Part I:
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The Five Spiritual Faculties
Spiritual progress
depends on the emergence of five cardinal virtues --
faith, vigour, mindfulness, concentration and
wisdom. The conduct of the ordinary worldling is
governed by his sense-based instincts and impulses.
As we progress, new spiritual forces gradually take
over, until in the end the five cardinal virtues
dominate and shape everything we do feel and think.
These virtues are called, in Sanskrit and Pali,
indriya, variously translated by faculties,
controlling faculties, or spiritual faculties.[1]
The same five virtues are called powers (bala)
if emphasis is on the fact that they are "unshakable
by their opposites."
Faith is called "the
seed," and without it the plant of spiritual life
cannot start at all. Without faith one can, as a
matter of fact, do nothing worthwhile at all. This
is true not only of Buddhism, but of all religions,
and even the pseudo-religions of modern times, such
as Communism. And this faith is much more than the
mere acceptance of beliefs. It requires the
combination of four factors -- intellectual,
volitional, emotional and social.
1.
Intellectually, faith is an assent to doctrines
which are not substantiated by immediately available
direct factual evidence. To be a matter of faith, a
belief must go beyond the available evidence and the
believer must be willing and ready to fill up the
gaps in the evidence with an attitude of patient and
trusting acceptance. Faith, taken in this sense, has
two opposites, i.e., a dull unawareness of the
things which are worth believing in, and doubt or
perplexity. In any kind of religion some assumptions
are taken on trust and accepted on the authority of
scriptures or teachers.
Generally speaking,
faith is, however, regarded as only a preliminary
step, as a merely provisional state. In due course
direct spiritual awareness will know that which
faith took on trust, and longed to know: "Now we see
through a glass darkly, but then face to face." Much
time must usually elapse before the virtue of wisdom
has become strong enough to support a vigorous
insight into the true nature of reality. Until then
quite a number of doctrinal points must be taken on
faith.
What then in
Buddhism are the objects of faith? They are
essentially four: (1) the belief in karma and
rebirth; (2) the acceptance of the basic teachings
about the nature of reality, such as conditioned
co-production, emptiness, etc.; (3) confidence in
the "Three Refuges," the Buddha, the Dharma and the
Order; and (4) a belief in the efficacy of the
prescribed practices, and in Nirvana as the final
way out of our difficulties. I shall say more about
them when I have dealt with the other aspects of
faith.
2. In this sceptical
age we, anyway, dwell far too much on the
intellectual side of faith. shraddha (Pali:
saddha) the word we render as "faith," is
etymologically akin to Latin cor, "the
heart," and faith is far more a matter of the heart
than of the intellect. It is, as Prof. Radhakrishnan
incisively puts it, the "striving after
self-realization by concentrating the powers of the
mind on a given idea." Volitionally, faith
implies a resolute and courageous act of will. It
combines the steadfast resolution that one will
do a thing with the self-confidence that one can
do it. Suppose that people living on the one side of
a river are doomed to perish from many enemies,
diseases and famine. Safety lies on the other shore.
The man of faith is then likened to the person who
swims across the river, braving its dangers, saving
himself and inspiring others by his example. Those
without faith will go on dithering along the hither
bank. The opposites to this aspect of faith are
timidity, cowardice, fear, wavering, and a shabby,
mean and calculating mentality.
3. Emotionally,
faith is an attitude of serenity and lucidity. Its
opposite here is worry, the state of being troubled
by many things. It is said that someone who has
faith loses the "five terrors," i.e., he ceases to
worry about the necessities of life, about loss of
reputation, death, unhappy rebirth and the
impression he may make on an audience. It is fairly
obvious that the burden of life must be greatly
lightened by belief in karma, emptiness, or
not-self. Even an unpleasant fate can be accepted
more easily when it is understood as a dispensation
of justice, when vexations are explained as an
inevitable retribution, when law seems to rule
instead of blind chance, when even apparent loss is
bound to turn into true gain. And if there is no
self, what and whom do we worry about? If there is
only one vast emptiness, what is there to disturb
our radiance?
4. Socially,
and that is more difficult to understand, faith
involves trust and confidence in the Buddha and the
Sangha. Its opposite here is the state of being
submerged in cares about one's sensory social
environment, cares which spring from either social
pressure or social isolation. The break with the
normal social environment is, of course, complete
only in the case of the monk who, as the formula
goes, "in faith forsakes his home." To a lesser
extent it must be carried out by every practitioner
of the Dharma, who must "live apart" from his
society, in spirit if not in fact. The company of
others and the help we expect from them are usually
a mainstay of our sense of security. By going for
refuge to the Buddha and the Sangha one turns from
the visible and tangible to the invisible and
elusive. By placing one's reliance on spiritual
forces one gains the strength to disregard public
opinion and social discouragement. Some measure of
defiant contempt for the world and its ways is
inseparable from a spiritual life. The spiritual man
does not "belong" to his visible environment, in
which he is bound to feel rather a stranger. He
belongs to the community of the saints, to the
family of the Buddha. Buddhism substitutes a
spiritual for the natural environment, with the
Buddha for the father, the Prajnaparamita for
the mother, the fellow-seekers for brothers and
sisters, relatives and friends. It is with these
more invisible forces that one must learn to
establish satisfactory social relations. In carrying
out this task, faith requires a considerable
capacity for renunciation.
This concludes our
survey of the four factors which go into the making
of faith. Like other spiritual qualities, faith is
somewhat paradoxical in that in one sense it is a
gift which one cannot obtain by merely wanting
to, and in another sense it is a virtue that
can be cultivated. The capacity for faith varies
with the constitution of the individual and his
social circumstances. It is usual to classify types
of personality according to whether they are
dominated by greed, hatred or confusion. Those who
walk in greed are said to be more susceptible to
faith than the other two, because of the kinship
which exists between faith and greed. To quote
Buddhaghosa (Visuddhimagga III,75): "As on
the unwholesome plane greed clings and takes no
offence, so faith on the wholesome plane. As greed
searches for objects of sense-desire, so faith for
the qualities of morality, etc. As greed does not
let go that which is harmful, so faith does not let
go that which is beneficial."
As regards social
conditions, there are ages of faith and ages of
unbelief. The present age rather fosters unbelief.
It puts a premium on intellectual smartness, so that
faith is easily held to indicate nothing but a weak
head or a lack of intellectual integrity. It
multiplies the distractions from the sensory world
to such an extent that the calm of the invisible
world is harder to reach than ever. It exposes the
citizen to so great a variety of conflicting
viewpoints that he finds it hard to make a choice.
The prestige of science, the concern with a high
standard of living, and the disappearance of all
institutions of uncontested authority are the chief
foes of faith in our present-day society. It is
largely a matter of temperament whether we believe
that matters will improve in the near future.
As a virtue, faith
is strengthened and built up by self-discipline, and
not by discussing opinions. Intellectual
difficulties are by no means the most powerful among
the obstacles to faith. Doubts are inevitable, but
how one deals with them depends on one's character.
The first of our four "articles of faith" well
illustrates this situation. There are many sound
reasons for accepting the rebirth doctrine. This is
not the place to expound them, and I must be content
to refer the reader to the very impressive
"East-West Anthology" on Reincarnation which
J. Head and S.L. Cranston have published in 1961
(New York, The Julian Press Inc.). Yet, although
belief in rebirth is perfectly rational and does not
conflict with any known fact, the range of the
average person's vision is so limited that he has no
access to the decisive evidence, which is direct and
immediate experience.
The rebirth doctrine
assumes at least two things: (1) that behind the
natural causality which links together events in the
world of sense there are other, invisible chains of
a moral causality, which assures that all good acts
are rewarded, all bad actions punished; and (2) that
this chain of moral sequences is not interrupted by
death, but continues from rebirth to rebirth. To the
average person these two assumptions cannot be
proved absolutely, conclusively and beyond the
possibility of a doubt. However plausible they may
seem on rational grounds, Buddhism teaches that they
become a matter of direct experience only after the
"superknowledges" (abhijna, abhiñña)
have been developed. The fourth "superknowledge" is
the recollection of one's own previous rebirths, and
the fifth the knowledge of the rebirths of other
people, by which one "sees that whatever happens to
them happens in accordance with their deeds." There
are many well-authenticated cases of persons
spontaneously remembering certain details of one or
the other of their own previous lives, and these
people obviously have an additional reason for
belief in rebirth which is lacking in those who
cannot recall ever having lived before. Full
certitude on the issue is, however, given to those
only who can, on the basis of the fourth jhana
and by taking definite prescribed and disciplined
steps on emerging from that jhana, "recall
their manifold former lives," according to the
well-known formula: "There I was, that was my name,
that was my family, that was my caste, such was my
food, this was the happiness, this the suffering
which I experienced, this was the duration of my
life-span. Deceased there I was born elsewhere and
there had this name, etc." When a monk has practiced
properly and successfully, "these things become as
clear to him as if lit up by a lamp"
(Visuddhimagga, xiii, 23).
Until that time
comes, we cannot claim that we fully know the
doctrine of karma and rebirth to be true. We take it
partly on faith. And this faith of ours is
maintained less by our dialectical skill as by the
virtues of patience and courage. For we must be
willing to wait patiently until we are spiritually
ripe for the emergence of the super-knowledges,
however far off that might seem to be. And secondly,
we must be willing to take risks. Life nowhere
offers a one hundred per cent security, and for our
convictions least of all. Employed in gaining wealth
a merchant must risk his property. Employed in
taking life, a soldier must risk his own life.
Employed in saving his soul, the spiritual man must
risk his own soul. The stake automatically increases
with the prospect of gain. Of course, we may be
mistaken. I sometimes wonder what I would think if,
on dying, I would not, as I now fondly imagine, wake
up on the Bardo plane, but find myself confronted
with Acheron and the three-headed Cerberus, or,
worse still, were ill-treated with fire and
brimstone in a Christian hell. The experience would,
I admit, be rather disconcerting. All that I can say
in the face of such uncertainty is that I am willing
to take the consequences, and that I hope that my
fund of boldness, audacity and good humor will not
run out.
One has the choice
to magnify intellectual doubts, or to minimize them.
It seems not unreasonable that one should blame the
difficulties of the teaching on one's own distance
from the truth, one's own intellectual and moral
imperfections. How can one expect to remember one's
past lives, if at present one cannot even recall
hour by hour what one did during one single day a
mere month ago? If one hesitates to accept, as not
immediately obvious, the doctrine that this world is
the result of ignorance and of the craving of
non-existent individuals for non-existent objects --
is this not perhaps due to the very denseness of
one's own ignorance, for which one can collect
plenty of proofs all day long? Doubts are
effectively overcome when one purifies one's own
life, so as to become more worthy of knowledge. It
is a condition of all learning that one accepts a
great deal on trust, that one gives the teacher the
benefit of the doubt. Otherwise one can learn
nothing at all, and remains shut out from all truth.
To have faith means to take a deep breath, to tear
oneself away from the daily cares and concerns, and
to turn resolutely to a wider and more abiding
reality. At first we are, by ourselves, too stupid
and inexperienced to see the tracks which lead to
salvation. So we must put our trust in the Sages of
the past, and listen intently to their words, dimmed
by distance and the noise of the present day, but
still just audible.
One last word about
tolerance, without which faith remains raw and
unsure of itself. It is a perpetual trial to our
faith that we should constantly meet with people who
believe differently. We are easily tempted to wish
this irritant removed, to coerce others, if only by
argument, and to annihilate them, if only by dubbing
them fools. Intolerance for people of other faiths,
though often mistaken for ardour, betrays nothing so
much as doubts within oneself. We can, of course,
always console ourselves by assuming that the
others, in their own way, believe what we do, and
that in the end it all comes to the same thing. But
that does not always sound very convincing, and what
we must, I am afraid, learn to do is to bear with
their presence.
Next to faith,
vigour (Skr.: virya; Pali: viriya).
Little need be said about the need for being
energetic if one wants to achieve something. Without
vigour, without strenuous effort, without
perseverance, one obviously cannot make much
progress. Everybody knows what "vigour" is, although
a generation which made the fortune of the
discoverers of "night-starvation" might wish that it
had more of it.
The fact that faith
and vigour are virtues does not, however, imply that
they are good all through, and that, regardless of
the consequences, they should be strengthened at all
times. Excess is to be deprecated, even in virtues.
All the five virtues must be regarded as one whole.
Their balance and harmony is almost as important as
the virtues themselves.[2]
They support each other to some extent, but they
also stand in each other's way. The one must
sometimes be used to correct the excess of the
other. In this way, concentration must come to the
rescue of the latent faults of vigour. When vigour
and energy have it all their own way, tranquillity
is in danger. We all know people with a large dash
of adrenalin in their blood, who are always busy,
perhaps even "madly efficient," but not particularly
restful. Vigour by itself leads to excitement, and
has to be controlled by a development of
concentrated calm.
Similarly, faith
alone, without wisdom, can easily become mere
credulity. Wisdom alone can teach what is worth
believing. This can be illustrated by Don Quixote,
who in literature is perhaps the purest embodiment
of faith, and whose actions demonstrate that too
much faith, by itself, is not necessarily a good
thing. Cervantes' novel gives a fine and detailed
description of all the chief attributes of faith.
Don Quixote vigorously, fearlessly, without
complaining, and even serenely endures all
tribulations because he wants to help others, all of
them equally, according to their needs. When he
dashes into the middle of the boiling lake, he
reaches the very height of self-abandonment of which
faith as such is capable. "And just when he does not
know what will happen to him, he finds himself among
flowery fields beautiful beyond those of Elysium."
His faith has conquered the senses, it transmutes
the data of common-sense experience, and the
barber's basin becomes Mambrino's helmet.[3]
And yet, when we consider the intellectual basis of
his faith, we find that it consists in nothing more
than a belief in the truth and veracity of the
Romances which describe the fictitious and not
particularly edifying doings of the knight-errants
of the past. This is the reason why his adventures
form a sorry sight, why he is a caricature even of a
knight of the Middle Ages, why, shorn of all
common-sense, faith in this case becomes slightly
pathological.
Mr. Blyth claims
that "the Don Quixote of the First Part is Zen
incarnate,"[4]
that "the man who surpasses Hakuin, Rinzai, Eno,
Daruma and Shakyamuni himself is Don Quixote de la
Mancha, Knight Errant."[5]
Zen, it seems, like all good things, can be abused.
It is not very probable that, when the cloak of
"Zen" is thrown over them, all donkeys do become
tigers, all absurdities profundities. Irrationalism
is not without its attractions, but can be overdone.
To suggest that one scripture, one conviction, one
faith is as good as another, smacks rather more of
the spiritual nihilism of our present age, than of
the wisdom of Seng-t'san. I admit that I have always
liked Don Quixote for saying that the "perfection"
of madness does not consist in going "mad for some
actual reason or other" but "in running mad without
the least constraint or necessity." But still I
cannot help feeling that there is some difference,
intangible perhaps, but nevertheless real, between
the perfection of madness and the perfection of
wisdom. Don Quixote's faith was a rather puerile
one, because he had no judgment, and his vision was
defective. Blyth himself admits in the end that Don
Quixote "lacks the Confucian virtue of Prudence, the
balance of the powers of the mind" (p.210). I am not
so sure about prudence, but the "balance of the
powers of the mind" is certainly not only a
Confucian, but also a Buddhist virtue, and a very
essential one. Buddhaghosa, whom I am expounding
here, leaves us in no doubt on this matter.[6]
What distinguishes a bhikkhu from a knight-errant is
that he is essentially sober and calm, that his view
of the world is sweetly rational, that he avoids
violence in the pursuit of his aims, and that his
estimate of his own role in the world does not
greatly exceed his actual size in relation to the
universe.
A Buddhist owes his
soberness to the cultivation of the third virtue of
mindfulness (Skr.: smriti, Pali:
sati). Whereas faith and vigour, when driven to
excess, must be restrained by their counterparts,
i.e., wisdom and tranquil concentration, the virtue
of mindfulness does not share this disability.
"Mindfulness should be strong everywhere. For it
protects the mind from excitedness, into which it
might fall since faith, vigour and wisdom may excite
us;[7]
and from indolence, into which it might fall since
concentration favors indolence. Therefore,
mindfulness is desirable everywhere, like a
seasoning of salt in all sauces, like the prime
minister in all state functions. Hence it is said:
'The Lord has declared mindfulness to be useful
everywhere, for the mind finds refuge in mindfulness
and mindfulness is its protector. Without
mindfulness there can be no exertion or restraint of
the mind.' "[8]
Although traces of
it are not altogether absent in other religious and
philosophical disciplines, in Buddhism alone
mindfulness occupies a central position. If one were
asked what distinguishes Buddhism from all other
systems of thought, one would have to answer that it
is the dharma-theory and the stress laid on
mindfulness. Mindfulness is not only the seventh of
the steps of the holy eightfold path, the third of
the five virtues, and the first of the seven limbs
of enlightenment. On occasions it is almost equated
with Buddhism itself. So we read at the beginning of
the Satipatthana Sutta[9]
that "the four applications of mindfulness are the
one and only way (ekayano maggo) that leads
beings to purity, to the transcending of sorrow and
lamentation, to the appeasement of pain and sadness,
to entrance upon the right method and to the
realization of Nirvana."[10]
What then is
"mindfulness"? The Abhidharma, guided by the
etymology of the Sanskrit term (smriti from
smri, "to remember"), defines it as an act of
remembering which prevents ideas from "floating
away," and which fights forgetfulness, carelessness
and distraction. This definition by itself, though
correct, does not really make the function of this
virtue very clear to us today. The theoretical
assumptions which underlie the various practices
summed up in the word "mindfulness" are too much
taken for granted. What one assumes is that the mind
consists of two disparate parts -- a depth which is
calm and quiet, and a surface which is disturbed.
The surface layer is in perpetual agitation and
turmoil. The center, at the bottom of the mind,
beyond both the conscious and the unconscious mind
as modern psychologists understand it, is quite
still. The depth is, however, usually overlaid to
such an extent that people remain incredulous when
told of a submerged spot of stillness in their
inmost hearts. In most cases the surface is so
turbulent that the calm of the depth can be realized
only in rare intervals.
Mindfulness and
concentration are the two virtues which are
concerned with the development of inward calm. The
principal enemies of spiritual quietude are: (1) the
senses; (2) the movements of the body; (3) the
passions, wants and desires; and (4) discursive
thinking. They have the power to be enemies when:
(1) they are not subjected to any discipline; and
(2) when the ego identifies itself with what takes
place on the surface of the mind, participating
heartily in it, and the illusion arises that these
activities are "my" doings, "my" concerns and the
sphere in which "I" live and have my being. When
thus busy with worldly things, we have neither
strength nor freedom. In order to conquer these
enemies of spiritual quietude we must: (1) withdraw
the senses from their objects, as the tortoise draws
in its limbs; (2) keep watch on our muscular
movements; (3) cease wanting anything, and
dissociate all wants from the ego; and (4) cut off
discursive thinking.
By an effort of the
imagination one must try to see oneself at rest,
floating freely, with no force exerted on one's
spiritual self. The practice of mindfulness then is
a series of efforts which aim at maintaining this
isolation. Mindfulness is the name given to the
measures which we take to protect the patch of inner
calm, which may at first not seem very large. One,
as it were, draws a line round this domain and at
its boundaries keeps watch on trespassers. The
expectation is that conscious attention will
disintegrate the power of the enemies, diminish
their number, and dissociate them from the ego.
However diverse in nature the numerous exercises
which come under the heading of mindfulness may seem
to be, they all have in common this one purpose,
that of guarding the incipient and growing calm in
one's heart.
1. First, as regards
the sensory stimuli, there is the "restraint
of the senses," also called the "guarding of the
doors of the senses." For two reasons sense
stimulation may disturb inner calm: (1) because it
gives an occasion for undesirable states, like
greed, hate, etc., to invade and flood the mind; (2)
because attention to the sensory world, however
necessary and apparently innocuous, distracts from
the object of wisdom, which is the emptiness of
dharmas. One cannot grasp what is meant by
"restraint of the sense dominants," if one regards
it as quite a natural thing that the mind should
dwell on sense-linked objects. This is, indeed, most
unnatural. In its natural purity thought abides in
the calm contemplation of emptiness. The mind which
sees, hears, etc., is a fallen mind.
The capacity of
sense-experience to compel the mind to act in a
certain way is greatly diminished if each sensory
stimulus is examined at the point where it passes
the threshold of consciousness. Attention, normally
passive, involuntary and compulsive, is subjected to
voluntary control. In the process of imposing some
control on the senses one will be surprised to find
how keen they are to function, how eager to find
suitable objects with which to feed one's impulses
and instincts, one's hopes and fears, one's
interests and appetites, satisfactions and
grievances. It is not so bad that one should see
things, hear sounds, etc., but it is a threat to
spiritual health when one gets interested and
entranced, when one takes up what is seen and heard
and seizes on it as a sign of what matters.
The practice of
mindfulness is not confined to taking note of what
enters the mind by way of the sense-organs. One also
tries to determine what is allowed to enter, and to
generally reduce the number of sensory impacts by
restraining the use of the physical organ, for
instance, when one walks with eyes directed only a
few feet or yards ahead. In addition, by an effort
of the will one refuses to co-operate with one's
habitual impulses in building up a mere casual
observation into a thing of moment to which one
returns again and again. Finally the intruder is
weakened and worn down by appropriate reflections.
He is kept out of the heart and devalued -- as
trivial, as already passed, as nothing in
particular, and by thinking that "this does not
concern me at all, this means nothing to me, it is
only a waste when salvation and Nirvana are
considered."
2. Secondly, as
regards the muscular movements of the body --
an unquiet body is a concomitant of a disturbed
mind, both its cause and symptom. It is important to
mindfulness that one should consciously notice the
position and movement of the body when walking,
eating, speaking, etc., and suppress and correct
those movements which are uncontrolled, hasty and
uncoordinated. This practice can, it is true, not be
carried out at all times. In London traffic, for
instance, the unhurried and unflurried demeanour of
the mindful has little survival value. Where,
however, it can be applied, we come to cherish this
exercise which pulls us together, sometimes to an
amazing extent in an amazingly short time.
Insignificant as it may seem, compared with the
splendors of Buddhist art and metaphysics, this
training is their indispensable foundation stone. It
is by his dignified and self-possessed deportment
that the bhikkhu is recognized. And, of course, we
should not forget that the mindful attention to
muscular movements includes the breathing practices,
which are a most fruitful source of insight.
3. Where we have to
face the disturbance of the passions and of stray
thoughts in general, the defence of our inward
calm becomes more difficult. Mindfulness itself
turns into incipient concentration.
At this point one
may ask whether the practice of the five cardinal
virtues, from faith to wisdom, is at all likely to
be furthered by writing articles about them. It is,
of course, not an entirely useless undertaking to
guard the traditional teaching from current
misunderstandings, quite apart from the pleasure of
putting fleas into peoples' ears, and fomenting
discussions about the importance of faith, or the
value of erudition. But what about the virtues
themselves? Thomas a Kempis once said that he would
rather feel compunction than know the definition of
it. What matters to a Buddhist is that he should be
strong in faith, vigour, mindfulness, concentration
and wisdom, and what use to him is the knowledge of
how they are defined? Detailed advice on how these
virtues should be practiced, it is true, can never
be given in articles written for the general reader.
Such advice must always be addressed to one person
at a time, must take their individual constitution
into account, and can, therefore, be given only by
word of mouth.
On the other hand,
if mindfulness is a virtue, then the ability to
recollect one's own virtues is also a feature of the
Buddhist life. And how can one attend to the
presence or absence of mental states in oneself if
one is unable to recognize them for what they are?
The Satipatthana Sutta recommends systematic
meditation on the wholesome and unwholesome mental
states which arise in the mind. To quote the Sutta,
one knows, for instance: (1) when there is vigour
that there is vigour; (2) when there is no vigour
that there is no vigour; (3) how the vigour which
did not exist came to be produced; and (4) how and
under what conditions it will grow to greater
perfection. Psychology is so vital to Buddhist
instruction because one cannot know anything
definite about the furniture of one's mind unless
one is acquainted with the categories into which
mental conditions can be analyzed. A mindful man is
well informed about his own mental condition. His
capacity for introspection is highly developed. And
his interest in his own mind will not really make
him self-centered as long as he remembers that he
has to deal with the rise and fall of impersonal
processes. In addition, in the case of the higher
mental states, rational clarity is imperative if
constant self-deception and wasteful groping in the
dark are to be avoided. In a new country a map is
helpful so that one may know where one is. The
manuals of mystical theology written by the
practicing contemplatives of the Catholic Church are
also rich in descriptions of the sublimer virtues.
But this is not all.
Where the Buddhist virtues are described for a lay
audience one must not omit to mention the
all-important fact that the upper ranges of these
virtues demand a reformation of the conduct of life
which is greater than almost any layman is willing
to undertake. The higher mindfulness, and nearly the
whole range of concentration and wisdom, presuppose
a degree of withdrawal from the world which is
incompatible with the life of an ordinary citizen.
Those who are unwilling to achieve a radical
seclusion from the world can practice these virtues
only in a very rudimentary form. It is quite idle to
pretend that they do not involve a complete break
with the established habits of life and thought.
Unless we make the sacrifices involved in
withdrawing from the world, we are bound to remain
strangers to the fullness of mindfulness,
concentration and wisdom.
But if the monastic
life is a necessary condition for these virtues, why
talk about them at all? Partly because it is
salutary, though painful, that we should see their
absence in us, and partly because they constitute
the subjective counterpart of the scriptures which
we read. The Suttas describe the world as it appears
on a spiritual level on which concentration and
wisdom have come to maturity. The understanding of
the scriptures is furthered by an understanding of
the subjective attitude which corresponds to them.
And so, although we are forced to go beyond the
range of our immediate experience, and although the
description tends to become more intangible as it
rises to loftier heights, we will now, leaving aside
the higher ranges of mindfulness, try to explain the
traditional definitions of concentration and wisdom,
as they are handed down to us.
Concentration
(samadhi) continues the work of mindfulness. It
deepens our capacity to regain the peaceful calm of
our inner nature. But here we are at once faced with
the difficulty that in Buddhist psychology
"concentration" occurs twice: (1) as a factor
essential to all thought; and (2) as a special, and
rather rare, virtue.
1. In its simplest
form, concentration is the narrowing of the field of
attention in a manner and for a time determined by
the will. The mind is made one-pointed, does not
waver, does not scatter itself, and it becomes
steady like the flame of a lamp in the absence of
wind. Without a certain degree of one-pointedness no
mental activity at all can take place. Each mental
act lasts, strictly speaking, for one moment only,
and is at once followed by another. The function of
concentration is to provide some stability in this
perpetual flux, by enabling the mind to stand in, or
on, the same object, without distraction, for more
than one moment. In addition it is a synthetic
quality (sam-a-dhi = syn-thesis), that binds
together a number of mental states which arise at
the same time, "as water binds the lather of soap."
Buddhaghosa stresses
the fact that intellectual concentration is also
found in unwholesome thoughts. The mind must be
undistracted so that the murderer's knife does not
miss, the theft does not miscarry. A mind of single
intent is capable of doing what it does more
effectively, be it good or bad. The higher degrees
of this kind of concentration owe much to the
presence of the "hunting instinct," and can best be
observed in a stoat following a rabbit. Intellectual
concentration is a quality which is ethically and
spiritually neutral. Many scientific workers have an
unusually high capacity for concentrated thought.
Anyone acquainted with the "scientific humanists"
who inhabit our big cities will, however, agree that
their intellectual achievements are not conducive to
either peace of mind or spiritual progress. When Sir
Isaac Newton boiled his watch instead of the egg his
landlady had given him, he thereby showed the
intensity with which he focussed his mind on his
intellectual task. But the result of his
intellectual labors has been to cast a dark shadow
over the spiritual radiance of the universe, and
ever since, the celestial harmonies have become
nearly inaudible. As H.W. Longfellow, in his poem on
"The Arsenal at Springfield," has put it:
Is it, O man, with
such discordant noises,
With such accursed instruments as these,
Thou drownest Nature's sweet and kindly voices,
And jarrest the celestial harmonies?
2. How then does
concentration as a spiritual virtue differ from
concentration as a condition of the intellect?
Spiritual or transic concentration results less from
intellectual effort than from a rebirth of the whole
personality, including the body, the emotions, and
the will. It cannot possibly be achieved without
some discipline over the body, since we must be able
to endure the prescribed posture, practice the
prescribed breathing exercises, and so on. It is
further built on a change of outlook which we can
well describe as "ethical." Tradition is quite
unambiguous on this point. Before spiritual
concentration can be even approached, we must have
stilled or suppressed five vices, which are known as
the "five hindrances": sense desire, ill will, sloth
and torpor, excitedness and sense of guilt, and
doubt. Where these hindrances are present, where
concentrated thought is fused with greed, the desire
to excel, to get a good job, etc., there
concentration as a spiritual virtue is not found.
In this sense
physical ease and self-purification are the first
two distinctive features of spiritual concentration.
The third is the shift in attention from the sensory
world to another subtler realm. The methods by which
this shift is effected are traditionally known as
the four trances (jhana) and the four
formless attainments. They are essentially a
training in increasing introversion, achieved by
progressively diminishing the impact of the outer
stimuli. As a result of their successful withdrawal
and renunciation the spiritually concentrated
release the inward calm which dwells in their
hearts. This concentration cannot be won, however,
unless no attention is given to sensory data, and
everything sensory is viewed as equally unimportant.
Subjectively it is marked by a soft, tranquil and
pacified passivity, objectively by the abstraction
into an unearthly world of experience which lifts
one above the world, and bestows a certainty greater
than anything the senses may teach. The experience
is so satisfying that it burns up the world, and
only its cold ashes are found when one returns to
it.
And so we come to
wisdom (Skr.: prajna; Pali pañña), the
highest virtue of all.
"Wisdom is based on
concentration, because of the saying: 'One who is
concentrated knows, sees what really is.'"[11]
Is concentration then an indispensable pre-condition
of wisdom? The answer lies in distinguishing three
stages of wisdom, according to whether it operates
on the level of: (1) learning about what
tradition has to say concerning the psychological
and ontological categories which form the
subject-matter of wisdom; (2) discursive
reflection on the basic facts of life; and (3)
meditational development.[12]
The third alone requires the aid of transic
concentration,[13]
whereas without it there can be proficiency in the
first two. And the wisdom which consists of learning
and reflection should not be despised.
The main stream of
Buddhist tradition has always greatly esteemed
learning. Our attitude to the apple of knowledge
differs from that of many Christians. On the whole,
we regard it as rather more nourishing than baneful.
The wisdom, which is the fifth and crowning virtue,
is not the wisdom that can be found in the untutored
child of nature, the corny sage of the backwoods, or
the self-made philosopher of the suburbs. It can
operate only after a great deal of traditional
information has been absorbed, a great deal of sound
learning acquired. The required skill in
metaphysical and psychological analysis would be
impossible without a good knowledge of the material
on which this skill ought to be exercised. From this
point of view learning is perhaps less to be
regretted than its absence.
The second stage,
after learning, is reflection, which is an
operation of the intellect. Even the relative
beginner can greatly increase his wisdom by
discursive meditations on the basic facts of life.
Finally, it is on the level of mental development
(bhavana) that this meditational technique
reaches its maturity, and then it does, indeed,
require the aid of mindfulness and concentration.
"Wisdom" is, of
course, only a very approximate equivalent of
prajna. To the average person nowadays "wisdom"
seems to denote a compound made up of such qualities
as sagacity, prudence, a well-developed sense of
values, serenity, and sovereignty over the world won
by the understanding of the mode of its operation.
The Buddhist conception of "wisdom" is not unlike
this, but more precise. It is best clarified by
first giving its connotations, and then its actual
definition.
As for the
connotations, we read in the Dhammasangani:[14]
"On that occasion the dominant[15]
of wisdom is wisdom, understanding,[16]
search, research, search for dharma;[17]
discernment, discrimination, differentiation,
erudition, expert skill, subtlety, clarity,[18]
reflection, investigation,[19]
amplitude,[20]
sagacity,[21]
a guide (to true welfare and to the marks as they
truly are), insight, comprehension, a goad (which
urges the mind to move back on the right track);
wisdom, wisdom as virtue, wisdom as strength
(because ignorance cannot dislodge it), the sword of
wisdom (which cuts through the defilements), the
lofty (and overtowering) height of wisdom, the
light,[22]
luster and splendor of wisdom, the treasure[23]
of wisdom, absence of delusion, search for
dharmas, right view." From mere cleverness
wisdom is distinguished by its spiritual purpose,
and we are told expressly[24]
that it is designed "to cut off the defilements."
Now to the actual
definition: "Wisdom penetrates[25]
into dharmas as they are in themselves. It
disperses the darkness of delusion, which covers up
the own-being of dharmas."[26]
What then does
wisdom meditate about? Wisdom may be held to concern
itself with three possible topics: (1) true reality;
(2) the meaning of life; (3) the conduct of life.
Buddhist tradition assumes that the second and third
depend on the first. In its essence wisdom is the
strength of mind which permits contact with the true
reality, which is also called the realm of
dharmas. Delusion, folly, confusion, ignorance
and self-deception are the opposites of wisdom. It
is because ignorance, and not sin, is the root evil
that wisdom is regarded as the highest virtue. A
holiness which is devoid of wisdom is not considered
impossible, but it cannot be gained by the path of
knowledge, to which alone these descriptions apply.
The paths of faith, of love, of works, etc., have
each their own several laws.
As the unfaltering
penetration into the true nature of objects, wisdom
is the capacity to meditate in certain ways about
the dharmic constituents of the universe. The rules
of that meditation have been laid down in the
scriptures, particularly in the Abhidharma, and a
superb description can be found in the latter part
of Buddhaghosa's Path of Purification.
Mindfulness and concentration were, as we saw, based
on the assumption of a duality in the mind --
between its calm depth and its excited surface.
Wisdom similarly assumes a duality between the
surface and depth of all things. Objects are not
what they appear to be. Their true reality, in which
they stand out as dharmas, is opposed to
their appearance to commonsense, and much strength
of wisdom is required to go beyond the deceptive
appearance and to penetrate to the reality of
dharmas themselves.
Texts 1-3:
Translated by Edward Conze
Text 4: Translated by Nyanaponika Mahathera
Text 5: Translated by Bhikkhu Nanamoli
(a) From the Milindapanha
The king said: "Is
it through wise attention that people become exempt
from further rebirth?" -- "Yes, that is due to wise
attention, and also to wisdom, and the other
wholesome dharmas." -- "But is not wise
attention the same as wisdom?" -- "No, Your Majesty.
Attention is one thing, and wisdom another. Sheep
and goats, oxen and buffaloes, camels and asses have
attention, but wisdom they have not." -- "Well put,
Venerable Nagasena."
The king said: "What
is the mark of attention, and what is the mark of
wisdom?" -- "Consideration is the mark of attention,
cutting off that of wisdom." -- "How is that? Give
me a simile." -- "You know barley-reapers, I
suppose?" -- "Yes, I do." -- "How then do they reap
the barley?" -- "With the left hand they seize a
bunch of barley, in the right hand they hold a
sickle, and they cut the barley off with that
sickle." -- "Just so, Your Majesty, the yogin seizes
his mental processes with his attention, and by his
wisdom he cuts off the defilements." -- "Well put,
Venerable Nagasena."
The king said: "When
you just spoke of 'the other wholesome dharmas,'
which ones did you mean?" -- "I meant morality,
faith, vigour, mindfulness and concentration." --
"And what is the mark of morality?" -- "Morality has
the mark of providing a basis for all wholesome
dharmas, whatever they may be. When based on
morality, all the wholesome dharmas will not dwindle
away." -- "Give me an illustration." -- "As all
plants and animals which increase, grow, and
prosper, do so with the earth as their support, with
the earth as their basis, just so the yogin, with
morality as his support, with morality as his basis,
develops the five cardinal virtues, i.e., the
cardinal virtues of faith, vigour, mindfulness,
concentration, and wisdom."
"Give me a further
illustration."
"As the builder of a
city when constructing a town first of all clears
the site, removes all stumps and thorns, and levels
it; and only after that he lays out and marks off
the roads and cross-roads, and so builds the city,
even so the yogin develops the five cardinal virtues
with morality as his support, with morality as his
basis."
The king said: "What
is the mark of faith?" -- "Faith makes
serene, and it leaps forward." -- "And how does
faith make serene?" -- "When faith arises it arrests
the five hindrances, and the heart becomes free from
them, clear, serene and undisturbed." -- "Give me an
illustration." -- "A universal monarch might on his
way, together with his fourfold army, cross over a
small stream. Stirred up by the elephants and
horses, by the chariots and infantry, the water
would become disturbed, agitated and muddy. Having
crossed over, the universal monarch would order his
men to bring some water for him to drink. But the
king would possess a miraculous water-clearing gem,
and his men, in obedience to his command, would
throw it into the stream. Then at once all fragments
of vegetation would float away, the mud would settle
at the bottom, the stream would become clear, serene
and undisturbed, and fit to be drunk by the
universal monarch. Here the stream corresponds to
the heart, the monarch's men to the yogin, the
fragments of vegetation and the mud to the
defilements, and the miraculous water-clearing gem
to faith."
"And how does faith
leap forward?" -- "When the yogin sees that the
hearts of others have been set free, he leaps
forward, by way of aspiration, to the various fruits
of the holy life, and he makes efforts to attain the
yet unattained, to find the yet unfound, to realize
the yet unrealized." -- "Give me an illustration."
-- "Suppose that a great cloud were to burst over a
hill-slope. The water then would flow down the
slope, would first fill all the hill's clefts,
fissures, and gullies, and would then run into the
river below, making its banks overflow on both
sides. Now suppose further that a great crowd of
people had come along, and unable to size up either
the width or the depth of the river, should stand
frightened and hesitating on the bank. But then some
man would come along, who, conscious of his own
strength and power, would firmly tie on his own
loin-cloth and jump across the river. And the great
crowd of people, seeing him on the other side, would
cross likewise. Even so the yogin, when he has seen
that the hearts of others have been set free, leaps
forward, by aspiration, to the various fruits of the
holy life, and he makes efforts to attain the yet
unattained, to find the yet unfound, to realize the
yet unrealized. And this is what the Lord has said
in the Samyutta Nikaya:
By faith the flood
is crossed,
By wakefulness the sea;
By vigour ill is passed;
By wisdom cleansed is he."
"Well put,
Nagasena!"
The king asked: "And
what is the mark of vigour?" -- "Vigour props
up, and, when propped up by vigour, all the
wholesome dharmas do not dwindle away." -- "Give me
a simile." -- "If a man's house were falling down,
he would prop it up with a new piece of wood, and,
so supported, that house would not collapse."
The king asked: "And
what is the mark of mindfulness?" -- "Calling
to mind and taking up."
"How is calling to
mind a mark of mindfulness?" -- "When mindfulness
arises, one calls to mind the dharmas which
participate in what is wholesome and unwholesome,
blamable and blameless, inferior and sublime, dark
and light, i.e., these are the four applications of
mindfulness, these the four right efforts, these the
four roads to psychic power, these the five cardinal
virtues, these the five powers, these the seven
limbs of enlightenment, this is the holy eightfold
path; this is calm, this insight, this knowledge and
this emancipation. Thereafter the yogin tends those
dharmas which should be tended, and he does
not tend those which should not be tended; he
partakes of those dharmas which should be
followed, and he does not partake of those which
should not be followed. It is in this sense that
calling to mind is a mark of mindfulness." -- "Give
me a simile." -- "It is like the treasurer of a
universal monarch, who each morning and evening
reminds his royal master of his magnificent assets:
'So many elephants you have, so many horses, so many
chariots, so much infantry, so many gold coins, so
much bullion, so much property; may Your Majesty
bear this in mind.' In this way he calls to mind his
master's wealth."
"And how does
mindfulness take up?" -- "When mindfulness arises,
the outcome of beneficial and harmful dharmas
is examined in this way: 'These dharmas are
beneficial, these harmful; these dharmas are
helpful, these unhelpful.' Thereafter the yogin
removes the harmful dharmas, and takes up the
beneficial ones; he removes the unhelpful
dharmas, and takes up the helpful ones. It is in
this sense that mindfulness takes up." -- "Give me a
comparison." -- "It is like the invaluable adviser
of a universal monarch who knows what is beneficial
and what is harmful to his royal master, what is
helpful and what is unhelpful. Thereafter what is
harmful and unhelpful can be removed, what is
beneficial and helpful can be taken up."
The king asked: "And
what is the mark of concentration?" -- "It
stands at the head. Whatever wholesome dharmas
there may be, they all are headed by concentration,
they bend towards concentration, lead to
concentration, incline to concentration." -- "Give
me a comparison." -- "It is as with a building with
a pointed roof: whatever rafters there are, they all
converge on the top, bend towards the top, meet at
the top, and the top occupies the most prominent
place. So with concentration in relation to the
other wholesome dharmas." -- "Give me a
further comparison." -- "If a king were to enter
battle with his fourfold army, then all his troops
-- the elephants, cavalry, chariots and infantry --
would be headed by him, and would be ranged around
him. Such is the position of concentration in
relation to the other wholesome dharmas."
The king then asked:
"What then is the mark of wisdom?" --
"Cutting off is, as I said before, one mark of
wisdom. In addition it illuminates." -- "And how
does wisdom illuminate?" -- "When wisdom arises, it
dispels the darkness of ignorance, generates the
illumination of knowledge, sheds the light of
cognition, and makes the holy truths stand out
clearly. Thereafter the yogin, with his correct
wisdom, can see impermanence, ill, and not-self." --
"Give me a comparison." -- "It is like a lamp which
a man would take into a dark house. It would dispel
the darkness, would illuminate, shed light, and make
the forms in the house stands out clearly." -- "Well
put, Venerable Nagasena."
Milindapanha,
pp. 51-62
(b) From the Akshayamati Sutra
The five faculties
are faith, vigour, mindfulness, concentration, and
wisdom. Here what is faith? By this faith one
has faith in four dharmas. Which four? He
accepts the right view which assumes renewed
becoming in the world of birth-and-death; he puts
his trust in the ripening of karma, and knows that
he will experience the fruit of any karma, that he
may have done; even to save his life he does not do
any evil deed. He has faith in the mode of life of a
Bodhisattva, and, having taken up this discipline,
he does not long for any other vehicle. He believes
when he hears all the doctrines which are
characterized by the true, clear, and profound
knowledge of conditioned co-production, by such
terms as lack of self, absence of a being, absence
of a soul, absence of a person; and by emptiness,
the signless and the wishless. He follows none of
the false doctrines, and believes in all the
qualities (dharmas) of a Buddha, his powers,
grounds of self-confidence, and all the rest; and
when in his faith he has left behind all doubts, he
brings about in himself those qualities of a Buddha.
This is known as the virtue of faith. His vigour
consists of his bringing about (in himself) the
dharmas in which he has faith. His
mindfulness consists in his preventing the
qualities which he brings about by vigour from being
destroyed by forgetfulness. His concentration
consists in his fixing his one-pointed attention on
these very same qualities. With the faculty of
wisdom he contemplates those dharmas on
which he has fixed his one-pointed attention, and
penetrates to their reality. The cognition of those
dharmas which arises in himself and which has
no outside condition is called the virtue of wisdom.
Thus these five virtues, together, are sufficient to
bring forth all the qualities of a Buddha.
Akshayamati Sutra
(quoted in Shikshasamuccaya).
(a) From Ashvaghosha's Saundaranandakavya
By taking your stand
on mindfulness you must hold back from the
sense-objects your senses, unsteady by nature. Fire,
snakes, and lightning are less inimical to us than
our own senses, so much more dangerous. For they
assail us all the time. Even the most vicious
enemies can attack only some people at some times,
and not at others, but everybody is always and
everywhere weighed down by his senses. And people do
not go to hell because some enemy has knocked them
down and cast them into it; it is because they have
been knocked down by their unsteady senses that they
are helplessly dragged there. Those attacked by
external enemies may, or may not, suffer injury to
their souls; but those who are weighed down by the
senses suffer in body and soul alike. For the five
senses are rather like arrows which have been
smeared with the poison of fancies, have cares for
their feathers, and happiness for their points, and
fly about in the space provided by the range of the
sense-objects; shot off by Kama, the God of
Love, they hit men in their very hearts as a hunter
hits a deer, and if men do not know how to ward off
these arrows, they will be their undoing; when they
come near us we should stand firm in self-control,
be agile and steadfast, and ward them off with the
great armour of mindfulness. As a man who has
subdued his enemies can everywhere live and sleep at
ease and free from care, so can he who has pacified
his senses. For the senses constantly ask for more
by way of worldly objects, and normally behave like
voracious dogs who can never have enough. This
disorderly mob of the senses can never reach
satiety, not by any amount of sense-objects; they
are rather like the sea, which one can go on
indefinitely replenishing with water.
In this world the
senses cannot be prevented from being active, each
in its own sphere. But they should not be allowed to
grasp either the general features of an object, or
its particularities. When you have beheld a
sight-object with your eyes, you must merely
determine the basic element (which it represents,
e.g., it is a sight-object), and should not under
any circumstances fancy it as, say, a "woman" or a
"man." But if now and then you have inadvertently
grasped something as a "woman" or a "man," you
should not follow that up by determining the hairs,
teeth, etc., as lovely. Nothing should be subtracted
from the datum, nothing added to it; it should be
seen as it really is, as what it is like in real
truth.
If you thus try to
look continually for the true reality in that which
the senses present to you, covetousness and aversion
will soon be left without a foothold. Coveting ruins
those living beings who are bent on sensuous
enjoyment by means of pleasing forms, like an enemy
with a friendly face who speaks loving words, but
plans dark deeds. But what is called "aversion" is a
kind of anger directed towards certain objects, and
anyone who is deluded enough to pursue it is bound
to suffer for it either in this or a future life.
Afflicted by their likes and dislikes, as by
excessive heat or cold, men will never find either
happiness or the highest good as long as they put
their trust in the unsteady senses.
Saundaranandakavya,
xiii, 30-56
(b) From the Prajnaparamita
The Lord: When he
practices the perfection of meditation for the sake
of other beings his mind becomes undistracted. For
he reflects that "even worldly meditation is hard to
accomplish with distracted thoughts, how much more
so is full enlightenment. Therefore, I must remain
undistracted until I have won full
enlightenment."...
Moreover, Subhuti, a
Bodhisattva, beginning with the first thought of
enlightenment, practices the perfection of
meditation. His mental activities are associated
with the knowledge of all modes when he enters into
meditation. When he has seen forms with his eye, he
does not seize upon them as signs of realities which
concern him, nor is he interested in the accessory
details. He sets himself to restrain that which, if
he does not restrain his organ of sight, might give
him occasion for covetousness, sadness or other evil
and unwholesome dharmas to reach his heart.
He watches over the organ of sight. And the same
with the other five sense-organs -- ear, nose,
tongue, body and mind.
Whether he walks or
stands, sits or lies down, talks or remains silent,
his concentration does not leave him. He does not
fidget with his hands or feet, or twitch his face;
he is not incoherent in his speech, confused in his
senses, exalted or uplifted, fickle or idle,
agitated in body or mind. Calm is his body, calm is
his voice, calm is his mind. His demeanour shows
contentment, both in private and public... He is
frugal, easy to feed, easy to serve, of good life
and habits; though in a crowd he dwells apart; even
and unchanged, in gain and loss; not elated, not
cast down. Thus in happiness and suffering, in
praise and blame, in fame and disrepute, in life or
death, he is the same unchanged, neither elated nor
cast down. And so with foe or friend, with what is
pleasant or unpleasant, with holy or unholy men,
with noises or music, with forms that are dear or
undear, he remains the same, unchanged, neither
elated nor cast down, neither gratified nor
thwarted. And why? Because he sees all dharmas
as empty of marks of their own, without true
reality, incomplete and uncreated.
Prajnaparamita,
ch. 68.
(c) From the Visuddhimagga
This is the morality
which consists in the restraint of the senses:
"Here someone: (1) having seen a form with his eye,
does not seize on its general appearance, or the
(accessory) details of it. That which might, so long
as he dwells unrestrained as to the (controlling)
force of the eye, give occasion for covetous, sad,
evil and unwholesome dharmas to flood him, that he
sets himself to restrain; he guards the controlling
force of the eye, and brings about its restraint.
And likewise (2) when he has heard sounds with the
ear, (3) smelled smells with the nose, (4) tasted
tastes with the tongue, (5) touched touchables with
the body, (6) cognized mind-objects (dharmas) with
the mind." (M.i,180).
Having seen a form
with his eye:
when he has seen a form with the visual
consciousness which is capable of seeing forms, and
which in normal language is usually called the
"eye," though it actually is its tool. For the
Ancients have said: "The eye cannot see forms
because it is without thought; thought cannot see
forms because it is without eye. When the object
knocks against the door (of sight) one sees with the
thought which has eye-sensibility for its basis." In
the expression "one sees with the eye," only
accessory equipment is indicated, just as one may
say, "one shoots with a bow" (and not "with an
arrow"). Therefore, the meaning here is: "having
seen form with visual consciousness."
He does not seize on
its general appearance
(lit. "the sign"): he does not seize on its
appearance as man or woman, or its appearance as
attractive, etc., which makes it into a basis for
the defiling passions. But he stops at what is
actually seen. He does not seize on the details
of it: he does not seize on the variety of its
accessory features, like the hands or feet, the
smile, the laughter, the talk, the looking here, the
looking away, etc., which are in common parlance
called "details" (anubyanjana) because they
manifest the defiling passions, by again and again
(anu anu) tainting with them (byanjanato).
But he seizes only on that which is really there,
i.e., the impurity of the 32 parts of the body) like
Mahatissa, the Elder, who lived on Mount Cetiya.
Once that Elder went from Mount Cetiya to
Anuradhapura, to gather alms. In a certain family
the daughter-in-law had quarreled with her husband,
and adorned and beautified like a heavenly maiden,
she left Anuradhapura early in the morning, and went
away to stay with some relatives. On the way she saw
the Elder, and, as her mind was perverted, she gave
a loud laugh. The Elder looked to see what was the
matter; he acquired, at the sight of her teeth
(-bones), the notion of repulsiveness (impurity),
and thereby reached Arahatship... The husband who
ran after her on same road, saw the Elder, and asked
him whether he had by any chance seen a woman. The
Elder replied:
"Whether what went
along here
Was a man or a woman, I do not know.
But a collection of bones is moving
Now along this main road."
That which might,
etc.: that which might be the reason, or that
non-restraint of the faculty of the eye which might
be the cause, why in this person, when he dwells
without having restrained the faculty of the eye
with the gate of mindfulness, i.e., when he has left
the door of the eye open, such dharmas as
covetousness, etc., flood him, i.e., pursue
and submerge him. That he sets himself to
restrain: he sets himself to close this faculty
of the eye with the gate of mindfulness. And one who
sets himself to do that, of him it is said that he
guards the controlling force of the eye, and
brings about its restraint.
But it is not with
reference to the faculty of the eye itself that
there is restraint or non-restraint (i.e., it does
not apply to the initial stage of the impact of
stimulus on the eye), and it is not concerning the
eye considered as a sensitive organ that mindfulness
arises, or the lack of it. But it is at (the stage
of the apperception of the object, with such and
such a meaning and significance, and the volitional
reaction to it, which is technically known as) the
"impulsive moment," that there is lack of restraint,
if and when immorality arises then, or lack of
mindfulness, or lack of cognition, lack of patience
or laziness. Nevertheless one speaks of the
non-restraint of the sense of sight. And why?
Because when the mind is in that condition, also the
door (of the eye) is unguarded. The situation can be
compared with that of a city: when its four gates
are unguarded, then, although in the interior of the
city the doors of the houses, the storerooms and
private rooms are well guarded, nevertheless all the
property in the city is actually unguarded and
unprotected, and robbers can, once they have entered
through the city gates, do whatever they like. In
the same sense also the door (of the eye) is
unguarded when, in consequence of the arising of
immorality, etc., there is lack of restraint at the
"impulsive moment."
But when morality,
etc., arise at that moment, then the door (of sight)
also is guarded. Just again as with the city: When
the city-gates are well guarded, then, although in
the interior the doors of the houses, etc., are
unguarded, nevertheless all the property in the city
is actually well guarded and well protected; for the
city-gates being closed, robbers cannot enter. Just
so also the door (of the eye) is guarded when
morality, etc., arise at the "impulsive moment." The
same explanation applies to: when he has heard
sounds with the ear, etc. The restraint of the
senses thus consists, in short, in the avoiding of
the seizing of the general appearance, etc., of
sight-objects, etc., which lead to one's being
pursued by the defiling passions.
And it should be
achieved through mindfulness. For it is effected by
mindfulness, in so far as the sense-organs when they
are governed by mindfulness, can no longer be
influenced by convetousness, etc. Therefore, we
should remember the "Fire Sermon" (S.iv,168) which
says: "It were better, monks, if the eye were
stroked with a heated iron bar, afire, ablaze,
aflame, than that one should seize on either the
general appearance or the details of the forms of
which the eye is aware." The disciple should achieve
a thorough restraint of the senses, in that, by
unimpaired mindfulness, he prevents that seizing on
the general appearance, etc., which makes the
consciousness which proceeds through the door of the
eye, etc., with forms, etc., for its range
(province), liable to be flooded (influenced) by
covetousness, etc.
And one should
become like Cittagutta, the Elder, who lived in the
great Kurandaka Cave. In that cave there was a
delightful painting which showed the seven Buddhas
leaving for the homeless life. One day numerous
monks were wandering about in the cave, going from
lodging to lodging. They noticed the painting and
said: "What a delightful painting, Venerable
Bhikkhu!" The Elder replied: "For more than sixty
years, brethren, I have lived in this cave, and I
have never known whether there is a painting here or
whether there is not. Today only I have learned it
from you people, who use your eyes." For all that
time during which the Elder had lived there, he had
never lifted up his eyes and looked more closely at
the cave. At the entrance to the cave there was a
large ironwood tree. To that also the Elder had
never looked up; but he knew that it was in flower
when each year he saw the filaments which had fallen
down on the ground.
All the sons of good
family who have their own welfare at heart should,
therefore, remember:
"Let not the eye
wander like forest ape,
Or trembling wood deer, or affrighted child.
The eyes should be cast downwards; they should look
The distance of a yoke; he shall not serve
His thought's dominion, like a restless ape."
Visuddhimagga, I,
42, 53-59, 100, 104-5, 109
From the Majjhima Nikaya and Commentary
The Sutta on the
Composition of Ideas:[27]
If, whilst attending
to a certain sign, there arise, with reference to
it, in the disciple evil and unwholesome ideas,
connected with greed, hate or delusion, then the
disciple:
I. should, by means
of this sign (= cause, occasion) attend to another
sign which is more wholesome;
II. or he should
investigate the peril of these ideas: "Unwholesome
truly are these ideas! Blameworthy are these ideas!
Of painful result are these ideas!";
III. or he should
pay no attention to these ideas;
IV. or he should
attend to the composition of the factors which
effect these ideas;
V. or, with teeth
clenched and tongue pressed against the gums, he
should by means of sheer mental effort hold back,
crush and burn out the (offending) thought.
In doing so, these
evil and unwholesome ideas, bound up with greed,
hate or delusion, will be forsaken and disappear;
from their forsaking thought will become inwardly
settled and calm, composed and concentrated. This is
called the effort to overcome.
The Commentary says:
I. Unwholesome ideas
may arise with reference to beings -- be they
desirable, undesirable, or unconsidered -- or to
things, such as one's possessions, or things which
annoy, like stumps or thorns. The wholesome
counter-ideas which drive them out arise from the
following practices, which are directly opposed to
them:
Greed about beings:
Meditation about the repulsiveness of the body.
Greed about things:
Attention to their impermanence.
Hate for beings: The
development of friendliness.
Hate for things:
Attention to the elements: which of the physical
elements composing the thing am I angry with?
Delusion about
beings and things:
(1) When he has, in
his general bewilderment, neglected his duties to a
teacher, he wakes himself up by doing some tiresome
work, such as carrying water.
(2) When he has been
hazy in attending to the teacher's explanation of
the doctrine, he wakes himself up by doing some
tiresome work.
(3) He removes his
doubts by questioning authorities.
(4) At the right
time he listens respectfully to the Dharma.
(5) He acquires the
skill in distinguishing between correct and faulty
conclusions, and knows that "this is the reason for
that, this is not the reason."
These are the direct
and correct antidotes to the faulty ideas.
II. He investigates
them with the power of wisdom, and rejects them like
a snake's carcass.
III. He should not
remember those ideas, not attend to them, but become
one who is otherwise engaged. He should be like
someone who, not wanting to see a certain
sight-object, just closes his eyes; when these ideas
arise in his mind, he should take hold of his basic
subject of meditation, and become engaged in that.
It may help him to break the spell of intruding
thoughts and to occupy his mind otherwise, if he
recites with great faith a passage from the
Scriptures, or reads out a passage in praise of the
Buddha or Dharma; or he may sort out his belongings,
and enumerate them one by one: "these are the
scissors," "this is the needle," etc.; or he should
do some sewing; or he should do some good work for a
given period of time. And after that he should
return to his basic subject of meditation.
IV. He should
analyze the conditions for these ideas and ask
himself: "What is their cause, what their condition,
what the reason for their having arisen?"
V. He should put
forth great vigour, and with a wholesome thought he
should hold back an unwholesome one.
Majjhima Nikaya, No.
20, and Papañcasudani (Summary)
(a) At their Best
There are these five
faculties, monks: the faculty of faith, the faculty
of vigour, the faculty of mindfulness, the faculty
of concentration and the faculty of wisdom.
Where can the
faculty of faith be seen (at its best)? In the four
characteristic qualities of a stream-winner.[28]
Where can the
faculty of vigour be seen (at its best)? In the four
right efforts.[29]
Where can the
faculty of mindfulness be seen (at its best)? In the
four foundations of mindfulness.[30]
Where can the
faculty of concentration be seen (at its best)? In
the four meditative absorptions.[31]
Where can the
faculty of wisdom be seen (at its best)? In the Four
Noble Truths.[32]
Sutta 8 (PTS, iv,196)
(b) The Measure of Achievement
By accomplishment
and perfection in the five faculties one is an
arahant. If the faculties are weaker, one is a
nonreturner; if they are still weaker, one is a
once-returner, or a stream-winner, or a
Dhamma-devotee (dhammanusarin), or a
faith-devotee (saddhanusarin).
Thus, monks, through
the difference of faculties, there is difference of
result; and the difference of results makes for the
difference of individuals.
Sutta 13
Thus, monks, he who
practices the five faculties to their perfection,
wins to perfection (of arahantship). He who
practices them partially, wins a partial result. Not
barren (of results), I say, are the five faculties.
Sutta 14
But he who is
entirely, in any degree and respect, without these
five faculties, stands outside, in the class of
ordinary men (puthujjana).
Sutta 18
(iv,200-202)
(c) Rooted in Experience
Thus I have heard.
On one occasion when the Exalted One lived in the
Eastern Cottage at Savatthi, he addressed the
Venerable Sariputta as follows:
"Do you believe,
Sariputta, that the faculty of faith, if cultivated
and regularly practiced, leads to the Deathless, is
bound for the Deathless, ends in the Deathless; that
the faculty of vigour... the faculty of
mindfulness... the faculty of concentration... the
faculty of wisdom, if cultivated and regularly
practiced, leads to the Deathless, is bound for the
Deathless, ends in the Deathless?"
"Herein, O Lord, I
do not follow the Exalted One out of faith. Those by
whom this is unknown, unseen, uncognized, unrealized
and unexperienced by wisdom, they will herein follow
others out of faith. But those by whom this is
known, seen, cognized, realized and experienced by
wisdom, they have no uncertainty, no doubt about it
that these five faculties, if cultivated and
regularly practiced, lead to the Deathless, are
bound for the Deathless, end in the Deathless. By
me, O Lord, it has been known, seen, cognized,
realized and experienced by wisdom and I have no
uncertainty, no doubt about it that the faculty of
faith... the faculty of vigour... the faculty of
mindfulness... the faculty of concentration... the
faculty of wisdom, if cultivated and regularly
practiced, leads to the Deathless, is bound for the
Deathless, ends in the Deathless."
"Well said,
Sariputta, well said," spoke the Lord (and he
repeated in approval the words of the Venerable
Sariputta).
Sutta 44
(iv,220)
(d) Wisdom, the Crowning Virtue -- 1
It is through
cultivating and regularly practicing one faculty
that a canker-free bhikkhu makes known his knowledge
(of final attainment):[33]
"Ceased has rebirth, fulfilled is the holy life, the
task is done, nothing further remains after this."
Which is the one faculty? The faculty of wisdom.
In a noble disciple
endowed with wisdom, faith that goes along with it,
is firmly established; vigour that goes along with
it, is firmly established; mindfulness that goes
along with it, is firmly established; concentration
that goes along with it, is firmly established.
This, monks, is the one faculty through the
cultivating and regularly practicing of which, a
canker-free bhikkhu makes known his knowledge (of
final attainment): "Ceased has rebirth, fulfilled is
the holy life, the task is done, nothing further
remains after this."
Sutta 45
(iv,222)
(e) Wisdom, the Crowning Virtue -- II
Just as among all
heartwood fragrances that of the red sandalwood is
deemed best, so, monks, among states that partake of
enlightenment the faculty of wisdom is deemed best,
namely, for the purpose of enlightenment.
Which, monks, are
the states partaking of enlightenment? The faculty
of faith is a state partaking of enlightenment and
it leads to enlightenment. The faculty of vigour...
the faculty of mindfulness... the faculty of
concentration... the faculty of wisdom is a state
partaking of enlightenment and it leads to
enlightenment.
And among them, the
faculty of wisdom is deemed best, namely, for the
purpose of enlightenment.
Sutta 55
(iv,231)
(f) The Acme of Faith
Thus I have heard.
On one occasion, the Exalted One dwelt among the
Anga people, at Apana, a town of the Angas. There
the Exalted One addressed the Venerable Sariputta as
follows:
"A noble disciple,
Sariputta, who has single-minded confidence in the
Perfect One, can he have uncertainty or doubt
concerning the Perfect One's dispensation?"
"A noble disciple,
Lord, who has single-minded confidence in the
Perfect One, cannot have uncertainty or doubt
concerning the Perfect One's dispensation.
"Of a noble disciple
endowed with faith it can be expected, Lord, that he
will live employing his vigour to the overcoming of
unsalutary states and the acquisition of salutary
states, energetic, with strenuous exertion,
unremittingly applying himself to things salutary.
This vigour of his, O Lord, is his faculty of
vigour.
"Of a noble disciple
who is endowed with faith and employs his vigour, it
can be expected, Lord, that he will be mindful,
equipped with the highest mindfulness and
circumspection, and that he remembers well and keeps
in mind what has been done and said long ago. This
mindfulness of his, Lord, is his faculty of
mindfulness.
"Of a noble disciple
who is endowed with faith, employing his vigour,
keeping his mindfulness alert, it can be expected,
Lord, that making the highest relinquishment
(Nibbana) his object, he will obtain concentration,
will obtain unification of mind. This concentration
of his, Lord, is his faculty of concentration.
"Of a noble disciple
endowed with faith, vigour and mindfulness, and
whose mind is concentrated, it can be expected,
Lord, that he will know this: 'Without a conceivable
beginning and end is this round of existence; no
first beginning can be perceived of beings hastening
and hurrying on (through this round of rebirths),
enveloped in ignorance and ensnared by craving. The
entire fading away and cessation of this very
ignorance which is a mass of darkness, this is the
state of peace, this is the state sublime, namely,
the quiescence of all formations, the relinquishment
of all subtrata of existence, the extinction of
craving, dispassion, cessation, Nibbana.' This
wisdom of his, Lord, is the faculty of wisdom.
"The noble disciple
who has faith, after thus striving again and again,
after thus applying mindfulness again and again,
after thus concentrating his mind again and again,
is now fully convinced: 'These teachings which
before I had only heard, I now dwell in their
personal experience, and having penetrated them with
wisdom, I now see them (myself).' This faith of his,
Lord, is his faculty of faith."
"Well said,
Sariputta, well said," spoke the Exalted One (and he
repeated in approval the words of the Venerable
Sariputta).
Sutta 50
(iv,225ff.)
From the Visuddhimagga
[According to the
Visuddhimagga, the balance of the faculties
(indriya-samatta) is one of the ten kinds of
skill in absorption (appana-kosalla), and it
is one of the seven things that lead to the arising
of the enlightenment factor "investigation of
(material and mental) phenomena"
(dhammavicaya-sambojjhanga).]
Imparting balance to
the faculties is the equalizing of the controlling
faculties of faith, vigour, mindfulness,
concentration and wisdom. For if the faith faculty
is strong and the others weak, then the vigour
faculty cannot perform its function of exerting, the
mindfulness faculty its function of attending to the
object, the concentration faculty its function of
excluding distraction, the wisdom faculty its
function of seeing. So the (excessive) strength of
the faith faculty should be reduced by reflecting on
the phenomenal nature (of faith and its objects),
and by not paying attention to what has caused the
excessive strength of the faith faculty. Then if the
vigour faculty is too strong, the faith
faculty cannot perform its function of convincing,
nor can the rest of the faculties perform their
several functions. So in that case the excessive
strength of the vigour faculty should be reduced by
cultivating (the enlightenment factors of)
tranquillity, concentration and equanimity. So, too,
with the other factors, for it should be understood
that when any one of them is too strong the others
cannot perform their several functions.
However, what is
particularly recommended is the balancing of faith
with wisdom, and concentration with vigour. For one
who is strong in faith and weak in wisdom places his
confidence foolishly in an unworthy object. One
strong in wisdom and weak in faith errs on the side
of cunning and is as hard to cure as a sickness
caused by medicine. But with the balancing of the
two, faith and wisdom, a man has confidence only in
a deserving object.
If there is too much
of concentration and too little of vigour, the mind
will be overpowered by indolence to which
concentration inclines. But if vigour is too strong
and concentration too weak, the mind will be
overpowered by agitation to which vigour inclines.
But concentration coupled with vigour cannot lapse
into indolence, and vigour coupled with
concentration cannot lapse into agitation. So these
two should be balanced; for absorption comes with
the balancing of the two.
Again (concentration
and faith should be balanced). One working on
concentration needs strong faith, since it is with
such faith and confidence that he reaches
absorption.
As to (the balancing
of) concentration and wisdom, one working on
concentration (i.e., who practices tranquillity;
samatha) needs strong one-pointedness of mind,
since that is how he reaches full absorption; and
one working on insight (vipassana) needs
strong wisdom, since that is how he reaches
penetration of (the phenomena's) characteristics;
but with the balancing of the two he reaches full
absorption as well.
Strong mindfulness,
however, is needed in all instances; for mindfulness
protects the mind from lapsing into agitation
through faith, vigour and wisdom, which tend to
agitation, and from lapsing into indolence through
concentration, which tends to indolence. So it is as
desirable in all instances as a seasoning of salt in
all curries, as a prime minister in all the king's
business. Hence it is said (in the commentaries):
"It was declared by the Exalted One that
'mindfulness, indeed, is of universal use.' Why?
Because the mind has mindfulness as its refuge, and
mindfulness is manifested as protection, and there
is no exertion and restraint of the mind without
mindfulness."
Visuddhimagga,
(pp.129-30), Adapted from Bhikkhu Nanamoli's
translation: The Path of Purification,
pp.135-36
1.
The word indriya is derived from the Vedic
god Indra, the ruler of the gods in the ancient
pantheon. Hence the word suggests the idea of
dominance or control. [Go
back]
2.
See Selected Texts below, Section 5. [Go
back]
3.
Don Quixote fights "commending himself to God and
his mistress" and he feels himself as an instrument
of Dulcinea who infuses valour into his arms. "She
fights in me, she is victorious in me and I live and
breathe in her, receive life and being itself from
her." He thus belongs to the large band of those who
sustain their faith by the love of a feminine being
and his Dulcinea corresponds to the Virgin Mary of
the Catholics and to the Tara and Prajnaparamita of
Mahayana Buddhism. [Go
back]
4.
Zen in English Literature, 1948, p.199. [Go
back]
5.
Ibid., p.201. [Go
back]
6.
See Visuddhimagga, IV,45-49. [Go
back]
7.
Faith lends itself to emotional excitement; vigour
to the excitement of doing things and wanting to do
more; wisdom to the excitement of discovery. [Go
back]
8.
Visuddhimagga, IV,49 [Go
back]
9.
Majjhima Nikaya, i,57. [Go
back]
10.
The commentary to this passage should be consulted.
It has been translated in Bhikkhu Soma, The Way
of Mindfulness, 1949, pp.18-31. [Go
back]
11.
Samyutta Nikaya, iii,13; Visuddhimagga,
XIV,7. [Go
back]
12.
E.g., Abhidharmakosha, vi, pp.142-144. [Go
back]
13.
Trimshika by Vasubandhu, ed. S. Levi,
1925-26. [Go
back]
14.
Sec. 16; commentary in Atthasalini, PTS, 1897
(=Asl.), pp.147-49. [Go
back]
15.
Indriya. Asl. 122: "Through
overwhelming ignorance it is a 'dominant' in the
sense of 'dominant influence'; or it is a 'dominant'
because by exercising discernment (dassana)
it dominates (associated dharmas)." [Go
back]
16.
Asl. 123: "As a clever surgeon knows which
foods are suitable and which are not, so wisdom,
when it arises, understands dharmas as wholesome or
unwholesome, serviceable or unserviceable, low or
exalted, dark or brigh