I’m mainly interested in what you think of the article itself, especially those of you who find meditation practice appealing and may actually have started to do some meditation on your own. There’s a Guestbook module at the bottom of the Squidoo page (which, for some weird reason, they call a “Lens”). Leave me a comment if you have something to say.

Emergence is at the core of the Four Noble Truths; with dukkha as a given condition, taking innumerable forms, we can reach the true understanding that dukkha emerges from our craving (essentially, a craving for permanence in one form or another), that dukkha will cease to emerge when the craving ceases, and that the conditions to bring that cessation about involve reworking our lives according to eight factors of understanding, action, and insight.

In Session 6, we will examine the nature of dependent emergence in its most elaborate exposition, as a chain of 12 links, each of which serves as a necessary condition for the next, starting with ignorance as the given (again, in many differently conditioned forms), and ending, at least (of course) temporarily, in dukkha.

This chain of dependent emergence, called paticcasamuppāda in Pali, is, for many historians and philosophers of Buddhism, the Buddha’s most radical and original contribution to the way in which we understand the world and our place in it. The essay I’ve written, which I hope you will find time to read (at least once) before our class, is based on a dharma talk I gave last year at the Cincinnati Buddhist Dharma Center; I’ve re-worked it considerably, based on work I’ve been studying by some very original scholars of early Buddhism: Noa Ronkin, Sue Hamilton, and Richard Gombrich; and my experience in November at the Spirit Rock Study Retreat with Stephen Batchelor.

It’s an enormously complex subject, and no one I’ve read pretends to understand it perfectly. I’ve tried to make my own limited understanding of it clear and to relate that understanding to the lives we lead here and now, 2500 years after the Buddha developed the ideas and in a world that even he might have been unable to imagine.

I look forward to our discussion.

Six years after he’d left home, and shortly after having achieved the goal for which he set out on the homeless live and become the Buddha, he returned to Kapilavatthu, where he was received with honor and respect. It is said that his wife, Rahula’s mother, told the boy to go to his father and ask for his inheritance. Rahula did so, and the Buddha, in response, told Sariputta to give Rahula ordination as a member of the Sangha.

In the Vinaya, we’re told that the Buddha’s father, Suddhodana, was very upset by this: “First, we lost our son, and if that weren’t bad enough, now we’ve lost our beloved grandson Rahula to the holy life. It is not right that you should allow the ordination of young children without their parents’ consent.” The Buddha saw the justice in his father’s complaint, gathered the monks together, and pronounced a new rule for the Sangha: no one under 16 should be accepted as a novice, and no one under 20 should receive full ordination without his parents’ consent.

That rule, of course, was too late for Rahula, who entered the Sangha as an ordained bhikkhu, under the special protection and tutelage of Sariputta, the Buddha’s favorite disciple. We are told that Rahula was a model monk, constantly working on his practice, “the foremost of those seeking guidance in his practice.” There are several stories in the canon in which either the Buddha or Rahula seek one another out for special teaching. The sutta we will discuss on Tuesday is the first.

The commentaries, as far as I am aware, give no back story to the Ambalatthika-rahulovada Sutta, but, having been the father of a seven-year-old boy, it’s not difficult for me to imagine that word reached the Buddha that Rahula had been telling some tall tales, and that report occasioned the Buddha’s visit to the young monk.

Whatever might have occasioned it, it is a beautiful story, in which the Buddha shows himself, once again, as someone gentle, compassionate, and imaginative. This is not preaching, it is instruction, and it is, moreover, instruction that we all need at some point in our lives. And seven years old is probably not a bad point to receive it.

I hope that you have a chance, not only to read Thanissaro Bhikkhu’s exceptionally graceful translation of this sutta, but also to listen to his reading of it on the SuddaReadings.net website (click to listen; right-click or control-click to download as an MP3 file that you can import into iTunes). Thanissaro has a rich and resonant voice, and one can imagine that one is listening to the Buddha himself. The Sutta Readings website, while it doesn’t seem to have been updated in a while, has a rich variety of material on it. (One other reading you might want to listen to when you visit the site is Sally Clough’s reading of the Satipatthana Sutta (click to read; right-click or control-click to download the MP3 file), the discourse on the Foundations of Mindfulness; that is the sutta we will be discussing next week, and Sally Clough does a particularly wonderful job of reading it.)

Finally, here’s a link to a website that has collected, it seems, just about every legend concerning Rahula that is recorded in the Pali texts. Despite the miraculous nature of some of these, and despite the fact that the very idea of a 7-year-old boy entering the life of an ascetic contemplative is foreign to our current notions of proper child-rearing, the accumulation of detail in the legends presented here give us a picture of a young man who was, while rather more serious than most, was still what we’d call today “well-adjusted” and successful in the pursuit of his goals in life.

Sorry to be late getting this essay on Enlightenment and Nibbana posted, but it was hard to write, and I didn’t want to get it either too confusing or too terribly wrong. I hope that I’ve struck a decent balance between clarity and precision, and that the essay, and the teachings it links to, will give us the basis for a good discussion on Thursday.

Rather than my reading a sutta for discussion in class, I’d like for you to have read three suttas in preparation for Tuesday’s session, attentively enough so that we can discuss them without having to review the details of their content extensively in class.

• The Dighajanu Sutta is the one that was to have been the subject for Session 4; in it, the Buddha gives a Dhamma to a wealthy, commercially successful, and pretty self-satisfied householder—a Dhamma that will lead to his continued success in the world and to the realization of the fruits of that success, but which also leads naturally into a path of behavior that will insure his happiness and spiritual well-being now and in the future. I’ve posted a commentary on the Dighajanu Sutta, calling out the elements in it that I think are particularly important to our emerging understanding of the Buddha’s Teachings.
• In the Canki Sutta, the Buddha is again talking to a member of the Brahmin caste—not a householder, like Sigala, but a student, and a particularly precocious one at that. You might think of Kapatika as a sophomore at the University of Chicago, majoring in Economics and maintaining a 4.0 average. Kapatika engages the Buddha in argument, in a particularly sophomoric and hostile way, and the Buddha responds with patience, restraint, a good bit of irony, and just a touch of satire (watch for the line of blind men. He teaches Kapatika the difference between asserting that a particular view is the only view that’s true, and asserting that one believes a particular view to be the only true one. In the latter case, one “preserves truth”. He then goes on to teach Kapatika how one “discovers truth”, by embarking on a systematic, clear-eyed search for an honest and accomplished teacher and following the path recommended by that teacher, and how one “arrives at truth” by perfecting the practice of the chosen path.
• The Kalama Sutta is one of the best known suttas in the Pali Canon; in it, the Buddha teaches the householders of the Kalama tribe’s market town of Kesaputa how to evaluate the various claims and counterclaims of the teachers that pass through their town. There are no extrinsic guarantees of truth, the Buddha teaches. One must subject all teachings to the harsh test of direct experience. Of particular interest in this sutta is the final portion, in which the Buddha gives what amounts to a reverse twist to Pascal’s Wager. Whether or not there is some reward awaiting one who behaves well, it’s still a good thing to do so, conducing to one’s happiness and well-being here and now.

Please find the time to read the suttas before class; none are particularly difficult, and the middle one is the only one that gets rather long (even that is not outrageously long, and it’s possible to skim the repetitive parts.) If your interest is piqued, follow the links to other translations that may help you to understand some of the finer doctrinal points.

All of the teachings in the three suttas deal with practical issues: how to behave in ways that help increase your chances of finding success and happiness in the world; how to speak honestly; how to seek the truth in a way that insures that you won’t be taken in by someone who’s following a hidden agenda or pretending to knowledge that he doesn’t actually have.

I look forward to our discussion.

Most Westerners, if they have any notion of Buddhism at all, associate Buddhism with the notion of kamma (Sanskrit karma) and rebirth. The idea, at its most basic, is that you’re reborn again and again; if you’ve made good kamma (e.g. been kind, generous, honest, etc.), you’re reborn into fortunate circumstances; if not, you’re reborn less fortunately. The goal of enlightenment is to bring rebirth to an end. (And really, who would want that?)

In our session on Thursday, we’re going to look at the Buddhist notion of rebirth (and its inevitably accompanying re-death) with a little more nuance. The understanding that I will present is my own understanding. While it is rooted in canonical sources and is in general accord with an understanding of kamma and rebirth that has been articulated by many modern Buddhist scholars and practitioners, it is far from an orthodox view of the subject (if the idea of orthodoxy even makes much sense in the context of Buddhism). It is certainly not how an ordained Buddhist monk is likely to present the idea. For one sample of such a presentation, you might want to look at Bhikkhu Bodhi’s start at an essay on the subject. He’s clearly uncomfortable with the whole idea of having to justify the notion of rebirth as it is presented in the canonical teachings, but he is also unwilling to accept that a changing scientific view of the world might give one permission to interpret the canonical teachings in a way that is too very different from the interpretations offered by the classical commentators.

When one is presented with a new idea, especially one that seems to conflict with ideas that one already holds, the temptation is to assume that we understand the new idea, on first hearing, well enough to evaluate it. We do so, decide whether we’re for it or against it, and dig our heels in. From that point on, our strategy is more or less to interpret any argument we’re given, or any evidence that’s offered, in light of our entrenched position, and to push back against the argument, reject or re-interpret the evidence, and ridicule or revile the motives of anyone who disputes our entrenched position. Unfortunately, that’s how most public discourse proceeds in this country today.

There is another way. That is to assume, if something makes no sense to us, or seems to conflict with a deeply held belief, that we may not be understanding it rightly. We can make an effort to understand it differently, so that it begins to make a little more sense, or to pose a less certain threat to our existing views. If we assume a certain level of good will on the part of those who confront us with new ideas, we may even begin to find some common ground: shared assumptions about how things are, or about how we’d like things to be.

That is the approach I’ve tried to take with my essay on kamma and rebirth. The idea of rebirth has never made much sense to me, and my instinctive rejection of that idea caused me, for many years, to reject Buddhism in general. As I’ve come to understand Buddhism better, and especially as I’ve come to admire the Buddha himself and to find relevance and wisdom in his core teachings, I’ve had to re-evaluate my instinctive reaction of an idea that was clearly close to the center of the Buddha’s own conceptual universe.

There is no question that the Buddha accepted the fact of rebirth; it was part of his cultural milieu, and it is an important component of very many of the teachings we have in the Pali Canon. But it’s also true that the Buddha resisted, strongly and consistently, any attempt to define exactly what happened in the course of rebirth. Indeed, views about the detailed workings of the rebirth process – just what was reborn and how the influence of kammic action emerged in an individual’s life – were among the most pernicious views of all; the most difficult fetter to break. The Buddha’s reticence on this topic, along with his general encouragement to think things through for yourself and to give authoritative precedence to direct experience, justifies, I believe, the kind of redefinition of kamma and rebirth that I’ve tried to work out in my essay. I encourage you to read that essay before this coming week’s session, and also, if you have time, to read Bhikkhu Bodhi’s more orthodox understanding.

I anticipate a good discussion, and I look forward to seeing you all on Thursday.

Another consequence of increasing wealth was that almost everyone had some excess, with which they could support the Buddha’s growing sangha. In a poor region, or a declining economy, living as a bhikkhu – i.e. living on alms freely given by the householders in a region – would not have been a particularly viable option. But the Buddha’s sangha of bhikkhus and bhikkhunis were, apparently, able to get along quite well on the largesse of a newly and increasingly wealthy laity. Indeed, many of the Buddha’s retreat communities – the areas where the sangha gathered during the three months of the rainy season – had been donated to the Buddha and his sangha by wealthy urban merchants. (Anathapindika is perhaps the best-known of these lay followers; he purchased a large park-like grove from Prince Jeta of Kosala, near the Kosalan capital city of Savatthi, and donated that the the sangha. The Buddha spent about 25 consecutive rains retreats in Anathapindika’s park.)

One reason that the Buddha’s teachings appealed so strongly to the rising urban middle class was that those teachings were eminently practical, rooted in the Buddha’s keen understanding of the way his lay followers lived, their responsibilities and their needs. Another is that the teachings involved nothing in the way of ritual, and no particular need to involve Brahmin priests in the process of gaining either success in the world or a fortunate rebirth in the next life. According to the Buddha, all those good results were rooted, quite definitely and intelligibly, in one’s own actions. To those who were used to working hard and getting what they wanted and needed by their own intelligent and diligent action, that was a message they could relate to.

The sutta we will discuss on Tuesday is a good demonstration of the Buddha’s ability to connect with the newly wealthy urban class. The teaching is delivered in what is identified as “the market town of the Koliyans”, one of a string of market towns between Savatthi, the capital city of the kingdom of Kosala, and Rajagraha, the capital city of the kingdom of Maghada; the Buddha’s home town of Kapilavattu was probably another one of those market towns. The Koliyans and the Sakyans were cousins, and the Buddha’s mother and stepmother were both Koliyans. The Koliyans and the Sakyans were frequently in dispute regarding rights to the water of the Rohini river which separated the republics; the Buddha was called upon on several occasions to act as peacemaker in those disputes, since he had gained the trust of both branches of the family.

The Buddha’s questioner in this sutta was known as Dighajanu, which mean’s “long shins”, and his family name was Vyagghapajja, which means “tiger’s path”. Dighajanu asks the Buddha for a Dhamma for people like him, with lots of family responsibilities and a life full of pleasures that he is not likely to give up to become a dropout like the members of the Buddha’s sangha.

The Dhamma that the Buddha teaches Dighajanu is simple, wise and accessible. It demonstrates that the Buddha was very much in touch with the life that Dighajanu led, and was in no way condemnatory of that life. But, as the Buddha almost always did, he goes on, after answering Dighajanu’s question about how to live in a way that guarantees happiness in his daily life, to give him some very brief additional teachings about how to live in ways that guarantee the preservation of that happiness in the future.

Briefly, the Buddha mentions four attainments – four fortunate accomplishments – that will produce that guarantee; saddha-sampada, the accomplishment of faith, sila-sampada, the accomplishment of virtue, cāga-sampada, the accomplishment of generosity, and pañña-sampada, the accomplishment of wisdom. Each of those receives its own extensive exposition in other teachings; faith, virtue, generosity and wisdom are essential accomplishments in the development of the Buddha’s path. Here each one is presented telegraphically, almost aphoristically, but still in a way that is easily understood and easy to grasp intuitively. The sutta concludes, as many suttas do, with a brief verse summary of the teachings presented.

I’ve given my own rendering of the Dighajanu sutta, which we’ll use as the basis for our discussion. In the introduction to that rendering, I’ve linked to two translations of the sutta, each more complete and authoritative than my rendering; I’d recommend that you read them all to get a feel for the full import of this brief but important teaching.