Behind The Mask ~ COMPETITION
A young woman had
come to inquire about meditation, thinking it might
help her overcome the nervousness she felt when she
participated in karate tournaments. Not surprisingly,
a little inquiry revealed that her motive for entering
the tournaments was to win, and while in other areas
of her life she was confident and relaxed, she felt
nervous and tense only when she was about to participate
in a tournament. A little research on her part, a
little objective analysis, would probably have shown
that hope of winning is invariably accompanied by
fear of losing, as hope and fear are obverse and reverse
sides of the same coin. Is it possible to hope for
something without fear of not getting it?
It is not rare for people to think of meditation
as something like a magic wand—something that
will produce miraculous and immediate results and
solve all problems. Thus, disappointment cannot be
avoided, and meditation undertaken with such expectations
would soon be dropped in favor of another ‘quick
fix’, and any good results that might have come
about through persisting in it for a while would be
forfeited. People turn to such expected means of salvation
when they have been unable—or perhaps have not
even tried—to work things out for themselves,
or have not understood their motives for doing things.
Some years ago, in Norway, I attended a
Vietnamese Cultural Festival and found it both entertaining
and interesting, reminding me that what had been Vietnam’s
loss had been the gain of the West (although, to be
fair, it must also be said that the West lost by gaining
from Vietnam and other countries people that those
countries gained by losing, and so the West now has
elements that it could well have done without, having
plenty of its own already; Pauline Hanson—Australia’s
maverick politician, who has stirred up a bit of a
hornets’ nest there recently—does have
a point; some Asian immigrants have demonstrated their
gratitude for being taken in by behaving in antisocial
ways, thus gaining a bad reputation for all Asians
in the eyes of people who don’t need much of
an excuse to express their racial prejudice). This
show included a traditional-dress competition, and
a succession of pretty girls paraded across the stage
displaying their graceful dresses, all of which were
very nice, of course. Each girl had probably entered
the competition in the hope of winning first-prize,
but in this they were courting disappointment and
inviting suffering, for only one person can win first-prize,
and the others will lose or take lower places, and
while everyone likes to win, no-one enjoys losing.
Now, the winner would be happy for a while,
until, in a future competition, perhaps, the first-prize
would be given to someone else. And loss is a form
of suffering, is it not? But where does this suffering
come from? Certainly, there is sometimes bias and
favoritism on the part of judges, especially when
they make personal choices, unsupported by verifiable
facts. In the case of the traditional-dress competition—and
in countless other cases—the losers’ suffering
would come from nowhere but themselves, from the desire
of winning and the fear of losing.
Even before the judges’ decision,
the competitors would be anxious about the results,
each secretly eyeing the others in an attempt to calculate
her own chances. Oh yes, it’s all very exciting,
of course, and there is a chance of winning, but the
chances of losing, and of feeling bad, are much greater.
And the happiness of the winner, too, would not be
unalloyed happiness, as she would probably detect
some inner resentment on the part of the some of the
losers. Moreover, her happiness would not last very
long and would soon be just a fading memory. Competition
is therefore destructive and harmful as it encourages
egoism, pride, vanity, bitterness, resentment, hate
and fear. In the above-mentioned case, it would have
been much better had it been just a display instead
of a competition, with each girl happy to model her
own beautiful dress and to receive the applause of
the audience, without any thought of winning or losing;
the audience was certainly happy to see this parade
of pretty girls in lovely dresses; could it not have
been enough for those girls to have pleased people
that way, without inviting disappointment?
This crazy game is avidly played by so-called
‘religious’ people, too, with much pettiness
and scheming for power and position. They are so concerned
about being accorded their correct ranks and titles,
and are always looking for ways to extend their influence—all
of which means egoism, of course. Is that the purpose
of religion? J.C. spoke about such people—how
they expect the prominent seats at meetings, feasts
or public gatherings—and he advised people to
always take lower seats, in case the higher seats
have been reserved for others; if the host wishes
someone to sit in a higher seat, it is not difficult
to elevate him, but if he wishes him to sit elsewhere,
it causes embarrassment for everyone.
Although competition goes on among the followers
of every religion—for an extreme example of
this, take the intrigue, scheming, bribery and even
murder that has accompanied the election of popes
in the past—I will not, at this time, concern
myself with other religions, but just with Buddhism,
as we must be capable of and willing to turn the spotlight
of criticism on our own religion first, with the aim
of uncovering, understanding, and correcting its weaknesses
and faults. And if and when we do criticize other
religions, it should be done constructively and always
for the purpose of discovering the Truth, remembering
that Truth can be approached only by a process of
negation—not this, not that—until, having
eliminated everything that is not Truth, we may be
left with what is Truth. It is like the process of
panning for gold in a stream or river: scooping with
a basin in the river-bed, one first removes the larger
stones, leaves and twigs from the basin, then the
smaller stones, then the sand and grit; and then,
when everything that is not gold has been removed,
if one is lucky, one might find some particles of
gold there: a process—a positive process—of
negation.
It is a pity that many Buddhists will listen
to an exposition of Dharma only from monks or nuns,
even if the experience and understanding of Dharma
of non-clergy surpasses that of many—or even
most—monks and nuns; it means they are attached
to persons and external appearances, not understanding
that Truth is not a person and should not be personified.
It is said that enlightened people will hide their
attainments from others rather than display them (the
ancient Greeks believed that the gods sometimes disguised
themselves as beggars in order to test people, causing
them to be careful in their treatment of beggars.
And I know personally of a monk who wished to acquire
a piece of land next to his temple, and the owner
of this land—an old and pious Buddhist lady—intended
to donate the land to the temple, rather than sell
it. Her son, however, was not so pious or eager to
‘make merit’, so one day, dressed in old
and dirty clothes, he went to the temple to ask for
something to eat. The chief monk there, not realizing
who he was and thinking him a beggar, told him that,
because it was after noon, there was no food left,
as the monks there did not eat after midday. Not to
be put off, however, and seeing some biscuit-tins
through the open door, the man then asked for some
biscuits. "We haven’t any", said the
monk. "Well, then, could you give me a little
money?", persisted the man. Again, the monk said
he didn’t have any, and the man went away. A
few minutes later, though, to the monk’s surprise,
he drove into the temple-compound in his Mercedes,
still wearing his old clothes! The monk did not get
the land he desired). We should beware of judging
by external appearances. Buddhas and Bodhisattvas
can be seen standing or sitting on gigantic lotus-flowers,
with haloes around their heads, only in pictures,
images or movies, and would not appear so in real
life!
It is rare for monks to compliment each
other for a Dharma-talk, so rare, in fact, that when
it happens it is remarkable. Indeed, many monks never
give talks at all, but focus on performing ceremonies
with lots of noise and smoke, bamboozling people into
thinking that such ceremonies are essential, while
explaining the Dharma is of secondary importance,
or even less. I was recently told of a Chinese lady
whose husband had been killed in a car-crash in Australia
contacting a monk to ask if he could perform a ceremony
at the site of her husband’s death to ‘free’
his spirit from that place and enable it to ‘go
on its way’. She was surprised and not a little
disappointed when the monk told her that he could
and would do it—for A$10,000! I was then asked
if I could perform such a ceremony, and I replied
that I can also perform ceremonies for the dead, but
cannot guarantee any results, and I don’t think
anyone else can, either. And moreover, from the way
that I have seen ceremonies performed in Asia, I am
extremely doubtful about their efficacy, and have
explained elsewhere that I think the nearest and dearest
to the deceased are the people best qualified to help
him/her; there is no need to spend a lot of money,
nor even a single cent! These ceremonies are a great
rip-off, an exploitation of people’s grief and
bereavement, the only results being a lightening of
their pockets and a feeling that Buddhism is becoming
more and more materialistic. The real meaning of the
ceremonies has been forgotten; they should be performed
in the hope that, if the spirit or consciousness of
the deceased person is still near and is aware of
what we are doing, it might take heart from our thoughts
of goodwill and encouragement and proceed with its
onward journey. More than that, however, because—according
to what the Buddha said about it—each person
has his or her own karma, which is non-transferable,
there is nothing that the living can do for the dead.
It is saddening to see the pious lay-people
being ripped-off for these ceremonies. I would like
to see people demand and require an explanation from
the monks and nuns about how these ceremonies are
supposed to work—an explanation in line with
the Teachings of the Buddha. If they were required
to explain the rationale behind these ceremonies,
I doubt it would be very convincing and their lucrative
businesses would probably soon dry up. It is in their
own interests, therefore, to keep the people ignorant
about Dharma. Sadder still than this is the fact that
many Buddhists seem to prefer to remain ignorant,
and never want to strive for understanding. And many
of them are obviously of the opinion that the more
expensive something is—like a ceremony—the
more effective it must be; following that conviction,
if something is free or doesn’t cost much, it
can’t be much good. It is so much easier to
cheat and exploit people than it is to enlighten them
that one feels tempted to say, in exasperation, that
people get what they deserve!
It is only a matter of time, I feel, before
such money-making ‘Buddhist’ ceremonies
are attacked by certain non-Buddhists who mean us
harm. Personally, however, I think this might not
be a bad thing and will welcome it; it might be just
what we need to wake us up and force us to evaluate
these ceremonies. Come, then, inimical people, and
help us!
If I am able to do something to help someone—by
ceremony or by any other way—I will try to do
it, happily, and without a fee. If people wish to
offer me something, as is the custom, I will accept
it, gratefully. People understand that monks, like
everyone else, have certain needs, and are not supported
by the government; and although people occasionally
invite monks to tell them if they need anything, and
will supply it if it is within their capacity to do
so, there is seldom any need to ask, as people are
sufficiently generous and supportive without.
Sadly, as in other religions, there are people
who use Buddhism as a means of business and who have
no real interest in propagating Dharma. This indicates
that they have had no direct and personal experience
of Dharma and do not value it. I have come across
this very often.
In one way, however, I can understand this
‘fee-setting’, because, as I have said
above, many people do not value anything that is freely
given and without charge, whereas they think that
the more a thing costs, the more valuable and efficacious
it must be. Thus they easily fall into traps set for
them. It is rather like what has happened with many
doctors in Australia: people go to them for medical-certificates
in order to get time off work or draw sickness-benefit,
whether they are genuinely sick or not. If the doctor
refuses to give them such a note they will go to another
doctor who will, and the doctor who conscientiously
refuses will lose patients and revenue, while doctors
who write out notes willy-nilly, without even a cursory
examination, will get plenty of patients, but for
entirely the wrong reasons. The whole medical-system
suffers as a result, and eventually the patients,
too, for when someone is really in need of treatment,
and goes to a doctor who has grown used to just scrawling
notes, they would probably not get the treatment they
need (I have met such ‘doctors’ and was
not favorably impressed; one Melbourne ‘doctor’
(I am tempted to call them quacks) that I went to
see about pains in my chest made an appointment for
me to see a heart-specialist some weeks later, without
as much as putting his stethoscope on me! Had I really
been suffering from heart problems, I might not have
lived long enough to see the specialist!) In this
way, both doctors and patients become the victims
of each other. It is much the same when monks pander
to the superstitions of the people in order to gain
from them, instead of instructing them in Dharma and
helping them understand and overcome their superstitions.
It has been my good fortune to meet monks
who are learned, wise and humble at the same time,
but they have been very few in number. On the other
end of the scale, I have met monks who are learned
and well-read but who are lacking in humility; they
are always more numerous, of course, and one might
be forgiven for thinking that the Dharma has the effect
of making people proud rather than humble, when actually,
it is the other way around. As an example of the former,
I would like to tell here of my meeting with the Karmapa
Lama in the Philippines in 1980, before he passed
away: I felt so good to be in his presence; he spoke
no English, and I no Tibetan, but he emanated warmth,
friendliness and humility, and had a special childlike,
simple, uncomplicated aura about him; there was a
communication beyond words with him.
There is no need to give examples of the
latter kind as they are frequently encountered, and
anyone who makes a career out of self-centeredly talking
about himself is more to be pitied for not having
found anything of greater value when he had the opportunity
to do so.
Some monks refer to themselves as ‘priests’
or allow others to refer to them as such, but the
term ‘priest’ is something alien to Buddhism,
which is a non-theistic religion, and therefore needs
no-one to mediate between people and God; and, since
the Buddha never claimed to be divine and never told
or asked people to pray to Him, there is no question
about anyone interceding with Him on anyone’s
behalf. Unfortunately, over the ages, as people have
forgotten or have never understood the position of
the Buddha as a teacher or Way-pointer, many monks
have assumed the role of priest, as the brahmins of
India, but it is something that I flatly refuse to
be called; I am not a priest!
Someone once told me that one of the monks
of the temple in Manila where I spent five years had
complained of me that "He never prays to the
Buddha!"—meaning that I didn’t participate
in their ceremonies for the dead, I suppose. My response
to this was: "Too right I don’t, and if
he does that’s his delusion, as the Buddha was
a man, not a god, and never called anyone to pray
to Him; in fact, He discouraged it, and exhorted people
to strive for their own enlightenment, as He couldn’t
do it for them".
Although I will readily admit to not liking
certain people (nobody likes everyone, and if we were
honest about our preferences; they would be less likely
to cause trouble), I am not the kind of person who
deliberately overlooks someone’s good points
just because there are things about him that I may
not like. A person does not have to be a saint before
I will acknowledge his good points; neither will it
prevent me from learning something useful from him
if I can. I am not looking for someone to save me
or forgive my sins, but if I learn something from
someone that might be useful to me in my own life,
I feel grateful to the person from whom I learned
it or who helped me to understand. And my reason for
writing the above is to urge people to see beyond
personality and not to make it the basis for their
learning; what is important is what we learn, not
who we learn it from. I recall the Dalai Lama saying
that Mao Tse Dung was one of his best teachers, in
that he helped him—the Dalai Lama—to develop
patience. That’s it! Anyone and everyone may
be our teacher, if we know how to learn!
A very old and justly-famous monk from Sri
Lanka used to visit South Vietnam before the tragic
fall of that country to Communism in 1975, in order
to teach the Dharma there. He had been a monk since
his teens and had written numerous good and clear
books on Buddhism, through which many people both
in the East and the West had come to know the Buddha’s
Way. I met him in Singapore in 1973, on his way back
to Sri Lanka from Vietnam, and he gave me one of his
books in which he signed his name, simply: ‘Narada’
—no ‘Venerable’ or ‘Dr.’
In front, and no ‘Ph.D.’ or other ‘Christmas-tree
decorations’ after. He had something more important
than such words or symbols, I feel. Years later, someone
told me that when he first went to Vietnam, he was
asked about his rank by some distinction-and-protocol-loving
person, and whether they should address him as Reverend
(Dai Duc), Venerable (Thuong Toa), or Most Venerable
(Hoa Thuong). Well, although he was a very senior
monk and had been ordained over forty years at that
time, he answered: "Reverend will do". And
so, to this day, many Vietnamese Buddhists continue
to refer to him as ‘Dai Duc Narada’. But
does it really matter, to one who is in search of
the Nameless, what he is called? Is it not written
in a Chinese scripture: "The name that can be
named is not the Eternal Name"? Why are we so
attached to such superficial things? Is it perhaps
because, not having attained anything of real value,
and hating to be empty-handed after so many years,
we are prepared to grasp onto anything as a substitute?
Back in 1981, I attended an International Sangha Conference
in Taiwan, along with monks from all over the world.
Each monk was introduced as "Ven. So-and-so",
regardless of how long he had been a monk. It was
conspicuous, therefore, when a certain Vietnamese
monk, arriving after the conference had started, had
himself introduced as "The Most Venerable So-and-so"!
Names and titles are given or awarded us by others,
not by ourselves, and titles of respect and politeness
should be treated cautiously—like a landmine
about to be defused—as they are dangerous and
might easily lead us astray.
In the Dhammapada, verse 73, it is written:
"The fool will desire undue reputation, precedence
among monks, authority in the monasteries, honor among
families". Compare this with the story of Upali,
the barber of King Suddhodana: After hearing the Buddha
preach the Dharma, some young noblemen wished to become
monks, so set off to the place where He was staying,
accompanied by Upali, who also wished to ordain. When
they got there, the young men requested the Buddha
to ordain Upali first so that he would be senior to
them in monkhood. They had been of high rank before
and Upali of low, but the Dharma had so affected them
that they stepped back and allowed—no, requested—Upali
to be given the senior place. This is just one instance
of many in the Buddhist scriptures where humility
is extolled. And surely, this is one way to test our
progress—or lack of it—in the Dharma:
are we becoming more or less proud and egoistic? If
more, something is wrong. On the other hand, we must
take care that we don’t become proud of being
humble, which is really a contradiction in terms,
as such ‘humility’ is only inverted pride.
I would also like to mention something about
King Suddhodana, the Buddha’s father. After
the Buddha’s Enlightenment, the King sent messengers
to request Him to visit His hometown, and the Buddha
agreed to do so, out of gratitude and love for His
father. News of the Buddha’s homecoming preceded
Him, and the King and all the people were in a state
of great expectancy and excitement. When word came
that the Buddha would arrive the next day, large crowds,
including the royal family, were at the main gate
of the town to welcome Him, from early in the morning.
There was a guard of honor, dancers, musicians, elephants
and horses. But the Buddha approached by the back
way instead of using the main highway, along a rough
road that led through the slums and hovels of the
low-caste and poor people, going from house to house
with His alms-bowl, receiving gifts of food from those
who had some to offer. When news of His arrival in
this manner reached the King, he was very angry and
quickly rode to the place where his son, the Buddha,
had entered the town, surrounded now and followed
by great crowds of people. Charging through the crowd,
who had barely time to scatter, with cries of "Bow
down—the King!", he shouted: "Is it
thus that my son returns to his city, begging from
base-borns?! Why do you humiliate me in this way,
Siddhartha?!" The Buddha raised His eyes to the
King on his horse and answered: "It is the custom
of my race, O King". "What are you saying?"
gasped the King. "Our ancestors have been kings
for many generations, and never have any of them done
anything like this!" "When I spoke of my
race", replied the Buddha, "I was not speaking
of my kingly ancestors, but of my ancestors the previous
Buddhas. There have been many Buddhas before me, and
what I do now they all did. It is no shame".
So sweet was the Buddha’s voice and
so tender was the way He looked at His father that
the King’s anger melted away. He dismounted
from his horse and knelt at his son’s feet,
saying: "Welcome home, dear son". Then,
taking the Buddha’s alms-bowl, he led the way
into the palace, where the Buddha and His monks were
served and fed, after which, He preached the Dharma
to His father, His wife Yasodhara, and His son, Rahula,
whereupon, hearing and understanding, they took refuge
in the Three Jewels.
The Buddha had gone beyond all desire for
power and fame; He was not in competition with others
for disciples and never called anyone to believe Him
or follow Him. His purpose was to help those who were
ready to be helped and who could be helped to find
Enlightenment. Though He had His share of enemies,
He was no-one’s enemy, but everyone’s
friend.
A person may be a Buddhist without calling
himself a Buddhist since Buddhism teaches that everyone—and
not just Buddhists—has Buddha-nature. When a
person acts from his Buddha-nature—with wisdom,
compassion and love—he is a Buddhist, even if
he knows nothing at all about Buddhism. This accords
with what the Buddha said about caste: that a person
becomes high-caste or low not by birth into a certain
family but by his actions. Buddhism—or the essence
of Buddhism rather than the form—is so expansive
that nothing and no-one is outside its range; it is
truly a Universal Way. Therefore, each and every one
of us has a place, and we need to realize that place.
There is no need for competition here or to fear that
we might be left out or forgotten. The Dharma is limitless;
unlike money or land, it can be used and shared without
it ever becoming less; in fact, the more it is used
and shared, the more there is! |