Against The Stream ~ WHAT IS A TEMPLE?
A
TEMPLE MEANS DIFFERENT THINGS to different people.
To some, it is a public place,
like a park, where they can go to relax, take photos,
meet friends, have picnics, scatter garbage, etc.
To some, it is a place where
they can get something ‘free’, and many
things fly away without wings.
To some, it is a place where
they can change their footwear—old for new.
To some, it is a place for
seeking ‘face’, power, position, name.
To others, it is a place
to ‘make merit’, while to others, it is
a place to burn forests of incense-sticks and make
‘holy smoke’.
To some, it is a place to
beg and grovel, to petition for help or salvation,
to ask for ‘lucky numbers’, or for success
in exams, love, etc.
To some, it is a place to
seek solitude and solace, away from the problems and
pressures of home and work.
And to some—always
only a few—it is a school, where they can learn
something useful to apply in their lives outside.
Today, although there is a resurgence in religious
fundamentalism, the number of people who will openly
admit to following no religion has grown tremendously,
and continues to grow. These trends seem to form two
opposing camps; let’s take a brief look at them:
Life in our time has become so fast and
complex—we might even say mechanical—that
many people find it difficult to adapt to its rapid
change, and it is easy to understand why they become
alienated, frustrated and neurotic. In need of something
stable to hold onto—an anchor—some fall
back on things of the past, things our ancestors held
onto and seemed to gain strength and comfort from,
especially religion. This is why we see a rise in
what is called ‘Fundamentalism’—a
clinging to ancient forms which are considered time-tested
and indispensable elements of religion, in the hope/belief
that the answers to all the problems of the present
and future lie therein. But, if anything, this only
increases the problems, because, first of all, the
realities of the present are often ignored and avoided
in a looking-back instead of a looking-ahead. Secondly,
this fearful clinging to beliefs and ideas—which,
more often than not, have no factual basis—further
divides people and makes for more conflicts and problems,
so that, even today, we still have the curse of Jihad
or ‘Holy War’ with us. Fundamentalists,
like Iran’s late Ayatollah Khomeini and his
successors, are often dangerous fanatics; and in a
world where terrible consequences can be brought about
by people with itchy fingers on buttons, their ideas
of alone being right while others are therefore automatically
wrong, are frightening to contemplate.
Many of the world’s troubles can be
directly traced to this narrow thinking of "I/we
are right, and you/they are wrong". Fundamentalists
seldom have a balanced view of life, and make themselves
conspicuous by their unflagging zeal to influence
and infect others with their ideas. In the political
field, the communists were the best example of this
in recent times, while in the religious field, it
is all too-obvious who would win the prize for it,
without mentioning any names here.
On the other end of the stick are people
who have either rejected religion in totality for
any of many reasons, or who never had any interest
in religion to begin with. Religion has no restraining
influence upon these people, and if and when they
think about it at all, many of them would just shrug
off religion as anachronistic and irrelevant in the
present. Though this is also an extreme, I can better
understand and sympathize with such thinking than
with that of the fundamentalists. Many of them have
been over-dosed and turned-off by the untenable dogmas
and superstitions that religion has tried to foist
off on them. It is quite right that such things should
be rejected as obsolete and unacceptable.
Sometimes, however, people ‘throw
out the baby with the bath-water’ in their wholesale
rejection of everything to do with religion; they
discard the good as well as the bad. But they cannot
really be held responsible for this, as it is usually
a reaction against the past. It is up to the leaders
of the various religions to perform a house-cleaning,
from top to bottom, and bring religion into line with
the findings of modern science and psychology (or
at least, not hold it in opposition to them). The
sooner this is done the better it will be for the
whole world.
Religion and Science have been divorced
and opposed for far too long, although there is really
no natural reason for them to be so; it is mainly
because Religion has often required blind belief in
things that it was unprepared or unable to provide
proof for. But now, in the Space Age, the need to
bridge the artificial gulf between these two great
areas of human activity is more imperative than ever.
Gone—thank goodness!—are the
times when Religion could dictate to its followers
what to think and do. Sadly, though, many people don’t
know what to do with the freedom that has suddenly
come to them as the result of the efforts of others.
Some of them would be much better off without it,
for having it, they do more harm than good, both to
others and themselves.1 Democracy is something that
many people are obviously not ready for, like dogs
incapable of appreciating diamonds; it has been served
to them on a plate instead of them earning and deserving
it themselves.
During that part of European history known
as ‘The Middle Ages’, and even until as
late as the 17th century, the Popes of Rome maintained
their own armies, and occasionally even directed them
in battle! But today, religion has lost its claws
and such temporal power, and in most cases, is separated
from the power of the state. However, it still has
a very important—and beneficial—role to
play in the world, if only it will not insist on living
in the past.
For many years, my efforts at propagating
Dharma have been confined mainly to Asians, because
I feel that Westerners are easier able to learn about
Dharma—if they want to—than are Asian
Buddhists. Why do I feel this? Not because I’m
an Asiaphobe (I’m not; if anything, I’m
just the opposite!). Nor is it because I think Westerners
are more intelligent or better in any way than Asians.
It is because, if Asians wish to learn about Buddhism,
they have to struggle through the accumulated traditions
and superstitions of centuries which have grown up
around it, and which have sometimes little or nothing
to do with Buddhism. A good example of this is the
burning of all kinds of objects made of paper—houses,
cars, TV’s, hell-money, etc.—in the belief
that dead relatives will get these things in more-concrete
form on ‘the other side’. Once, in Malacca,
I witnessed the burning of a paper palace, replete
with furnishings and tiny liveried servants, etc.,
that had cost about US$4,000! The monks in the temple
where this took place, however, did nothing to discourage
this expensive, wasteful and useless superstition,
and so, by their silence, tacitly condoned its continuation.
If an Asian wishes to learn about Buddhism
it might be difficult to know where to begin. Many,
not bothering to investigate at all—indeed,
probably not even aware of the mix-up of gold and
clay to begin with—just accept the whole thing
unquestioningly. Admittedly, ignorance is sometimes
blissful, and people do seem to derive solace and
satisfaction therefrom, but that is not what Buddhism
is all about. Would the young people of today and
tomorrow accept things without question? Many Asians
living in the West, now having the opportunities to
indulge their hitherto unfulfilled desires, become
more materialistic than Westerners. Many of them abandon
their culture and religion and adopt Western ways,
but without understanding them first. Does religion
have anything for these opportunistic people? Many
of them will not go near a temple except for the funeral-ceremonies
of relatives or friends. But can they be blamed for
this when almost no-one cares enough to try to explain
things to them?
Confucius is reported to have said something
like this: "If you love, and nobody responds
to your love, look into your love", meaning to
be capable of self-criticism. Should not Buddhist
leaders try harder to understand the situation instead
of expecting to be understood, or just saying: "Well,
it’s the Dharma-ending time now; what can we
do?"
Buddhism is a way based upon Change, and
its forms have changed many times, and will change.
As long as the essence is retained, however, it doesn’t
really matter. Between the Chinese/Vietnamese forms
of Buddhism, and the original Indian Buddhism, for
example, there are so many differences. Nor is this
surprising, for Buddhism is like a stream of water
which, at its source high in the mountains, is crystal-clear.
But as it runs downwards, it is joined by other trickles
of water, growing larger as a result, and bearing
along with it things it has picked up along the way—sticks,
leaves, stones, mud, sand, dead animals, and sometimes,
perhaps, some specks of gold. Before it reaches the
sea, it has long ceased to be a stream of clear water,
and has become a mighty river whose waters bear along
thousands of tons of sediment and man-made pollutants;
indeed, how could it be otherwise? The estuary is
far from the source, both in time and space.
Fewer and fewer people go to the temples
regularly now. Many of those who formerly used to
go often, but now do not, if asked why, might say
that they are too busy and have no time. But this
is just one reason; there are other reasons, unvoiced,
I’m sure. I will readily admit that the Western
way of life—which prevails not just in the West
but in other areas, too—is very fast and hectic.
But I will not accept that it is to be blamed for
all our troubles; it is unfair to always blame external
conditions for whatever happens to us; we should look
nearer to home for the causes. Many Asians change
a lot after living in the West for a while; I have
heard people complain about how much they find their
friends have changed after meeting them again years
later.
We change, yes—everything changes,
constantly—but are we always to be the victims
of Change, and devolve, or can we, perhaps, understand
and use Change to evolve and become better? A boat
without a rudder is at the mercy of the wind and waves,
while one with a rudder can be steered in any direction
desired.
Some years ago, I was surprised to learn
that no less that 14 Vietnamese monks had disrobed
and left the monkhood since arriving in Australia
as refugees; that number must be higher now. Something
is obviously wrong here, and I think we should endeavor
to find out what. It is not good enough to blame the
attractions and seductions of the Western way-of-life—although
these things undoubtedly play a part in it. Is it
that the Vietnamese Buddhist system hasn’t adapted
to conditions in the West and is therefore out-of-touch
with reality? And can it not adapt? If not, it is
in danger of following the way of the dinosaurs, whose
bones we see in the museums; it must be expected that,
as the older devotees depart from us, there will be
few others to replace them.
Has anyone seriously thought to consult
people about this state of things? What does ‘the-man-in-the-street’
think about it? What do the young people—tomorrow’s
adults and leaders —think? Should they not be
consulted, and as many points-of-view on these things
as possible gathered, so the picture becomes clearer,
and solutions to the problems found?
For years, I have said that every temple
should have—to balance the ubiquitous Donation-box—a
Suggestions-box, wherein people may put their written
suggestions, ideas, or complaints concerning the temple,
with or without their names, as they saw fit. In this
way, as in a democratic system, everyone could feel
they have a say in the way things are done in the
temple. The temple committee could learn what people
wanted there (it would also act as a check against
the possible abuse of power by people in positions).
At this point, it might be appropriate to
explain the difference between a Monastery and a Temple:
A monastery is especially for monks, and is controlled
and administered by them, not by others. A temple,
however, is different, being mainly for lay-people,
as a place for them to worship and hopefully to learn
something. A temple is run by lay-people and belongs
to the Buddhist community in general, not to any individual.
A monk who stays in a temple does so in the capacity
of spiritual advisor to the lay-people, and his role
is a very exalted one, for people call him ‘Teacher’,
and expect to learn from him something of the Buddha’s
Way. The temple is not the personal property of the
monk, who has embraced the homeless life and should
not be looking for another home in place of the one
he left.
The distinction between Monastery and Temple
should be emphasized, for many people now do not understand,
and have come to depend too much upon the monks, instead
of upon the Dharma, and consider them indispensable.
I have been to many temples where there are no monks,
and where people said to me that they were very sad
because they had no resident monk. Whenever I heard
this complaint, I tried to explain that they should
not worry about it, but should try to understand the
Dharma themselves, and not always to wait for someone
to come along and teach them. If they have a monk
visit them for a few days once in a while, to sow
some Dharma-seeds by talks or counseling, and then
go away, to be followed, later, by a different monk
with other seeds to sow, it might actually be better
than having the same monks staying there for years.
People tend to become bored of hearing the same thing
after a while, and begin to look for something new.
It’s like eating the same kind of food for every
meal, day after day; no matter how delicious we might
find it in the beginning, we would soon become tired
of it and desire something else.
It is not— as some shallow-minded
people think— that I am against monks and temples;
I think the role of the monk and the temple is still
very important. But let me state, clearly, in what
way I think they are important: THE MONK IS A TEACHER,
THE TEMPLE IS A SCHOOL. The temple should be a place
where people can go to learn something of the Buddha’s
Teachings (though a temple, of course, is not the
only place where one may learn about that). A monk
is someone who should be able to help people understand
that the Dharma is everywhere, and not just in the
temple. He should be concerned about guiding people
to become self-sufficient by understanding and depending
upon the Dharma, not upon any person. His aim, in
fact, should be to ‘do himself out of a job’
as a teacher, although he need never worry it would
ever happen. We understand slowly, one-by-one, not
en masse.
Someone once told me that he looked upon
the temple as a hospital, where people go to be cured
of sickness, but that, since he was not sick, he felt
no need to go there. Following his analogy, I replied:
"A hospital needs doctors and nurses to treat
the sick, so if you feel no need to go there to be
treated, perhaps you can go there to help treat, in
some capacity, instead". We might say that, when
we have learned all that can be learned in the temple—if
ever—there is no need to go there anymore; but
that would be a selfish way of looking at it. We could
still go, but in the capacity of teacher or Dharma-friend
to those who are still learning, instead of as a learner,
like before. So, you see, although I might have different
ideas about temples than others, I do not consider
them unimportant; this is why I established two temples
in the Refugee Camp in Bataan, Philippines.
The exiled leader of Tibet’s Buddhists,
the Dalai Lama, was awarded the Nobel Peace-Prize
for seeking to liberate Tibet from China by peaceful
means. In a publication called, "Opening the
Eye of New Awareness", His Holiness said:
"Each of us has responsibility for
all humankind. It is time for us to think of other
people as true brothers and sisters, and to be concerned
with their welfare, with lessening their suffering.
Even if you cannot sacrifice your own benefit entirely,
you should not forget the concerns of others. We should
think more about the future and benefit of all humanity.
"Also, if you try to subdue your selfish
motives—anger, and so forth—and develop
more kindness and compassion for others, ultimately
you yourself will benefit more than you would otherwise.
So, sometimes I say that the wise selfish person should
practice this way. Foolish selfish people are always
thinking of themselves, and the result is negative.
Wise selfish people think of others, help others as
much as they can, and the result is that they, too,
receive benefit.
"This is my simple religion. There
is no need for temples, no need for complicated philosophy.
Our own brain, our own heart is our temple; the philosophy
is kindness".
Wonderful words, and they don’t contradict
what I’ve just said about the temple, either,
for the temple should be a place where people can
learn the meaning of the Dalai Lama’s words.
He himself lives in a temple, does he not?
John Lennon upset a lot of conservative people
with his song, "Imagine", in which he sang:
"Imagine there’s no country—
It isn’t hard to do;
Nothing to kill or die for—
And no religion, too".
Seen as Dharma, this makes perfect sense, but it was
also what led to John Lennon being killed himself!
He was killed by someone who was obviously stuck on
the external aspects of religion, and who failed to
see the essence.
It is up to the leaders of the temples to
help people understand— and to understand, themselves—
that if they do so, they will not lose support. In
fact, by giving people a new and refreshing look at
religion, by helping them see that it is not a museum-piece
(as it often seems to be), they will probably gain
support as a result of being in touch with the times
we live in.
We must get our priorities in order, and
I do not consider the purchase of a bell costing A$22,000
(for a temple in Sydney), nor the acquisition of a
set of Buddhist scriptures in Chinese costing several
thousand dollars for a Vietnamese temple in Melbourne,
to be priorities, for very few people are able to
read it now, and in the future there will be even
less. The Buddhist scriptures are not things that,
by the mere possession of them, or just being able
to remember and recite portions of them by heart,
will bring about magical results. It amuses me to
hear people talk about this-or-that sutra being ‘very
good’ or ‘very powerful’, in the
sense of efficacious against danger or misfortune;
they ask each other: "Do you know how to chant
the Lotus Sutra?", or "Can you recite the
Surangama Sutra?", etc. This is not the purpose
of the Buddhist scriptures at all; by treating them
in this manner, we reduce them to mumbo-jumbo.
We really must try to demystify religion
if it is to have any relevance in the future; we must
try to rid it of elements of magic and superstition
if it is not to continue losing ground. It is necessary
to present things in languages that people under-stand—their
own everyday languages, languages that they think,
speak, and dream in. What is the use of knowing words
of foreign languages without knowing their meanings?
(I once read somewhere of a Chinese gentleman meeting
an American lady at a dinner-party and, noticing she
was wearing a polished brass medallion with some Chinese
characters on it, he asked her where she had acquired
it. After telling him she had come across it in a
curio-shop in Hong Kong, and had taken a liking to
it, she asked him if he could tell her the meaning
of the characters on it. Somewhat hesitantly, and
with a shy smile, he said: "City of Shanghai.
Licensed Prostitute". It was a relic from pre-revolution
days!).
To end this off, I would like to say that the aforewritten—like
all my writings—is just my opinion about things;
I do not claim that it represents ‘official
Buddhism’, even if there were such a thing.
Therefore, beware, and do not just accept my ideas
and adopt them as your own without thinking of them;
I would not be flattered if you did that, but would
consider you ‘dumb’. If you have made
the effort to read through all this, I would like
to ask you to think about these things clearly and
carefully, and ask yourself if they are true and useful
to you or not. If you would like to write to me and
tell me what you think of what I’ve written,
please feel free to do so; I would like to know your
opinions, too, as they might help me to present things
better. I want to know what you want to know, then
I might easier decide if I am ready, willing and able
to provide what you want. Let me say, though, that
if all you want is ceremony and fairy-tales, better
go to someone else, for though I can—and sometimes
do—perform ceremonies for the dead, my way is
more for the living.
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1Witness the behavior of British soccer-fans at soccer-matches;
it is clearly an abuse of freedom.
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