Taught by His Holiness Himself

((EDITED to include more fun links!))

I am not a religious person.

About 80% of the videos in my YouTube favorites that are not dance related involve Christopher Hitchens, Richard Dawkins, Matt Dillahunty, or George Carlin. Or Neil Degrasse Tyson. Oh, and this lady. I do not believe that a person needs religion in order to be “good.” I've been around for about 3 decades at this point, and it's my observation that for all the good religion has done in the world, it's done at least as much harm. I believe that if you can be compassionate and generous, and try not to do harm to others, then you're probably a pretty decent human being. No fancy book or fire & brimstone necessary.

I've tried to be religious. There was a time when I wanted it. I liked the idea of finding some elusive truth about life, I liked the ceremony and ritual that goes along with religion. I liked the idea of belonging to a group.

So I tried a few. I learned a little about Judaism, I went to a variety of Christian church services, I checked out some eastern religions. I made some Muslim friends and learned a bit about Islam. None of it felt right. I drifted further and further from feeling like I needed something mystical and embraced science as a means to understand the universe.

You may find it a little ironic, then, that I chose to spend 4 months in the capital of the Tibetan nation-in-exile and home of His Holiness the Dalai Lama (hereafter referred to as HH), religious leader of the world's Buddhists.

I am not Buddhist. However, I think that Buddhism on the whole has got more right than most other religions. Statements like this are why I respect HH enough to even refer to him as such (you won't find me doing the same for, say, the Pope).

Anyway, on to the story. This morning I attended the first in a series of teachings that HH is doing at the local temple, his “home base,” here in McLeod Ganj. All I had to do was show up to the branch office earlier in the week before 5pm with two passport size photos, my actual passport, fill out a short form and pay 10 rupees, and off I went with my pass to attend the teachings. Sweet deal.

This morning around 7:30 we approached the temple with our passes, cushions, and umbrellas (it's still monsoon season, and it's unpredictable) in hand. To the right, up the steps to the temple, was a sea of monk burgundy. To the left was a crowd of blue, pink, khaki, denim, and a sign that read “Entrance No. 3 – Foreigners Only.” We went that way. As usual, the line for women was much longer than the line for guys (if you've ever been to a bathroom at, say, a theme park you know what I mean); security lines are always divided by gender, and they had a good half a dozen workers for each today. We patiently waited our turn and after receiving a thorough pat-down, proceeded into the temple. In front of the gates which I believe lead to HH's private residence, there is a big painting on the ground. There is a yin yang in the center and fabric flowing around the outside (no cameras allowed in the temple and I couldn't find a photo online. Sorry).

The monks got the best seats, and then the next best were reserved for Tibetan laypeople. They had the best view of the giant Buddha in the center of the temple in front of which HH would sit while he taught. We walked up the stairs and made our way through the smell of people and -- to my surprise, though perhaps it shouldn't have been -- marijuana to the spots Julie had reserved for us near the front of the “English Language Section” room in one of the smaller temples. There are an awful lot of tourists in town these days; I can't even begin to tell you how many dreadlocked neo-hippies with billowy pants and Om necklaces I have seen. I know I'm just as white as any of them, but I feel a little more local because I'm actually living here, if only for a few months. So it goes.

Mats were laid out on the ground, but most people brought a personal cushion as well. I myself bought one in town yesterday for 200 rupees because I learned my lesson the last time I attended a temple event without something to sit on. The walls inside the temple were painted elaborately, with subdued red and blue dominating the color scheme. Gold accents abounded. Statues lined the walls and stood in glass cases (which were themselves ornately carved and decorated). In front of and in contrast to the handsome religious icons sat offerings of Choco Pies and Munchini Wafer Twigs. There were also a fair amount of apples. Lotuses with electric lights in them glowed softly all around the figures.

The large flatscreen TV at the front of the room still had the stickers on the frame; a bright yellow backdrop had been hung behind it. The screen showed the main room of the temple which was full of nuns dressed in lavender robes. Our room filled and as it neared 8am, the time the teaching was supposed to start, everyone stood. I looked back and forth between the TV and out the windows trying to catch a glimpse of the speaker everyone had come to see. Eventually all the Tibetans sat down, so we did too. It was around this point that I had my first real feeling of “Wow, I'm really here.” Any minute the Dalai Lama, one of the most famous – and quite respected – people in the world is going to be a few hundred feet from where I'm sitting. I might get to actually see him live, in person.

Everyone in the English room began to crowd around the few doors that led out to the hallway. I moved toward the one closest to me, hoping that as he walked past I'd get a clear view.

Monks with incense walked past. A camera crew walked past. And then HH himself came to the door, and then came in. He greeted those closest to the door and then walked to the center of the front of the room, where the TV was, and addressed the room in English saying that there were new security measures which meant that we had to stay in that room and listen to the translation (previously everyone brought a radio and headphones, and you dialed to the FM station with the English – or Russian, or Chinese, or whichever you wanted – translation and listened to it that way), so he wanted to come in and “show his face” to us. He smiled, as he is known to do, and spoke in a very relaxed and friendly manner.

He was six feet from me. SIX FEET. I was six feet from the Dalai Lama. Even for an atheist like myself that's pretty damn cool. If I'd pushed my way to the front of the doorway I probably could have shaken his hand or something; I guess that's what I get for being non-confrontational, eh? Whatever, I'm content.

He proceeded to the center temple and took his seat, cross-legged, in front of the microphones. He arranged his abundant robes easily and skillfully. Behind him was a backdrop of red brocade with golden flowers, the whole thing edged in white. Behind that was an elaborate sculpture involving Chinese dragons. Behind that towered the giant golden statue of Buddha, the wall behind him painted a bright blue that was echoed in the tapestry that had been draped over HH's podium. Both shapes together served to frame the teachers: one a man dressed in yellow robes, and the other, larger than life, a shining golden tribute to the Buddha himself. (During a break later I took a walk around the temple and looked in to see this in person, not on the screen. It was pretty surreal.)

HH put on his headset microphone and for a minute the only sound coming through the loudspeakers was the gentle sound of his breathing. He began to speak in Tibetan, and as I watched him on the screen I could hear him – not through the speakers but through the wall to the next room. Some technical difficulties were being had with the sound equipment in our room, but they got it working just in time to catch the part of the translation where HH said “welcome to the westerners who are not traditionally Buddhist, who came here for the teachings...” which I couldn't help but selfishly feel was a bit poetic.

He led a couple of chants and then began his teachings. HH would speak for a few minutes and then stop and look pointedly at the translator in the room with him and the nuns in lavender. She began translating, and then so did the other translators, and HH waited patiently, rocking gently from side to side as they relayed the message to the hundreds, perhaps thousands, of people in the temple.

This setup was nice because we got to hear the voice of HH himself – which sounds so strikingly like that of Yoda that I got to wondering if the little green sage was based, at least in part, on this red-and-yellow-robed monk. As he waited for the translators to finish, he drank tea from his white mug with red decoration at the top; I took it as a cue that it was okay to eat my own bread and drink the tea some monks had passed out while he had been talking.

From here on out I will relay what he said as closely as I can. Keep in mind, though, that it was translated once already and I was scribbling trying to keep up, so there's a fair chance I'm not entirely correct on all the points. It should be enough to get the gist of the teaching.

HH said that “it is a habit of religion to rely on faith.” For the last 45,000 years we have done this, he said. What is the benefit? It may not benefit us today to rely on faith. For example, many lifestyle guidelines be of use but others may be outdated today.

This is the point where my ears perked up and I decided I was genuinely interested in the teaching itself. Until this point I was excited just to be sharing in the experience, kind of how when I went to the Rally to Restore Sanity a few years ago I didn't mind that I couldn't hear most of what was going on; it was cool just to be a part of it. To hear a holy man open with a statement that faith in religion may be misplaced and unnecessary was intriguing. And admirable.

He went on to explain that in the 21^st century, many of our needs are fulfilled through science and technology. Through these we can experience greater pleasure through all our senses: seeing sights, hearing music; he spoke vaguely but did specifically mention “sexual pleasure” in reference to touch. I found this interesting coming from a monk. He just kept on surprising me.

He then stated that “real happiness can't come from sensory experiences” and that “people today see that limitations can help achieve real happiness.” I suppose I shouldn't have been too surprised; he is still a religious leader. He said that there is an awful lot of competition and injustice in the world, even in very religious places like India, such that it is clear religion on its own is not responsible for eradicating said injustice.

“There are 6 billion people in the world who profess to be believers,” he went on, “and 1 billion to profess to be nonbelievers.” Many of both groups focus on the material in life and lack moral ethics. He used this to introduce the idea of “secular morality,” to which he referred throughout the next few hours. He said that animals clearly respond to sensory stimulation; in fact in many cases their senses are much more highly developed than ours. We as humans must, therefore, differentiate ourselves from them if we are to be truly more advanced than animals, and so that is why we must develop our minds.

At this point I admit I got a little distracted by the western guy who wandered in at the front of the room. He looked just like Frank Turner and my fangirl self had to make sure it wasn't actually him. (It wasn't. No tats.)

HH said that secular ethics means practicing kindness; it ought to be the basis of everything we do, before religion even enters into the equation. “We are social animals,” he said, and by practicing secular ethics we can gain trust and build friendship, both of which are essential if we are to live together as a community. “We must learn to develop a warm heart,” he said. Despite being a nonbeliever you can be happy if you develop a warm heart and practice kindness, he said. Religious people will also be happier if they do this.

The translation ended and HH began speaking again (in Tibetan, as he had been). It was to great effect, then, when he clearly said the word “forgiveness” with great emphasis, in English. As it turns out, he said that all major world religions teach the same basic tenets: love, compassion, tolerance, forgiveness, contentment, and self-discipline. Buddhism adds to this the endeavor to avoid harming any sentient being.

“When we follow secular ethics,” he said, “it doesn't matter what religion we follow.”

He spoke about theists and non-theists, explaining that Buddhism is a non-theistic religion in that it views pain and pleasure as arising from “causes and conditions” as opposed to the theistic view that everything is created by a creator (or creators). He used the analogy of illness: theists are at a disadvantage because they believe that an illness arises because it is “meant to be,” whereas non-theists can look at the same situation and recognize that there must be some cause behind the suffering, and by changing that cause we can change the situation. Buddhism is a reason-based faith, he said. Even the Buddha himself urged his students to listen to his teachings and consider them, and not to follow him blindly.

HH spoke deliberately, yet gently. I didn't get the feeling that he was trying to convince us of anything, merely calling it like he saw it. He smiled from time to time and laughed occasionally. Cows lowed outside. The fog rolled in and people wrapped up in shawls and blankets.

The camera occasionally cut to the crowd. The older Tibetans listened intently, many of them fingering prayer beads. I wondered how many people must have been there.

HH's lesson became less broad and he began to talk about specifics of Buddhism with which I wasn't familiar. He said that the four schools of Buddhism had developed because the four disciples of the Buddha had had different dispositions. Or something like that.

My mind began to wander a bit and I considered learning another language, and possibly getting into translation/interpretation. I had wanted to a few years back when I took a sign language class. I'm setting up to take some Hindi classes since I'll be here for a while; we'll see where it goes from there.

I lent my cushion to the woman next to me, Linda, because she seemed to be getting terribly uncomfortable on the provided mat, and she kind of reminded me of my mom besides. We talked later and I found out that she is from Washington DC and used to teach English in the Middle East, but now is traveling around India. She's got a Master's degree in some kind of Asian studies and is herself a Buddhist.

I tuned back into what HH was saying to hear that “we must always respect other religions. Stay faithful to your own, but respect the others.” Again he used the analogy of medicine: just because a particular medicine is good for you it doesn't mean that it's the best out there, it must fit the condition and the disposition of the body you are putting it into. So, too, must religion fit the disposition of the believer. He talked of a Christian friend he had who used to ask him about compassion. They would discuss it; when the friend asked him about emptiness, though, HH's response was that “emptiness is not your business, it's Buddhist business.” He and the Tibetans laughed, and the others when the translation came through. He went on to explain that his explanation of a thoroughly Buddhist aspect of religion might undermine his friend's belief in his own religion, and so he was not going to engage in that discussion. He said that you can have faith in a religion without logic or reason; however, if someone comes along and uses those very things to discuss your religion with you, your faith may be shaken. This is why students of Buddhism are taught to examine the teachings and find truth in them themselves. He said that he always points out the logical inconsistencies in the different schools of Buddhism, but at the same time, he maintains respect for them.

At least that is my understanding of the whole thing. Again, I'm not Buddhist. If I get some of this wrong it isn't intentional; I'm not a scholar on the subject and don't claim to be.

He closed the 4 hours of teaching by reminding us that even “the Buddha” was not eternally enlightened, from the beginning; he was a regular person just like any of us who was transformed, through causes and conditions, into an enlightened being. He explained that there would not be teachings in the afternoon because he gets quite exhausted (he's in his 70s), but that there would be a discussion held for anyone who wanted to attend.

I decided instead to write this blog post so you all could share in the experience. As I left the temple I found that they were feeding everyone lunch. Everyone. If you brought a bowl, a plate, a cup, anything you could conceivably put rice and dal into, you got fed. I, sadly, had not. I'm going to be smarter tomorrow. Tomorrow morning is another teaching, as well as Tuesday; we don't have classes at Tibet Charity until Wednesday because many of the students are monks and nuns, and even the ones who aren't often want to attend the teachings.

 Any thoughts? Leave 'em in the comments!