Boleh Tahan ~ SECTARIANISM
WE ALL HAVE OUR OWN
WAYS OF looking at things, of course, but if we were
to examine them, we’d probably find that they
are very much conditioned by factors outside our control.
Really, therefore, they are not our ways of looking
at things at all, but more the ways of other people
that we have inherited. It is like the houses we live
in: they are not really our houses in the sense that
we didn’t build them ourselves, but more the
houses of others—those who contributed in any
way to their construction, and there were literally
millions of them, stretching back over the ages to
the infinite past. Everyone depends upon others before
them, back and back and back.
So, where did we get our views from? Where
did our conditioning begin? Are our views consistent
with reality? Are they supported by and based upon
facts? Are we mature enough to think about this and
face the fact that what we have assumed until now
to be right and true may actually not be so, and that
we might have to start from scratch in constructing
a workable philosophy of life? This is a very disconcerting
prospect, and one which the vast majority of people
would turn away from, preferring the consoling illusions
that they may have been brought up with and have accepted
without question. But there are always some brave
enough to doubt the accepted norm, who will not be
content with the mere name-and-form of religion, and
provisions must be made for them.
When I was in Australia in 1996, a census
was conducted, and everyone was required to respond,
under threat of being fined if they failed to do so
(Australia, I regret to say, is becoming like Singapore:
a fine country, with voting compulsory, and fines
imposed for failure to vote; many countries have insufficient
democracy, but in Australia, we have maybe too much!
Earlier this century, people struggled and suffered
for universal suffrage (the right to vote); perhaps
now, we need to struggle for the right not to vote!
The whole idea behind the right to vote is the freedom
to choose; surely, this should include the right not
to choose, too!)
There was a question about religion on the
census form, but since it was not compulsory to answer
this, I left it blank. I feel that we should not label
ourselves or others; if others wish to label me a
‘Buddhist’, that is up to them.
Checking to see how my eldest sister and
her husband (with whom I was staying at the time)
had filled in the form, I saw that they had answered
the question about religion with ‘Church of
England’. I didn’t say anything about
this to them, of course, but thought it would have
been better for them to have left it blank, too. They
are not practicing Christians, never go to church,
and I doubt very much if they would be able to explain
what Christianity is all about!
Later, when the results of the census were
made known, it was stated that about 2 million Australians
(over 10% of the population), claimed to have no religion.
While this would be true in many cases (and not just
with 2 million, either, but with many more), it would
not be true with all, as many of them would probably
be quite religious in the sense of living by principles
that are important to them. What they probably mean
when they say they have no religion is that they do
not call themselves by any particular ‘brand
name’, and are able to see through and beyond
the form and externalia of religion to the essence.
I have much more respect for people who live religiously
without calling themselves ‘Buddhists’,
‘Christians’, ‘Hindus’, etc.,
than for those who make a show about the superficialities
of religion but ignore the essence.
Disregarding other religions for now, and
their claims to exclusive possession of truth, let
us focus on the divisions of Buddhism, which continue
to cause friction. Historically, Buddhism went through
three main phases of development in India, each lasting
about 500 years: Theravada, Mahayana, and Vajrayana.
I don’t intend to go into the causes of their
development here, but will say that the development
of one into another does not necessarily prove the
superiority of the succeeding one; we must keep it
in mind that there is not just evolution but devolution
too: things do not always evolve and become better,
but sometimes devolve and degenerate. I’m not
saying that this happened in Buddhism, but neither
am I saying that it didn’t; it is a matter of
opinion, and we should make up our own minds about
it.
Very often we find that the adherents of
particular schools or sects of Buddhism are not very
clear as to why they have chosen one sect over another;
indeed, in most cases, they didn’t choose at
all, in the sense of making an informed decision to
follow this rather than that; it is more that they
fell into it as into a hole, and then, embracing it
as their own, proceeded to feel that it must be better
than all others, must, in fact, be the best. What
does this mean? Nothing more or less than egoism,
the sense of ‘I, me and mine’. We become
so bound up with thoughts of self that we forget,
if we ever knew, the boundless ‘beyond-self’
that the Buddha tried to indicate. Let us be very
clear about this: the Buddha had nothing to do with
sectarianism; what He taught was Dharma, nothing less.
Sectarianism is like the nun in the parable
who was so attached to a particular Buddha image that
she would offer incense only to that one and not to
the numerous other images in the shrine hall of her
nunnery. Noticing that the smoke from her incense
didn’t go straight up to her favorite image,
however, but dispersed throughout the shrine hall,
she wondered how she could get the smoke to go just
where she wanted it to go, instead of straying to
the other images. Finally, she hit upon a solution
and made a funnel above the incense urn to direct
the smoke upwards to her Buddha image. How happy she
was to see the smoke finally obeying her wishes! It
wasn’t long, however, before the funneled smoke
blackened the nose of her beautiful Buddha image,
making it quite ugly!
It cannot be said often enough that the Buddha
did not teach what we call Buddhism, let alone sectarian
differences that come under names like Hinayana, Mahayana,
Vajrayana, Zen, and so on, but a way of discovering
Reality or Universal Dharma, which applies to everyone
and everything, in all times and places, which is
all inclusive and all embracing rather than exclusive
and partial. We must remember, too, that He didn’t
set out to teach only Buddhists, as there were no
Buddhists when He began; He didn’t care what
people called themselves or thought of themselves
as; He was concerned with human beings, and their
potential to understand and grow. Are only Buddhists
capable of this?
To understand this Universal Dharma we must
be able to put aside, if only briefly, the fearful
concern for self—my religion, my merit, my practice,
my progress, my development, my enlightenment—and
see, or realize, that there is really no separate
self, that we are part of something infinitely bigger
and more important than self, and that only by understanding
ourselves as part of everything, instead of apart
from it, does it make any sense at all; in other words,
the part, by itself, simply has no meaning and does
not exist.
This realization is of the utmost importance,
as the struggle for personal enlightenment is self-defective
and doomed to failure. The Buddha once compared His
teachings to a snake, which, if caught by the tail,
may turn and bite, but if caught behind the head,
cannot bite. Right Understanding is the first stage
of the Eightfold Path, because without it, our subsequent
efforts may easily come to naught; it is indispensable.
We must begin with ourselves, understanding
how we are, as that is the only place to begin. Looking
back on the way by which we have reached the present
(and the present is all we ever have; it is always
only the present, the Now), we can see that we have
been supported at every step upon our long, long journey
by countless others, and that we have not come here
merely by our own efforts. By honestly asking ourselves
what we really want from life, we arrive at simple
conclusions: basically, we want to be happy and not
suffer or feel sad; we like others to be kind to us
and help us rather than be unkind to us. By understanding
this about ourselves, we will also understand about
others, as they feel very much the same as we do.
We will then know what to do, and how to live; we
won’t need anyone else to tell us because we
will know by ourselves. We must begin with ourselves,
yes, but we must not stop there; from understanding
things in this way, our hearts and minds begin to
open, to take into account other fragments of life—fellow
travelers— struggling along all around us, to
show compassionate concern for them, and to reach
out and help them according to our limited capacity
whenever we have the opportunity to do so; and such
reaching-out would come as an expression of our understanding
of how things are, instead of with the idea of ‘making
merit’ or getting more out of life than we have
already got.
In this way, therefore, we find that Understanding
and Love overcome the fearful concern for ourselves.
If we were really as small and insignificant as we
often think we are, there would be good reason to
be afraid—in fact, we could not feel otherwise;
but since we exist interdependently, there is no question
about being alone. We just have to see and feel how
things are, and then the fear for self will diminish,
will be overcome.
But it is not only the fear for self that
Love overcomes; there are other things, too. If we
consider others kindly, with love and understanding,
we are able to overlook their imperfections and failings,
and see them, with their hopes, fears, and aspirations,
as just like us: frail and fragile, struggling along,
usually with no real sense of direction, but nevertheless
lovable as human beings, worthy of respect and admiration.
Love here, then, overcomes aversion and feelings of
dislike towards others; it helps us to accept them
as they are.
Love, too, may overcome enmity and unkindness
in others; the Buddha said “Hate is not overcome
by hate; only by love is hate overcome”. If
this doesn’t always immediately work for us
every time we try it, we shouldn’t be dismayed
and give up, but should persevere; we cannot make
others understand us or respond to us in the way we
would like them to, but we can try to understand them.
In fact, when we know something of the Dharma, the
responsibility is more with us to understand others
than with others to understand us.
The transition, development or upward growth
from Understanding to Love—from Mind to Heart,
as it were—typifies the almost traditional idea
of the difference between Hinayana (and here, I do
not mean the Theravada school of Buddhism, but an
attitude of mind: the Hina or Smaller, Lesser, Lower,
Inferior state of mind that is concerned primarily
with self), and Mahayana (again, an attitude of mind
rather than a sect or school of Buddhism, the state
of mind that sees clearly how we are not separate
from others, that is free from a fearful preoccupation
with self, and that looks with Understanding and Love
instead).
Our movement along the Path
to Enlightenment is not just a matter of making effort,
essential though this is; there is also the very strong
and essential element of the Dharma working within
us. Without trying to change for the better, even
an intellectual study of the Dharma brings great results;
but when we consciously turn towards Dharma and strive
to align ourselves with it, and live according to
its principles, our progress is greatly accelerated.
The Dharma is so effective, and it is for this reason
that we say from our hearts: Dharmam Saranam Gacchami.
“Only in dying is there life.
If one can die before one dies, perhaps one will discover
that one does not die when one dies”.
(Krishnamurti).
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