Monday, May 28, 2012


Chapter: XXVI The Brahmana (Brahmanavagga)
-ooOoo-
Verse 388
XXVI (6) The Story of a Brahmin Recluse
While residing at the Jetavana monastery, the Buddha uttered Verse (388) of this book, with reference to a brahmin ascetic.
Once there was a brahmin ascetic in Savatthi. One day, it occurred to him that the Buddha called his disciples pabbajita bhikkhus and since be also was a recluse, he should also be called a pabbajita. So he went to the Buddha and posed the question why he should not be called a pabbajita. The Buddha's answer to him was this:"Just because one is a recluse one does not automatically become a pabbajita; a pabbajita must have other qualifications also."
Then the Buddha spoke in verse as follows:
Verse 388. Because he has discarded evil he is called a 'brahmana'; because he lives calmly he is called a 'samana'; and because he gets rid of his impurities he is called a 'pabbajita'.
At the end of the discourse the brahmin attained Sotapatti Fruition.
Verse 388. He Who Had Discarded All Evil Is Holy
By barring-out badness a ‘brahmin’ one’s called
and one is a monk by conduct serene,
banishing blemishes out of oneself
therefore one’s known as ‘one who has left home’.
Explanation: One who has got rid of sinful action is called brahmana. One of serene senses is called samana. A person is called pabbajita because he has done away with all his faults.
Note: brahmano, samano, pabbajito: a brahmin, a monk a wandering ascetic. These are all categories of priests in the religious landscape of the Buddha’s day. They pursued a multitude of religious paths. Here the Buddha explains who a real priest, monk or a brahmin is.
Verses 389 and 390
XXVII (7) The Story of Thera Sariputta
While residing at the Jetavana monastery, the Buddha uttered Verses (389) and (390) of this book, with reference to the Venerable Sariputta.
The Venerable Sariputta was often praised by many people for his patience and forbearance. His pupils usually said of him thus: "Our teacher is a man of great patience and extreme endurance. If he is abused or even beaten by others, he does not lose his temper but remains calm and composed." As this was often said of the Venerable Sariputta, a brahmin holding wrong views declared to the admirers of Sariputta that he would provoke the Venerable Sariputta into anger. At that moment, the Venerable Sariputta, Who was on his alms-round, appeared on the scene; the brahmin went after him and hit him hard on his back with his hand. 'The thera did not even look round to see who was the person that attacked him, but proceeded on his way as if nothing had happened. Seeing the magnanimity and great fortitude of the noble thera, the brahmin was very much shaken. He got down on his knees at the feet of the Venerable Sariputta, admitted that he had wrongfully hit the thera, and asked for pardon. The brahmin then continued, "Venerable Sir, should you forgive me, kindly come to my house for alms-food."
In the evening, other bhikkhus reported to the Buddha that the Venerable Sariputta had gone for alms-food to the house of a brahmin who hid beaten him. Further, they observed that the brahmin was sure to get bolder and he would soon be assaulting other bhikkhus also. To those bhikkhus, the Buddha replied, "Bhikkhus, a true brahmana does not beat another true brahmana; only an ordinary man or an ordinary brahmin would beat an arahat in anger and ill will. This ill will should be eradicated by Anagami Magga."
Then the Buddha spoke in verse as follows:
Verse 389. One should not strike a brahmana; a brahmana should not get angry with his assailant; it is shameful to strike a brahmana; it is more shameful to get angry with one's assailant.
Verse 390. For a brahmana there is no benefit at all if he does not restrain from anger to which his mind is prone. In as much as one desists from the intention to harm, to that extent dukkha ceases.

Verse 389. Harm Not An Arahat

One should not a brahmin beat
nor for that should He react.
Shame! Who would a Brahmin beat,
more shame for any should they react.
Explanation: No one should strike a brahmana - the pure saint. The brahmana who has become a victim must refrain from attacking the attacker in return, or show anger in return. Shame on him who attacks a brahmana; greater shame on him who displays retaliatory anger.

Verse 390. An Arahat Does Not Retaliate

For brahmin no small benefit
when mind’s aloof from what is dear.
As much he turns away from harm
so much indeed does dukkha die.
Explanation: To the brahmana, the act of not returning hate is not a minor asset - it is a great asset, indeed. If, there is in a mind which usually takes delight in hateful acts, there is a change for the better, it is not a minor victory. Each time the violent mind ceases, suffering, too, subsides.

Verse 393
XXVI (10) The Story of Jatila, the Brahmin
While residing at the Jetavana monastery, the Buddha uttered Verse (393) of this book, with reference to Jatila, a brahmin ascetic who wore matted hair.
Once, a brahmin ascetic thought to himself that the Buddha called his disciples 'brahmanas' and that he being a brahmin by birth should also be called a 'brahmana'. Thinking thus, he went to see the Buddha and put forward his view. But the Buddha rejected his view and said. "O brahmin, I do not call one a brahmana because he keeps his hair matted or simply because of his birth; I call one a brahmana only if he fully comprehends the Four Noble Truths."
Then the Buddha spoke in verse as follows:
Verse 393. Not by wearing matted hair, nor by lineage, nor by caste, does one become a brahmana; only he who realizes the Truth and the Dhamma is pure; he is a brahmana.

Verse 393. One Does Not Become A Brahmin Merely By Birth

By birth one is no brahmin,
by family, austerity.
In whom are truth and Dhamma too
pure is he, a Brahmin’s he.
Explanation: One does not become a brahmin by one’s matted hair. Nor does one become a brahmin by one’s clan. Even one’s birth will not make a brahmin. If one has realized the Truth., has acquired the knowledge of the Teaching, if he is also pure, it is such a person that I describe as a brahmin.


Monday, May 21, 2012


Dharma Data: The Caste system



            Brahmanism, the predominant religion in India during the Buddha's time, divided all humans into four castes (attu vanna), priests, warriors, traders and labourers. Social contact between each caste was minimal and the lower one's position in the system the less opportunities, the less freedom and the less rights one had. Outside the caste system were the outcasts (sudra) people considered so impure that they hardly counted as humans. The caste system was later absorbed into Hinduism, given religious sanction and legitimacy and has continued to function right up till the present. The Buddha, himself born into the warrior caste, was a severe critic of the caste system. He ridiculed the priests claims to be superior, he criticised the theological basis of the system and he welcomed into the Sangha people of all castes, including outcasts. His most famous saying on the subject is : " Birth does not make one a priest or an outcaste. Behaviour makes one either a priest or an outcaste". Even during the time when Buddhism was decaying in India andTantrayana had adopted many aspects of Hinduism, it continued to welcome all castes and some of the greatest Tantric adepts were low castes or outcastes.
       Despite this, various forms of the caste system are practised in several Buddhist countries, mainly in Sri Lanka, Tibet, and Japan where butchers, leather and metal workers and janitors are sometimes regarded as being impure. However, the system in these countries has never been either as severe or as rigid as the Hindu system and fortunately it is now beginning to fade away. The exception to this is Nepal where Tantric priests form a separate caste and will neither initiate into their priesthood or allow into their temples those of other castes.
Malalasekera, G.P. and Jayatilleke, K.N. Buddhism and the Race Question UNESCO, 1968.


The Buddha on the Caste System
At the time of the Buddha the caste system was firmly established in India. According to this system, a person's position in society was determined from the time he was born and there was no way to change his lot in life. There were four castes, or classes, of people in society:
  1. The Brahmins or priests, who claimed to be the highest caste and the purest of peoples
  2. The warriors
  3. The merchants and traders
  4. The untouchables, who were considered the lowest class. They became workers and servants who did all the menial jobs, and were treated as slaves.
The Buddha condemned the caste system, which he considered unjust. He pointed out that there existed wicked and cruel people as well as virtuous and kind people in every caste. Any person who had committed a crime would be punished accordingly by his karma no matter what caste he belonged to. He said a person may be considered to have come from a high or low caste according to his good and bad deeds. Therefore, according to the Buddha it is the good and bad actions of a person and not his birth that should determine his caste.
The Buddha introduced the idea of placing a higher value on morality and the equality of people instead of on which family or caste a person is born into. This was also the first attempt to abolish discrimination and slavery in the history of mankind.
The Buddha said:
By birth one is not an outcaste,
By birth one is not a Brahmin;
By deeds alone one is an outcaste,
By deeds alone one is a Brahmin

Tuesday, May 15, 2012


Chapter XXV: The Bhikkhu (Bhikkhuvagga)
Verses 360-361
The Story of Five Bhikkhus
While residing at the Jetavana monastery, the Buddha uttered Verses (360) and ( 361) of this book, with reference to five bhikkhus.
Once there were five bhikkhus in Savatthi. Each of them practised restraint of just one out of the five senses and each of them claimed that what he was practising was the most difficult. There were some heated arguments over this and they could not come to an agreement. Finally, they went to the Buddha to ask for his decision. The Buddha said to them, "Each of the senses is just as difficult to control as the other; but all bhikkhus must control all the five senses and not just one. Only those who control all the senses would escape from the round of rebirths."
Then the Buddha spoke in verse as follows:
Verse 360. Restraint in the eye is good, good is restraint in the ear; restraint in the nose is good, good is restraint in the tongue.
Verse 361. Restraint in body is good, good is restraint in speech; restraint in mind is good, good is restraint in all the senses. A bhikkhu restrained in all the senses is freed from all ills (Samsara dukkha).

Verse 360. Sense Discipline

Right is restraint in the eye,
restraint in the ear is right,
right is restraint in the nose,
restraint in the tongue is right.
Explanation: It is good to be disciplined in the eye. It is good to be disciplined in the ear. It is good to be disciplined in the nose. To be disciplined in the tongue is good.

Verse 361. Suffering End With All-Round Discipline

Right is restraint in the body,
restraint in speech is right,
right is restraint in the mind,
everywhere restraint is right.
The bhikkhu everywhere restrained 
is from all dukkha free.
Explanation: It is good to be disciplined in body. It is good to be disciplined in words. It is good to be disciplined in mind. The monk who is disciplined in all these areas will achieve freedom from all suffering.



Verse 379-380
The Story of Thera Nangalakula
While residing at the Jetavana monastery, the Buddha uttered Verses (379) and (380) of this book, with reference to Thera Nangala.
Nangala was a poor field labourer in the service of a farmer. One day, a bhikkhu, seeing him ploughing a field in his old clothes, asked him if he would like to become a bhikkhu. When he replied in the affirmative, the bhikkhu took him along to the monastery and made him a bhikkhu. After the admission to the Order, as instructed by his teacher, he left his plough and his old clothes in a tree not far away from the monastery. Because the poor man had left his plough to join the Order, he was known as Thera Nangala (nangala = plough). Due to better living conditions at the monastery, Thera Nangala became healtheir and soon put on weight. However, after some time, he grew tired of the life of a bhikkhu and often felt like returning to home-life. Whenever this feeling arose in him, he would go to the tree near the monastery, the tree where he had left his plough and his old clothes. There he would reproach himself saying, "O you shameless man! Do you still want to put on these old rags and return to the hard, lowly life of a hired labourer ?" After this, his dissatisfaction with the life of a bhikkhu would disappear and he would go back to the monastery. Thus, he went to the tree at an interval of every three or four days, to remind himself of the wretchedness of his old life.
When other bhikkhus asked him about his frequent visits to the tree, he replied, "I have to go to my teacher." In course of time, he attained arahatship and he stopped going to the tree. Other bhikkhus, noticing this, asked him teasingly, "Why don't you go to your teacher now?" To those bhikkhus, he replied, "I used to go to my teacher because I had need of him; but now, I have no need to go to him." The bhikkhus understood what he meant by his answer and they went to the Buddha and reported, "Venerable Sir! Thera Nangala claims to have attained arahatship. It cannot be true; he must be boasting, he must be telling lies."To them the Buddha said,"Bhikkhus! Do not say so; for Nangala is not telling lies. My son Nangala, by reproaching himself and correcting himself, has indeed attained arahatship."
Then the Buddha spoke in verse as follows:
Verse 379: O bhikkhu, by yourself exhort yourself, and examine yourself; thus guarding yourself and being mindful, you will live in peace.
Verse 380: One indeed is one's own refuge, (how could anyone else be one's refuge?) One indeed is one's own heaven; therefore, look after yourself as a horse dealer looks after a thoroughbred.

Verse 379. He Who Guards Himself Lives Happily

By yourself exhort yourself!
By yourself restrain yourself!
So mindful and self-guarded too,
happily, bhikkhu, will you live.
Explanation: One’s own self must prod one’s self. You must assess and examine yourself. O monk, this way, you must guard yourself. Be perpetually mindful. This way, live in bliss.

Verse 380. Your Are Your Own Saviour

Oneself is refuge of oneself
and one is a haven for oneself,
therefore one should check oneself
as a merchant with a splendid horse.
Explanation: Your own self is your own refuge. You yourself are your own guide. Therefore, exert discipline over yourself as a merchant would cherish and retrain a noble horse.
Eight Worldly Dharmas
The 8 worldly Dharmas are also known as 8 worldly concerns. Avoiding these 8 mental states is considered quite important in Buddhist practice. They describe the ceaseless activities we develop towards short-term pleasures, which often not even result in pleasure...
The Eight Worldly Dharmas are being concerned with:
Gain - to be attached to having things go your way
Loss - to be disturbed by unpleasant things or things not going your wy
Pleasure - to be attached to receiving pleasure
Pain - to be upset at having pain
Praise - to be attached to having good words said about you or your actions
Blame - to be displeased when you are blamed or slandered
Fame - to be attached to having fame
Obscurity - to be displeased about being not well known
Getting what you want, and avoiding getting what you do not want
Wanting (instant) happiness, and not wanting unhappiness
Wanting fame, and not wanting to be unknown
Wanting praise, and not wanting blame.
From the point of view of karma, we usually behave contrary to our goals, because in order to receive what we want, we need to give others what they want. To avoid getting what we do not want, we should avoid giving others what they do not want and so on.
This is a very good subject for meditation; you can ask yourself for example:
- Do I often give others happiness or unpleasant experiences?
- Do I help others who are unhappy?
- How often do I blame people instead of praising them?
- What can I do with fame, what will it really bring me?
- What will be useful when I am about to die?
"Spiritual practice is difficult in the beginning. You wonder how on earth you can ever do it. But as you get used to it, the practice gradually becomes easier. Do not be too stubborn or push yourself too hard. If you practice in accord with your individual capacity, little by little you will find more pleasure and joy in it. As you gain inner strength, your positive actions will gain in profundity and scope."
His Holiness the Dalai Lama

Monday, May 14, 2012


Metta meditation
The Pali word 'Metta' is commonly translated in English as 'loving-kindness.' Metta signifies friendship and non-violence as well as "a strong wish for the happiness of others."  Though it refers to many seemingly disparate ideas,Metta is in fact a very specific form of love -- a caring for another independent of all self-interest -- and thus is likened to one's love for one's child or parent. Understandably, this energy is often difficult to describe with words; however, in the practice of Metta meditation, one recites specific words and phrases in order to evoke this "boundless warm-hearted feeling."  The strength of this feeling is not limited to or by family, religion, or social class. Indeed, Metta is a tool that permits one's generosity and kindness to be applied to all beings and, as a consequence, one finds true happiness in another person's happiness, no matter who the individual is.
The Practice
The hard work and repetition required of an individual engaged in Mettapractice endows the four universal wishes (to live happily and to be free from hostility, affliction, and distress), with a very personal inner love, and by so doing, it has the power for personal transformation.  Although serious practitioners of Metta meditation offer Metta for an hour or more morning and evening, you may wish to begin by offering Metta for just 10-15 minutes each day.  You may do your practice as a formal sitting meditation or while walking (preferably without destination).  You may also choose to integrate your Metta practice with daily chores.
To begin, take a few moments to quiet your mind and focus your attention on the experience of loving kindness.  You will begin by offering Metta to yourself.  If distracting thoughts arise, acknowledge them, make a mental note to return to them after your Metta practice, but quickly move them aside to maintain concentration.
Recite the following phrases to yourself at a pace that keeps you focused and alert. 
1.  May I be safe and protected.
2.  May I be peaceful and happy.
3.  May I be healthy and strong.
4.  May I have ease of well being (and accept all the conditions of the world)
Continue reciting the phrases in the first person.
Then when you are comfortable, try offering Metta to a beneficiary, someone who supports you, who has always "been on your side." Forming visualizations of this person while reciting the phrases can be helpful; for example, imagining this beneficiary as a child or grandparent, can assist in 'opening the heart.'
1.  May s/he be safe and protected.
2.  May s/he be peaceful and happy.
3.  May s/he be healthy and strong.
4.  May s/he have ease of well being (and accept all the conditions of the world)
Next offer Metta to a loved one.
1.  May s/he be safe and protected.
2.  May s/he be peaceful and happy.
3.  May s/he be healthy and strong.
4.  May s/he have ease of well being (and accept all the conditions of the world)
Once your Metta flows easily to a loved one, begin to include in your practice one or more of the following categories of persons to whom you will offerMetta:
  • A close friend.
  • A neutral person (someone you neither like nor dislike)
  • A difficult person (no need to start with the most difficult person, but someone whom you have a distaste for)
  • All beings, individuals, personalities, creatures (choose whichever word to describe all 'beings' that you please; it may be helpful to break up this category into subcategories;  i.e., all men, and then all women, all enlightened ones, and then, all unenlightened ones, all beings who are happy, and then all beings who are both happy and suffering, and all beings who are primarily suffering.
1.  May s/he/it be safe and protected.
2.  May s/he/it be peaceful and happy.
3.  May s/he/it be healthy and strong.
4.  May s/he/it have ease of well being (and accept all the conditions of the world)
Although one traditionally starts by offering Metta for 'oneself ' and ends by offering Metta to 'all beings,'  please do not expect to be able immediately to offer these phrases to all beings from the onset of your practice. We all struggle to offer this unconditional love to many people in our lives, and it is truly difficult to include everyone, though this aspiration is reasonable if we are committed to Metta practice.  Between these two 'categories' -- oneself and all beings -- one should choose freely from any category or any number of categories.  Categorical divisions serve only as tools to keep Metta from overwhelming someone new to the practice. They should not create restrictions within the practice once one gains familiarity with it. 
In truth, any one individual may fit into a number of different categories.  This ambiguity should be expected and embraced.  Awareness of our feelings toward another is always the first step in converting this energy into loving-kindness. Noticing a feeling of aversion, or indecisiveness, when evoking the image of a particular person in your practice does not mean you are failing to offer Metta.  Rather, you are leaping forward in your practice.  According to Buddhist teachings, the worst plague a human being can suffer is one that s/he cannot identify, or does not even know exists.  Similarly, aversions (and cravings) that lie below the level of conscious awareness fuel habit patterns of the mind that inevitably lead to suffering. So, as you peel away the layers of self, allow any negative emotions to arise, so that you can actively replace them with Metta, a loving-kindness.
May you be safe and protected.
May you be peaceful and happy.
May you be healthy and strong.
May you have ease of well being. (and accept all the conditions of the world)
Resources for readers interested in learning more about Metta:
Metta. The Philosophy and Practice of Universal Love by Acharya Buddharakkhita (1989).  The Wheel Publication No. 365/366.  Sri Lanka, Buddhist Publication Society (Available on-line athttp://www.accesstoinsight.org/lib/bps/wheels/wheel365.html).
Loving-Kindness. The Revolutionary Art of Happiness by Sharon Salzberg (1995). Boston: Shambhala

Facets of Metta
by Sharon Salzberg
A pearl goes up for auction
No one has enough,
so the pearl buys itself
-- Rumi
Love exists in itself, not relying on owning or being owned. Like the pearl, love can only buy itself, because love is not a matter of currency or exchange. No one has enough to buy it but everyone has enough to cultivate it. Metta reunites us with what it means to be alive and unbound.
Researchers once gave a plant to every resident of a nursing home. They told half of these elderly people that the plants were theirs to care for -- they had to pay close attention to their plants' needs for water and sunlight, and they had to respond carefully to those needs. The researchers told the other half of the residents that their plants were theirs to enjoy but that they did not have to take any responsibility for them; the nursing staff would care for the plants.
At the end of a year, the researchers compared the two groups of elders. The residents who had been asked to care for their plants were living considerably longer than the norm, were much healthier, and were more oriented towards and connected to their world. The other residents, those who had plants but did not have to stay responsive to them, simply reflected the norms for people their age in longevity, health, alertness, and engagement with the world.
This study shows, among other things, the enlivening power of connection, of love, of intimacy. This is the effect that metta can have on our lives. But when I heard about the study, I also reflected on how often we regard intimacy as a force between ourselves and something outside ourselves -- another person, or even a plant -- and how rarely we consider the force of being intimate with ourselves, with our own inner experience. How rarely do we lay claim to our own lives and feel connected to ourselves!
A way to discover intimacy with ourselves and all of life is to live with integrity, basing our lives on a vision of compassionate nonharming. When we dedicate ourselves to actions that do not hurt ourselves or others, our lives become all of one piece, a "seamless garment" with nothing separate or disconnected in the spiritual reality we discover.
In order to live with integrity, we must stop fragmenting and compartmentalizing our lives. Telling lies at work and expecting great truths in meditation is nonsensical. Using our sexual energy in a way that harms ourselves or others, and then expecting to know transcendent love in another arena, is mindless. Every aspect of our lives is connected to every other aspect of our lives. This truth is the basis for an awakened life. When we live with integrity, we further enhance intimacy with ourselves by being able to rejoice, taking active delight in our actions. Rejoicing opens us tremendously, dissolving our barriers, thereby enabling intimacy to extend to all of life. Joy has so much capacity to eliminate separation that the Buddha said, "Rapture is the gateway to nirvana."
The enlivening force itself is rapture. It brightens our vitality, our gratitude, and our love. We begin to develop rapture by rejoicing in our own goodness. We reflect on the good things we have done, recollecting times when we have been generous, or times when we have been caring. Perhaps we can think of a time when it would have been easy to hurt somebody, or to tell a lie, or to be dismissive, yet we made the effort not to do that. Perhaps we can think of a time when we gave something up in a way that freed our mind and helped someone else. Or perhaps we can think of a time when we have overcome some fear and reached out to someone. These reflections open us to a wellspring of happiness that may have been hidden from us before.
Contemplating the goodness within ourselves is a classical meditation, done to bring light, joy, and rapture to the mind. In contemporary times this practice might be considered rather embarrassing, because so often the emphasis is on all the unfortunate things we have done, all the disturbing mistakes we have made. Yet this classical reflection is not a way of increasing conceit. It is rather a commitment to our own happiness, seeing our happiness as the basis for intimacy with all of life. It fills us with joy and love for ourselves and a great deal of self-respect.
Significantly, when we do metta practice, we begin by directing metta toward ourselves. This is the essential foundation for being able to offer genuine love to others. When we truly love ourselves, we want to take care of others, because that is what is most enriching, or nourishing, for us. When we have a genuine inner life, we are intimate with ourselves and intimate with others. The insight into our inner world allows us to connect to everything around us, so that we can see quite clearly the oneness of all that lives. We see that all beings want to be happy, and that this impulse unites us. We can recognize the rightness and beauty of our common urge towards happiness, and realize intimacy in this shared urge.
If we are practicing metta and we cannot see the goodness in ourselves or in someone else, then we reflect on that fundamental wish to be happy that underlies all action. "Just as I want to be happy, all beings want to be happy." This reflection gives rise to openness, awareness, and love. As we commit to these values, we become embodiments of a lineage that stretches back through beginningless time. All good people of all time have wanted to express openness, awareness, and love. With every phrase of metta, we are declaring our alignment with these values.
From this beginning, metta practice proceeds in a very structured way and specific way. After we have spent some time directing metta to ourselves, we then move on to someone who has been very good to us, for whom we feel gratitude and respect. In the traditional terminology, this person is known as a "benefactor." Later we move to someone who is a beloved friend. It is relatively easy to direct lovingkindness to these categories of beings (we say beings rather than people to include the possibility of animals in these categories.) After we have established this state of connection, we move on to those that it may be harder to direct lovingkindness toward. In this way we open up our limits and extend our capacity for benevolence.
Thus, next we direct lovingkindness to someone whom we feel neutral toward, someone for whom we feel neither great liking nor disliking. This is often an interesting time in the practice, because it may be difficult to find somebody for whom we have no instantaneous judgment. If we can find such a neutral person, we direct metta toward them.
After this, we are ready for the next step -- directing metta toward someone with whom we have experienced conflict, someone toward whom we feel lack of forgiveness, or anger, or fear. In the Buddhist scriptures this person is somewhat dramatically known as "the enemy." This is a very powerful stage in the practice, because the enemy, or the person with whom we have difficulty stands right at the division between the finite and the infinite radiance of love. At this point, conditional love unfolds into unconditional love. Here dependent love can turn to the flowering of an independent love that is not based upon getting what we want or having our expectations met. Here we learn that the inherent happiness of love is not compromised by likes and dislikes, and thus, like the sun, it can shine on everything. This love is truly boundless. It is born out of freedom, and it is offered freely.
Through the power of this practice, we cultivate an equality of loving feeling toward ourselves and all beings. There was a time in Burma when I was practicing metta intensively. I had taken about six weeks to go through all the different categories: myself, benefactor, friend, neutral person, and enemy. After I had spent these six weeks doing the metta meditation all day long, my teacher, U Pandita, called me into his room and said, "Say you were walking in the forest with your benefactor, your friend, your neutral person, and your enemy. Bandits come up and demand that you choose one person in your group to be sacrificed. Which one would you choose to die?"
I was shocked at U Pandita's question. I sat there and looked deep into my heart, trying to find a basis from which I could choose. I saw that I could not feel any distinction between any of those people, including myself. Finally I looked at U Pandita and replied, "I couldn't choose; everyone seems the same to me."
U Pandita then asked, "You wouldn't choose your enemy?" I thought a minute and then answered, "No, I couldn't."
Finally U Pandita asked me, "Don't you think you should be able to sacrifice yourself to save the others?" He asked the question as if more than anything else in the world he wanted me to say, "Yes, I'd sacrifice myself." A lot of conditioning rose up in me -- an urge to please him, to be "right" and to win approval. But there was no way I could honestly say "yes," so I said, "No, I can't see any difference between myself and any of the others." He simply nodded in response, and I left.
Later I was reading the Visuddhi Magga, one of the great commentarial works of Buddhist literature which describes different meditation techniques and the experiences of practicing these techniques. In the section on metta meditation, I came to that very question about the bandits. The answer I had given was indeed considered the correct one for the intensive practice of metta.
Of course, in different life situations many different courses of action might be appropriate. But the point here is that metta does not mean that we denigrate ourselves in any situation in order to uphold other people's happiness. Authentic intimacy is not brought about by denying our own desire to be happy in unhappy deference to others, nor by denying others in narcissistic deference to ourselves. Metta means equality, oneness, wholeness. To truly walk the Middle Way of the Buddha, to avoid the extremes of addiction and self-hatred, we must walk in friendship with ourselves as well as with all beings.
When we have insight into our inner world and what brings us happiness, then wordlessly, intuitively, we understand others. As though there were no longer a barrier defining the boundaries of our caring, we can feel close to others' experience of life. We see that when we are angry, there is an element of pain in the anger that is not different from the pain that others feel when they are angry. When we feel love there is a distinct and special joy in that feeling. We come to know that this is the nature of love itself, and that other beings filled with love experience of this same joy.
In practicing metta we do not have to make a certain feeling happen. In fact, during the practice we see that we feel differently at different times. Any momentary emotional tone is far less relevant than considerable power of intention we harness as we say these phrases. As we repeat, "May I be happy; may all beings be happy," we are planting seeds by forming this powerful intention in the mind. The seed will bear fruit in its own time.
When I was practicing metta intensively in Burma, at times when I repeated the metta phrases, I would picture myself in a wide open field planting seeds. Doing metta we plant the seeds of love, knowing that nature will take its course and in time those seeds will bear fruit. Some seeds will come to fruition quickly, some slowly, but our work is simply to plant the seeds. Every time we form the intention in the mind for our own happiness or for the happiness of others, we are doing our work; we are channeling the powerful energies of our own minds. Beyond that, we can trust the laws of nature to continually support the flowering of our love. As Pablo Neruda says:
Perhaps the earth can teach us, as when everything seems dead in winter and later proves to be alive.
When we started our retreat center, Insight Meditation Society, in 1975, many of us there decided to do a self-retreat for a month to inaugurate the center. I planned to do metta for the entire month. This was before I'd been to Burma, and it would be my first opportunity to do intensive and systematic metta meditation. I had heard how it was done in extended practice, and I planned to follow that schedule. So the first week I spent directing lovingkindness towards myself. I felt absolutely nothing. It was the dreariest, most boring week I had known in some time. I sat there saying, "May I be happy, may I be peaceful," over and over again with no obvious result.
Then, as it happened, someone we knew in the community had a problem, and a few of us had to leave the retreat suddenly. I felt even worse, thinking, "Not only did I spend this week doing metta and getting nothing from it, but I also never even got beyond directing metta towards myself. So on top of everything else, I was really selfish."
I was in a frenzy getting ready to leave. As I was hurriedly getting everything together in my bathroom, I dropped a jar. It shattered all over the floor. I still remember my immediate response: "You are really a klutz, but I love you." And then I thought, "Wow! Look at that. Something did happen in this week of practice."
So the intention is enough. We form the intention in our mind for our happiness and the happiness of all. This is different from struggling to fabricate a certain feeling, to create it out of our will, to make it happen. We just settle back and plant the seeds without worrying about the immediate result. That is our work. If we do our work, then manifold benefits will surely come.
Fortunately, the Buddha was characteristically precise about what those benefits include. He said that the intimacy and caring that fill our hearts as the force of lovingkindness develops will bring eleven particular advantages:
1) You will sleep easily. 2) You will wake easily. 3) You will have pleasant dreams. 4) People will love you. 5) Devas [celestial beings] and animals will love you. 6) Devas will protect you. 7) External dangers [poisons, weapons, and fire] will not harm you. 8) Your face will be radiant. 9) Your mind will be serene. 10) You will die unconfused. 11) You will be reborn in happy realms.
People doing formal metta practice often memorize these eleven benefits and recite them to themselves regularly. Reminding ourselves of the fruit of our intention and effort can bring a lot of faith and rapture, sustaining us through those inevitable times when it seems as if the practice is not "getting anywhere." When we consider each of these benefits, we can see more fully how metta revolutionizes our lives.
When we steep our hearts in lovingkindness, we are able to sleep easily, to awaken easily, and to have pleasant dreams. To have self-respect in life, to walk through this life with grace and confidence, means having a commitment to nonharming and to loving care. If we do not have these things, we can neither rest nor be at peace; we are always fighting against ourselves. The feelings we create by harming are painful both for ourselves and for others. Thus harming leads to guilt, tension, and complexity. Sleeping easily, waking easily, But living a clear and simple life, free from resentment, fear, and guilt, extends into our sleeping, dreaming and waking.
The next benefit the Buddha pointed out is that if we practice metta we will receive in return the love of others. This is not a heartless calculating motivation, but rather a recognition that the energy we extend in this world draws to it that same kind of energy. If we extend the force of love, love returns to us. The American psychologist William James once said, "My experience is what I agree to attend to. Only those items I notice shape my mind." Perhaps this is partially how this law works -- opening to the energy of love within us, we can notice it more specifically around us.
It happens on other levels as well. If we are committed in our lives to the force of lovingkindness, then people know that they can trust us. They know we will not deceive them; we will not harm them. By being a beacon of trustworthiness in this world, we become a safe haven for others and a good friend.
The next set of benefits the Buddha points out promises that if we practice metta we will be protected. Devas, and other invisible beings, are classically taught as part of the Buddhist cosmology, but we don't have to believe in the intervention of invisible forces in order to comprehend how the practice of metta protects us. This assertion does not mean being protected in the sense that nothing bad will ever happen to us, because clearly the vicissitudes of life are completely outside our control. Pleasure and pain, gain and loss, praise and blame, and fame and ill repute will revolve throughout our lives. But nevertheless we can be protected by the nature of how we receive, how we hold that which our karma brings us.
Albert Einstein said, "The splitting of the atom has changed everything except for how we think." How we think, how we look at our lives, is all-important, and the degree of love we manifest determines the degree of spaciousness and freedom we can bring to life's events.
Imagine taking a very small glass of water and putting into it a teaspoon of salt. Because of the small size of the container, the teaspoon of salt is going to have a big impact upon the water. However, if you approach a much larger body of water, such as a lake, and put into it that same teaspoonful of salt, it will not have the same intensity of impact, because of the vastness and openness of the vessel receiving it. Even when the salt remains the same, the spaciousness of the vessel receiving it changes everything.
We spend a lot of our lives looking for a feeling of safety or protection; we try to alter the amount of salt that comes our way. Ironically, the salt is the very thing that we cannot do anything about, as life changes and offers us repeated ups and downs. Our true work is to create a container so immense that any amount of salt, even a truckload, can come into it without affecting our capacity to receive it. No situation, even an extreme one, then can mandate a particular reaction.
Once I had a meditation student who had been a child in Nazi-occupied Europe. She recounted an instance when she was around ten years old when a German soldier held a gun to her chest -- a situation that would readily arouse terror. Yet she related feeling no fear at all, thinking, "You may be able to kill my body, but you can't kill me." What a spacious reaction! It is in this way that lovingkindness opens the vastness of mind in us, which is ultimately our greatest protection.
Another benefit of cultivating of metta is that one's face becomes very clear and shining. This means that an unfeigned inner beauty shines forth. We know in life situations how mind affects matter, how if we are enraged about something, it shows in our face. If somebody is full of hatred, it shows in the way they stand, the way they move, the way their jaw is set. It is not very attractive. No amount of make-up, jewelry, or embellishments bring beauty to a sullen, disgruntled, angry face. In just the same way, when someones mind is filled with the rapture of lovingkindness or compassion, it is beautiful to see the expression of light, of radiance, on their face and bearing.
With the practice of metta one also has a serene mind. The feeling of lovingkindness generates great peace. This is the mind that can say, "You are really a klutz, but I love you." It is a feeling endowed with acceptance, patience, and spaciousness. This great peace allows union with all of life, because we are not relying on changing circumstances for our happiness.
The peace of metta offers the kind of happiness that gives us the ability to concentrate. Serenity is the most important ingredient in being able to be present or being able to concentrate the mind. Concentration is an act of cherishing a chosen object. If we have no serenity, the mind will be scattered, and we will not be able to gather in the energy that is being lost to distraction. When we can concentrate, all of this energy is returned to us. This is the potency that heals us.
If we practice metta, another major benefit is that we will die unconfused. Our habitual ways of thinking, acting, and relating to life tend to be the ones that are strongest at the time of death as well. If we spend a lifetime feeling separate, apart, cultivating anger, giving way to frustration, to fear, to desire, that will likely be the mental-emotional environment within which we face our death. But if we have lived our life in a way that honors our connectedness, reflects our oneness, and cultivates caring and giving, that is likely to be how we will die.
The last specific benefit the Buddha spoke of was being reborn in happy realms as a result of filling our hearts with lovingkindness. The potential for rebirth again and again in various realms of pleasure or pain is part of the Buddhist worldview. For someone who subscribes to this vision of life, rebirth in a realm where one can attain liberation is most important. For those who don't subscribe to this vision, the benefits of metta can surely be seen to come to us in this lifetime.
Metta is the priceless treasure that enlivens us and brings us into intimacy with ourselves and others. It is the force of love that will lead beyond fragmentation, loneliness and fear. The late Hindu guru Neem Karoli Baba often said, "Don't throw anyone out of your heart." One of the most powerful healings (and greatest adventures) of our lifetime can come about as we learn to live by this dictum.
Sharon Salzberg

Monday, May 7, 2012


Detachment and Compassion in Early Buddhism
by
Elizabeth J. Harris
To people looking at Buddhism through the medium of English, the practice of compassion and detachment can appear incompatible, especially for those who consider themselves to be socially and politically engaged. In contemporary usage, compassion brings to mind outward-moving concern for others, while detachment suggests aloofness and withdrawal from the world. Yet Buddhism recommends both as admirable and necessary qualities to be cultivated. This raises questions such as the following:
·         If compassion means to relieve suffering in a positive way, and detachment to remain aloof from the world, how can the two be practiced together?
·         Does detachment in Buddhism imply lack of concern for humanity?
·         Is the concept of compassion in Buddhism too passive, connected only with the inward-looking eye of meditation, or can it create real change in society?
It is certainly possible to draw sentences from Buddhist writers which seem to support a rejection of outward concern for others. For example, Edward Conze has written, "The Yogin can only come into contact with the unconditioned when he brushes aside anything which is conditioned."[1] Similarly, G.S.P. Misra writes, "In the final analysis, all actions are to be put to cessation... The Buddha speaks of happiness involved in non-action which he further says is an integral part of the Right Way (sammaa pa.tipadaa).[2] Taken in isolation and out of context, these remarks can give the impression that the path to Nibbaana implies developing a lack of concern towards everything in sa.msaara. But is this inference sound? I would argue that it is not.
This is an issue which touches on the whole question of transferring concepts across linguistic barriers, in this case Paali and English. It calls not only for an understanding of how the concepts are used within the framework of the Paali Buddhist texts, but also for an awareness of how the English terms used in translation function and whether they are adequate. Inevitably, a dialogical approach between two linguistic frameworks is necessary.
Detachment
Viveka and viraaga are the two Paali words which have been translated as "detachment." The two, however, are not synonymous. The primary meaning of viveka is separation, aloofness, seclusion. Often physical withdrawal is implied. The later commentarial tradition, however, identifies three forms of viveka: kaaya-viveka (physical withdrawal),citta-viveka (mental withdrawal), and upadhi-viveka (withdrawal from the roots of suffering).
Kaaya-viveka, as a chosen way of life, was not uncommon during the time of the Buddha. To withdraw from the household life, renounce possessions, and adopt a solitary mendicancy was a recognized path. The formation of the Buddhist monastic Sangha was grounded in the belief that going out from home to homelessness (agaarasmaa anagaariya.m pabbajati) could aid concentrated spiritual effort. Yet to equate the renunciation which the Buddha encouraged with a physical withdrawal which either punished the body or completely rejected human contact would be a mistake.
The Buddha made it clear that the detachment of a noble disciple (ariyasaavaka) — the detachment connected with the path — was not essentially a physical act of withdrawal, let alone austerity. Kaaya-viveka was valuable only if seen as a means to the inner purging and mental transformation connected with the destruction of craving. This is illustrated in the Udumbarika Siihanaada Sutta in which the Buddha claims that the asceticism of a recluse who clings to solitude could lead to pride, carelessness, attention-seeking, and hypocrisy, if not linked to the cultivation of moral virtues and the effort to gain insight through meditation.[3]
A further insight is given in the Nivaapa Sutta, which weaves a lengthy story around the relationship of four herds of deer with a certain crop, representing sensual pleasure, sown by the hunter (Maara) for the deers' ensnaring. Both the ascetics who crave for pleasure, and those who deny themselves any enjoyment in an extreme way, are destroyed. Referring to the latter, the Buddha says:
Because their bodies were extremely emaciated, their strength and energy diminished, freedom of mind diminished; because freedom of mind diminished, they went back to the very crop sown by Maara — the material things of this world.[4]
The message of the sutta is that ascetic withdrawal can reduce the mind's ability to discern. It can also lead to the repression of mental tendencies rather than to their rooting out and destruction.
The detachment of which Buddhism speaks, therefore, is not an extreme turning away from that which normally nourishes the human body. Neither is it a closing of the eyes to all beauty, as is clear from the following:
Delightful, reverend Ananda, is the Gosinga sal-wood. It is a clear moonlit night; the sal-trees are in full blossom. Methinks deva-like scents are being wafted around...[5]
This is an expression of delight uttered by Saariputta, an arahant, on meeting some fellow monks one night.
One must look away from external acts and towards the area of inner attitudes and motivation for a true understanding of the role of detachment in Buddhism. Physical withdrawal is only justified if it is linked to inner moral purification and meditation. In this light, citta-viveka and upadhi-viveka become necessary subdivisions to bring out the full implications of detachment within Buddhist spiritual practice.Upadhi-viveka, as withdrawal from the roots of suffering, links up withviraaga, the second word used within Buddhism to denote detachment.
Viraaga literally means the absence of raaga: the absence of lust, desire, and craving for existence. Hence, it denotes indifference or non-attachment to the usual objects of raaga, such as material goods or sense pleasures. Non-attachment is an important term here if the Paali is to be meaningful to speakers of English. It is far more appropriate than "detachment" because of the negative connotations "detachment" possesses in English. Raaga is a close relation of upaadaana (grasping) which, within the causal chain binding human beings to repeated births, grows from ta.nhaa (craving) and results in bhava — continued sa.msaaric existence. The English word "non-attachment" suggests a way of looking at both of them.
The Buddhist texts refer to four strands of grasping (upaadaana): grasping of sense pleasures (kaamupaadaana), of views (di.t.thuupaadaana), of rule and custom (siilabbatupaadaana), of doctrines of self (attavaadupaadaana). All of these can also be described as forms of raaga or desire. To destroy their power over the human psyche, attachment to them must be transformed into non-attachment. Non-attachment or non-grasping would therefore flow from the awareness that no possession, no relationship, no achievement is permanent or able to give lasting satisfaction; from the discovery that there is no self which needs to be protected, promoted, or defended; and from the realization that searching for selfish sensual gratification is pointless, since it leads only to craving and obsession. Phrases which overlap with attachment in this context and which can help to clarify its meaning are: possessiveness in relationships, defensiveness, jealousy, covetousness, acquisitiveness, and competitiveness. Through non-attachment, these are attenuated and overcome. There is nothing yet in this description which points to a lack of concern for humanity or the world. The emphasis is rather on inner transformation so that destructive and divisive traits can be destroyed, making way for their opposites to flourish.
To take attachment to sense pleasures as an example, many suttas mention the peril involved. The person attached to sense pleasures is likened to a "wet, sappy stick" placed in water. As such a stick cannot be used to light a fire, so the one addicted to sense pleasures cannot attain the "incomparable self-awakening" (anuttaraaya sambodhaaya).[6] He is one with whom Maara can do what he likes.[7] He is like one holding a blazing torch, which must be dropped if burning and pain is to be avoided.[8] In fact, it is stressed that attachment to sense pleasures destroys the mind's ability to think clearly and objectively. Viraaga, on the other hand, is linked to the practice of mindfulness (satipa.t.thaana) and to seeing into the truth of things. For Buddhists, therefore, non-attachment or detachment (viraaga) does not mean a withdrawal from striving for truth but a movement towards seeing the true nature of things more clearly. In contrast, saraaga (attachment) leads to biased and false perceptions, since objects are sensed through a net of predispositions towards attraction and aversion.
Seeing the truth through non-attachment can operate both at a mundane and a higher level. At a mundane level, for instance, if greed always arises when an opportunity for gaining quick wealth is glimpsed, wealth will never be seen objectively as it really is — as transient, subject to change, and no answer to the search for happiness. Because of raaga, neither the consequences nor the alternatives will be appreciated. In fact, if any decision has to be made, the alternatives will not be seen clearly as long as the mind is clouded by raaga. Dishonesty and the manipulation of others in order to gain what is craved might result.
With reference to the higher stages of insight, satipa.t.thaana, viveka, and viraaga are intertwined. Found in many suttas are words such as the following:
He (the monk) chooses some lonely spot to rest on his way — in the woods, at the foot of tree, on a hillside... and returning there after alms round, he seats himself, when his meal is done, cross-legged... (kaaya-viveka)[9]
Putting away the hankering after the world, he remains with a heart that hankers not, and purifies his mind of lusts.[10]
Aloof from the pleasures of the senses, aloof from unskilled states of mind, he enters and abides in the first jhaana... (citta-viveka and viraaga).[11]
The ultimate results of such practices are the four jhaanas or absorptions; the verification, by direct vision, of the doctrine of karma; insight into the Four Noble Truths; and eventually, the knowledge that release from rebirth has been gained. Viraaga is, in fact, a prerequisite for attaining nibbaana and the treatment of the word in the texts implies that the two are almost synonymous.
At this point, it is worth looking at how the word "detachment" has been used in the Western tradition. In colloquial usage, to say that a person is detached can be derogatory, implying that the person is not willing to become involved with others or that he or she is neither approachable nor sympathetic. This current usage must be borne in mind. Three strands of meaning, however, emerge from most dictionary definitions. Primarily, detachment refers to the action and process of separating. Flowing from this has come the military usage to describe the dispatch of a body of troops. More relevant to this study, however, is the third body of meanings connected with detachment as an attitude of mind. "Aloofness" and "indifference to worldly concerns" are phrases used to describe this attitude. Although these might appear to conform to the above-mentioned contemporary connotations, we find linked with this (in Webster's Dictionary, for example) "freedom from bias and prejudice." Thus, in both the Western tradition and the Eastern, "detachment" is linked with clarity of perception, nonpartiality, and fair judgment.
Voices supporting this come from the Christian mystical tradition and the contemporary scientific world. Classical Christian mysticism saw indifference to worldly and material concerns as an essential component of the movement towards God. Fulfilling God's will with total love and obedience was accompanied by detachment from the worldly. In modern scientific research a similar quality is emphasized. A commitment to truth is recognized but so is the necessity for a mind detached from the results of research, detached from the wish for a particular outcome. For it is known that if the scientist is searching for one particular scientific result, he might unconsciously manipulate the experiments or observations in order to obtain that result.
Therefore, when looking at the implications of "detachment," it is worth taking into account Western usage as well. The socially active person can be quick to look down on those who appear either distanced from or untouched by the social, economic, and political crises facing the world. But they should remember that detachment can have a positive fruit even in relation to social activism: the ability to see the truth more clearly and to judge more impartially.
To return to the Buddhist tradition: The Buddha was once faced with the remark that the most worthy person is the one who speaks neither in dispraise of the unworthy nor in praise of the praiseworthy. The Buddha disagreed with this. He replied that, because of his ability to discriminate, the person who speaks in dispraise of the unworthy and in praise of worthy is best.[12] The Buddha rejects the self-distancing which refuses to take sides or to speak out against what should be condemned. He criticizes the desire to keep the truth inviolate and unspoken through a wish not to become involved with society. Viveka and viraagatherefore do not imply the kind of withdrawal which is unconcerned with what is good or bad for human welfare.
The fruits of non-attachment are not only linked with the gaining of knowledge, the "incomparable self-awakening," but are also related to creating a just and harmonious society. The Mahaadukkhakkhandha Sutta makes a direct connection between attachment to sense pleasures and the movement towards chaos in society. Greed for the possessions of another leads to disputes and contentions at the level of both the family and nation, until "having taken sword and shield, having girded bow and quiver, both sides mass for battle and arrows are hurled and swords are flashing."[13] In the same sutta, theft, adultery, and vicious corporal punishment are likewise attributed to sense pleasures and attachment to them.
In other texts, attachment to views is spoken about as a cause of disputes, especially in the religious community. Yet the point drawn is relevant to the whole of society. The result of a person asserting, "This is the very truth, all else is falsehood," is dispute. And: "If there is dispute, there is contention; if there is contention, there is trouble; if there is trouble, there is vexation."[14]
Therefore, far from implying lack of concern for the welfare of others, detachment from such things as sensual desires and the urge to assert dogmatic views is seen as essential to it. We are back to the four strands of grasping and the need to root these out.
Compassion
Karu.naa is the Paali word translated as compassion. Contemporary writers have spoken of it thus:
It is defined as that which makes the heart of the good quiver when others are subject to suffering, or that which dissipates the suffering of others.[15]
Compassion is a virtue which uproots the wish to harm others. It makes people so sensitive to the sufferings of others and causes them to make these sufferings so much their own that they do not want to further increase them.[16]
This (compassion) isn't self-pity or pity for others. It's really feeling one's own pain and recognizing the pain of others... Seeing the web of suffering we're all entangled in, we become kind and compassionate to one another.[17]
The above definitions vary. Yet central to all is the claim that karu.naaconcerns our attitude to the suffering of others. In the Buddhist texts the term often refers to an attitude of mind to be radiated in meditation. This is usually considered its primary usage. Nevertheless, the definitions of Buddhist writers past and present, as well as the texts themselves, stress that it is also more than this. Anukampaa and dayaa, often translated as "sympathy," are closely allied to it.[18] In fact, at least three strands of meaning in the term "compassion" can be detected in the texts: a prerequisite for a just and harmonious society; an essential attitude for progress along the path towards wisdom (pa~n~naa); and the liberative action within society of those who have become enlightened or who are sincerely following the path towards it. All these strands need to be looked at if the term is to be understood and if those who accuse Buddhist compassion of being too passive are to be answered correctly.
The foundation for any spiritual progress within Buddhism is the Five Precepts. Rites, rituals, ascetic practices, and devotional offerings are all subservient to the morality they stress. Compassion for the life, feelings, and security of others is inseparably linked with the first, second, and fourth precepts.
1.     I undertake the rule of training to refrain from injury to living things (paa.naatipaataa verama.nii sikkhaapada.m samaadiyaami).
2.     I undertake the rule of training to refrain from taking what is not given (adinnaadaanaa verama.nii sikhaapada.m samaadiyaami).
3.     I undertake the rule of training to refrain from false speech (musaavaadaa verama.nii sikkhaapada.m samaadiyaami).
For instance, the ideal of ahi.msaa (non-harming) of the first must flow from compassion if it is to be effective. The Vasala Sutta makes this relationship explicit, although the word dayaa, usually translated as sympathy or compassion, is used and not karu.naa:
Whoever in this world harms living beings, once-born or twice-born, in whom there is no compassion for living beings — know him as an outcast.[19]
(Ekaja.m vaa dija.m vaa pi yo paa.naani hi.msati, yassa paa.ne dayaa n'atthi ta.m ja~n~naa 'vasalo' iti.)
Important to the exercising of this kind of compassion is the realization that life is dear to all, as shown in the following Dhammapada verse:[20]
               All tremble at violence
               Life is dear to all
               Putting oneself in the place of another
               One should neither kill nor cause another
                 to kill.
               (Sabbe tasanti da.n.dassa
               Sabbesa.m jiivita.m piya.m
               Attaana.m upama.m katvaa
               Na haneyya na ghaataye.)
Here, non-harming and compassion flow both from a sensitivity to our own hopes and fears and the ability to place ourselves in the shoes of others. Compassion towards self and compassion towards others are inseparable.
The Buddha's teachings about statecraft and government also embody compassion as a guiding principle. The Cakkavatti Siihanaada Sutta describes a state in which the king ignores his religious advisers and does not give wealth to the poor. Poverty becomes widespread and, in its wake, follow theft, murder, immorality in various forms, and communal breakdown. The culmination is a "sword period" in which men and women look upon one another as animals and cut one another with swords. In this sutta, lack of compassion for the poor leads to the disintegration of society. Lack of social and economic justice leads to disaster. In contrast, the ideal Buddhist model for society, as deduced from the texts, would be one in which exploitation in any part of its structure is not tolerated. Such a society would be rooted in compassion. Compassion is its prerequisite.
To move to the second strand, I have already stated that the word "karu.naa" was most often mentioned in the texts in the specialized context of meditation to denote an important form of mind training. Here the emphasis is on each person's pilgrimage towards Nibbaana rather than on interaction with other beings.
For example, the Kandaraka Sutta describes the path of a person who "does not torment himself or others." Moral uprightness is stressed initially but the final stages of the path are seen purely in terms of meditation and mind-training. At this point, no mention is made of outgoing action:
By getting rid of the taint of ill-will, he lives benevolent in mind; and compassionate for the welfare of all creatures and beings, he purifies the mind of the taint of ill-will.[21]
In this context, the development of karu.naa plays an essential part in the meditation practice that leads towards wisdom (pa~n~naa) and the destruction of craving. The importance of this must not be underestimated. The development of a compassionate mind is a direct preparation for right concentration (sammaa samaadhi) and a prerequisite of Nibbaana:
If from a brahman's family... if from a merchant's family... if from a worker's family... and if from whatever family he has gone forth from home into homelessness and has come into this dhamma and discipline taught by the Tathaagata, having thus developed friendliness (mettaa), compassion (karu.naa), sympathetic joy (muditaa), and equanimity (upekkhaa), he attains inward calm — I say it is by inward calm that he is following the practices suitable for recluses.[22]
Karu.naa is one of the four "brahma-vihaaras" or sublime states, along with mettaa, muditaa, and upekkhaa. The higher stages are seen to rest on them because they have the power to weaken the defilements of lust, ill-will, and delusion and to bring the mind to a state of peace. Rarely is meditation mentioned without reference to them.
Yet a distinction must be made between mettaa and karu.naa. The two are linked together at one level through the brahma-vihaaras. Yet, in the texts, mettaa constantly remains a disposition, an interior attitude.Karu.naa is more than this. Significant here is Buddhaghosa's treatment of the word in the Visuddhimagga. When referring to the brahma-vihaaras, he treats karu.naa in a similar way to mettaa. Yet, in a later definition, his words can be translated as:
When there is suffering in others it causes good people's hearts to be moved, thus it is compassion. Or, alternatively, it combats (ki.naati) others' suffering and demolishes it, thus it is compassion. Or, alternatively, it is scattered upon those who suffer, or extended to them by pervasion, thus it is compassion.[23]
Bhikkhu ~Naa.namoli, in the notes to his translation, stresses thatki.naati here does not come under the usual meaning of "to buy" but is linked with the Sanskrit kr.naati, to injure or kill. Therefore he chooses to translate it as "combat," unmistakably connecting Buddhaghosa's definition of karu.naa with action.
In a later paragraph, Buddhaghosa adds that compassion succeeds "when it makes cruelty subside and it fails when it produces sorrow."[24]To Buddhaghosa, karu.naa was both a deliverance of the mind and liberative action or, more exactly, a quality compelling people towards such action.
This emphasis on liberative action is seen supremely in AAcariya Dhammapaala's words about the great compassion (mahaakaru.naa) and wisdom (pa~n~naa) of the Buddha.[25] The passage is structured in a series of parallel sentences, each one contrasting and comparing the fruits of the two qualities. The following are selected from the longer whole:
It is through understanding (= wisdom) that he fully understood others' suffering and through compassion that he undertook to counteract it... It was through understanding that he himself crossed over and through compassion that he brought others across...
Likewise it was through compassion that he became the world's helper and through understanding that he became his own helper.
In the above passage, pa~n~naa or wisdom is connected with knowledge and insight, and karu.naa or compassion with liberative action. The two are held in corrective balance, counteracting the view that karu.naa is linked only with the passivity of meditation. For the Enlightened One, karu.naa was what impelled him to remain in society as teacher and liberator. He saw the need of the murderer, Angulimaala, and a destructive life was put on another course.[26] For forty-five years, he preached in the face of criticism, opposition, and misunderstanding, in the knowledge that the Dhamma would be understood only by a few. He did not hide the fact that suffering is universal, but made compassion the reverse side of this truth, as is shown in the traditional stories of his encounters with Pa.taacaaraa,[27]Kisaagotamii,[28] and the slave girl Rajjumaalaa.[29] He was not slow either to admonish monks who were unwilling to tend the sick among them or to do the tending himself, however distressing the illness was: "Whoever would attend on me should attend on the sick" (yo ma.m upa.t.thaheyya so gilaana.m upa.t.thaheyya) has come down the centuries as words he said on one such occasion.[30]
This ideal was placed before the whole monastic Sangha. Although many members of the Sangha may have failed to reach it, it is certain that some attained a stage where compassionate, loving action had replaced selfishness. In the final stage of the path, there is a sense in which action ceases. Yet it is the kind of action which is dictated by attraction or aversion which must stop, action which has kammic results, not that which flows from a purified mind filled with compassion. The mission he set for himself and for the Sangha was one of compassionate, liberative action. The first sixty arahants were sent out with the words:
Go forth, bhikkhus, for the good of the many, for the happiness of the many, out of compassion for the world, for the good, benefit, and happiness of gods and men. Let not two go by the same way.[31]
Mahaakassapa is praised because "he teaches the doctrine to others out of pity, out of caring for them, because of his compassion for them."[32]
For the above disciples, all that had to be done for their release had been done. They now embodied compassion. Compassion was their nature — Mahaa-karu.naa, great compassion, rather than the elementary compassion which the novice on the path attempts to radiate and practice. For these disciples, all desire for self-promotion and self-achievement had been replaced with outward-moving energy. Therefore, any statement which describes the enlightened Buddhist disciple as distant from society would be false, or, more exactly, would be using inappropriate categories. The strength of the concept of compassion within Buddhism is that it is both a powerful form of mental purification and a form of liberative action.
Final Reflections
This paper began with questions raised by observers about the Buddhist notions of detachment and compassion. They center around two main points: that the two concepts seem to represent contradictory forces, the one moving away from society and the other towards it; that the Buddhist concept of compassion is not active enough, being more connected with personal spiritual growth than the altruistic reformation of society.
Part of the problem is the linguistic framework and the modern connotations surrounding such concepts as "detachment." The question would not arise in the same form for those thinking exclusively in Paali and using the terms viraaga and karu.naa. It would be evident to them that viraaga does not imply apathy and indifference but a freedom from passion and attachment that is necessary if actions are not to become biased or partial. For what passes as compassion can cloak emotions of a very different kind, such as anger, attachment, or the wish to interfere.
With reference to the second point, a distinction in terms must be made. There is a form of concern for self which is compatible with and even essential to altruism. The care for oneself which enables one to feel empathy with others can be termed "autism." Autism is necessary for altruism, since it is necessary to be able to accept and even love oneself before one can show true empathy and compassion for others, before one can feel what they feel. Autism is not egoism. Egoism is the enemy of both autism and altruism. Egoism seeks to use others for the material welfare and gain of self. Its "love" is possessive and manipulative. Egoism has to be destroyed if karu.naa is to develop.
Viraaga, viveka, karu.naa and anukampaa are inter-related terms within Buddhism. Compassion needs the clear insight that viragaa can bring. The challenge for Buddhists and non-Buddhists alike is to realize this in our lives. All societies need the active, liberative compassion which seeks to relieve the suffering of others, establish greater justice, and assert the dignity and equality of human beings. Karu.naa should certainly be seen in its concentrated meditative form as a powerful and peace-giving discipline of the mind and an important part of any spiritual path. But it should never be confined to this framework. It breaks the framework as liberative action to relieve suffering and oppression.