((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 21st
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!
