What's It Mean?

What's it Mean?
Contemplations - Maurice Walsh

To some Westerners, acceptance of the law of karma is difficult because it implies acceptance of rebirth. In fact, there are far more people in the West who actually do accept some form of rebirth, or what they probably call reincarnation, than is often supposed, though I do think that many nowadays are blinded by science. Having been told in authoritative tones that the mind is just a function of the physical brain, they are led to believe that any kind of survival of physical death is impossible. I once even heard a leading member of the Buddhist Society declare this. Well, he's dead now and possibly knows better! Unless, of course, he was right after all, in which case he will never know.

I must admit that as I approach the end of this life's journey, I look forward with more curiosity than apprehension to what may come next. I would, however, just refer you to Majjhima Nikaya (The Middle Length Sayings) number 60, in which the Buddha says that it's better to wager on the existence of an afterlife, a moral law, and so on, than the opposite, rather in the same way as the French philosopher, Blaise Pascal, in the seventeenth century proposed a similar wager about the existence of God.

We all know that there are people around with all sorts of ideas about the occult, for example, but we are perhaps less aware of the fanatical antagonism and fear which the idea of the paranormal arouses in the breasts of some, but only some, members of the scientific establishment. As an eye-opener I recommend the brilliant and often witty book by Martin Willson, a trained scientist who became a Buddhist monk, Rebirth and the Western Buddhist. I only mention this whole subject because, for some people, there seems to be an almost insurmountable materialistic barrier to the decisive experience which has been termed 'glimpsing Nirvana'. It's interesting if slightly horrifying to observe how utterly unscientific some scientists can be where their prejudices are concerned. Their refusal to face evidence and their extraordinary ingenuity in explaining things away, can be quite astonishing.

Modern science has achieved wonderful results and discovered many amazing things, but to suppose it is capable of providing all the answers is simply one form of ignorance or delusion. As the Buddha told the brahmin janussoni in the Anguttara Nikaya: 'It is possible for Nibbana to be seen in this very life by one who has overcome greed, hatred and delusion, and not otherwise'.

Well, of course, you can find various interpretations of Nirvana in the different Buddhist schools. The great Buddhist philosopher, Nagarjuna, in The Verses on the Middle Way, Mulamadhyamakakarika, declares that there is no difference between samsara and Nirvana — a truly shattering remark for some. But Nagarjuna was the man who formulated — he didn't invent it, but he formulated it most clearly — the doctrine of the two truths — that of conventional truth and that of absolute truth. From the point of view of absolute truth, things can look very different.

There is a passage in the list of sixty-two wrong views found in the Brahmajala Sutta, the first Sutta of the Digha Nikaya, The Long Discourses', where the Buddha refers to misinterpretations of Nibbana: 'Here a certain ascetic or Brahmin declares and holds the view: "In as far as this self, being furnished and endowed with the fivefold sense pleasures,
indulges in them, then that is when the self realizes the highest Nibbana, here and now."' This is, of course, a thoroughly materialistic use of the term, which must have existed, since the Buddha condemns it. The Buddha goes on to refer to other states that get mistaken for Nibbana.

These are, at least, of a more spiritual nature than the first one, consisting of the various jhana states of meditative absorption, which may be very blissful, but are short lived. These states can be deceptive by their very nature. There arc almost certainly a few people walking about in the West, and of course in the East, who having attained one or another of these jhana states, have convinced themselves that they are enlightened. I think I've met one or two! Unfortunately, of course, this very conviction, being born of ignorance and conceit, is itself a powerful obstacle.

Years ago there was a bhikkhu who used to like saying, 'Some people would like to be able to get a day return to Nirvana, so that they could come back again if they didn't like it.' Well, it seems your first visit is a brief one. In fact, you have, as it were, to pay three brief visits before you're allowed to stay. The process may take a long time — up to seven lives in this world, they say. That's as it may be, but the psychologically convincing part to me is the way it works.

First, you've got to achieve that decisive first breakthrough. One who has gained this stage is called, in Theravada Buddhism, a sotapanna, or stream-winner. The effect of this first experience is the destruction of the personality-view, or the tacit assumption of selfhood, that we all have. From then on there is an actual awareness of the truth of anatta, or nonself. With this, two other so-called fetters disappear — doubt and the belief in the efficacy of rites and rituals. Doubt goes because you've seen a bit of the truth, so you don't doubt it any more. And you also realize that you didn't need any rites and rituals to get there, so that goes.

A second path experience will come sooner or later whereby the two great factors of desire and aversion will be decisively weakened. After a third such experience, desire and aversion for the things of this world are gone and, accordingly, one will not be reborn any more.

Well, to my mind at least, there's something very convincing about this progression, whereby the destruction of intellectually held beliefs is followed by the adjustment of the emotions to the new situation. It is, however, only in the Theravada school, as far as I know, that the process is spelt out with such precision.

Greed, hatred and delusion — the three unwholesome roots, also called the three fires. All we have to do to attain Nirvana is to eliminate all three in ourselves. Quite simple really! But, of course, what is simple is not necessarily easy. In the Mahasatipafthana Sutta we're recommended to practise the four foundations of mindfulness as the direct way to achieve this. The Buddha says, 'Whoever, monks, should practise these four foundations of mindfulness for just seven years, may expect one of two results — either Arahantship in this life, or if there should be some substrate left, the state of a nonreturner. Let alone seven years, whoever should practise them for just six years, five, four, three, two, one year, let alone one year, whoever should practise them for just seven months, six, five, four, three, two, one month, half a month, let alone half a month, whoever should practise them for one week, may expect one of two results — either Arahantship in this life or, if there should be some substrate left, the state of a nonreturner.' Well, half of this week's gone already, but just see what you can do. What's it Mean?
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Buddhism, Pali and Nirvana

Buddhism, Pali and Nirvana - What's it Mean?
Contemplations - Maurice Walsh

But is there anything which has no origin and which is therefore not bound to come to an end? The answer is yes, and it is this that makes Buddhism a religion. There is in the Pali Canon a short scripture called Udana, meaning something like solemn utterance. The Pali Text Society's translation calls it 'Verses of Uplift', and here we read: There is, monks, an unborn, unbecome, unmade, uncompounded (ajataip abhutam akatam asankhatam). If there were not this unborn, unbecome, unmade, uncompounded, then there would be no deliverance here visible from that which is born, become, made, compounded. But since there is this unborn, unbecome, unmade, uncompounded, therefore a deliverance is visible from that which is born, become, made, compounded.'

The sense of this passage seems to have escaped the editors of the Pali Text Society's dictionary who say that Nibbana is purely and simply an ethical state, and it is therefore not transcendental. Nothing, it seems to me, could be more transcendental, but we must resist any temptation of trying to imagine what Nirvana is like. It belongs to that aspect of the universe that even the Marxist, Professor Haldane, intuitively knew, I think, to be stranger than we can imagine. Well, I believe I have the right to call myself a Buddhist because I have faith that this is so. This perhaps necessitates a word or two about faith.

Saddha in Pali, Sraddha in Sanskrit, is not blind faith; it is reasoned confidence. I could say I am a Buddhist because I have faith in the unborn, unbecome, uncreated, uncompounded, or unconditioned, if you like. So, against all the sankharas or compounded or conditioned things of which the universe is made up, there is the unborn, unconditioned, that is, Nirvana. It is not a sankhara; it is what is called a dhamma in Pali, or a dharma in Sanskrit, a word of various meanings, but here used in an all-inclusive sense — all things, conditioned or unconditioned, are dhammas. All sankharas are dhammas, but just one dhamma is not a sankhara. This, I
believe to be the original Buddhist teaching, but I may be wrong.

One early school, the so-called Sarvastivada, or Everything-is School, maintains that there are three unconditioned dhammas — empty space and two different kinds of Nirvana. And another later school increases the number to sue. I only mention this in passing as an example of the sort of complications you find in the different schools of Buddhist philosophy.

I might also mention that some distinguished scholars have the annoying habit of translating Nirvana into English by such terms as 'freedom' and 'extinction', of which the one is utterly vague and the other terribly misleading. True, it is the extinction of greed, hatred and delusion, but it cannot be equated with total annihilation.

An important word which happens to be the same in both Pali and Sanskrit, is sarnsara. This is the phenomenal world of our daily experience in contrast to Nirvana; it can be translated literally as 'onward faring,' which is the weary round of constant change and rebirth, the cycle of all nature, including human nature; it has been called 'the weary-go-round'! The possibility of deliverance from it is, we learn, guaranteed because of the existence of Nirvana, the unborn, unbecome, uncreated, uncompounded. The purpose of Buddhist practice is to accomplish that aim. Ignoring for the moment various qualifications, we can say this is the essence of Buddhism, at least as envisaged in the Pali Canon of the Theravada school, which I would boldly call basic Buddhism. In fact, it all seems to boil down to something extremely simple. That doesn't, of course, necessarily mean easy.

I think all the different schools of Buddhism build up on this basis. In fact, I would even go further and suggest that this basic Buddhism is really the true scientific basis of all religions.
Samsara, then, is the phenomenal world of our daily experience; it is the world of all that is compounded or conditioned. It is the law of dependent origination, or as the late Edward Conze called it 'conditioned coproduction'. Everything that arises does so because of prior conditions, and changes when those conditions cease to operate.

Unlike the samsaric world, Nirvana is not subject to conditions. What we usually call 'cause and effect' is a crude oversimplification of the law of conditionally. No thing ever arises from a single cause. I sometimes think it would be better to abolish the terms 'cause' and 'causality' from the Buddhist vocabulary; they are so misleading. If we wish to use the term, however, we should at least be well aware that causation is multiple, the effect being the outcome of a host of factors, one of which may be decisive. The twenty-four conditions which are listed in the Abhidhamma include that decisive effect. The crude formulation of one of the basic principles of Buddhism is that the cause of suffering is desire, but that's not a very good way of putting it, really.

This leads on to another word which is often misunderstood, partly on account of its non-Buddhist use — karma. This is the Sanskrit form, widely known in English; the Pali form is kamma. The literal meaning is 'action', and it is sometimes used in the sense of general activity or work. But in Buddhism it has an ethical meaning. In one place it is defined as 'volition', i.e. the will to do something which is ethically either good or bad. A cardinal mistake, of course, is to suppose that karma means fate. It doesn't!

It is sometimes used for the consequences to the doer of a particular action, although the correct technical term for this in both Pali and Sanskrit is vipaka, literally 'ripening', and it is summed up in the pithy Thai saying: Do good, get good. Do evil, get evil.

The good or bad deed you did may have been in a previous life. If we've done something bad in the past, we haw to accept the consequences. If we don't want nasty consequences in the future, we'd better behave ourselves now. The principle of karma is extremely simple, though-its working out is extremely complicated. They say that only a Buddha can fully comprehend it. At least we should not equate it with fate or some kind of predestination. These just don't feature in Buddhism. Buddhism, Pali and Nirvana
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Theravada and Pali - What's it Mean?

Theravada and Pali - What's it Mean?
Contemplations - Maurice Walsh

A book worth knowing about and using is the Buddhist Dictionary by the late and great German scholar-monk Nyanatiloka, revised by his no less great pupil Nyanaponika, also a German, who died not long ago at the Forest Hermitage in Sri Lanka. The Buddhism covered by this dictionary is purely Theravada, the Buddhism of the Pali Canon. For a handy dictionary covering all schools I'm afraid you will have to wait for my concise dictionary of Buddhism.

Theravada is not, of course, literally and precisely just what the Buddha taught. How could it be? But there are good grounds for regarding it as broadly representing the nearest approach we can get to that original teaching. Anyway, whatever your particular Buddhist approach, you may find it helpful to consult Nyanatiloka's dictionary, for his excellent definitions. The terms defined are, of course, given in Pali which is roughly a kind of simplified Sanskrit. Some people say, 'Yes, but it's not simplified enough!'

If you want to go straight to the heart of the matter, you might say, 'What is the definition of Nirvana?' You'd have to look it up here under the Pali name of Nirvana, and you would find a notable comment. The English may be a little cumbrous, perhaps betraying the German origin, but the point seems to be important, even crucial. He writes:

'One cannot too often and too emphatically stress the fact that not only for the actual realization of the goal of Nirvana, but also for a theoretical understanding of it, it is an indispensable preliminary condition to grasp fully the truth of anatta, the egolessness and insubstantiality of all forms of existence. Without such an understanding, one will necessarily misconceive Nirvana — according to one's either materialistic or metaphysical leanings — either as annihilation of an ego, or as an eternal state of existence into which an ego or self enters, or with which it merges.'

To fully grasp the truth of anatta, or nonself, must mean that one has overcome the crucial fetter of personality belief, in Pali sakkaya-ditthi. This is the firmly rooted belief we all have of our own existence as an autonomous personality, the 'I-am-I' conviction which most of us never even question. It is the illusory nature of this natural seeming belief that has to be perceived; it is a problem that has to be cracked. In Zen terms, the ultimate koan or riddle.

The egolessness and insubstantiality of all forms of existence, in Theravada is called anatta, nonself. In Mahayana the term generally used is iunyata, or emptiness, which is the same thing with, perhaps, a few extra trimmings. When a person has gained this realization, that is the decisive step. One is irrevocably on the path and destined for full enlightenment and at that moment, according to the great commentator Buddhaghosa, Nirvana is glimpsed.

I assume that the immediate aim for most of us here (at this Buddhist summer school] is, or should be, what I call 'the moment of truth'. In Theravada it is slotted into a well-defined series of stages. It is the transforming, liberating moment in which, to use Nyanatiloka's words, 'the egolessness and the insubstantiality of all forms of existence', is clearly seen as a fact. In that moment, the powerful feeling of 'me-ness' that usually dominates us, is seen and known to be spurious. The vision fades, but its effect is never lost. The person who has gained this is an Ariya, or noble one, inevitably destined for full enlightenment, which is Nirvana or Nirvana.

At this point, perhaps, one begins to see what is meant by
those famous words of the Heart Sutra: Form is emptiness and the very emptiness is form.

It is important, I think, to examine almost every word of Nyanatiloka's statement. He has told us that, both for the actual realization of Nirvana and for a theoretical understanding of it, it is necessary to have grasped the truth of nonself. Now, when he referred to all forms of existence, he was speaking of what in Pali are called sankharas, or samskaras in Sanskrit, by which are meant things which are put together, compounded, or conditioned. This means all the objects and events we are normally aware of, or involved with, including our so-called selves. We can think of them, roughly, not as solid lumps of something — and the physicists tell us that no such solid lumps of anything really exist — but rather, perhaps, as being like waves in the sea.

Pioneer translators, people like Professor Rhys Davids, had to decide what words like sankhara really meant, and how to render them into English. At first they were fairly clueless. Sankhara (literally 'put together') they Latinized as 'confection', a word which might suggest sweets to the English and ready-made clothing to many continentals. Others made up a Greek-based compound which suggested nothing at all to most people — syllogies. Nyanatiloka did rather better with 'formations' as the most general sense, although in some cases, I think, 'patterns' might be better. Actually, a sankhara can be all sorts of things, from a house to an emotional reaction. It's something that is formed or compounded or conditioned.

The formula used in the Pali Canon to describe that liberating moment in one individual, is as follows: 'And just as a clean cloth from which all stains have been removed receives the dye perfectly, so in the brahman Pokkharasati as he sat there, there arose the pure and spotless Dhamma eye, and he knew whatever things have an origin must come to cessation. Theravada and Pali - What's it Mean?
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Buddha and God

Buddha and God
Contemplations - Maurice Walsh

It is of course the Buddhist claim — according to certain scriptural passages which are probably of late date — that the truth of Enlightenment, that leads to Nibbana, is only revealed by Buddhas, who appear at vast intervals of time. This may be quite true, but I somehow doubt it. It would of course be the height of folly, as well as supremely tactless, to debate about the possible relative degrees of 'enlightenment' attained by, say, the Buddha Gotama and Jesus. 1 think, however, that it is perhaps permissible to say that Jesus himself, like his disciple Eckhart only more so, was unlucky in his audience. The Buddha lived to be 80 and was never persecuted, though we are told of real or alleged attempts on his life. The transmission of his message was not so perfect as we could wish, and has left his followers — and modern scholars — quite a few things to argue about, but it certainly seems a great deal less dubious than that of the message of Jesus. I may remark in parenthesis that a distinguished New Testament scholar with whom I was once acquainted, and who died recently, was reported to have produced, on the basis of his research among the manuscripts, a new version of the New Testament that was so radically different from current versions that it was only published privately, in a limited edition, for his friends. I don't know what he found out, or believed he had found out, and haven't seen the book — and if I were to see it it would probably strain my poor knowledge of Greek to the limits and beyond to attempt to understand it — but it may be that it contains some new — and seemingly disconcerting — insights into the mind of Jesus.

What is enlightenment? Silly question — not being enlightened 1 can't tell you, and don't propose to try. Perhaps, however, it is possible to hazard a theory about the mechanics of 'disendarkenment'. Let us start with an analogical case in which not indeed enlightenment, but certainly some remarkable powers of the mind have been revealed. An interesting article in the Independent entitled 'Brilliance in a Benighted Mind' discusses the cases of some people who, despite grave physical and/or mental handicaps, display powers far beyond the capacity of most of us. A blind man suffering from cerebral palsy can play any tune faultlessly on hearing it only once. An animal sculptor with an 1Q of about 50 and a vocabulary of about 50 words needs only a fleeting glance at a picture to be able to reproduce it in perfect three-dimensional detail. A 12-year-old autistic boy drew an accurate architectural sketch of St Pancras Station after a brief visit, and so on. The author refers to left- and right-hand brain-halves, the possible effect of hormones, etc., all of which may be perfectly true without going very far towards explaining the phenomena. I )l course we now know that one function of the brain is to act ;i« a kind of sieve through which the vast mass of sense-impressions passes to enable us to cope without being overwhelmed by them. The brain, in fact, is not so much a memory as a forgettory. It seems to me that these people have, as it were, a hole in some odd corner of the sieve through which some knowledge streams unhindered. The knowledge is unconscious and unselective, and certainly cannot in any way be equated with 'enlightenment', but it is genuine knowledge or skill of a high order, often with an aesthetic quality about it. It also seems clearly to contain, often at least, an element of extrasensory perception. In passing, I would like to suggest that it is questions such as these to which science should pay much more attention than it does. The time has surely come by now to stop brushing scientifically inconvenient facts under the carpet. Anyway, the phenomena I have mentioned, though clearly not themselves forms or aspects of 'enlightenment', may well be considered as possibly analogous to it.

The arising of the Dhamma-eye is described in the Suttas as follows: 'And just as a clean cloth from which all stains have been removed receives the dye perfectly, so in the Brahmin Pokkharasati (or whoever), as he sat there, there arose the pure and spotless Dhamma-eye, and he knew: "Whatever things have an origin must come to cessation (Yam kind samudaya-dhammam sabbarn tarn nirodha-dhammam)"' — at first sight an almost trivial-sounding statement like 'What goes up must come down'. We may even think, too, of the Devil's version in Goethe's Faust: 'Alles, was entsteht, ist wert, dass es zugrunde geht' — 'Whatever comes into being deserves to perish'. Perhaps its profounder significance begins to dawn when we contemplate another 'celebrated verse', as Rhys Davids calls it:
Anicca vata sankhara uppada-vaya-dhammino uppajjitva nirujjhanti tesarn vupasamo sukho —

'Impermanent are compounded things, prone to rise and fall, Having risen, they're destroyed, their passing truest bliss,'

Said to have been uttered at the Buddha's passing-away by Salcka king of the gods, and often quoted. The transience of all mundane things — things not of this world alone but even of the highest heavens — is here pointed up sharply, and the bliss of non-attachment to them is stressed. This is not full enlightenment but the moment of stream-entry or First Path, after which full enlightenment is certain. This comes with the total destruction of the asavas or 'corruptions'. I have already suggested that the opening of the Dhamma-eye is comparable to the birth of the Word in the soul in Eckhart's terminology. About a century before Eckhart, Wolfram von Eschenbach the greatest medieval German poet, wrote what I consider the finest version of the Holy Graal story, Parzival, which can be read in a fine Penguin translation by my friend Arthur Hatto. For Wolfram, uniquely, the Graal was not the chalice of the Last Supper or anything of that sort, but a stone which had come down from Heaven. The French scholar Rene Nelli thought that Wolfram drew on astrological conceptions of his time for his idea of a precious stone fallen from heaven which, by grace, had kept its pristine purity, thus participating in the incorruptible nature of the firmament. It is thus a (mythical) physical symbol of that spark in the soul of which Eckhart speaks, that is incorruptible and uncreated. Surely what Eckhart, and the Buddha, and Wolfram von Eschenbach are pointing to is the same knowing, differing only in degree — most completely in the Buddha, and perhaps if we could only find it, equally in the teachings of Jesus, less profoundly but very poetically in Wolfram. It must be, too, what my own venerable teacher, Ajahn Chah, calls establishing the Buddha in our mind, the Buddha bcing*not the historical Gotama but 'the one who knows' — somehow impersonal and formless, but attainable if we make the
effort and truly seek. This should of course not be literally taken to suggest that the Buddha is something like a personal God who knows — which would naturally be quite alien to the Buddhist way of viewing things and utterly foreign to the Ajahn's way of thought. The Buddha', he says in A Taste of Freedom, 'is just this "One who knows" within this very mind. It knows the Dhamma, it investigates the Dhamma. It's not that the Buddha who lived so long ago comes to talk to us, but this Buddha-nature, the "One who knows", arises. The mind becomes illumined.' Are he and Eckhart, using different but not totally dissimilar words, groping towards an expression of the same thing? For Eckhart, understanding is the most important thing — he even differed from St Thomas in placing God's understanding above His being.

Conventional Buddhist wisdom would have it that Ajahn Chah, for instance, could be — indeed doubdess is — on the Path, whether as Stream-Winner, Once-Returner, Non-Returner or even Arahant. Eckhart on the other hand, not having been exposed to the teaching of Dhamma and being rooted in a theistic tradition, could not, it would be said, have even 'entered the Stream'. I think all that shows is that people who set much store by statements of that kind have themselves not made much progress along the Path, however learned they may be. They are blind like Eckhart's accusers. I don't profess to know whether Eckhart had reached First Path, or Second Path, or whatever, but I think he was further along the Path than many professing Buddhists.

I think by now I have interposed myself and my probably foolish opinions sufficiently between Eckhart and you. I will conclude therefore by allowing him to speak for himself. In an eloquent passage in his 87th sermon he says that which should provide you with ample food for thought — and meditation. Eckhart says:

'Now pay earnest attention to this! I have often said, and eminent authorities say it too, that a man should be so free of all things and all works, both inward and outward, that he may be a proper abode for God where God can work. Now we shall say something else. If it is the case that a man is free of all creatures, of God and of self, and if it is still the case that God finds a place in him to work, then we declare that as long as this is in that man, he is not poor with the strictest poverty.... So we say that a man should be so poor that he neither is nor has any place for God to work in. To preserve a place is to preserve distinction. Therefore I pray to God to make me free of God, for my essential being is above God, taking God as the origin of creatures. For in that essence of God in which God is above being and distinction, there I was myself and knew myself so as to make this man. Therefore I am my own cause according to my essence, which is eternal, and not according to my becoming, which is temporal. Therefore I am unborn, and according to my unborn mode I can never die. According to my unborn mode I have eternally been, am now and shall eternally remain. That which I am by virtue of birth must die and perish, for it is mortal, and so must perish with time. In my birth all things were born, and I was the cause of myself and all things: and if I had so willed it, I would not have been, and all things would not have been. If I were not, God would not be either. I am the cause of God's being God: if I were not, then God would not be God. But you do not need to know this.

'A great master says that his breaking-through is nobler than his emanation, and this is true. When I flowed forth from God, all creatures declared: "There is a God"; but this cannot make me blessed, for with this I acknowledge myself as a creature. But in my breaking-through, where I stand free of my own will, of God's will, of all His works, and of God himself, then I am above all creatures and am neither God nor creature, but I am that which I was and shall remain for evermore. There I shall receive an imprint that will raise me above all the angels. By this imprint I shall gain such wealth that I shall not be content with God inasmuch as he is God, or with all His divine works: for this breaking-through guarantees to me that I and God are one. Then I am what I was, then I neither wax nor wane, for then I am an unmoved cause that moves all things. Here, God finds no place in man, for man by his poverty wins for himself what he has eternally been and shall eternally remain. Here, God is one with the spirit, and that is the strictest poverty one can find.

'If anyone cannot understand this sermon, he need not worry. For so long as a man is not equal to this truth, he cannot understand my words, for this is a naked truth which has come direct from the heart of God.'

None of Eckhart's accusers, so far as we know, made any reference to this passage. I commend it to you for your contemplation. Buddha and God

Related Documents:

• Buddha and God - Current Page
  
• Joy is Born - Eckhart and Nagarjuna
• Meister Eckhart and Religious Comparison
• Buddhism God and Meister Eckhart

External Sites on Meister Eckhart:

• Ellopos - The Meister Eckhart Site
• Papal Condemnation of Meister Eckhart

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Joy is Born - Eckhart and Nagarjuna Buddha

Joy is Born - Eckhart and Nagarjuna Buddha
Contemplations - Maurice Walsh

We can, I think, usefully draw a parallel between Eckhart and Nagarjuna, arguably the greatest Buddhist philosopher. Eckhart said, 'To get at the kernel, you must break the shell', but if he too recklessly broke his orthodox shell, he was soon in trouble, whereas Nagarjuna, in the vasdy freer atmosphere of ancient India, could say what he liked without fear of suppression. There were many legends about Eckhart until modern scholarship turned up a few facts, and there were and are a good many legends still current about Nagarjuna, some of which were even propagated — inadvertently of course — by modern scholars. One otherwise excellent book about him was by a Vedantist who tried to make out that his views were those of the Vedanta. Others have held that he introduced a total revolution in Buddhist thought, breaking away from the earlier tradition. In fact, as has recendy been shown, he restored the true teaching which had got garbled by the Sarvastivadins, whose so-called Hinayana beliefs have been wrongly ascribed to the Theravadins. I don't propose to go into all that here. What I am trying to suggest is that perhaps Eckhart was attempting, as far as he was able and as far as he was allowed, to restore something of the true doctrine of Christianity which had got more than somewhat overlaid by his time. Eckhart and Nagarjuna were both deeply learned in the traditional systems of their respective orthodoxies. Both had, I believe, penetrated through the jargon surrounding the kernel of their faith and were concerned to bring it to light. In this, as I have said, Nagarjuna was free to speak and write as he liked, which he did with incomparable dialectical skill, whereas Eckhart had to proceed vastly more cautiously.

Eckhart knew very well that some of his sayings would shock, even while he firmly maintained their orthodoxy. In the preface to a Latin work he wrote that many things he said might appear at first sight 'monstrous, dubious or wrong', and in his Cologne defence he said ironically that he was only surprised that his accusers had not adduced hundreds of other passages against him. Here is a passage from a sermon which contains two things his listeners had to reckon with. Neither was quoted against him, at least in the surviving records, but both may have occasioned some head-shaking, or scratching. He says there are two kinds of birth: birth in the world and birth out of the world, which is spiritual birth in God. He goes on: 'Christ says: "Whoever would follow me, let him deny himself and take up his cross and follow me", that is to say: "Cast out all grief so that perpetual joy remains in your heart".' Probably few people would have interpreted this particular text (Matt. 16:24) in just this way, though in context it is not illogical. But while his hearers are puzzling out this riddle, he delivers the shock: 'Thus the child is born in me. And then, if the child is born in me, the sight of my father and all my friends slain before my eyes would leave my heart untouched. For if my heart were moved thereby, the child would not have been born in me, though its birth might be near.' Father and friends stand here for objects of attachment, to whose loss we should be indifferent. We have a parallel in Dhammapada 294: Having slain mother, father, two warrior kings and having destroyed a country together with its revenue officer, ungrieving goes the Brahmin.

In the next sentence Eckhart explains his meaning: 'I declare that God and the angels take such keen delight in every act of a good man that there is no joy like it. And so I say, if this child is born in you, then you have such great joy at every good deed that is done in the world, that your joy becomes steadfast and immutable.... For we see that in God there is neither anger nor sadness, but only love and joy.' We can compare, I think, in Buddhism the 'opening of the Dhammaeye' whereby the reality of Nibbana is seen for the first time. Those in whom, in Eckhart's terminology, the Word is born, M those in whom the Dhamma-eye has opened, perceive reality and are transformed by it. Whether the impersonal reality of Nibbana and the supra-personal Godhead of Eckhart's teaching arc the same or not is not a question I would venture to discuss,

The nearest Eckhart ever came, or could have been expected to come, to criticising the Church was when he said: 'If God could turn away from the truth, I would cling to truth and abandon God', with the implication that if the Pope or the Church could abandon truth.... And one thing that strikes us strongly is the assurance with which he speaks as one possessed of divine wisdom. This in itself is, of course, no proof of his wisdom or enlightenment - all too many people down to the present day have spoken with the authority of those who know, and all too often the outcome has been deplorable. But somehow, when Eckhart speaks, it is different. Some may think him mad, as the English Franciscan William of Ockham did. To others, however, his message rings clear and true. He is like a great beacon to lead those who wish to follow on the path to truth, albeit on a particular course not entirely of his making. It might be fair to suggest that he it was who plotted a path out of the labyrinth of medieval scholasticism. Buddhists have on the whole had it easier, and though at times they have doubtless been led astray by some of their teachers, they have at least not had to face the horrors of inquisition and persecution for having gone astray, whether in reality or in the imagination of their spiritual superiors. Joy is Born - Eckhart Nagarjuna - Contemplations - Maurice Walsh

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Meister Eckhart and Religious Comparison

Meister Eckhart and Religious Comparison
Contemplations - Maurice Walsh

I have in my translation noted an external parallel to Buddhism here by pointing out that the words 'God is in all modes, and equal in all modes' are repeated with the hammer-blow effect of a Buddhist sutta. In many a sermon Eckhart has described the birth of the Word in the human soul and other mysteries. Here, in his final exhortation, he is insisting on what his disciples ought to do. It is above all the essence of his practical teaching — which to my mind argues strongly in favour of its authenticity. As regards Buddhism, I long ago ventured to coin the phrase: Buddhism is not something to believe but something to do, and it is here in the practice, or in the practical attitude, that Eckhart's teaching and Buddhism seem to come especially close.

It would of course be easy, in a superficial kind of way, to dismiss the whole of Eckhart's teaching as irrelevant to Buddhism simply because he speaks of God, which Buddhism notoriously doesn't. Some people may argue that this is not just a superficial or vulgar objection, but one of substance, pointing to a fundamental difference, an unbridgeable gap, between Buddhism and Christianity, and at one level it must be conceded that they have a case. I think it is best to deal, as best I can, with this troublesome point right away. Just because we want to be frightfully ecumenical, or frightfully high-minded, we should not try to gloss over what may be perceived as a real difficulty by some. It is good Christian doctrine, amply subscribed to by Eckhart in his inimitable way, that God is ineffable and beyond the normal range of human thought. Much the same is said by Buddhists about Nirvana, or the Unborn. Therefore, whatever may be the case with great sages and saints, we ordinary Buddhists and Christians, when we speak of God or Nirvana, literally do not know what we are talking about, and most of us are prepared to admit the fact. There is, O monks,' said the Buddha, 'an Unborn, Unbecome, Unmade, Unconditioned. If there were not this Unborn there would be no deliverance here visible from that which born, become, made, conditioned.' While this statement (which has been variously interpreted) does not in the Buddhist view imply a personal God, it could be interpreted as so doing. In fact in Indonesia, where a religion to be recognised must be theistic, some Buddhists have used this 'Unborn' passage for the very purpose of legitimising their faith in the eyes of the authorities.

Eckhart did not enjoy the freedom of thought prevalent in ancient India. Like the Indonesian Buddhists of today, only far more so, he had to conform outwardly. Until he landed up in Cologne, this may have been no great problem, but as soon as he encountered the persecuting Archbishop, he was in trouble. He was far too important a man to be sent to the stake, but the Archbishop aimed to discredit and silence him — and largely succeeded. It is not to Eckhart's dishonour to say that he was compelled to work within the system with all the restrictions that implied. To have deviated too obviously from orthodoxy would simply have meant martyrdom not only for himself, which he might have been willing to face, but for his followers. I am not, for instance, suggesting that Eckhart believed in any form of reincarnation or the like. I am merely saying that if he had any such belief he would necessarily — and sensibly — have kept quiet about it.

The comparison of Eckhart's thought with Buddhism has hitherto been really only made with Zen. The question is whether this was really due to an affinity with Zen in particular, or because the two writers to make the comparison were themselves Zen Buddhists, D.T. Suzuki writing in English, and Shizuteru Ucda writing in German. This question is perhaps of less importance than it might seem, especially since the miasma of misinformation — and worse — about Zen itself has begun to lift. It has become increasingly apparent that despite certain idiosyncrasies, Zen is after all not so different from other schools of Buddhism, and even — believe it or not - Theravada Buddhism, as many have thought. And since Theravada is the Buddhist school with which I am most familiar, it is to that that I will relate rather than to Zen.
The constant burden of Eckhart's sermons is above all the birth of the Word in the soul — a theme which he repeats over and over again with variations. In his theology the Word is the Son, the word spoken by the Father in the silent depths of the soul. There is, Eckhart says, and the proposition was among those condemned, something in the soul that is not created. Sometimes he calls it a castle, sometimes a spark. This spark (scintilla animae) is, in so far as it is pure divine intellect, uncreated and one with God, but as 'a power of the soul' it is uncreated, being an analogue of the uncreated intellect. According to Eckhart, who here differs from St Thomas Aquinas, being is a property of God alone — hence his statement condemned in the bull: 'All creatures are mere nothing'. This is of course closer to Vedanta than to Buddhism.

I have said that Eckhart could not introduce some new and unorthodox doctrine — such as reincarnation, supposing he believed in it — without disaster. Similarly, he could not totally pass over anything in the official teaching that he might not have approved of. The most he could do was play it down, and refer to it as little as he decently could. There was one such doctrine that he does seem to have treated in this fashion. It has been observed that there are remarkably few references to Hell in Eckhart's writings, and those there are are pretty perfunctory. In this he differs notoriously from a whole range of popular preachers from his day to our own. The awful doctrine of eternal punishment derives from the Bible and was rigidly believed in by the Church of his time and later. Indeed, it was this frightful teaching that was responsible for all the tortures and persecutions of the inquisition, for witch-hunts, and for untold misery and despair for untold numbers of believing Christians throughout the ages. Though it is ascribed to Jesus, personally, without being a Christian, I find it impossible to believe that he taught any such thing. If he did, he would have been worse than the Pharisees, who took a less extreme view. Of course there are some pretty frightful descriptions of hells in the Buddhist scriptures, but though

long-lasting they are not said to be eternal, and they are not the creation of a loving father. In any case we don't have to believe in them in any literal way — though it can be assumed that those guilty of really nasty behaviour will have cause to bitterly regret it in some future existence. Meister Eckhart and Religious Comparison

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Buddhism God and Meister Eckhart

Buddhism, God and Meister Eckhart
Contemplations - Maurice Walsh

The thought of the great German Dominican mystic Meister Eckhart has been compared more than once with the teachings of Buddhism, especially Zen (and also with Vedanta). It may be as well to recall, very briefly, his career. Eckhart was born about 1260 at Hochheim in Thuringia and entered the Dominican friary at Erfurt about 1275. He rose rapidly in his Order and was sent several times to Paris, where he took his Master's degree and later taught and debated. It should be stressed that all else aside he was a highly qualified theologian with the scholastic philosophy of his day at his finger-tips, and that the Dominicans were considered the special upholders of orthodoxy. It was only after about 1323, when he had been appointed head of the great Dominican Studium Generale in Cologne, that any suggestion was made that his views were in any way unorthodox. At this time the aged Archbishop of Cologne was busily engaged in hunting down heresy, particularly a somewhat amorphous group called the 'Brethren of the Free Spirit'. Apparently some of these people, arraigned for their lives before the Archbishop, in desperation appealed to the authority of the famous Dominican master. The Archbishop, who was a Franciscan, instituted proceedings against Eckhart for misleading the common people. Eventually the case came before the Papal court, then at Avignon, and thither Eckhart went to defend himself, all the while declaring his orthodoxy. The case dragged on, and Eckhart died, no doubt at Avignon, about the end of 1327. In March 1329 Pope John XXII issued a bull in which 28 of Eckhart's propositions were denounced, some as definitely heretical, some as under suspicion of heresy. I hasten to add that the modern representatives of his Order believe Eckhart was wrongly condemned, and the Pope has been asked to set the matter right. In due course we may hope that this will happen. There may be some who are — let us say romantically — surprised and even disappointed to learn how vigorously Eckhart protested his orthodoxy, and that those best qualified to know are in agreement with him. But that is by the way....

Another preliminary remark I should make is that until recently there has been — and to some extent still is — doubt about the authenticity of certain works ascribed to Eckhart. Much earlier work, especially in English, was based on material that was dubious or spurious — including the charming tale of "Sister Cathy". Latterly, this situation has changed, and many books have been written on the basis of more accurate knowledge. My own translation is based on the monumental edition of the original texts, as far as they could be certainly authenticated, by the late Professor Josef Quint of Cologne. However, I will as far as possible spare you boring technicalities.

It may be useful to introduce Eckhart to you backwards, as it were, with what may well be his parting words to his pupils before setting out for Avignon. They are found in a text which I feel is authentic.

'Meister Eckhart was besought by his good friends: "Give us something to remember, since you are going to leave us." He said: "I will give you a rule, which is the keystone of all that I have ever said, which comprises all truth that can be spoken of or lived. It often happens that what seems trivial to us is greater in God's sight than what looms large in our eyes. Therefore we should accept all things equally from God, not ever looking and wondering which is greater, or higher, or better. We should just follow where God points out for us, that is, what we are inclined to and to which we are most often directed, and where our bent is. If a man were to follow that path, God would give him the most in the least, and would not fail him. It often happens that people spurn the least, and thus they prevent themselves from getting the most in the least, which is wrong.

God is in all modes, and equal in all modes, for him who can take Him equally. People often wonder whether their inclinations come from God or not, and this is how to find out: if a man finds it within himself to be willing above all things to obey God's will in all things, provided he knew or recognised It, then he may know that whatever he is inclined to, or is most frequently directed to, is indeed from God.

'Some people want to find God as He shines before them, or as He tastes to them. They find the light and the taste, but they do not find God. Scripture declares that God shines in the darkness, where we sometimes least recognise Him. Where God shines least for us is often where He shines the most. Therefore we should accept God equally in all ways and in all things. Now someone might say: "I would take God equally in all ways and in all things, but my mind will not abide in this way or that, so much as in another." To that I say he is wrong. God is in all ways and equal in all ways, for anyone who can take Him so. If you get more of God in one way than another, that is fine, but it is not the best. God is in all ways and equal in all ways, for anyone who can take Him so. If you take one way, such and such, that is not God. If you take this and that, you are not taking God, for God is in all ways and equal in all ways, for anyone who can take him so. Now someone might say: "But if I do take God equally in all ways and in all things, do I not still need some special way?" Now see. In whatever way you find God most, and you are most often aware of Him, that is the way you should follow. But if another way presents itself, quite contrary to the first, and if, having abandoned the first way, you find God as much in the new way as in the one you have left, then that is right. But the noblest and best thing would be this, if a man were to come to such equality, with such calm and certainty that he could find God and enjoy Him in any way and in all things, without having to wait for anything or chase after anything: that would delight me! For this, and to this end, all works are done, and every work helps towards this. If anything does not help towards this, you should let it go.' Buddhism, God and Meister Eckhart

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The World Beings

The World Beings - Part 2 of 2 - Part 1: Christian Points of Contact
Contemplations, Essays - Maurice Walsh

St Paul said: 'There now remain faith, hope and love (or 'charity'): these three. But the greatest of these is love' (1 Cor. 13:13), and elsewhere it is said: 'God is love' (1 John 4:16). The Greek word used in these passages is agape, which is close in meaning to the Pali metta, meaning essentially pure love without sensual or other emotional attachment. It is scarcely necessary to point out that Buddhists and Christians alike are well aware of the ambiguities of the word 'love', and that slogans of the type 'Make love not war' are a falsification of either teaching. Taken in isolation, the words 'God is love' might seem to depersonalise God by equating him with an abstract quality, but the context shows that this is not intended. But it is interesting to note that in Buddhism metta is the first of the four brahmaviharas, the practice of which is said to lead to rebirth in the Brahma-world. And it has already been pointed out that the practice of this represents a Buddhist way of carrying out the difficult Judeo-Christian injunction: 'Love thy neighbour as thyself.

Conclusion

The position of religion in the world today is a peculiar one. Despite persecution and repression in some parts, and confident predictions of its forthcoming disappearance in others, it has not only not vanished but has begun to display a vitality and resilience which have astonished and dismayed its critics. True, extraneous factors such as nationalism have often played a part in this. Nevertheless, there can no longer be any doubt that there has in recent times been a real resurgence of what can at least broadly be called 'religion', though its manifestations have been many and varied, ranging from fundamentalist Christianity through a variety of nationalist-coloured forms (Christian, Islamic and even Buddhist), to the wave of occultism and the sub-cultures of hippydom and drugs now happily past their peak. Not all of these manifestations are desirable, and the dangers of some are obvious. But all point to a disillusionment and dissatisfaction with the apparently triumphant materialist values whether these appear in a 'communist' or a 'capitalist' guise. The fact is that this dissatisfaction goes far deeper than a mere emotional reaction against the shoddy values and the general mental and spiritual impoverishment which are the inevitable concomitants of a purely materialist outlook.

The materialist world-view implicit, until recently, in most scientific thinking is demonstrably inadequate to the task of explaining the world, as a growing number of scientists are coming to realise. ESP phenomena are being studied with increasing seriousness, if sometimes for the wrong reasons. Moreover the actual evidence for survival of bodily death and even for some kind of reincarnation or rebirth is now so strong that it is gradually but inevitably forcing recognition in some unlikely quarters. Even things like astrology are being regarded with something less than the total disdain which was the standard reaction until only a few years ago. All this belongs, admittedly, only to what may be termed the lower reaches of 'religion': its main importance is that it breaches the bastion of materialism, thus removing, for a significant number of people, a serious obstacle to faith in something higher. To put it crudely: many educated people now feel able to admit openly that after all, Darwin, Marx and Freud did not know all the answers. For some, this is a new and exhilarating experience, and perhaps rather frightening. But the inevitable question arises: What now?

What the new knowledge actually docs, in the first place, is to disprove once and for all that basic and yet so improbable assumption of materialistic science (or 'acientism' as it has been called), which is that inanimate matter by pure chance, by some incredible series of flukes, 'contrived' to teach itself to think. We now have proof, or as near proof as makes no difference, that what we call 'mind' is autonomous, and that if either member of the pair we call mind-and-mattcr is subordinate or illusory, it is matter and not mind. So far, so good. The worrying thing is that this recognition seems at one fell swoop to bring back chaos in the place of science's carefully-ordered cosmos. The attraction of materialism to the scientific mind was that it produced a neat and tidy, ultimately finite system. Actually it still does — as far aa It goes. The difference is merely that the mind (whatever 'mind' may be) that can grasp such a system is itself outside of that system — which ought logically to have been obvious all along. A stone cannot perceive itself, though a dog can perceive it, while a man can not only perceive the stone but — to some extent at least — 'understand' it.

The chaos which this recognition brings can look at first sight almost total. It is like a dream-world in which anything can happen, in which what we yesterday dismissed as superstition can easily turn out to be fact, in which the very criteria of what is probable and improbable cease to be clearly discernible. Once we accept spoon-bending, and the result is mind-bending! The temptation to retreat even into the bleak orderliness of materialism may be strong, and what before looked so unbearable may seem comforting by comparison. If we resist this temptation we may find it necessary to come to terms with what used to be called the 'supernatural' (and is better termed the paranormal) — though that does not mean becoming obsessed with it. But some modern Christians may well find that, 'blinded by science', they have perhaps rejected too much of their traditional beliefs, without being too sure of how to find the way back.

The traditional Buddhist view of the 'three worlds' may be helpful here. Human existence as normally experienced is in kamaloka or the realm of sense-desires. Beings normally visible to us here are human beings and animals, but there are others: the inhabitants of various 'states of woe', as well as some happier beings. Some are mischievous, some neutral or benevolent, but all arc more or less ignorant, and they pass into, or out of, these various states according to their karmic deserts. Other, definitely happier, beings also exist under the same basic karmic conditions, in rupaloka and arupaloka, the realm of form and the formless world, where consciousness is related to that of the jhanic states attainable in this life. These beings are the devas, the highest of whom are like the gods of polytheistic religions: but though very long-lived they are not immortal; likewise they may be wise but are not enlightened. Beyond all these worlds is the lokuttara or Transcendental, the Secure Refuge on the 'other shore', or the Unborn. This is beyond all imagining but not beyond the possibility of realisation in this life.

If we compare this outline with that of traditional Christianity, the differences are less great than might have been supposed. One difference is that in the Christian view the various non-visible beings in the different realms are eternally 'fixed' in their present state of woe or bliss; and of course those in the higher realms are termed 'saints' or 'angels' and not 'gods'. The only serious Buddhist objection to this scheme In principle would be its total rigidity: like trying to capture the film of the eternal flux in a single 'still'. The other main ecumenism between churches and even between religions is merely a defensive measure due to the general decline in religious belief. This view has begun to lose the plausibility it at first enjoyed. It is more reasonable to ascribe the new attitude to a deepening religiosity (however vague its outlines may sometimes seem to be) which sees the old polemical spirit as nothing short of a scandal. Of course religion is threatened in the world today, but from without far more than from within. From within, there are very evident signs of renewal. In fact, as we have seen, it is the very materialistic values themselves, still outwardly so triumphant, that are being steadily undermined from within. It may be literally true that only through the reassertion of religious values (perhaps partly through new forms) can mankind be saved from physical as well as spiritual catastrophe.

There are doubtless some irreducible differences in ways whereby Buddhists, Christians and others would explain the world, and still more perhaps that which lies beyond the world (and is, therefore, strictly inaccessible to 'explanation'). There is far less difference between their views on how we should live and act in the world. The spirit of pure, disinterested love, no matter whether it bears a 'Christian', a 'Buddhist' or any other label, is the solvent for all our problems, and the only certain recipe against impending disaster whatever form this may take. It thus makes good sense to poll our 'spiritual' resources in seeking solutions for the common problems of mankind. This is in no sense a call to any form of overtly 'political' action: but if those with specific political commitments are sufficiently imbued with this spirit of love, they will not go far wrong.

The Buddhist doctrine of anatta or 'not-self is a difficult one even for some Buddhists to grasp, but if we think of it in the ethical sense of utter selflessness we can see its practical application. True 'detachment' as preached by Christian mystics and many others, means being 'detached' not from other people's problems and sorrows (or indeed from those of the
various other beings with which we share this life on earth), but from our own worldly impulses: sense-desires, greed for power and influence and self-assertion, anger and hatred. It is not only not incompatible with 'love': it is in fact the only way in which real love — loving one's neighbour as oneself — can find full expression. The World Beings

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Christian Points of Contact

Christian Points of Contact - Page 1 of 2 - Page 2: The World Beings
Contemplations, Essays by Maurice Walsh

It was necessary to stress the differences before discussing the very real points of contact between the two religions. These are at various levels which call for discrimination. Superficially, a surprising number of resemblances can be found: celibate monks or clergy with shaven heads; the gesture with palms together which in Buddhism (as in India generally) denotes veneration or greeting and, in Christianity, prayer — and hence can be misleading; the use of incense, anointing and holy water; rosaries; the representation of saints or divine persons with a nimbus or halo (really an aura) — these are some of the most obvious features; and since Buddhism shares some of these things with Hinduism, we may also note the striking resemblance between the Hindu practice of bathing in a sacred river to wash away one's sins, and the activities of John the Baptist. Some of these resemblances may be coincidental or due to cultural transference, but they may too point to some deeper affinity.

In attempting a serious comparison of concepts and terms in the two religious systems, we are faced with many difficulties, both superficial resemblances and superficial differences turn out to be misleading. There is also the problem of
language: those who cannot read the texts in the original are at the mercy of translators whose competence may vary. The difficulty can be vividly illustrated by comparing two or three of the thirty-odd English translations of the Dhammapada. One might be forgiven for not realising that all were meant to be renderings of the same work! Only when we have avoided these elementary pitfalls can we begin to attempt a true comparison.

We have considered the differences between the conceptions of the respective founders in Buddhism and Christianity, among which is the fact that the Buddha is a teacher but not a saviour. Yet we do find something similar to the saviour-figure in (especially but not exclusively) Mahayana Buddhism: the Bodhisattva. Of course, the figure of Christ cannot be wholly equated with that of a Bodhisattva without falsification, but there is a considerable resemblance. Likewise, the emphasis in Lutheran Christianity on the necessity of faith in the saving power of Christ has been compared to the similar stress laid in the Pure Land schools of Buddhism (such as the Shin school of Japan) on the need for faith in Amitabha Buddha, who is held to represent the Dharmakaya or Ultimate Truth. However, here too caution is necessary, and it would be misleading to attempt too close an equation of the Christian Trinity with the Trikaya ("Three Bodies') of Mahayana Buddhism, even though there is perhaps a certain parallel between the Nirmanakaya — the human manifestation of the Buddha-principle — and the human Christ.

Probably the most fundamental difference between Christianity and Buddhism concerns the twin questions of 'God' and the 'soul'. And it is perfectly true that the two systems cannot be entirely reconciled on these points. Nevertheless, the difference can to a certain extent be legitimately 'relativised'. As regards the God-concept, this has already been referred to in connection with the Udana statement about the Unborn*. It need only be added here that in some Christian thinking today little more is said about God than is said there about the Unborn. In discussing such matters, and especially the idea of the 'soul', we have to bear in mind the very important question of levels of truth, which is very clearly stated in Buddhism in terms of the distinction between paramattha-sacca or 'ultimate truth' and sammuti-sacca or 'conventional truth'. Thus the anatta doctrine certainly denies the reality of an enduring 'soul' or 'self according to ultimate truth, but in terms of conventional truth such a thing exists. In fact, for the Buddhist, 'salvation' (to use the Christian term) consists precisely in the realisation of this ultimate truth, whereby the relative truth is transcended. Some Christian mystics come close to this idea: thus Eckhart declared that 'all creatures are pure nothing*. He meant that only God gave them being, which is not, of course, identical with the Buddhist conception. In fact, the ordinary 'unenlightened' person, whether Buddhist, Christian or anything else, lives by the light of 'conventional' truth which, in daily life, is extremely important. In Buddhism, one characteristic of the arahant or enlightened being is that he creates no fresh karma, though he may still be subject to the results (vipaka), painful or pleasant, of past karma. So karma is only produced by those whose thinking is still determined by 'conventional truth'. Such beings are said to be 'owners of their karma, heirs of their karma'. This brings us to the field of ethics, and here we find a great similarity between the precepts of Buddhism, Judaism and Christianity, even though the reasons given for moral behaviour differ. For those who suppose that religion consists of 'living a good life', in the sense of behaving decently, there might seem little to choose between Buddhism, Christianity, Judaism and perhaps even Humanism. But there is rather more to it than that. The opposite of moral behaviour is called 'sin' by English-speaking Christians and Jews, and akusala kamma or unskilled action' by Buddhists. In the Judeo-Christian view the sinner will be punished by God, while Buddhism holds that his unskilled action will bring its own retribution. Of course, Jews and Christians regard sin as above all an offence against God; nevertheless we find that the words used in both Hebrew and Greek for sin mean

literally 'missing the mark', which is after all not far from the Buddhist idea. The basic moral code for Jews and Christians is given in the Ten Commandments (Ex. 20:2-17), all of which are prohibitions ascribed to God. For the lay Buddhist there are the Five Precepts which are not prohibitions, but undertakings to train oneself to refrain from: 1. Killing, 2. Theft, 3. Sexual misconduct, 4. Wrong speech, and 5. Intoxication. The first four of these agree closely with some of the Ten Commandments; the fifth has an equivalent prohibition in Islam but not in the Judeo-Christian code, though obviously drunkenness is not looked on with favour. It is possible to argue about the detailed interpretation of all these Precepts or Commandments, but Buddhists, Christians and indeed most people would agree that some such code is an absolute necessity for any kind of decent living, and would utterly reject the idea that there are no absolute moral standards at all. (Any idea that Zen Buddhism rejects morality is based on a total misunderstanding.) Christian Points of Contact

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God in Buddhism and Christian Mysticism

God in Buddhism and Christian Mysticism
Contemplations, Essays -Maurice Walsh

What is termed 'mysticism' has a long history in the Christian Church. It has frequently been an object of suspicion: the Catholic Church has always sought to control its mystics lest they slip into heresy, while the Protestants have often rejected it partly for its 'Catholic' associations, and partly because of its alleged 'pagan' origins in Neoplatonism, as well as its affinities to various Oriental schools of thought, including Buddhism. In the author known as 'Dionysius the Areopagite' (ca. 500), we find notions of that negative theology expressed in the 14th-century English 'Cloud of Unknowing', as well as the classical threefold way of the mystic's progress, the way of 'purgation, illumination, and union'. The word 'mysticism' comes from a Greek root meaning to close the eyes or mouth, and has associations with the ancient Greek mysteries. One definition is 'an immediate knowledge of God attained in this present life through personal religious experience'. If we equate this with a true 'intuition of the Unborn', we can assert that it is in fact the indispensable basis of the religious life. Any 'religion' is dead, or sterile, if no such intuition informs it. Let us glance briefly at one of the greatest of Christian mystics, the German Meister Eckhart (ca. 1260-1328).

Eckhart was a prominent member of the Dominican order, who taught at the University of Paris and held high office until he was accused by the Archbishop of Cologne of spreading heretical doctrines among the common people. His case was referred to the Pope, and in 1329, after his death, 28 of his propositions were condemned. His case has remained controversial to this day, though the majority view now is that he remained — if only just — within the bounds of orthodoxy...

About a hundred of his German sermons have been preserved, in which he constantly pursues the theme of the 'birth of the Son (i.e. Christ) or the Word, in the soul'. This birth takes place in the peak (or spark, or castle) in the soul, and the man in whom it takes place is said to be deified, 'just as the bread and wine at the Eucharist become God'. The way to achieve this birth is by radical detachment from all earthly things, for 'all things are pure nothing', since God alone has being. The 'power of the soul' by which, through divine grace, this is achieved is the 'higher intellect'. It may be fairly urged that those who condemned Eckhart's views as heretical did so because they were unable to rise to his level of consciousness.

Eckhart said, 'To get at the kernel, you must break the shell'. We may compare Eckhart with Nrtgilrjuna, the great Buddhist philosopher and founder of the Mndhyamaka ('Middle Way') school, who 'broke the shall1 of traditional Buddhist formulations. In the freer atmosphere of ancient India he was able to get away with this as Eckhart was not. Yet much of what Eckhart had said was put a little differently by the great Cusanus (Nikolaus von Cues 1401-64), who nearly became Pope. One of the most learned men of his age, Cusanus took a prominent part in the (not very successful) efforts to reform the Church after the scandals of the Avignon papacy. His work De Docta Ignorantia uses mathematical symbolism to show how man can never attain by finite means to a perfect knowledge of God who is infinite, and who is called hy him in a famous phrase 'the coincidence of opposite*'. In the same spirit he strove for unity within the Christian world and even beyond it, boldly declaring: 'Hence there is a single religion and a single creed for all beings endowed with understanding, and this religion is presupposed behind the diversity of rites'. If only the spirit Cusanus had prevailed, the religious history of Europe would have taken a decided turn for the better.
Contrasts

It would not be honest to pretend that there are no differences between Buddhism and Christianity, and before going further we should once more consider these. In doing so, we are at once confronted with the question of 'level'. Obviously, at the 'fundamentalist' level the differences are greatest, and it is fair to point out that at this level Buddhism may claim an advantage: it really is pretty difficult in the present age to maintain a fundamentalist view of Christianity based on a literal interpretation of the sources (i.e. the Bible), whereas the difficulties of accepting Theravada Buddhism in this way are very much less. The Pali Canon, despite its enormous length, is remarkably self-consistent and it contains very little which a modern Western-trained mind (unless conditioned to reject all religious ideas) can really find totally unacceptable, though much may be unfamiliar.

Let us consider briefly the difference between the founders of Buddhism and Christianity as seen by their respective followers. Each was in a sense a man — a perfect man — and at the same time more than a man. Each was in a sense unique: Jesus as Christ absolutely so, the Buddha at least relatively 'unique' in the sense that Buddhas appear only at vast intervals of time, so that Gotama was the only Buddha for this age. They attained their particular status, however, as it were from opposite directions. The Christ was God — or an aspect of God — who had descended from heaven in order to be born as a man. The Buddha had attained his status — in the course of this life — as the culmination of innumerable human lives of unexampled effort, in order to rise decisively above human (or any kind of 'relatively' superhuman) status and become the supreme Teacher of gods and men'. In modern jargon we might say they represent two different 'models' of the Transcendental in man — the 'God-man' and the 'Dhamma-man'. Jesus said: 'I and my Father are one' (John 10: 30). The Buddha declared: 'He who sees me sees the Dhamma'. Each taught a 'Way' to be followed, and in some sense was that 'Way'. Each is an exemplar to be followed, and indeed one of the most influential books of Christian devotion ever written was The Imitation of Christ by Thomas a Kempis (d. 1471). Yet still there is a difference. The Buddha is an exemplar and teacher to be followed: the Christ is also, and most importantly, a sacrificial victim by whose death on the Cross mankind may be saved. This sacrifice is repeated (in the Catholic view) or commemorated (according to the Protestants) in the sacrament of the Eucharist.

Man, in the Christian view, can never become God: the creature is eternally distinct from the Creator. In Buddhism, a man can become a Buddha by following the almost inconceivably difficult path of the Bodhisattva (in the Theravada school as well as in Mahayana Buddhism). Christianity offers no real parallel to this. Both religions grew up against a background of original polytheism, which they transcended in different ways: Buddhism did not formally reject the gods of an earlier pantheon, but devalued them. Before the rise of Christianity, Judaism had long-since elevated the one time tribal god to the status of Creator of heaven and earth, and Christianity incorporated the Jewish concept of the Messiah as an aspect of Deity.

Just as Buddhism differs at its apex from Christianity by having no God-concept, so too at the human level it differs similarly by having no soul-concept. It is not the place here to discuss the intricacies of the anatta doctrine in Buddhism, but there is a sharp contrast here between the Christian emphasis on the importance of the human soul and the Buddhist view of the impersonality of all things including our 'selves'. In the next section it will be indicated that even this difference is perhaps less total than appears, but it would be wrong to pretend that no difference exists.

Other consequences flow from the difference between a theistic and a non-theistic religion: thus there are different attitudes towards the question of good and evil, and the rule of
justice. Medieval theologians could even spend their time debating whether a thing is good because goodness is an absolute principle, or simply because God just decided thai certain things are good. And too, with the virtual collapse for many of the traditional Christian concepts of heaven and hell modern Christians are left with a largely unresolved dilemma u to what they should believe about an after-life, and the rewards and punishments for their actions. The gradually growing uncertainty about this contributed, along with the development of an increasingly materialist scientific outlook, with all its obvious practical successes, to the tremendous decline in the religious sense which is so notable today — even though it looks as if a reaction has now set in. God in Buddhism and Christian Mysticism

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How to Meditate Without Meditating

How to Meditate Without Meditating
Contemplations, Essays by Maurice Walsh

Meditation, we are told, should be easy. And so it is, for some people — in fact for most people once they have really got into the habit. But let's face it, quite a lot of people don't find it easy in the beginning. I know — I didn't, and sometimes I still don't! In fact, if I may be considered an expert on any aspect of Buddhism, it is on the elementary hindrances. I've met them all: Sensuality, Ill-Will, Sloth-and-Torpor, Worry-and-Flurry, and Doubt. There's not much I couldn't tell you about the arising of all of these!

The fourth and fifth often go together and arise because one or other of the first three has come up and won't go away. I get worried, in fact, because I feel sensual or angry or sleepy, and then I doubt, if not the Dhamma itself, at least my ability to progress. This is a common syndrome. So, what can we do about it? One answer is not to worry about worrying. If you're worried, note the fact that you're worried — or rather, that a state of worry is present. Look into it with at least a little bit of detachment. Then the situation is this, that with a part of your mind you are watching the rest of your mind worrying. You can break this situation down still further, into more impersonal terms, at a slightly later stage, but that will do for a start. If you can do this at all, then in fact you are meditating! Apply this principle generally, to whatever arises in the mind. You can do it while sitting in 'official' meditation, and you can do it equally well at many other times during the day.

This brings us to the question of 'What is Mindfulness?' The simplest answer is — just noticing. Notice as much it» possible, and as often as possible, what this funny collection of psycho-physical bits-and-pieces called you is actually up to right now! Just get the habit of doing that, and it will carry you very far. You'll be surprised how far.... Mostly we just dream along, and react with pretty automatic emotional responses to whatever happens. It's not necessarily easy to stop doing this, but it's not too difficult to start noticing that that is what 'you' are doing.

It is often - and rightly - said: 'Don't look for results'. You probably will, though, and if you do, just notice that you are now looking for results! But one of the various reasons for the advice is that in fact you may be the last person to be aware of the results when they do come. Many years ago I started trying to meditate, following the instructions in a little book. I did this conscientiously for several weeks, and then I began to get fed up. Nothing seemed to have 'happened'. I didn't seem to be getting anywhere. I was on the point of giving the whole thing up, when two people who might be presumed to know me fairly well -one was my mother and the other was my wife! - both said, apparently independently, that I seemed to be a bit easier to get on with: I didn't fly off the handle quite so much. So — something must have happened, but I was quite unaware of it....

So just practise noticing. Some people, especially those Jung calls the extrovert sensorial type, are very good at noticing things outside of themselves. They observe closely other people's actions, behaviour, dress and so on — and generally comment at length on the subject, given half a chance. Their comments are usually somewhat critical. If they observe something unfavourable, they usually say so in no uncertain terms; if what they see is favourable, they probably make remarks indicative of envy or jealousy. If you must observe others like this, try to be objective about it ('O.K., he bites his fingernails, so what!'). If you find it hard to observe them without dislike, observe the arising of dislike in your own mind.

If you observe other people in this way, always at least observe your own reactions as well. Maybe that person really is rather dislikeable - but that's not the point. The point is your
reaction. Don't try too hard to love every unwashed hippy you meet — it might be too much of a strain. Again, let's face it, we are often attracted to people. Don't be too holy and pretend (at least to yourself) that you are never sexually attracted by some person you meet, even though you may not have the slightest intention of doing anything about it. But if such thoughts and feelings do arise, notice them. These days, there is often plenty to notice out there! So just notice the fact that you are noticing with interest — positive or negative, it doesn't matter.

We often hear people speaking about 'Buddhism in Daily Life'. This is the most essential part of it. Whatever you see, hear, smell, taste, touch or think — notice what arises in your mind (and body) as a result. Don't be discouraged - just notice. And if you still feel discouraged just notice that feeling too! This really is an easy practice. Let's go a bit further. A good rule is: Don't make excuses to yourself. O.K., so I don't want to meditate (or do the washing-up, or get up in the morning, or what-have-you). Notice the 'I don't want to' or, better, the 'not-wanting-to'. Maybe you still won't do the thing but you've noticed the fact. Maybe you still make excuses to yourself-notice that fact! And it is a fact that if you do this for a while, certain personality-changes, for the better, will occur in you. You may, however, not realise this, though others probably will, whether they tell you or not. And if you find yourself hoping that somebody will tell you how much nicer you have become lately, well — just notice that thought arising too.... Really, it becomes quite an amusing game in the end!

There arc lots of games you can play. Some people, when offered a drink or something, say, 'I don't mind if I do'. Why not try the 'I don't mind if I don't' game? Suppose you arc offered a drink. Being aware of the fifth precept, you feel that to be a 'good Buddhist' you should refuse. So, what do you in fact do? I am assuming that you are the sort of person who, .it any rate before 'becoming a Buddhist', was not totally averse to a little alcoholic refreshment occasionally. There ate many such people, after all. Well, of course, you can be heroic and refuse anyway, even though you would have rather liked it. That, of course, is fine. Or you could let your Buddhism go hang for a bit (gone for a Burton, in fact!), and take It. I'm not recommending this course, I'm just saying it might happen. You might even utter the ritual words, I don't mind if I do', which is one of those 'typically British' examples of understatement we take a national pride in. You could, however, swiftly interrogate yourself mentally and say to yourself: 'Do I mind if I don't?' It is quite possible that you will find yon i an alter all hear the thought of not having that drink, and no you refuse. If you find you do want it rather badly, well of course It's up to you. But human nature being what it is, the odds arc that In that case you will accept. If so, be aware of what Is happening. This, of course, may spoil the pleasure a bit, and next time you may really not feel quite so keen on that drink, But anyway you will have learnt something. And if you can, even occasionally, say to some preferred pleasure, 'I don't mind II I don't', and mean it, then you are getting on a hit, We all have plenty of craving (tanha) — otherwise we wouldn't even he here. So it is quite a good game to see just what pleasures we do find easily resistible. After all, it ought not to be difficult to say no to something you don't want very much. So use this method to cultivate a little sales-resistance. In this commercialised world It's very necessary....

Probably you can think up a few other, similar games for yourself. They all help to make the basic practice of noticing more fun. You might as well enjoy your practice while you're about it — always providing, of course, that you notice that you're enjoying it.

How to Meditate Without Meditating
Contemplations, Essays by Maurice Walsh
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The Real Self

This Real Self Business
Contemplations essays by Maurice O'C Walsh

'Do It Yourself — There is No Self — 'Be a Lamp (or an Island) Unto Yourself. It is not very surprising that the newcomer to Buddhism (and sometimes even the old stager) gets rather puzzled about this 'self business. Let us therefore attempt to shed a little light on this difficult but important subject.

The best place to begin is at the beginning. The observance of this simple rule makes a lot of things easier, though the fact is not always remembered. The English language possesses several pronouns such as myself, yourself and so on, which are rendered in Pali by atta (in Sanskrit atman). This is the everyday use, which is completely matter-of-fact and unmetaphysical. Some such terms are inevitably used in all languages. They are convenient and conventional, implying nothing whatever about the reality or otherwise of the 'entity' they refer to. We merely need to note that in Buddhism such an entity is considered, for the best of reasons, only relatively or conventionally real. In terms of absolute truth there is no such thing, but in terms of relative truth there is. All we have to observe, then, is whether in any given case a statement is made in terms of the relative or the absolute truth. This alone obviates much confusion.

But this distinction, though vital, does not of course remove all difficulties. Let us first take a look at the 'self which does — relatively — exist. We are very familiar with this, our nearest and dearest, and so it comes as something of a shock to learn that it is not 'really' real. We may even be quite indignant at such a suggestion. And yet even here there is something rather odd. Many people today do not believe in an immortal soul, or any 'entity' that survives bodily death. But if this 'self does not survive the death of the body, it surely cannot be very real even now.... We arc not, for the moment, discussing the Buddhist view of rebirth, but merely suggesting that fur the non-believer in survival the 'self must after all be a very peculiar thing.

There is however at least one important sense in which the relatively real 'self is taken quite seriously even In Buddhism. If 1 robbed a bank last week, I can't avoid the consequences by declaring that as 1 don't really exist it wasn't really me, whether in a court of human law or In terms of the
law of karma. Neither human nor karmic justice will accept such a plea. In fact in the Buddhist view , karma will even catch up with me after death if it has not done so before! So our relative reality, however ultimately illusory, is not without its importance.

At this point it may look suspiciously as if Buddhists were trying to have it both ways. They agree, it appears, with the implication of materialism that there is no permanent or immortal soul, while also apparently agreeing with the Christian idea of post-mortem rewards or retribution. 'Curiouser and curiouser', as Alice would have said....

Let us see. The relatively real 'entity' is in fact a process — a constantly flowing river which, though not one drop of water remains stationary, nevertheless is for us, conventionally and practically, 'the same' river. If we prefer the image of an electric current, we can also think of rebirth as the continuing flow of such a current even though successive bulbs are worn out. This flow continues until the fuel that feeds it - craving - has ceased.

One of the various factors that go to make up our 'personality' is volition (cetana). It is this which many people identify with the self — 'I want'. Yet this too is just as

impersonal as all the rest, which is why we can become aware of conflicting desires within us. The whole of karma is based on this volition factor, so that for the relatively real 'me' it is very important. This is the main reason why self-knowledge is so vital. But it should by now be clear that 'self-knowledge' in Buddhism docs not mean 'getting to know one's true Self (for there is no such thing), but seeing through the spurious self.

People learning to practise mindful self-awareness sometimes ask at this point: 'If I am supposed to be observing myself, what is it that does the observing?' In the light of what has been said, this may be quite a puzzle. But the simple answer is actually that one moment of consciousness has for its object a previous moment of consciousness. And by practising this exercise we gradually learn to realise that the process actually is just as described. A point is then eventually reached when, craving being temporarily suspended, the whole thing is seen with utter detachment and thus seen through. This is the beginning of the decisive stage of the cure, the beginning of the path that leads to the cessation of craving and therefore of all sense of frustration and pain.

All things (including our precious 'selves') are in truth impersonal (anatta) or 'void' (SCinya) as the Mahayanists generally prefer to say. Despite certain occasional polemically tinged suggestions to the contrary, the two expressions are virtually synonymous. And, curiously enough, the realisation of this truth, which looks so negative and perhaps even rather frightening, is bliss ineffable. That, however, is another story.
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