were possible, to receive the eternal truth context-free, but then we would be even less able to relate it to our own lives and draw practical conclusions. Even though the world has changed since our great religious teachers, the basic context — being human — has not.
Religious scholars from all traditions have applied great effort to the ongoing process of interpreting the original teachings in ways that apply today. It is difficult to be both faithful and relevant, and not all get the balance right. If they get the balance wrong they achieve neither faithfulness nor relevance. The fundamentalists are desperate to cling on to the literal meaning of every single word, and in doing so they lose the spirit of the original teaching. The modernists are desperate to update the teaching, and in doing so they distort the tradition and throw the baby out with the bathwater.
Within both Judaism and Islam there are sophisticated schools of jurisprudence, which seek to apply the holy law today. The Talmud contains a record of how rabbis have applied the Torah in particular times and places, with their reasoning and discussions. Islam developed four main schools of jurisprudence (fiqh), and the process of interpretation (itjihad) continues today.
It is important to understand attitudes towards itjihad when studying Islamic fundamentalism. Interestingly, the modern Islamic movements most associated with fundamentalism, such as Wahhabi and Salafi, sought to reinterpret Islam, rather than accept the previous interpretations handed down by generations. Their interpretation was very much about taking Islam back to basics, trying to live exactly as the Prophet and his companions would have lived, and strongly rejecting anything they saw as ‘innovation’. But by rejecting the tradition of interpretation handed down through generations they in fact lost touch with the living essence of Islam, relating instead to an idealised version of the religion that they themselves had invented.
The beauty of the religions is their appearance in particular times and places, and their ongoing relevance today. God mercifully provided specific guidance for real human situations. Specificity in religion is a strength, not a weakness. There is a parallel with art here: no painting or novel would show anything true or beautiful were it not for the specific detail. The skill of the artist is to take a specific scene and, while being true to it, lift it beyond the mundane. God has done the same, by offering real people the solutions to their actual, mundane problems, and at the same time revealing eternal truth.
Politics and Religion
The two basic points are 1) every religion has a valid political dimension 2) every religion has suffered from being harnessed to political interests which have no basis in religion.
Buddhism has a valid political dimension. The Buddha gives clear advice to rulers in the Kutadanta and Cakkavatti-Sihanada Suttas. Islam and Judaism have more obvious political dimensions because both Mohammed and Moses were law-givers. The Qur’an and Torah both provide the bases for legal systems to govern polities of various shapes and sizes.
The Qur’an and the Torah both combine the eternal and the temporal, and this reveals the nature of politics. God is eternal and Truth is eternal, but the actual, temporal conditions in which man finds himself are far from God. Man must find a way back to God so, through the prophets, God reveals His spiritual truths and His laws for good-living.
Politics is an aspect of humanity’s collective striving for good. In our political activity we should be guided by the religious truths to which we are the heirs, but we must not make the mistakes of over-literalism, dogmatism, sectarianism, etc. which have so bedevilled our civilisation.
Within the Islamic world the Islamist tendency over-emphasises the political dimension of Islam at the expense of the spiritual. Because it is has lost connection with the loving aspect of God it is prepared to contemplate or perform violence and terrorism to accomplish its sectarian goals. Islamism has more in common with Trotskyism than it does with Islam.
Although Islamism is a corruption of Islam, this does not mean that Muslims should withdraw entirely from the political sphere. On the contrary, it is important that Muslims who are in touch with the spiritual heart of their religion should be socially and politically engaged, in order to reduce the space available to Islamists. Muslims have an important role to play combating the ever-strengthening tide of greed, materialism, addiction, violence and environmental destruction. Organisations like Christian Aid provide an example of how religious people can make vital contributions if they engage with the key political issues of our time.
Self Power and Divine Power
November 2008
On the spiritual path both self power and Divine power are required to achieve liberation / salvation / illumination. Self power means relying on our own power, control, effort etc. Divine power means letting go, and relying on the blessings, grace and transformational properties of the Divine.
Tibetan (Vajrayana) Buddhist teachers tend to be exponents of Divine-power, emphasizing the role of the Divine (conceived as Buddha / Buddhas) in the development of virtue. A typical statement is “without the blessings of the Buddhas, it is impossible for a virtuous mind to arise.” (Geshe Kelsang Gyatso, Understanding The Mind).
Like the other great religious traditions, Buddhism is interesting because within it we can find a wide variety of practices and interpretations. There are exponents of Buddhism who strongly emphasize self power, and there are others such as Japanese Pure Land practitioners who rely completely on Divine power. The main practice of the Pure Land school is nien-fo (Jap. nembutsu), repeatly reciting the name of Buddha Amitābha (Jap. Amida) in order to recollect and call on him for protection. There is a striking similarity here with the Sufi practice of dhikr.
One of the founders of the Pure Land school was Shinran who, according to Paul Williams in Mahayana Buddhism, “felt incapable of attaining enlightenment by his own efforts, so his last resort was faith in Amida” . Shinran developed an extreme Divine power view, believing that “salvation comes from gratefully accepting Amida’s saving grace, not by any good works.” After a single recitation of the nembutsu with faith all other recitations are superfluous, and according to Shinran even faith comes from grace. Shinran closely analysed the nature of self power and Divine power, and came to believe that relying on Divine power is the truly difficult path, because it is too easy to slip into believing that we have the power to rescue ourselves and that our own actions might be sufficient for salvation.
Although it has many good qualities, Pure Land is an extreme interpretation of Buddhism, similar to Calvinism in Christianity. It certainly seems a long way from the Buddhism described in the early scriptures (Pali Canon), although the practice of ‘letting go’ is found there. I think the following paragraph from Lama Yeshe reveals the fine balance between self power and ‘letting go’ in healthy Buddhist meditation:
“Now, you might think that Buddhism emphasizes control too much and feel that the lamas are saying, “Your deluded mind is so full of negativities that you must restrict it tightly.” But this is not what we mean . . . In Tibet we say that directing the mind is “like bridling a fine horse to make him rideable.” A horse is a tremendously powerful animal and if you do not have the means to control him properly he may gallop off wildly, possibly destroying himself and others as well. If you can harness all that energy, however, the horse’s great strength can be used for accomplishing many difficult tasks. The same applies to yourself . . . So the control we are talking about is similar to that of a pilot who does not restrict but rather directs the power [my italics] of his aeroplane.” Wisdom Energy, p125-6
In this analogy, the conscious mind that is capable of control is self power, and the horse is the unconscious power of the mind and the inner energy winds (Skt. prana). Correct practice means finding the balance between self power and letting go, so that the horse is under control, but is still able to express its unbounded energy. Another analogy is sailing, where the wind is outside of our control, and the elements of the boat such as the sail are self power. By correctly orienting those elements which are under control to the wind, the sailor is able to use (or be used) by the other power to good effect.
As well as balanced teachings like these, within Tibetan Buddhism it is easy to find teachings which tend strongly to Divine power. The Dakini can be considered an archetypal manifestation of Divine power. She appears to Naropa as a hag in order to shock him into a new, more honest phase of spiritual practice:
“All that he had neglected and failed to develop was symbolically revealed to him as the vision of an old and ugly woman . . . she is a deity because all that is not incorporated in the conscious mental make-up of the individual and appears other-than and more-than himself is, traditionally, spoken of as the divine.” Herbert Guenther, The Life and Teachings of Naropa.
Also, Judith Simmer-Brown writes:
“the Dakini is the ‘other’. As an outside awakened reality that interrupts the workings of conventional mind, she is often perceived as dangerous because she threatens the ego structure and its conventions and serves as a constant reminder from the lineages of realized teachers. She acts outside the conventional, conceptual mind, and has therefore the haunting quality of a marginal, liminal figure.” (from Dakini’s Warm Breath).
As well as the Dakini, the major source of other-power in Vajrayana Buddhism is the Lama (spiritual guide). In The Single Decisive Path, Gampopa says: “mahamudra [great enlightenment] has no cause; faith and devotion are the cause of mahamudra. Mahamudra has no condition; The holy Lama is the condition for mahamudra.”
Although the great monotheist religions of Judaism, Christianity and Islam emphasize the centrality of faith in God, most denominations assert the importance of self power too: “God helps the man who helps himself” neatly sums up this attitude, or “first tie your camel, then trust God”.
Forgiveness
January 2008
As many of us come from a Christian background, one of the main things we consciously or unconsciously expect from a religion is forgiveness. Christianity’s starting point is our imperfection, our inability to keep moral laws (mitzvah), the fact that we are ‘sinners’. Christ embodies God’s forgiveness. His role is to restore our relationship (Covenant) with God despite the fact that we are unable to keep moral discipline ourselves.
I think we can say with some confidence that some of Geshe Kelsang Gyatso’s disciples have trouble keeping moral discipline. Some of us are ‘sinners’ who need forgiveness. We need to forgive ourselves, and we would like to be forgiven by others. When forgiveness from others is in short supply it can be difficult to have the confidence to forgive yourself.
The opposite of forgiving yourself is blaming yourself. It took me a long time to stop blaming myself for my failure to keep my moral discipline and fulfil the mission my spiritual guide had given me, of setting up Dharma Centres in Mexico. Learning not to blame myself doesn’t mean ignoring the faults that led to my downfall. For me it means looking at the wider context, and understanding that my downfall was a dependent-arising, and my own faults were just part of the story.
Given the type of person I was, with the limited skills I had, it was almost inevitable that I would fail. But as Hazrat Ali said, “failure is my greatest teacher”. I have learned a lot about myself as a result, and I have been forced to look at some of the parts of myself that I least wanted to see.
I think that one of the real challenges for Buddhism in the West – not just the NKT – is whether it can incorporate forgiveness. If it cannot, then maybe it will not flourish here. As with all these things, we are the ones who have to make it happen, we can’t be waiting around expecting others to do it. We need to forgive ourselves and others. If we can truly practice forgiveness then us `sinners’ can make Buddhism in the West great. Christianity is a religion for sinners which has produced great saints. Can Buddhism be the same?
A few years after I disrobed I had a dream. The dream was set 500 years in the future (about 2500CE). Kadampa Buddhism was flourishing. A group of historians were reviewing the different phases of its development. They concluded that the first generation, the Old Kadampas, were saints. The second generation, the New Kadampas, were scholars and yogis, and the third generation, the New New Kadampas were criminals! They had succeeded BECAUSE they were able to come to terms with and deal with their impurity — they had not made the mistakes of denial and holier-than-thou pretence.
Wishful dreaming on my part, no doubt. And there are many New New Kadampas practising purely to whom the word criminal certainly doesn’t apply. But to those of us who are ‘criminals’ I think we have a great part to play if we can really learn to forgive ourselves and others.
An Interview with Humanists – by Sally Bannister
April 2009
Jane Bannister is chairperson of Dorset Humanists and is involved in Bournemouth’s Big Green Fortnight in May 2009. Dennis Bannister is currently holding a series of talks on Evolutionary Theory at Bournemouth U3A. In this interview, they both give their personal take on the Humanist perspective. Their responses are not necessarily representative of the Dorset Humanist group or the British Humanist Association. They both embrace a secular approach to Humanism. The interview begins as a formal Q&A session and evolves into a more in depth discussion, particularly regarding the issue of dogma.
Sally Bannister: What does the word ‘Humanism’ mean to you?
Jane Bannister: To me it means trying to lead a good life without the need for a religious influence.
Dennis Bannister: I’d say it was freedom of thought, being totally free to think as you wish, experiencing a lack of dogma.
SB: What do you mean by ‘a good life’?
JB: Making the most of our potential as human beings which I think would come from doing our best to try and help other people’s lives to become better, starting from our family and working out from there. This indirectly improves the quality of our own life.
SB: What would you say was the most important guiding principle in life?
DB: Empathy.
JB: Love.
SB: What is Love?
DB: Sympathy; empathy; self-sacrifice; desire for another person’s happiness.
SB: Does the Humanist movement have an agenda? If so, what is it?
JB: Humanists like myself focus on campaigns against injustices imposed by religious institutions, but Humanists vary so much. There would be people that don’t agree with this approach and feel we should remove religion altogether from public life and make it a purely private concern.
DB: One of the Humanist agendas is to give people who don’t hold religious beliefs a voice, for instance in the education system. We oppose single-faith schools. Humanist organisations strive to represent all those non-religious people who need to speak up against the enforcement of religious viewpoints in law/statutes/politics/education/marriage/civic ceremonies etc. The secular perspective should be acknowledged as a choice but it is often overlooked in our society as Church and state are still combined.
SB: What about injustices that are not imposed by religion? Are these not of concern to Humanists?
JB: We tend to focus on religious injustice in particular because part of the reason for forming the Humanist group is to offer support and help to those people that are being discriminated against by religious institutions. Our gay and lesbian members say they feel comfortable with the Humanist philosophy as religious organisations can often be archaic in their official stance on sexuality.
SB: Mark Vernon was a guest speaker at the Dorset Humanist group. He claims that the diversity of different forms of Humanism is a strength. Would this lack of consensus amongst Humanists not make it harder to form a set of distinct guidelines for humans to live by?
DB: It is a splinter group, which doesn’t make for effective policy forming.
JB: Even within Dorset Humanist group there is a division between those people that feel we should form a set of aims and objectives, and those who feel this would be too dogmatic.
SB: Are you happy to be defined negatively (i.e. by what you don’t believe) and does this not alienate potential Humanists?
JB: Yes this could be alienating which, of course, is something we would want to avoid. We recently had Jonathan Miller as a guest speaker at the Dorset Humanists. He isn’t religious, but feels that he shouldn’t have to have a label such as ‘Humanist’ or ‘atheist’. The word ‘atheist’ means without God, rather than against God. He said that although he doesn’t believe in the tooth fairy he is not forced to have a label for this lack of belief, and so claims it is equally ridiculous to feel the need to adopt a label for anything else that he doesn’t believe exists.
SB: Do you see any positive role for religion either in society or for the individual?
DB: For the individual, if that’s what they wish to believe, but not for society.
SB: Is there ever a time when it is better to believe something that is not true? For example, a bereaved mother that lost her child under especially unpleasant circumstances, such as a murder, might have her happiness overshadowed by an overwhelming sense of loss for the rest of her life. If she is to believe that she will be reunited with her child in heaven (a falsehood, in your eyes) her pain will be greatly reduced.
JB: If that belief helps relieve her suffering then it’s fine to hold it, as long as it doesn’t harm anyone else. Ideally she would come to terms with her loss through bereavement counselling.
DB: No. It’s better to feel pain than delude yourself.
SB: Is being a Humanist likely to lead to individual happiness and fulfilment more than spiritual belief/activity. If so why?
JB: I think it depends on the individual. For me it works as I feel it gives me freedom to take responsibility for myself. If a person thinks that there is some higher force/omnipotent being in their life then maybe feelings of freedom would be reduced. Having said that, a religious person can get a lot of fulfilment from their beliefs and so it is up to the individual to decide what makes them happy. Humanism does not function to stop people having religious belief, it exists to ensure that people without religious belief can go about their life without other peoples faith impinging upon their freedom or welfare. The only time a Humanist believes there is need for more active interference is when people’s health is put at risk by a society’s predominant religion. The act of female genital mutilation might be an example of this, or the refusal to use contraception in countries where there is an AIDS epidemic.
SB: This sense of freedom is something that one of the original secular Humanist thinkers, Jean-Paul Satre, discussed. Religious systems of belief often attribute a meaning to life that has value over and above the individual. Existentialists, such as Satre, claimed the reverse – that ‘existence comes before essence’. In this sense there is no moral yard stick or standard external to oneself by which an individual can measure their behaviour. Satre’s perspective can be criticised for potential moral relativism. He also admitted himself that the immense freedom that a person has thrust upon them by their very existence can be nauseating and causes great anxiety. How does the Humanist deal with these criticisms?
DB: An understanding of science and evolution is important with regards to the first point. We’ve evolved as social creatures. Society couldn’t exist if it didn’t have moral codes of conduct. People recognise that in order to protect the welfare of their society/group it’s in their interest to behave in a considerate way towards other members of that group – it is in our instinct as human beings. That ‘group’ can include all members of the world. With regards to the point about moral freedom being a great burden – maybe religion is there as a crutch for the weak minded that can’t come to terms with this uncomfortable responsibility.
SB: A naturally evolved morality is a nice idea, but we don’t have to look far to see that the world is full of violence and aggression – both directed internally – towards our own social network, and directed towards other peoples countries.
DB: Throughout history, violence and religion have been intertwined. The dogmatic nature of religious institutions has meant that religion has often been used to justify acts of violence ‘for the greater good’.
SB: This might be true, but do you not feel that this is more an indication of human tendency, particularly when in power, to become dogmatic. Shouldn’t the way a person holds their beliefs be even more important than the beliefs themselves? For instance, most of us agree that democracy is a favourable political system to dictatorship yet the valuable approaches of liberalism and democracy have been dogmatically and aggressively forced upon other societies by the West. Usually the real reasons for war involve power and greed, and the excuses given by leaders are whatever they can get their hands on at the time. ‘Political freedom’ is currently the fashionable excuse used by western politicians to justify aggression towards other countries. This is a secular excuse, not a religious excuse. If Humanists believe that dogma is a bad thing, and believe that there is something intrinsic to religion that is dogmatic, then one would have to conclude that in order to eradicate dogma from society we would have to eradicate religion. But we also know that there are many atheists that can be dogmatic, just as we know that there are many religious people that are very accepting of other people’s alternative beliefs. Is there not a danger that Humanists appear to claim that religion has a monopoly on dogma?
DB: This might be because religious people are so certain that they are right, and so there is a lack of flexibility and an inability to move with the times due to the fact that they are often referring to documents that are hundreds of years old for their moral guidance.
SB: Do you not feel, though, that there is a difference between having confidence in one’s own beliefs and being inflexible? Rigidity comes from a lack of willingness to cooperate with others or attempt to understand their viewpoint. Both religious and non-religious people can be guilty of this. Would it not be more constructive for Humanists to focus on those moral concepts that they share with religious believers/that unite us as human beings, and work from there, rather than paying great attention to the differences? Many of the principles that you both mention at the beginning of the interview would be happily endorsed by pretty much anyone. There are many religious people who acknowledge that dogmatic attitudes hold human beings back from communication, cooperation and peaceful relationships.
DB: 30 – 40% of the British population are non-religious and have no adequate representation in the areas I mentioned earlier. That is why our activities centre on the non-religious. It is not that we are trying to exclude anyone, but we do feel that there is a growing minority in the world, particluarly the west, whose interests are being overlooked. This is not only a problem for the individuals concerned but is also a problem for society as a whole. Religious believers and leaders will often monopolise moral debate, sometimes ignoring or holding back scientific progress. The non-religious need a moral voice-piece. Humanist organisations attempt to provide that.
SB: In relation to this issue of scientific progress, some people argue that religious influence will decline as society advances scientifically. This suggestion does not seem to be supported by the example set by the United States. The U.S. is considered to be one of the most scientifically advanced countries in the world yet its percentage of adults who adhere to “no religion”’ is below 10%. Across the globe religion plays a significant part in the personal, social and political life of many individuals. If Humanist groups are keen to see a world free from indoctrination and dogma, could they not set a precedent by forming a set of secular principles/moral guidelines that did not have secular belief as a prerequisite? These principles would still be secular in the sense that their endorsement would not be dependent on religious belief. They would also be characterised by a mature pragmatism and universal appeal.
JB: I will put that idea forward to the Dorset Humanist group for discussion.
Comparing Buddhist and Muslim Attitudes to Scripture
Please note the limited scope of this article, as it does not compare attitudes towards ‘secondary’ literature such as hadith in Islam and Abhidharma and Mahayana Sutras in Buddhism.
It can be useful to compare the roles that scripture plays in different religions, for example Buddhism and Islam.
Muslims are united in their belief in the Qur’an as their definitive scripture. The Qur’an is the revelation that Mohammed received from God via the angel Gabriel. The Qur’an is definitive, but there are four classical schools of Qur’anic interpretation, and Muslims disagree over the scope for ongoing interpretation. ‘Moderate’ scholars such as Tariq Ramadan argue for a relatively wide scope for interpretation compared to ‘fundamentalists’.
In Buddhism there is some debate over which scriptures are authentic. The Theravada tradition denies the authenticity of Mahayana scriptures such as the Perfection of Wisdom and Lotus Sutras which are central to Tibetan and Chinese Buddhism. (For a Sutra, authenticity means that it was spoken or authorized by the Buddha himself.)
The earliest Sutras (or Suttas) were written in the Pali language, and preserved by the Theravada school in the Pali canon. The Buddha did not write down the teachings himself, nor is it likely that they were transcribed by any of his immediate disciples. Instead they were transmitted orally for a number of generations until the Buddhist Sangha decided it was important to preserve them in writing.
“According to a generally accepted ancient tradition, the first attempt to agree the form of the Buddhist textual tradition, what was remembered as the authoritative ‘word of the Buddha’, took place some three months after the Buddha’s death at the town of Rajagriha in northern India when 500 arhats took part in a ‘communal recitation’ (samgiti). This event is commonly referred to in modern writings as ‘the first Buddhist council’.” (from ‘The Foundations of Buddhism’ by Rupert Gethin, Oxford University Press 1998, p40)
Gethin goes on to say:
“the notion of a fixed canon of Buddhist scriptures is somewhat problematic. And we must be careful not to impose inappropriate notions of ‘canon’ and authenticity – derived say from Christianity [or Islam] – on the Buddhist tradition. Even in the accounts of the first Buddhist council we are told of a monk who, on hearing the recitation of the Buddha’s teaching by the 500 arhats, declared that he preferred to remember the teaching as he himself had heard it from the Buddha.” (ibid, p46)
This latter comment is interesting because, although the two are held to be mutually supportive, Buddhism prioritizes direct personal experience over scriptural understanding. It is one thing for scriptures to be authentic, it is another to have an authentic realization of Dharma. Correct scriptural understanding is excellent, but deep personal experience is truly liberating. The Theravada monk Ven. Analayo writes:
“The philosophical setting of ancient India was influenced by three main approaches to the acquisition of knowledge. The Brahmins relied mainly on ancient sayings, handed down by oral transmission, as authoritative sources of knowledge; while in the Upanishads one finds philosophical reasoning used as a central tool for developing knowledge. In addition to these two, a substantial number of the wandering ascetics and contemplatives of that time considered extrasensory perception and intuitive knowledge, gained through meditative experiences, as important means for the acquisition of knowledge. These three approaches can be summarized as: oral tradition, logical reasoning, and direct intuition. When questioned on his own epistemological position, the Buddha placed himself in the third category, i.e. among those who emphasized the development of direct, personal knowledge.” (from ‘Satipatthana – the direct path to realization’ by Analayo, Windhorse 2003, p44)
Whilst emphasizing the priority of direct, personal knowledge:
“the Buddha once illustrated the dangers of relying entirely on one’s own direct experience with the help of a parable. In this parable, a king had several blind men each touch a different part of an elephant. When questioned on the nature of the elephant, each blind man gave an entirely different account . . . Although what was experienced by each of the blind men was empirically true, yet their personal direct experience had revealed only part of the picture. The mistake each made was to wrongly conclude that his direct knowledge gained through personal experience was the only truth, so that anyone disagreeing must be mistaken. This parable goes to show that even direct personal experience might reveal only a part of the picture and therefore should not be grasped dogmatically as an absolute ground for knowledge. That is, emphasis on direct experience need not entail a complete rejection of oral tradition and reasoning as auxiliary sources of knowledge.” (ibid pp.45-46)
In comparison to the Buddhist scriptures, the interval between the Qur’an being spoken by the Prophet and written down by his followers was much shorter:
“An inner circle of his followers wrote down verses of the Qur’an as they learned them from the Prophet and there are records of there being a total of twenty-nine scribes for this. By the end of the Prophet’s life (632 CE) the entire Qur’an was written down in the form of uncollated pieces . . . The standard Muslim account is that, during the second year after the Prophet’s death (633 CE) and following the Battle of Yamama, in which a number of those who knew the Qur’an by heart died, it was feared that with the gradual passing away of such men there was a danger of some Qur’anic material being lost. Therefore the first caliph and successor the the Prophet, Abu Bakr, ordered that a written copy of the whole body of Qur’anic material as arranged by the Prophet and memorized by the Muslims should be made and safely stored with him.” (from ‘The Qur’an’, trans. M.A.S. Abdel Haleem, Oxford University Press 2004, pp.xv-xvi)
The Qur’an is the source of authoritative knowledge in Islam, but understanding the Qur’an also implies a commitment to understanding the world and one’s own soul. William C. Chittick says that the Qur’an:
“tells us repeatedly that God creates the world by speaking. Just as the Qur’an and other scriptures are collections of God’s “signs” or “verses” (ayat), so also the whole universe is a vast collection of God’s signs and verses. In effect, God creates the universe by revealing three books – the universe, the human self, and scripture. In each book he displays his signs and writes out his words. Once we understand that reality is configured by speech, we see that the human task is to read and understand what has been written and to follow the instructions. The interpretation of the Qur’an is the foundation and fruit of all Islamic sciences, and it has always entailed the simultaneous interpretation of the universe and the soul. Every Muslim, by accepting the Qur’an as God’s Speech, has accepted the responsibility of understanding what God is saying . . . Every soul will answer for its own reading, not only of scripture but of the other two books. And, given that the soul’s understanding is written out in itself, the soul’s own book is the all-important determinant of its destiny . . . The crux of knowledge, then, is to understand one’s own soul.” (from ‘Ibn Arabi – Heir to the Prophets’ by William C. Chittick, OneWorld Publications 2005, pp57-58)
God and Buddhism
What is the place of God within Buddhism? Many people believe that Buddhism is atheistic, but the true picture is more complex. In his early teachings (the Pali Canon) the Buddha refuses to be drawn on metaphysical questions such as the origin of the cosmos, the relationship between body and soul, what happens to a Buddha after death and, implicitly, the existence of God. The reason for this is pragmatic considerations concerning the effort involved in exploring such questions. The Buddha is of the firm opinion that our effort would be better spent realizing the Four Noble Truths. He offers the parable of the poisoned arrow:
“It’s just as if a man were wounded with an arrow thickly smeared with poison. His friends & companions, kinsmen & relatives would provide him with a surgeon, and the man would say, ‘I won’t have this arrow removed until I know whether the man who wounded me was a noble warrior, a priest, a merchant, or a worker.’ He would say, ‘I won’t have this arrow removed until I know the given name & clan name of the man who wounded me… until I know whether he was tall, medium, or short… until I know whether he was dark, ruddy-brown, or golden-colored… until I know his home village, town, or city… until I know whether the bow with which I was wounded was a long bow or a crossbow… until I know whether the bowstring with which I was wounded was fiber, bamboo threads, sinew, hemp, or bark… until I know whether the shaft with which I was wounded was wild or cultivated… until I know whether the feathers of the shaft with which I was wounded were those of a vulture, a stork, a hawk, a peacock, or another bird… until I know whether the shaft with which I was wounded was bound with the sinew of an ox, a water buffalo, a langur, or a monkey.’ He would say, ‘I won’t have this arrow removed until I know whether the shaft with which I was wounded was that of a common arrow, a curved arrow, a barbed, a calf-toothed, or an oleander arrow.’ The man would die and those things would still remain unknown to him. In the same way, if anyone were to say, ‘I won’t live the holy life under the Blessed One as long as he does not declare to me that ‘The cosmos is eternal,’… or that ‘After death a Tathagata neither exists nor does not exist,’ the man would die and those things would still remain undeclared by the Tathagata.” http://www.accesstoinsight.org/tipitaka/mn/mn.063.than.html
The important point is that, in refusing to be drawn on such questions, the Buddha is not taking any particular position on them. He is not denying, therefore, that God exists. What he does explicitly deny, however, is a God who determines all of our actions, and who abrogates free will. In other words the Buddha strongly argues against a fatalistic notion of God. In the Tittha Sutta (AN 3.61) the Buddha recounts:
“Having approached the priests & contemplatives who hold that…’Whatever a person experiences… is all caused by a supreme being’s act of creation,’ I said to them: ‘Is it true that you hold that… “Whatever a person experiences… is all caused by a supreme being’s act of creation?”‘ Thus asked by me, they admitted, ‘Yes.’ Then I said to them, ‘Then in that case, a person is a killer of living beings because of a supreme being’s act of creation. A person is a thief… unchaste… a liar… a divisive speaker… a harsh speaker… an idle chatterer… greedy… malicious… a holder of wrong views because of a supreme being’s act of creation.’ When one falls back on creation by a supreme being as being essential, monks, there is no desire, no effort [at the thought], ‘This should be done. This shouldn’t be done.’ When one can’t pin down as a truth or reality what should & shouldn’t be done, one dwells bewildered & unprotected. One cannot righteously refer to oneself as a contemplative. This was my second righteous refutation of those priests & contemplative who hold to such teachings, such views.”
Instead the Buddha places the emphasis on our own minds and mental actions as the key determinants of our existence. In the Dhammapada (1.1-3) he famously says:
“We are what we think.
All that we are arises with our thoughts.
With our thoughts we make the world.”
It is when we deeply consider the nature of mind that metaphysical questions come to the fore, such as how does the mind create the world, and what is its relationship to God? These questions arise in relation to the later Buddhist traditions of the Mahayana and Vajrayana, which introduce a multi-tiered concept of mind, with the world said to be produced from the deepest ‘root’ mind known as the Consciousness-Basis-of-All or the Continually Residing Mind.
For ordinary beings trapped in samsara our root minds carry impure karmic seeds which produce an impure world, but through practicing the Buddhist path we can purify our root mind until it becomes the Dharmakaya, the mind of a Buddha. When we achieve the Dharmakaya we will inhabit a Buddha’s Pure Land. Maitreya said that when our mind becomes pure our world becomes pure. Geshe Kelsang Gyatso has said it is valid to use the name God to refer to the Dharmakaya. Other Buddhist teachers have said similar things. For example, the Zen master, Sokei-An, says:
“… Dharmakaya [is] the equivalent of God … The Buddha also speaks of no time and no space, where if I make a sound there is in that single moment a million years. It is spaceless like radio waves, like electric space – intrinsic. The Buddha said that there is a mirror that reflects consciousness. In this electric space a million miles and a pinpoint – a million years and a moment – are exactly the same. It is pure essence … We call it ‘original consciousness’ – ‘original akasha’ – perhaps God in the Christian sense. I am afraid of speaking about anything that is not familiar to me. No one can know what IT is …” (Zen Pivots, Weatherhill, NY, 1998, pp. 142, 146)
Elsewhere Sokei-An comments:
“The creative power of the universe is not a human being; it is Buddha. The one who sees, and the one who hears, is not this eye or ear, but the one who is this consciousness. This One is Buddha. This One appears in every mind. This One is common to all sentient beings, and is God.” (The Zen Eye, Weatherhill, New York, 1994, p. 41)
Also the Rinzai Zen Buddhist teacher, Soyen Shaku (of whom D.T. Suzuki was a pupil) said:
“At the outset, let me state that Buddhism is not atheistic as the term is ordinarily understood. It has certainly a God, the highest reality and truth, through which and in which this universe exists. However, the followers of Buddhism usually avoid the term God, for it savors so much of Christianity, whose spirit is not always exactly in accord with the Buddhist interpretation of religious experience … To define more exactly the Buddhist notion of the highest being, it may be convenient to borrow the term very happily coined by a modern German scholar, ‘panentheism’, according to which God is … all and one and more than the totality of existence …. As I mentioned before, Buddhists do not make use of the term God, which characteristically belongs to Christian terminology. An equivalent most commonly used is Dharmakaya … When the Dharmakaya is most concretely conceived it becomes the Buddha, or Tathagata ..”
(Sermons of a Buddhist Abbot, by Soyen Shaku, Samuel Weiser Inc, New York, 1971, pp.25-26, 32)
The passages above show how Buddhists can use the word God to describe ultimate truth. Indeed, it may be necessary to do so when talking to certain audiences. The Croatian academic Snjezana Akpinar says:
“I had learned from my experience in Indonesia, which is an Islamic country, that there was no way that you say to an Islamic audience, “Buddhism doesn’t believe in God.” That would lead to the instant closing of the door. In Indonesia, there is a policy that five [sic] religions are accepted due to their belief in God: Judaism, Hinduism, Islam, Protestantism, Catholicism, and Buddhism. The Indonesian Buddhists had suggested Buddhism’s belief in God by speaking in terms of Adibuddha. This was from the Kalachakra (Cycle of Time) teachings, which had been spread to Indonesia a little more than a thousand years ago. Adibuddha means, literally, the first or primordial Buddha. The Indonesian Buddhists themselves didn’t have a full understanding of Adibuddha. But without explaining it, they said, “Here we have the equivalent of God.” Naturally, when I came to Indonesia, the Indonesian Buddhists asked me what Adibuddha actually meant. I explained to them that you could speak about it in terms of the clear light mind. In each person, this is the creator of our appearances, what we perceive; so in this sense it’s like a creator. Using this general interpretation of Adibuddha, I was able to enter into dialogue with Islamic scholars in other countries. Islamic scholars have tended to be very open to this because in Islam, Allah is not personified. Likewise, this creative power within each mind -– which might be seen as something like a creator god found in each person –- also is not personified. As presented in the Nyingma, Kagyu, and Sakya schools of Tibetan Buddhism, Adibuddha is beyond words, beyond concepts, unimaginable. Islamic scholars could relate to this very well.” http://www.berzinarchives.com/web/en/archives/study/islam/general/common_features_islam_buddhism.html
The translation of Adibuddha as ‘primordial Buddha’ provides the sense of being outside time which is essential to certain conceptions of God. The term Adibuddha is also associated with many positive qualities by some Tibetan Buddhist schools.
“Adibuddha is believed to be a primordial, self-existent, self-created Buddha who is the personification of Shunyata or emptiness (freedom from confining substance or conceptual graspability) enshrining the infinitely Knowing Mind of Great Compassion; all phenomena lack true separate existence yet still appear, and their basis is the undifferentiated and inconceivable Mind of Buddha (empty of all defects and ignorance)” http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/God_in_Buddhism
For this reason the Gelug school of Tibetan Buddhism prefers the term Dharmakaya to Adibuddha, because the Gelug school emphasizes the path of negation (via negativa) as taught by Nagarjuna and Chandrakirti where ultimate truth is discerned by deconstructing reality. Christianity, Judaism, islam, Hinduism and Taoism also have their own paths of negation. The via negativa in Islam is described by Snjezana Akpinar:
“I would say that Allah is nothingness, and when you say the basic mantra of Islam “La Ilaha ‘Ila Al-lah” . . . it’s actually inviting you to keep repeating “There is no God except Allah” over and over as you decrease one syllable, or one “lah” at a time . “Lah” means ‘no’, so it’s a negation. And so, Allah is the Great No. Allah is something that you cannot imagine, because it’s beyond everything, and so it is the big “ah” at the end of the word lah that designates the nothingness. When you repeat, “La Ilaha Illa Al-lah”, you are peeling off layers of everything that’s imaginable. You keep repeating it and knocking off syllables until you’re left with that “ah” and that’s the hua or pure breath of God.”
http://www.berzinarchives.com/web/en/archives/study/islam/general/common_features_islam_buddhism.html
The Burden of Purity
Here is a thought experiment:
Stage 1: Imagine that you are the leader of a small religious denomination. Let’s call the religion ‘Prayerism’ and your denomination is called the ‘Traditional Prayer Church’. Imagine that Prayerism is a major world religion, which is thousands of years old with hundreds of millions of followers. The Traditional Prayer Church is only a small denomination, numbering perhaps ten thousand followers.
Stage 2: As the leader of the Traditional Prayer Church you sincerely believe that the whole religion of Prayerism is under threat. You believe that over the centuries the religion has degenerated, and that it is now in its final decline. You believe that the vast majority of people practicing Prayerism are either practicing an inferior version of the religion, which is missing some of the essential truths, or they are practicing a degenerate form of the religion in which important truths have been distorted or mixed with outside elements (which means it is no longer ‘pure’ Prayerism). You believe that now only the Traditional Prayer Church is teaching a pure and complete version of Prayerism.
Stage 3: As leader of the Traditional Prayer Church you are living in a country which has not traditionally been Prayerist, and where Prayerism is not part of the indigenous culture. Your students are mainly first generation Prayerists who are relatively inexperienced and who rely very heavily on your interpretation and authority.
Stage 4: As the leader of the denomination one of your main aims is to train people as full-time teachers and practitioners of Prayerism, who will embody the very highest ideals of the religion. You therefore face a dilemma — should you share your belief about the degeneration of the rest of the religion with your students? Clearly this is a dilemma, because believing that you are one of the few remaining upholders of a major religion is an incredible psychological burden. As leader you strongly feel the weight of this burden.
Stage 5: In contemplating this dilemma do you focus mainly on the truth of what you believe, or do you mainly consider the impact that burdening your students with this belief will have on them? Will it be productive for their spiritual development if your students believe that they are the only guardians of a major religion? Or will the enormous pressure cause them to self-destruct?
Stage 6: Alternatively, what will happen if you never share your pessimistic belief with your students. Instead of thinking that they are in the only pure denomination and that all the other denominations are either degenerate, inferior or impure, your students will grow up thinking that they are just one group of Prayerists among many. In this scenario they are likely to have more respect for members of other Prayerist denominations. Do you want this, or as leader would you prefer that they looked down on other Prayerists? Do you want them to feel superior, to feel ‘purer than thou’? Or do you worry that if you do not share your pessimistic beliefs that your students will not feel enough pressure to perform? Are the traditional religious motivations alone insufficient to bring your students to a state of purity?
Stage 7: Another option is for you to give different teachings to different students. In your public teachings you can sometimes teach respect for other denominations, but in your private briefings you can criticize them. If you adopt this approach you may be accused of being disingenuous, and your close disciples who have received the private briefings will still be burdened with an enormous sense of responsibility.
What should the leader of the Traditional Prayer Church do? Please suggest answers in the comments section below.
Conceptions of the Ultimate
At the heart of the Samkhya school of Hinduism are the concepts of purusha and prakriti. Purusha is a passive, inert, witnessing consciousness. Prakriti is the active principle, the essence of subtle matter. According to the Samkhya school, the world we normally see -– called samsara or maya -– develops because purusha becomes fascinated with prakriti, which begins to divide and multiply. Soon purusha loses itself in the infinite variety of prakriti, which has now become the five elements of space, air, fire, water and earth in all their manifestations.
The Italian scholar Giuseppe Tucci writes:
“Having assumed all the characteristics of the prakriti . . . maya spreads out over all that exists, while God, the Absolute Soul, one or multiple – when imprisoned in the illusory individuality of maya – remains inert, taking colour, like a crystal, from the reflections projected on to him by the passions with which maya is stained.” (from ‘The Theory and Practice of the Mandala’, p55).
According to some Hindu yogis, the path to liberation can be described in terms of achieving a ‘oneness’ or unity with everything. Some yogis see maya as the active force of the Creator God, so that the phenomenal world, in all its variety, has a divine quality. Through identifying this divine quality both within himself and in the world, a divine ‘oneness’ is revealed within diversity, and the yogi becomes ‘one with everything’.
The Madhyamaka school of Buddhism puts ‘emptiness’ (shunyata) in a similar position to the Creator, because samsara is seen as an illusory manifestation of emptiness. For this reason emptiness is sometimes described as a ‘mother’. In ‘Song of Emptiness’ the Tibetan scholar Changkya Rölpai Dorje says:
“These various apprehended [objects] and apprehenders [minds] are the manifestation of the mother. This birth, death, and these changing [things] are the falsities of the mother.” (quoted, ‘Heart of Wisdom’, Geshe Kelsang Gyatso).
However, although all phenomena are said to be of ‘one taste’ in emptiness, the Madhaymaka school does not go so far as to say that emptiness is a ‘oneness’ pervading everything, because emptiness is not an entity in its own right and in emptiness there is no ‘number’, such as one or many. In the ‘Heart Sutra’, the Bodhisattva Avalokiteshvara says:
“Shariputra, like this all phenomena are merely empty, having no characteristics [such as number] . . . They have no decrease and no increase.” (quoted, Heart of Wisdom, Geshe Kelsang Gyatso)
To say that all phenomena are empty does not mean that all phenomena are one entity, because emptiness is not separate from the diversity of phenomena. Emptiness does not possess positive attributes of its own such as oneness or manyness, it is a mere negation of the mistaken inherent existence of phenomena. Emptiness is, strictly speaking, a negative conception of the Ultimate.
In Hinduism there are both negative and positive conceptions of God, most prominently in the Advaita-Vedanta school (which owes a historical debt to the Madhyamaka). In Advaita-Vedanta God can be understood either as nirguna (without attributes) or saguna (with attributes). The negative way of understanding God is considered more profound. Negative ways of understanding God (viae negativae) can also be found in Christianity in the work of St. Thomas Aquinas and in Judaism in the work of Maimonides in his ‘Guide for the Perplexed’.
Within Buddhism the strongest assertion of the positive attributes of the Ultimate is found in the doctrine of Tathagathagarbha or (Buddha nature). The teachings on Buddha nature are sometimes considered to be part of the Third Turning of the Wheel of Dharma along with the teachings on Mind-only (Chittamatra). The First Turning is preserved in the scriptures of the Theravada Buddhist school and includes the teaching on the Four Noble Truths. The Second Turning is the Perfection of Wisdom teachings, which are the core teachings of the Madhyamaka school.
Depending on whether a weak or strong interpretation of the Buddha nature teachings is employed, all sentient beings are either said to have the seed of Buddhahood within them (weak), or to be in some sense already enlightened (strong). In his book ‘Mahayana Buddhism’ Paul Williams says that the
“tension between innate, inherent enlightenment and becoming enlightened is a tension at the root of the Tathagathagarbha tradition” (p97).
Buddha nature is present in all living beings. While it is accompanied by defilements we remain ordinary, but when the defilements are removed the Buddha nature becomes the Dharmakaya (Buddha’s enlightened mind). A good example of positive qualities being attributed to the Dharmakaya and the Buddha nature can be found in the ‘Srimala Sutra’, where the Dharmakaya is described as:
“beginningless, uncreate, unborn, undying, free from death; permanent, steadfast, calm, eternal; intrinsically pure, free from all the defilement store; and accompanied by Buddha natures more numerous than the sands of the Ganges, which are nondiscrete, knowing as liberated, and inconceivable.”
Paul Williams also says that “the Tathagathagarbha is said to be a substratum which is permanent, steadfast, and eternal.” (ibid p101). This is a strongly positive view of the ultimate, so it is clear that there is considerable scope for disagreement between those who believe that the emptiness teachings are definitive versus those who believe in the Buddha nature teachings.
As we might expect, positive and negative conceptions of the ultimate have been a major point of debate within the Tibetan Buddhist tradition. It is possible to reconcile these views using a quote by the great Tibetan yogi Milarepa, who said:
“Everything is the nature of the mind. Mind is the nature of emptiness.”
When practicing the first part we can concentrate on positive qualities such as the radiant, brightly shining nature of the mind, when practicing the second we can emphasise the negative, empty qualities of the mind.
In the ‘Anguttara Nikâya’ I.8-ll the Buddha says:
“This mind, monks, is brightly shining, but it is defiled by defilements which arrive. But this is not understood as it really is by those who are spiritually uneducated, so they do not develop the citta [mind]. This mind, monks, is brightly shining, but it is freed from defilements which arrive. This is understood as it really is by those noble disciples who are spiritually educated, so they do develop the citta“.
Peter Harvey comments:
“A key idea is that whatever defilements or stains there may or may not be on the ‘surface’ of the mind, even if they have deep roots, these do not penetrate to the inner depths of the mind. The mind has a ‘radiance’ whether or not it is ‘corrupt’ and ‘defiled’ or ‘clarified’ and ‘freed from defilements’. Even the corrupt person destined for hell thus has a ‘brightly shining’ citta ‘covered’, so to speak, by the defilements which obscure it. The defilements ‘arrive’, like people arriving at a guest house . . . “Beneath the surface level of mind, which has such things as anger, pride, jealousy, worry etc., there is something ‘brightly shining’ – intrinsically stainless, a basic goodness, perhaps an ‘original sinlessness’. However terrible a person’s actions, which may lead to weighty karmic consequences over a long period, the seed of perfection is never destroyed, only more deeply covered over. Whatever heritage of previously developed character faults a child brings into this world, the seed of perfection is there to be developed. This expresses a very positive view of human nature and, indeed, of the nature of all beings.”
Authoritarian and Humanistic Religion
In his book Psychoanalysis and Religion Erich Fromm draws a distinction between two types of religion: authoritarian and humanistic. He writes:
“The essential element in authoritarian religion and in the authoritarian religious experience is the surrender to a power transcending man. The main virtue of this type of religion is obedience, its cardinal sin is disobedience. Just as the deity is conceived as omnipotent or omniscient, man is conceived as being powerless and insignificant. Only as he can gain grace or help from the deity by complete surrender can he feel strength. Submission to a powerful authority is one of the avenues by which man escapes from his feeling of aloneness and limitation. In the act of surrender he loses his independence and integrity as an individual but he gains the feeling of being protected by an awe-inspiring power of which, as it were, he becomes a part.”
In his book Free to Be Human David Edwards expands Fromm’s description of authoritarian religion (which he renames power religion). He writes:
“Power religion, unlike true religious endeavour [for which Fromm used the term ‘humanistic religion’], has nothing at all do with the search for fundamental, adequate answers to human life, but is purely a means of justifying, enforcing and facilitating the exercise of power. Power religion does not consist in a particular set of beliefs, but in a set of functions supporting power. Because these functions remain essentially constant, we discover close similarities between versions of power religion widely separated by historical time, geography and superficial appearance. The differences between these beliefs represent a sort of superficial clothing over an essentially identical framework of underlying function. This unchanging framework operates to ensure that the mass of people:
1. Be over-awed and pacified by esoteric knowledge incomprehensible to, and therefore unchallengeable by, mere mortals who are not ‘in the know’.
2. Be incapable of forming a coherent picture of the world on the basis of which they might offer criticism of power.
3. Be intimidated into obedience and loyalty by reference to life threatening, ‘demonic’ enemies.
4. Be seduced into conformity by the promise of utopian future happiness.
5. Defer to and idolise their leaders.
Two versions of power religion which, while outwardly different, both satisfy the above requirements, are:
1. Traditional, theistic, church-based religion and
2. Modern, atheistic, corporate-based religion.”
In contrast, Erich Fromm’s description of humanistic religion is as follows:
“Humanistic religion, on the contrary, is centered around man and his strength. Man must develop his power of reason in order to understand himself, his relationship to his fellow men and his position in the universe. He must recognize the truth, both with regard to his limitations and his potentialities. He must develop his powers of love for others as well as for himself and experience the solidarity of all living beings. He must have principles and norms to guide him in this aim. Religious experience in this kind of religion is the experience of oneness with the All, based on one’s relatedness to the world as it is grasped with thought and with love. Man’s aim in humanistic religion is to achieve the greatest strength, not the greatest powerlessness; virtue is self-realization, not obedience. Faith is certainty of conviction based on one’s experience of thought and feeling, not assent to propositions on credit of the proposer. The prevailing mood is that of joy, while the prevailing mood in authoritarian religion is that of sorrow and of guilt.”
There is a relationship between the types of religion and the types of love: authoritarian religion is related to paternal love; humanistic religion is related to maternal love. In The Art of Loving Erich Fromm writes:
“This experience of being loved by mother is a passive one. There is nothing I have to do in order to be loved—mother’s love is unconditional. All I have to do is to be—to be her child. Mother’s love is bliss, is peace, it need not be acquired, it need not be deserved. But there is a negative side, too, to the unconditional quality of mother’s love. Not only does it not need to be deserved—it also cannot be acquired, produced, controlled. If it is there, it is like a blessing; if it is not there, it is as if all beauty had gone out of life—and there is nothing I can do to create it.” Our ability to trust in ourselves as humans, and therefore to practice humanistic religion, springs from our innate confidence in our own self-worth, which is acquired partly through receiving a mother’s unconditional love.
“The relationship to father is quite different. Mother is the home we come from, she is nature, soil, the ocean; father does not represent any such natural home. He has little connection with the child in the first years of its life, and his importance for the child in this early period cannot be compared with that of mother. But while father does not represent the natural world, he represents the other pole of human existence; the world of thought, of man-made things, of law and order, of discipline, of travel and adventure. Father is the one who teaches the child, who shows him the road into the world. Closely related to this function is one which is connected with socio-economic development. When private property came into existence, and when private property could be inherited by one of the sons, father began to look for that son to whom he could leave his property. Naturally, that was the one whom father thought best fitted to become his successor, the son who was most like him, and consequently whom he liked the most. Fatherly love is conditional love. Its principle is “I love you because you fulfill my expectations, because you do your duty, because you are like me.” In conditional fatherly love we find, as with unconditional motherly love, a negative and a positive aspect. The negative aspect is the very fact that fatherly love has to be deserved, that it can be lost if one does not do what is expected. In the nature of fatherly love lies the fact that obedience becomes the main virtue, that disobedience is the main sin—and its punishment the withdrawal of fatherly love. The positive side is equally important. Since his love is conditioned, I can do something to acquire it, I can work for it; his love is not outside of my control as motherly love is.”
