Quotation

He who learns must suffer, and, even in our sleep, pain that we cannot forget falls drop by drop upon the heart, and in our own despair, against our will, comes wisdom to us by the awful grace of God. - Aeschylus

Thursday, December 17, 2015

The Lion, the Monk, and the Lighthouse

In my previous post regarding the Buddha's teaching on perfect enlightenment, I examined a simile, first used by a follower of the Buddha, and then extended by the Buddha to probe the fuller depths of its meaning.  In this simile, the Buddha was like the big bull elephant sought by the tracker; he was the hunted.

While it makes perfect sense that we would seek perfect enlightenment by following in the footsteps of the Buddha, this simile was not the only way in which we can understand the Buddha.  The Buddha might be well-served by invoking the image of a bull elephant, an animal of long memory, an animal which is intelligent, compassionate, and strong.  And yet the Buddha presented himself not infrequently as being like a very different kind of animal.

"Monks, in the evening the lion, the king of beasts, comes out from his lair.  He stretches himself, surveys the four quarters all around, and roars his lion roar three times, after which he sets out in search of game.
When the lion, the king of beasts, roars its lion's roar, most of the animals that hear the sound are filled with fear, a sense of urgency, and terror.  Those who live in holes enter their holes; those who live in the water enter the water; those who live in the woods enter the woods; and the birds fly up into the air.  Even those royal bull elephants, bound by strong thongs in the villages, towns, and capital cities, burst and break their bonds asunder; frightened, they urinate and defecate and flee here and there.  So powerful among the animals, monks, is the lion, the king of beasts, so majestic and mighty."

We see here that instead of an image of the Buddha as the gentle giant, the Buddha presents us with an image of a roaring lion.  The Buddha is not only hunted; he is also the great hunter.  The Buddha pursues us so that he might help us escape the cosmos of suffering.

But in our lack of understanding, we often flee from the Buddha; his message is often too hard, striking at the self to which we cling so fiercely, deeply afraid of the radical transformation he shows to us.  And so we often return to our old pleasures, seeking comfort in them so that we do not constantly face the reminder of our own mortality.

"So too, monks, when the Tathagata arises in the world, an arahant, perfectly enlightened, accomplished in true knowledge and conduct, fortunate, knower of the world, unsurpassed leader of persons to be tamed, teacher of devas and humans, the Enlightened One, the Blessed One, he teaches the Dhamma thus: 'Such is form, such its origin, such its passing away; such is feeling, such its origin, such its passing away; such is perception, such its origin, such its passing away; such are volitional formations ... such is consciousness, such its origin, such its passing away.'
Then, monks, when those devas who are long-lived, beautiful, abounding in happiness, dwelling for a long time in lofty palaces, hear the Tathagata's teaching of the Dhamma, most are filled with fear, a sense of urgency, and terror, [saying]: 'It seems, though we thought ourselves permanent, that we are impermanent; it seems, though we thought ourselves stable, that we are unstable; it seems, though we thought ourselves eternal, that we are transient.  It seems, sir, that we are impermanent, unstable, transient, included within identity.'  So powerful, monks, is the Tathagata over this world together with its devas, so majestic and mighty."

Like the lion who enters the wide plain, the Buddha enters the wide world with a roar; his roar is the Dhamma which invariably shines a great light upon our own fear of death, jump-starting our sense of urgency.  His roar is the antidote to the soporific pleasures we imbibe in a futile attempt to escape for as long as possible in this life the ever-present reality of our own death.  If we but consider the immensity of time, it becomes clear that each moment of our life is a near-death experience; death is no farther away than the roaring lion or the trampling elephant who is frightened of it.

Even the devas, who live superhuman lives on the higher heavenly planes, are irrevocably made aware of this nearness of death, of their inevitable death and rebirth, of the suffering of the lower worlds to which they may return.  The Buddha's roaring of the truth about suffering and existence wakes even the mighty divine beings from their slumbers in the fields of bliss.

"In the past, and also now, I declare that a monk who is also an arahant with taints destroyed--one who has lived the spiritual life, done his task, laid down the burden, attained his own goal, utterly destroyed the fetters of existence, and become liberated by final knowledge--is incapable of transgression in regard to nine things: he is incapable of destroying life, of taking what is not given, of engaging in the sexual act, of telling a deliberate lie, and of making use of stored-up enjoyments as he did in the past when he was a householder; further, he is incapable of taking a wrong course of action on account of desire, on account of hatred, on account of delusion, or on account of fear.  In the past, and also now, I declare that a monk who is an arahant is incapable of transgression in regard to these nine things."

The sinking of this deep sense of impermanence into our minds so that we do not forget the lion's roar is the product of sustained discipline, the sort of discipline practiced by a monk, the discipline practiced for a lifetime by the Buddha himself, the monk par excellence.  The Buddha emphasized again and again that moral discipline was a prerequisite for enlightenment, and that the best way to live the moral life was in the context of the monastic lifestyle.

We see above that even a monk who has lived the spiritual life to the end is not free to disregard moral discipline, that the monk's transcendence fulfills the moral obligations perfectly rather than abolishing them.  The moral discipline is a critical part of the radical transformation into an arahant, and at the end we are so thoroughly transformed that we are no longer capable of acting in a way that is not in accord with the Dhamma.

"Monks, an arahant is called one whose crossbar has been lifted, whose trench has been filled in, whose pillar has been uprooted, one who has no bolt, a noble one whose banner is lowered, whose burden is lowered, who is unfettered.
And how is the arahant one whose crossbar has been lifted?  Here the arahant has abandoned ignorance, has cut it off at the root, made it like a palm stump, done away with it, so that it is no longer subject to a future arising.  That is how he is one whose crossbar has been lifted.
And how is the arahant one whose trench has been filled in?  Here the arahant has abandoned the round of rebirths, the process of renewed existence, has cut it off at the root, made it like a palm stump, done away with it, so that it is no longer subject to a future arising.  That is how he is one whose trench has been filled in.
And how is the arahant one whose pillar has been uprooted?  Here the arahant has abandoned craving, has cut it off at the root, made it like a palm stump, done away with it, so that it is no longer subject to a future arising.  That is how he is one whose pillar has been uprooted.
And how is the arahant one who has no bolt?  Here the monk has abandoned the five lower fetters, has cut them off at the root, made them like a palm stump, done away with them, so that they are no longer subject to a future arising.  That is how he is one who has no bolt.
And how is the arahant a noble one whose banner is lowered, whose burden is lowered, who is unfettered?  Here the arahant has abandoned the conceit 'I am,' has cut it off at the root, made it like a palm stump, done away with it, so that it is no longer subject to a future arising.  That is how he is one whose banner is lowered, whose burden is lowered, who is unfettered."

It is the monk who leverages this moral discipline who can then uproot the heavy pillar that is craving.  No longer subject to his transient desires, he can turn all his strength gained through discipline toward ending his ignorance, all suffering in the cycle of death and rebirth, and breaking all the chains wrapped around his mind.  The sweet siren song of the ego which sings, "I am the most important thing there will ever be, so give all your sweetest pleasures to me," is silenced.

He is now freed from the deepest fear of all who cling to the transient desires of the ego: losing the pleasures of life, experiencing the pain of life, and the endless futility of such a life.

"[The venerable Sariputta said:] When friend, a monk is thus liberated in mind, even if powerful forms cognizable by the eye come into range of his eye, they do not obsess his mind; his mind remains uncontaminated, steady, attained to imperturbability, and he contemplates their fall.  Even if powerful sounds cognizable by the ear ... smells cognizable by the nose ... flavors cognizable by the tongue .. tactile objects cognizable by the body ... mental phenomena cognizable by the mind, they do not obsess his mind; his mind remains uncontaminated, steady, attained to imperturbability, and he contemplates their fall.  Suppose, friend, there were a stone pillar sixteen meters long, eight meters sunk in the ground and eight meters above the ground.  Then a powerful rainstorm would come from the east: the pillar would not budge, would not shake, would not tremble.  Then a powerful rainstorm would come from the north ... from the west ... from the south: the pillar would not budge, would not shake, would not tremble.  Why not?  Because of the depth of the base and because the stone pillar has been deeply planted.  So too for a monk thus liberated in mind, if powerful sense objects come into range, they do not obsess his mind; his mind remains uncontaminated, steady, attained to imperturbability, and he contemplates their fall."

The monk who uprooted the pillar of craving then becomes an unshakable pillar himself, unmoved by the sensory experiences and the seeking them out in the form of transient pleasures we often find so attractive.  The monk follows the Buddha and becomes like the Buddha who is the everlasting monk, firm and unshakable, rooted so deeply in the Dhamma and the Sangha that his mind is free from the storms of this life on the ocean of sensory experience.

But the Buddha is not merely a roaring lion awakening us to our fears, or a monk who trains us to face our fears and let them go; he also a bringer of light.  He explains that he is not merely enlightened, but also the bringer of light into the world.

"Monks, so long as the sun and moon have not arisen in the world, for just so long as there is no manifestation of great light and radiance, but then blinding darkness prevails, a dense mass of darkness; for just so long day and night are not discerned, the month and fortnight are not discerned, the seasons and year are not discerned.  But, monks, when the sun and moon arise in the world, then there is the manifestation of great light and radiance; then there is no blinding darkness, no dense mass of darkness; then day and night are discerned, the month and fortnight are discerned, the seasons and year are discerned.
So too, monks, so long as a Tathagata has not arisen in the world, an Arahant, a Perfectly Enlightened One, for just so long there is no manifestation of great light and radiance, but then blinding darkness prevails, a dense mass of darkness; for just so long there is no explaining, teaching, proclaiming, establishing, disclosing, analyzing, or elucidating of the Four Noble Truths.  But, monks, when a Tathagata arises in the world, an Arahant, a Perfectly Enlightened One, then there is the manifestation of great light and radiance; then no blinding darkness prevails, no dense mass of darkness; then there is the explaining, teaching, proclaiming, establishing, disclosing, analyzing, and elucidating of the Four Noble Truths."

The Buddha, then, is himself our illumination.  He illuminates our fears and sufferings as well as the path to leave them behind so that we can empty ourselves of our sense of self.  By killing the self, we vanquish suffering for all time, ending the process begun by the Tathagata, he who refers to the Tathagata because he has killed the sense of self which draws us back into the cycle of death and rebirth.

"The world, monks, has been fully awakened to by the Tathagata; the Tathagata is detached from the world.  The origin of the world has been fully awakened to by the Tathagata; the Tathagata has abandoned the origin of the world.  The cessation of the world has been fully awakened to by the Tathagata; the Tathagata has realized the cessation of the world.  The way to the cessation of the world has been fully awakened to by the Tathagata; the Tathagata has developed the way to the cessation of the world.
In the world, monks, with its devas, with Mara, with Brahma, in this populations with its ascetics and brahmins, with its devas and humans, whatever there is that is seen, heard, sensed, cognized, reached, sought after, examined by the mind, all that has been awakened to by the Tathagata;  therefore he is called the Tathagata.  
From the night he fully awakened, monks, until the night he attains final Nibbana, in this interval, whatever he speaks, talks of, and expounds, all that is just so, not otherwise; therefore he is called the Tathagata.
As he speaks, monks, so he does; as he does, so he speaks.  Since he does as he speaks and speaks as he does, therefore he is called the Tathagata.
In this world, monks, with its devas, with Mara, with Brahma, in this populations with its ascetics and brahmins, with its devas and humans, the Tathagata is the vanquisher, the unvanquished, the universal seer, the wielder of mastery; therefore he is called the Tathagata."

The Buddha is the Tathagata, he who conquered both self and world, the exemplar of moral discipline, the teacher of the Dhamma, and the eternal light which enlightens all who follow him.  From the Buddha we learn that the killing of the self is thus a participation in the eschaton, the end of the world as we know it accomplished one ego-death at a time, a chain reaction begun by the Buddha once he awoke.

Thus the Buddha has been the lion who prompted us to start on the path with the roaring Dhamma, the monk who showed us how to walk every step of the path, and the great lighthouse which shines forth for the benefit of those who would reach the other shore.

drawing of Buddha in lotus position with followers in woods by stream
By myself - Own work, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=805982


Note: For those who are interested, you can find more information about the anthology I'm using on my Sources page.

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