Contents
· Preface
· Going for Refuge
· I. The Reasons for Taking Refuge
· 1. The dangers pertaining to the present life
· 2. The dangers pertaining to future lives
· 3. The dangers pertaining to the general course of existence
· II. The Existence of a Refuge
· III. Identification of the Objects of Refuge
· 1. The Buddha
· 2. The Dhamma
· 3. The Sangha
· IV. The Act of Going for Refuge
· V. The Function of Going for Refuge
· VI. The Methods of Going for Refuge
· VII. Corruptions and Breach of the Refuge
· VIII. The Similes for the Refuges
· Taking the Precepts
· I. The Essential Meaning of Sila
· II. The Five Precepts
· III. The Eight Precepts
· IV. The Benefits of Sila
· V. The Undertaking of Sila
· VI. The Breach of Sila
· VII. The Similes for Sila
· Notes
Preface
The first two steps in the process of becoming a lay disciple of the Buddha
are the going for refuge (sarana gamana) and the undertaking of the five precepts
(pañca-sila samadana). By the former step a person makes the commitment
to accept the Triple Gem -- the Buddha, the Dhamma, and the Sangha -- as the
guiding ideals of his life, by the latter he expresses his determination to
bring his actions into harmony with these ideals through right conduct. The
following two tracts were written for the purpose of giving a clear and concise
explanation of these two steps. Though they are intended principally for those
who have newly embraced the Buddha's teaching they will probably be found useful
as well by long-term traditional Buddhists wanting to understand the meaning
of practices with which they are already familiar and also by those who want
to know what becoming a Buddhist involves.
In order to keep our treatment compact, and to avoid the intimidating format
of a scholastic treatise, references to source material in the tracts themselves
have been kept to a minimum. Thus we here indicate the sources upon which our
account has drawn. Going for Refuge is based primarily upon the standard commentarial
passage on the topic, found with only minor variations in the Khuddakapatha
Atthakatha (Paramatthajotika), the Dighanikaya Atthakatha (Sumangalavilasini),
and the Majjhimanikaya Atthakatha (Papañcasudani). The first has been
translated by Ven. Bhikkhu Ñanamoli in Minor Readings and the Illustrator
(London: Pali Text Society, 1960), the third by Ven. Nyanaponika Thera in his
The Threefold Refuge (B.P.S., The Wheel No. 76.).
The tract Taking the Precepts relies principally upon the commentarial explanations
of the training rules in the Khuddakapatha Atthakatha, referred to above, and
to the discussion of the courses of kamma in the Majjhimanikaya (commentary
to No. 9, Sammaditthisutta). The former is available in English in Ven. Ñanamoli's
Minor Readings and Illustrator, the latter in Right Understanding, Discourse
and Commentary on the Sammaditthisutta, translated by Bhikkhu Soma (Sri Lanka:
Bauddha Sahitya Sabha, 1946). Another useful work on the precepts was The Five
Precepts and the Five Ennoblers by HRH Vajirañanavarorasa, a late Supreme
Patriarch of Thailand (Bangkok: Mahamakut Rajavidyalaya Press, 1975). Also consulted
was the section on the courses of karma in Vasubandhu's Adhidharmakosa and its
commentary, a Sanskrit work of the Sarvastivada tradition.
Bhikkhu Bodhi
Going for Refuge
The Buddha's teaching can be thought of as a kind of building with its own distinct
foundation, stories, stairs, and roof. Like any other building the teaching
also has a door, and in order to enter it we have to enter through this door.
The door of entrance to the teaching of the Buddha is the going for refuge to
the Triple Gem -- that is, to the Buddha as the fully enlightened teacher, to
the Dhamma as the truth taught by him, and to the Sangha as the community of
his noble disciples. From ancient times to the present the going for refuge
has functioned as the entranceway to the dispensation of the Buddha, giving
admission to the rest of the teaching from its lowermost story to its top. All
those who embrace the Buddha's teaching do so by passing through the door of
taking refuge, while those already committed regularly reaffirm their conviction
by making the same threefold profession:
Buddham saranam gacchami
I go for refuge to the Buddha;
Dhammam saranam gacchami
I go for refuge to the Dhamma;
Sangham saranam gacchami
I go for refuge to the Sangha.
As slight and commonplace as this step might seem, especially in comparison
with the lofty achievements lying beyond, its importance should never be underestimated,
as it is this act which imparts direction and forward momentum to the entire
practice of the Buddhist path. Since the going for refuge plays such a crucial
role it is vital that the act be properly understood both in its own nature
and in its implications for future development along the path. To open up the
process of going for refuge to the eye of inner understanding, we here present
an examination of the process in terms of its most significant aspects. These
will be dealt with under the following eight headings: the reasons for taking
refuge; the existence of a refuge; the identification of the refuge objects;
the act of going for refuge; the function of going for refuge, methods of going
for refuge; the corruption and breach of the going for refuge; and the similes
for the refuges.
I. The Reasons for Taking Refuge
When it is said that the practice of the Buddha's teaching starts with taking
refuge, this immediately raises an important question. The question is: "What
need do we have for a refuge?" A refuge is a person, place, or thing giving
protection from harm and danger. So when we begin a practice by going for refuge,
this implies that the practice is intended to protect us from harm and danger.
Our original question as to the need for a refuge can thus be translated into
another question: "What is the harm and danger from which we need to be
protected?" If we look at our lives in review we may not see ourselves
exposed to any imminent personal danger. Our jobs may be steady, our health
good, our families well-provided for, our resources adequate, and all this we
may think gives us sufficient reason for considering ourselves secure. In such
a case the going for refuge becomes entirely superfluous.
To understand the need for a refuge we must learn to see our position as it
really is; that is, to see it accurately and against its total background. From
the Buddhist perspective the human situation is similar to an iceberg: a small
fraction of its mass appears above the surface, the vast substratum remains
below, hidden out of view. Owing to the limits of our mental vision our insight
fails to penetrate beneath the surface crust, to see our situation in its underlying
depths. But there is no need to speak of what we cannot see; even what is immediately
visible to us we rarely perceive with accuracy. The Buddha teaches that cognition
is subservient to wish. In subtle ways concealed from ourselves our desires
condition our perceptions, twisting them to fit into the mould they themselves
want to impose. Thus our minds work by way of selection and exclusion. We take
note of those things agreeable to our pre-conceptions; we blot out or distort
those that threaten to throw them into disarray.
From the standpoint of a deeper, more comprehensive understanding the sense
of security we ordinarily enjoy comes to view as a false security sustained
by unawareness and the mind's capacity for subterfuge. Our position appears
impregnable only because of the limitations and distortions of our outlook.
The real way to safety, however, lies through correct insight, not through wishful
thinking. To reach beyond fear and danger we must sharpen and widen our vision.
We have to pierce through the deceptions that lull us into a comfortable complacency,
to take a straight look down into the depths of our existence, without turning
away uneasily or running after distractions. When we do so, it becomes increasingly
clear that we move across a narrow footpath at the edge of a perilous abyss.
In the words of the Buddha we are like a traveler passing through a thick forest
bordered by a swamp and precipice; like a man swept away by a stream seeking
safety by clutching at reeds; like a sailor crossing a turbulent ocean; or like
a man pursued by venomous snakes and murderous enemies. The dangers to which
we are exposed may not always be immediately evident to us. Very often they
are subtle, camouflaged, difficult to detect. But though we may not see them
straightaway the plain fact remains that they are there all the same. If we
wish to get free from them we must first make the effort to recognize them for
what they are. This, however, calls for courage and determination.
On the basis of the Buddha's teaching the dangers that make the quest for a
refuge necessary can be grouped into three general classes: (1) the dangers
pertaining to the present life; (2) those pertaining to future lives; and (3)
those pertaining to the general course of existence. Each of these in turn involves
two aspects: (A) and objective aspect which is a particular feature of the world;
and (B) a subjective aspect which is a corresponding feature of our mental constitution.
We will now consider each of these in turn.
1. The dangers pertaining to the present life.
A. Objective aspect. The most obvious danger confronting us is the sheer fragility
of our physical body and its material supports. From the moment we are born
we are subject to disease, accident, and injury. Nature troubles us with disasters
such as earthquakes and floods, societal existence with crime, exploitation,
repression, and the threat of war. Events on the political, social, and economic
fronts rarely pass very long without erupting into crisis. Attempts at reform
and revolution always wind up repeating the same old story of stagnation, violence,
and consequent disillusionment. Even in times of relative tranquillity the order
of our lives is never quite perfect. Something or other always seems to be getting
out of focus. Snags and predicaments follow each other endlessly.
Even though we might be fortunate enough to escape the serious adversities there
is one we cannot avoid. This is death. We are bound to die, and with all our
wealth, expertise, and power we still stand helpless before our inevitable mortality.
Death weighs upon us from the time we are born. Every moment brings us closer
to the inescapable. As we are drawn along, feeling secure in the midst of our
comforts, we are like a man walking across a frozen lake, believing himself
safe while the ice is cracking underfoot.
The dangers hanging over us are made even more problematic by their common feature
of uncertainty. We have no knowledge when they will take place. If we knew calamity
is going to hit we could at least prepare in advance to resign ourselves stoically.
But we do not enjoy even this much edge on the future. Because we lack the benefit
of foreknowledge our hopes stand up straight, moment after moment, coupled with
a vague presentiment that any second, in a flash, they can suddenly be dashed
to pieces. Our health might be stricken down by illness, our business fail,
our friends turn against us, our loved ones die -- we do not know. We can have
no guarantee that these reversals will not come upon us. Even death is only
certain in that we can be sure it will strike. Exactly when it will strike still
remains uncertain.
B. Subjective aspect. The adversities just sketched are objective features built
into the world's constitution. On the one side there is calamity, crisis, and
predicament, on the other the radical uncertainty pervading them. The subjective
aspect of the danger pertaining to the present life consists in our negative
response to this twofold liability.
The element of uncertainty tends to provoke in us a persistent disquietude running
beneath our surface self-assurance. At a deep interior level we sense the instability
of our reliances, their transience and vulnerability to change, and this awareness
produces a nagging apprehensiveness which rises at times to a pitch of anxiety.
The source of our disquietude we may not always be able to pinpoint, but it
remains lurking in the undercurrent of the mind -- an unlocalized fear that
our familiar supports will suddenly be stripped away, leaving us without our
usual frame of reference.
This anxiety is sufficient disturbance in itself. Yet often our fears are confirmed.
The course of events follows a pattern of its own independently of our will,
and the two do not necessarily coincide. The world thrown up illness, loss,
and death, which strike when the time is ripe. When the course of events clashes
with our will the outcome is pain and dissatisfaction. If the conflict is small
we become angry, upset, depressed, or annoyed; if it is great we undergo anguish,
grief, or despair. In either case a fundamental disharmony emerges from the
cleavage between desire and the world, and the result, for us, is suffering.
The suffering that arises is not significant solely in itself. It has a symptomatic
value, pointing to some more deeply grounded malady underlying it. This malady
lies in our attitude towards the world. We operate out of a mental frame built
up of expectations, projections, and demands. We expect reality to conform to
our wishes, to submit to our mandates, to confirm our preconceptions, but this
it refuses to do. When it refuses we meet pain and disappointment, born from
the conflict between expectation and actuality. To escape this suffering one
of the two must change, our will or the world. Since we cannot alter the nature
of the world to make it harmonize with our will, the only alternative is to
change ourselves, by putting away attachment and aversion towards the world.
We have to relinquish our clinging, to stop hankering and grasping, to learn
to view the fluctuation of events with a detached equanimity free from the swing
of elation and dejection.
The mind of equanimity, poised beyond the play of worldly opposites, is the
highest safety and security, but to gain this equanimity we stand in need of
guidance. The guidance available cannot protect us from objective adversity.
It can only safeguard us from the dangers of a negative response -- from anxiety,
sorrow, frustration, and despair. This is the only protection possible, and
because it grants us this essential protection such guidance can be considered
a genuine refuge.
This is the first reason for going for refuge -- the need for protection from
negative reactions to the dangers besetting us here and now.
2. The dangers pertaining to future lives
A. Objective aspect. Our liability to harm and danger does not end with death.
From the perspective of the Buddha's teaching the event of death is the prelude
to a new birth and thus the potential passageway to still further suffering.
The Buddha teaches that all living beings bound by ignorance and craving are
subject to rebirth. So long as the basic drive to go on existing stands intact,
the individualized current of existence continues on after death, inheriting
the impressions and dispositions accumulated in the previous life. There is
no soul to transmigrate from one life to the next, but there is an ongoing stream
of consciousness which springs up following death in a new form appropriate
to its own dominant tendencies.
Rebirth, according to Buddhism, can take place in any of six realms of becoming.
The lowest of the six is the hells, regions of severe pain and torment where
evil actions receive their due expiation. Then comes the animal kingdom where
suffering prevails and brute force is the ruling power. Next is the realm of
"hungry ghosts" (petavisaya), shadowy beings afflicted with strong
desires they can never satisfy. Above them is the human world, with its familiar
balance of happiness and suffering, virtue and evil. Then comes the world of
the demi-gods (asuras), titanic beings obsessed by jealousy and ambition. And
at the top stands the heavenly worlds inhabited by the devas or gods.
The first three realms of rebirth -- the hells, the animal kingdom, and the
realm of ghosts -- together with the asuras, are called the "evil destinations"
(duggati) or "plane of misery" (apayabhumi). They receive these names
because of the preponderance of suffering found in them. The human world and
the heavenly worlds are called, in contrast, the "happy destinations"
(sugati) since they contain a preponderance of happiness. Rebirth in the evil
destinations is considered especially unfortunate not only because of the intrinsic
suffering they involve, but for another reason as well. Rebirth there is calamitous
because escape from the evil destinations is extremely difficult. A fortunate
rebirth depends on the performance of meritorious actions, but the beings in
the evil destinations find little opportunity to acquire merit; thence the suffering
in these realms tends to perpetuate itself in a circle very difficult to break.
The Buddha says that if a yoke with a single hole was floating at random on
the sea, and a blind turtle living in the sea were to surface once every hundred
years -- the likelihood of the turtle pushing his neck through the hole in the
yoke would be greater than that of a being in the evil destinations regaining
human status. For these two reasons -- because of their inherent misery and
because of the difficulty of escaping from them -- rebirth in the evil destinations
is a grave danger pertaining to the future life, from which we need protection.
B. Subjective aspect. Protection from a fall into the plane of misery cannot
be obtained from others. It can only be obtained by avoiding the causes leading
to an unfortunate rebirth. The cause for rebirth into any specific plane of
existence lies in our kamma, that is, our willed actions and volitions. Kamma
divides into two classes, the wholesome and the unwholesome. The former are
actions motivated by detachment, kindness, and understanding, the latter actions
motivated by greed, hatred and delusion. These two classes of kamma generate
rebirth into the two general planes of existence: wholesome kamma brings rebirth
into the happy destinations, unwholesome kamma brings rebirth into the evil
destinations.
We cannot obliterate the evil destinations themselves; they will continue on
as long as the world itself endures. To avoid rebirth in these realms we can
only keep watch over ourselves, by controlling our actions so that they do not
spill over into the unwholesome courses leading to a plunge into the plane of
misery. But to avoid generating unwholesome kamma we need help, and that for
two principal reasons.
First, we need help because the avenues of action open to us are so varied and
numerous that we often do not know which way to turn. Some actions are obviously
wholesome or unwholesome, but others are difficult to evaluate, throwing us
into perplexity when we run up against them. To choose correctly we require
guidance -- the clear indications of one who knows the ethical value of all
actions and the pathways leading to the different realms of being.
The second reason we need help is because, even when we can discriminate right
from wrong, we are often driven to pursue the wrong against our better judgment.
Our actions do not always follow the counsel of our dispassionate decisions.
They are often impulsive, driven by irrational urges we cannot master or control.
By yielding to these drives we work our own harm even while helplessly watching
ourselves do so. We have to gain mastery over our mind, to bring our capacity
for action under the control of our sense of higher wisdom. But this is a task
which requires discipline. To learn the right course of discipline we need the
instructions of one who understands the subtle workings of the mind and can
teach us how to conquer the obsessions which drive us into unhealthy self-destructive
patterns of behavior. Because these instructions and the one who gives them
help protect us from future harm and suffering, they can be considered a genuine
refuge.
This is the second reason for going for refuge -- the need to achieve mastery
over our capacity for action so as to avoid falling into the evil destinations
in future lives.
3. The dangers pertaining to the general course of existence
A. Objective aspect. The perils to which we are exposed are immensely greater
than those just discussed. Beyond the evident adversities and misfortunes of
the present life and the risk of a fall into the plane of misery, there is a
more fundamental and comprehensive danger running through the entire course
of worldly existence. This is the intrinsic unsatisfactoriness of samsara. Samsara
is the cycle of becoming, the round of birth, aging and death, which has been
revolving through beginningless time. Rebirth does not take place only once,
leading to an eternity in the life to come. The life-process repeats itself
over and over, the whole pattern spelling itself out again and total with each
new turn: each single birth issues in decay and death, each single death gives
way to a new birth. Rebirth can be fortunate or miserable, but wherever it occurs
no halt is made to the revolution of the wheel. The law of impermanence imposes
its decree upon the entire domain of sentient life; whatever arises must eventually
cease. Even the heavens provide no outlet; life there also ends when the kamma
that brought a heavenly birth is exhausted, to be followed by a re-arising in
some other plane, perhaps in the miserable abodes.
Because of this pervasive transience all forms of conditioned existence appear
to the eye of wisdom as essentially dukkha, unsatisfactory or suffering. None
of our supports and reliances is exempt from the necessity to change and pass
away. Thence what we resort to for comfort and enjoyment is in reality a concealed
form of suffering; what we rely on for security is itself exposed to danger;
what we turn to for protection itself needs to be protected. Nothing that we
want to hold to can be held onto forever, without perishing: "It is crumbling
away, it is crumbling away, therefore it is called 'the world'."
Youth issues in old age, health in sickness, life in death. All union ends in
separation, and in the pain that accompanies separation. But to understand the
situation in its full depth and gravity we must multiply it by infinity. From
time without beginning we have been transmigrating through the round of existence,
encountering the same experiences again and again with vertiginous frequency:
birth, aging, sickness and death, separation and loss, failure and frustration.
Repeatedly we have made the plunge into the plane of misery; times beyond counting
we have been animal, ghost, and denizen of hell. Over and over we have experienced
suffering, violence, grief, despair. The Buddha declares that the amount of
tears and blood we have shed in the course of our samsaric wandering is greater
than the waters in the ocean; the bones we have left behind could form a heap
higher than the Himalaya mountains. We have met this suffering countless times
in the past, and as long as the causes of our cycling in samsara are not cut
off we risk meeting more of the same in the course of our future wandering.
B. Subjective aspect. To escape from these dangers there is only one way of
release: to turn away from all forms of existence, even the most sublime. But
for the turning away to be effective we must cut off the causes that hold us
in bondage to the round. The basic causes that sustain our wandering in samsara
lie within ourselves. We roam from life to life, the Buddha teaches, because
we are driven by a profound insatiable urge for the perpetuation of our being.
This urge the Buddha calls bhava-tanha, the craving for existence. While craving
for existence remains operative, even if only latently, death itself is no barrier
to the continuation of the life-process. Craving will bridge the vacuum created
by death, generating a new form of existence determined by the previously accumulated
storage of kamma. Thus craving and existence sustain each other in succession.
Craving brings forth a new existence; the new existence gives the ground for
craving to resume its search for gratification.
Underlying this vicious nexus which links together craving and repeated existence
is a still more primordial factor called "ignorance" (avijja). Ignorance
is a basic unawareness of the true nature of things, a beginningless state of
spiritual unknowing. The unawareness operates in two distinct ways: on one side
it obscures correct cognition, on the other it creates a net of cognitive and
perceptual distortions. Owing to ignorance we see beauty in things that are
really repulsive, permanence in the impermanent, pleasure in the unpleasurable,
and selfhood in selfless, transient, unsubstantial phenomena. These delusions
sustain the forward drive of craving. Like a donkey chasing a carrot suspended
from a cart, dangling before its face, we rush headlong after the appearances
of beauty, permanence, pleasure and selfhood, only to find ourselves still empty-handed,
more tightly entangled in the samsaric round.
To be freed from this futile and profitless pattern it is necessary to eradicate
the craving that keeps it in motion, not merely temporarily but permanently
and completely. To eradicate craving the ignorance which supports it has to
be dislodged, for as long as ignorance is allowed to weave its illusions the
ground is present for craving to revive. The antidote to ignorance is wisdom
(pañña). Wisdom is the penetrating knowledge which tears aside
the veils of ignorance in order to "see things as they really are."
It is not mere conceptual knowledge, but an experience that must be generated
in ourselves; it has to be made direct, immediate and personal. To arouse this
wisdom we need instruction, help, and guidance -- someone who will teach us
what we must understand and see for ourselves, and the methods by which we can
arouse the liberating wisdom that will cut the cords binding us to repeated
becoming. Since those who give this guidance, and the instructions themselves,
provide protection from the perils of transmigration they can be considered
a genuine refuge.
This is the third reason for going for refuge -- the need for deliverance from
the pervasive unsatisfactoriness of Samsara.
II. The Existence of a Refuge
To realize that the human situation impels the search for a refuge is a necessary
condition for taking refuge, but is not in itself a sufficient condition. To
go for refuge we must also become convinced that an effective refuge actually
exists. But before we can decide on the existence of a refuge we first have
to determine for ourselves exactly what a refuge is.
The dictionary defines "refuge" as a shelter or protection from danger
and distress, a person or place giving such protection, and an expedient used
to obtain such protection. This tallies with the explanation of the Pali word
sarana, meaning "refuge", which has come down in the Pali commentaries.
The commentaries gloss the word sarana with another word meaning "to crush"
(himsati), explaining that "when people have gone for refuge, then by that
very going for refuge it crushes, dispels, removes, and stops their fear, anguish,
suffering, risk of unhappy rebirth and defilement."[1]
These explanations suggest two essential qualifications of a refuge. (1) First,
a refuge must be itself beyond danger and distress. A person or thing subject
to danger is not secure in itself, and thus cannot give security to others.
Only what is beyond fear and danger can be confidently relied upon for protection.
(2) Second, the purported refuge must be accessible to us. A state beyond fear
and danger that is inaccessible is irrelevant to our concerns and thus cannot
function as a refuge. In order for something to serve as a refuge it must be
approachable, capable of giving protection from danger.
From this abstract determination of the qualifications of a refuge we can return
to the concrete question at hand. Does there exist a refuge able to give protection
from the three types of dangers delineated above: from anxiety, frustration,
sorrow and distress in the present life; from the risk of an unhappy destination
after death; and from continued transmigration in samsara? The task of working
out an answer to this question has to be approached cautiously. We must recognize
at once that an objectively verifiable, publicly demonstrable answer cannot
be given. The existence of a refuge, or the specification of a particular refuge,
cannot be proven logically in an irrefutable manner binding on all. The most
that can be done is to adduce cogent grounds for believing that certain persons
or objects possess the qualifications of a refuge. The rest depends upon faith,
a confidence born out of trust, at least until that initial assent is transformed
into knowledge by means of direct experience. But even then the verification
remains inward and personal, a matter of subjective appropriation rather than
of logical proof or objective demonstration.
From the Buddhist perspective there are three refuges which together make available
complete protection from danger and distress. These three are the Buddha, the
Dhamma, and the Sangha. The three are not separate refuges each sufficient in
itself; rather they are interrelated members of a single effective refuge which
divides into three by way of a distinction in the characteristics and functions
of its members. Why such a distinction is necessary becomes clear if we consider
the order in which the three are presented.
The Buddha comes first because he is a person. Since we are persons we naturally
look to another person for guidance, inspiration, and direction. When it is
ultimate deliverance that is at stake, what we look for in the first place is
a person who has himself reached complete freedom from danger and can lead us
to the same state of safety. This is the Buddha, the enlightened one, who comes
first in the triad for the reason that he is the person who discovers, achieves,
and proclaims the state of refuge. In the second place we need that state of
refuge itself, the state beyond fear and danger; then we need a path leading
to this goal; and also we need a set of instructions guiding us along the path.
This is the Dhamma, which as we will see has this threefold denotation. Then,
in the third place, we need persons who began like ourselves -- as ordinary
people troubled by afflictions -- and by following the way taught by the guide
reached the state of safety beyond fear and danger. This is the Sangha, the
community of spiritual persons who have entered the path, realized the goal,
and can now teach the path to others.
Within the triad each member works in harmony with the other two to make the
means of deliverance available and effective. The Buddha serves as the indicator
of refuge. He is not a savior who can bestow salvation through the agency of
his person. Salvation or deliverance depends upon us, upon our own vigor and
dedication in the practice of the teaching. The Buddha is primarily a teacher,
an expounder of the path, who points out the way we ourselves must tread with
our own energy and intelligence. The Dhamma is the actual refuge. As the goal
of the teaching the Dhamma is the state of security free from danger; as the
path it is the means for arriving at the goal; and as the verbal teaching it
is the body of instructions describing the way to practice the path. But to
make effective use of the means at our disposal we need the help of others who
are familiar with the path. Those who know the path make up the Sangha, the
helpers in finding refuge, the union of spiritual friends who can lead us to
our own attainment of the path.
This triadic structure of the three refuges can be understood with the aid of
a simple analogy. If we are ill and want to get well we need a doctor to diagnose
our illness and prescribe a remedy; we need medicine to cure our illness; and
we need attendants to look after our requirements. The doctor and attendants
cannot cure us. The most they can do for us is to give us the right medicine
and make sure that we take it. The medicine is the actual remedy which restores
our health. Similarly, when seeking relief from suffering and distress, we rely
on the Buddha as the physician who can find out the cause of our illness and
show us the way to get well; we rely on the Dhamma as the medicine which cures
our afflictions; and we rely on the Sangha as the attendants who will help us
take the medicine. To get well we have to take the medicine. We can't just sit
back and expect the doctor to cure us all by himself. In the same way, to find
deliverance from suffering, we have to practice the Dhamma, for the Dhamma is
the actual refuge which leads to the state of deliverance.
III. Identification of the Objects of Refuge
The fruitfulness of the act of taking refuge is proportional to the depth and
precision with which we understand the nature of the refuge-objects. Therefore
these objects have to be identified with precision and correctly understood.
Each refuge-object has a double layer of signification, one concrete and mundane,
the other intangible and supramundane. The two are not entirely distinct, but
intermesh in such a way that the former acts as a vehicle for the latter. An
examination of each refuge in turn will make clear what their twofold signification
is and how they interfuse.
1. The Buddha
The Buddha as refuge can be considered first. On one level the word "Buddha"
refers to a particular figure -- the man Siddhattha Gotama who lived in India
in the fifth century B.C. When we take refuge in the Buddha, we take refuge
in this person, for he is the teacher of the Dhamma and the historical founder
of Buddhism. However, in going to him for refuge, we do not take refuge in him
merely in his concrete particularity. We rely upon him as the Buddha, the enlightened
one, and this has a significance transcending the limits of what can be given
by empirical, historical fact. What enables the Buddha to function as a refuge
is his actualization of a supramundane attainment. This attainment is the state
of Buddhahood or perfect enlightenment, a state which has been realized by other
persons in the past and will be realized again in the future. Those who realize
this state are Buddhas. When we take refuge in the Buddha we rely upon him as
a refuge because he embodies this attainment in himself. It is his Buddhahood
that makes the Buddha a refuge.
But what is the Buddhahood of the Buddha? In brief the Buddhahood of the Buddha
is the sum total of the qualities possessed by that person named Gotama which
make him a Buddha. These qualities can be summed up as the abandonment of all
defects and the acquisition of all virtues.
The defects abandoned are the defilements (kilesa) together with their residual
impressions (vasana). The defilements are afflictive mental forces which cause
inner corruption and disturbance and motivate unwholesome actions. Their principle
members are greed, hatred, and delusion; from these all the secondary defilements
derive. In the Buddha these defilements have been abandoned totally, completely,
and finally. They are abandoned totally in that all defilements have been destroyed
with none remaining. They are abandoned completely in that each one has been
destroyed at the root, without residue. And they have been abandoned finally
in that they can never arise again in the future.
The virtues acquired by the Buddha are very numerous, but two stand out as paramount:
great wisdom (mahapañña) and great compassion (maha-karuna). The
great wisdom of the Buddha has two aspects -- extensiveness of range and profundity
of view. Through the extensive range of his wisdom the Buddha understands the
totality of existent phenomena; through his profundity of view he understands
the precise mode of existence of each phenomenon.
The Buddha's wisdom does not abide in passive contemplation but issues in great
compassion. Through his great compassion the Buddha comes forth to work for
the welfare of others. He takes up the burden of toiling for the good of sentient
beings, actively and fearlessly, in order to lead them to deliverance from suffering.
When we go for refuge to the Buddha we resort to him as the supreme embodiment
of purity, wisdom and compassion, the peerless teacher who can guide us to safety
out of the perilous ocean of samsara.
2. The Dhamma
The Dhamma too involves a double reference. At the elementary level the word
"Dhamma" signifies the teaching of the Buddha -- the conceptually
formulated, verbally expressed set of doctrines taught by or deriving from the
historical figure Gotama. This teaching, called "the transmission"
(agama), is contained in the Tipitaka or three collections of scripture and
in the commentaries and expository works which explain them. The three collections
are the Vinayapitaka, the Suttapitaka, and the Abhidhammapitaka. The Vinayapitaka
collects together all the monastic rules and regulations detailing the discipline
for Buddhist monks and nuns. The Suttapitaka contains the discourses of the
Buddha expounding his doctrine and the practice of his path. The Abhidhammapitaka
presents an exposition of the sphere of actuality from the standpoint of a precise
philosophical understanding which analyzes actuality into its fundamental constituting
elements and shows how these elements lock together through a network of conditional
relations.
The verbally transmitted Dhamma contained in the scriptures and commentaries
serves as the conduit to a deeper level of meaning communicated through its
words and expressions. This is the Dhamma of actual achievement (adhigama),
which comprises the path (magga) and the goal (attha). The goal is the final
end of the teaching, nibbana, the complete cessation of suffering, the unconditioned
state outside and beyond the round of impermanent phenomena making up samsara.
This goal is to be reached by a specific path, a course of practice bringing
its attainment, namely the noble eightfold path -- right views, right intentions,
right speech, right action, right livelihood, right effort, right mindfulness,
and right concentration. The path divides into two stages, a mundane path and
a supramundane path. The mundane path is the course of application developed
when its factors are cultivated in daily life and in periods of intensified
practice. The supramundane path is a state of wisdom-consciousness that arises
when all the requisite conditions for realization are fully matured, usually
at the peak of intensified practice. This path actually represents a state in
the experience of enlightenment, having the dual function of realizing nibbana
and eradicating defilements.
The supramundane path comes only in momentary breakthroughs which, when they
occur, effect radical transformations in the structure of the mind. These breakthroughs
are four in number, called the four paths. The four divide according to their
ability to cut the successively subtler "fetters" causing to samsara.
The first path, the initial breakthrough to enlightenment, is the path of stream
entry (sotapattimagga), which eradicates the fetters of ego-affirming views,
doubt, and clinging to rites and wrong observances. The second, called the path
of the once-returner (sakadagamimagga), does not cut off any fetters but weakens
their underlying roots. The third, the path of the non-returner (anagamimagga),
eliminates the fetters of sensual desire and ill-will. And the forth, the path
of arahatship (arahattamagga), eradicates the five remaining fetters -- desire
for existence in the spheres of fine material and immaterial being, conceit,
restlessness, and ignorance. Each path-moment is followed immediately by several
moments of another supramundane experience called fruition (phala), which comes
in four stages corresponding to the four paths. Fruition marks the enjoyment
of the freedom from defilement effected by the preceding path-moment. It is
the state of release or experiential freedom which comes when the fetters are
broken.
Earlier it was said that the Dhamma is the actual refuge. In the light of the
distinctions just drawn this statement can now be made more precise. The verbal
teaching is essentially a map, a body of instructions and guidelines. Since
we have to rely on these instructions to realize the goal, the teaching counts
as an actual refuge, but it is so in a derivative way. Thus we can call it an
actual but indirect refuge. The mundane path is direct, since it must be practiced,
but because it serves principally as preparation for the supramundane path its
function is purely provisional; thus it is an actual and direct but provisional
refuge. The supramundane path apprehends nibbana, and once attained leads irreversibly
to the goal; thence it may be called an actual, direct, and superior refuge.
However, even the supramundane path is a conditioned phenomenon sharing the
characteristic of impermanence common to all conditioned phenomena. Moreover,
as a means to an end, it possesses instrumental value only, not intrinsic value.
Thus its status as a refuge is not ultimate. Ultimate status as a refuge belongs
exclusively to the goal, to the unconditioned state of nibbana, which therefore
among all three refuges can alone be considered the refuge which is actual,
direct, superior, and ultimate. It is the final resort, the island of peace,
the sanctuary offering permanent shelter from the fears and dangers of samsaric
becoming.
3. The Sangha
At the conventional or mundane level the Sangha signifies the Bhikkhu-Sangha,
the order of monks. The Sangha here is an institutional body governed by formally
promulgated regulations. Its doors of membership are open to any candidate meeting
the required standards. All that is needed to enter the Sangha is to undergo
ordination according to the procedure laid down in the Vinaya, the system of
monastic discipline.
Despite its formal character, the order of monks fulfills an indispensable role
in the preservation and perpetuation of the Buddha's dispensation. In an unbroken
lineage extending back over twenty-five hundred years, the monastic order has
served as the custodian of the Dhamma. The mode of life it makes possible permits
it to exercise this function. The Buddha's dispensation, as we suggested, possesses
a twofold character; it is a path of practice leading to liberation from suffering,
and also a distinctive set of doctrines embedded in scriptures expounding the
details of this path. The Sangha bears the responsibility for maintaining both
aspects of the dispensation. Its members assume the burden of continuing the
tradition of practice with the aim of showing that the goal can be realized
and deliverance attained. They also take up the task of preserving the doctrines,
seeing to it that the scriptures are taught and transmitted to posterity free
from distortion and misinterpretation.
For these reasons the institutional Sangha is extremely vital to the perpetuation
of the Buddha's teaching. However, the order of monks is not itself the Sangha
which takes the position of the third refuge. The Sangha which serves as refuge
is not an institutional body but an unchartered spiritual community comprising
all those who have achieved penetration of the innermost meaning of the Buddha's
teaching. The Sangha-refuge is the ariyan Sangha, the noble community, made
up exclusively of ariyans, person of superior spiritual stature. Its membership
is not bound together by formal ecclesiastical ties but by the invisible bond
of a common inward realization. The one requirement for admission is the attainment
of this realization, which in itself is sufficient to grant entrance.
Though the way of life laid down for the monastic order, with its emphasis on
renunciation and meditation, is most conducive to attaining the state of an
ariyan, the monastic Sangha and the ariyan Sangha are not coextensive. Their
makeup can differ, and that for two reasons: first, because many monks -- the
vast majority in fact -- are still worldlings (puthujjana) and thence cannot
function as a refuge; and second, because the ariyan Sangha can also include
laymen. Membership in the ariyan Sangha depends solely on spiritual achievement
and not on formal ordination. Anyone -- layman or monk -- who penetrates the
Buddha's teaching by direct vision gains admission through that very attainment
itself.[2]
The membership of the ariyan Sangha comprises eight types of persons, which
unite into four pairs. The first pair consists of the person standing on the
path of stream-entry and the stream-enterer, who has entered the way to deliverance
and will attain the goal in a maximum of seven lives; the second pair of the
person standing on the path of the once-returner and the once-returner, who
will return to the human world only one more time before reaching the goal;
the third pair of the person standing on the path of the non-returner and the
non-returner, who will not come back to the human world again but will take
rebirth in a pure heavenly world where he will reach the final goal; and the
fourth pair of the person standing on the path of arahatship and the arahat,
who has expelled all defilements and cut off the ten fetters causing bondage
to samsara.
The eight persons can be divided in another way into two general classes. One
consists of those who, by penetrating the teaching, have entered the supramundane
path to liberation but still must practice further to arrive at the goal. These
include the first seven types of ariyan persons, who are collectively called
"trainees" or "learners" (sekha) because they are still
in the process of training. The second class comprises the arahats, who have
completed the practice and fully actualized the goal. These are called "beyond
training" (asekha) because they have no further training left to undertake.
Both the learners and the arahats have directly understood the essential import
of the Buddha's teaching for themselves. The teaching has taken root in them,
and to the extent that any work remains to be done they no longer depend on
others to bring it to its consummation. By virtue of this inner mastery these
individuals possess the qualifications needed to guide others towards the goal.
Hence the ariyan Sangha, the community of noble persons, can function as a refuge.
IV. The Act of Going for Refuge
To enter the door to the teaching of the Buddha it is not enough merely to know
the reference of the refuge-objects. The door of entrance to the teaching is
the going for refuge to the Buddha, the Dhamma, and the Sangha. To understand
what the refuge-objects mean is one thing, to go to them for refuge is another,
and it is the going for refuge alone that constitutes the actual entrance to
the dispensation.
But what is the going for refuge? At first glance it would seem to be the formal
commitment to the Triple Gem expressed by reciting the formula of refuge, for
it is this act which marks the embracing of the Buddha's teaching. Such an understanding,
however, would be superficial. The treatises make it clear that the true going
for refuge involves much more than the reciting of a pre-established formula.
They indicate that beneath the verbal profession of taking refuge there runs
concurrently another process that is essentially inward and spiritual. This
other process is the mental commitment to the taking of refuge.
The going for refuge, as defined by the commentaries, is in reality an occasion
of consciousness: "It is an act of consciousness devoid of defilements,
(motivated) by confidence in and reverence for (the Triple Gem), taking (the
Triple Gem) as the supreme resort."[3] That the act is said to be "devoid
of defilements" stresses the need for sincerity of aim. Refuge is not pure
if undertaken with defiled motivation -- out of desire for recognition, pride,
or fear of blame. The only valid motivation for taking refuge is confidence
and reverence directed towards the Triple Gem. The act of consciousness motivated
by confidence and reverence occurs "taking the Triple Gem as the supreme
resort," (parayana). That the Triple Gem is taken as the "supreme
resort" means that it is perceived as the sole source of deliverance. By
turning to the threefold refuge as supreme resort, the going for refuge becomes
an act of opening and self-surrender. We drop our defenses before the objects
of refuge and open ourselves to their capacity to help. We surrender our ego,
our claim to self-sufficiency, and reach out to the refuge-objects in the trust
that they can guide us to release from our confusion, turmoil, and pain.
Like any other act of consciousness the going for refuge is a complex process
made up of many factors. These factors can be classified by way of three basic
faculties: intelligence, volition, and emotion. To bring the act of going for
refuge into clearer focus we will take the mental process behind the outer act,
divide it by way of these faculties, and see how each contributes to its total
character. That is, we will examine the going for refuge as an act of intelligence,
will, and emotion.
Before doing this, however, one word of caution is necessary. Any particular
phenomenon represents far more than is immediately visible even to a deeply
probing inspection. A seed, for example, has a much greater significance than
the grain of organic matter that meets the eye. On one side it collects into
itself the entire history of the trees that went into its making; on the other
it points beyond to the many potential trees locked up in its hull. Similarly
the act of consciousness involved in taking refuge represents the crystallization
of a vast network of forces extending backwards, forwards, and outwards in all
directions. It simultaneously stands for the many lines of experience converging
upon its formation out of the dim recesses of the past, and the potential for
future lines of development barely adumbrated in its own immediate content.
This applies equally to the act of taking refuge as a whole and to each of its
constituting factors: both the whole and its parts must be seen as momentary
concretions with a vast history, past and future, hidden from our sight. Therefore
what emerges out of an analytical scrutiny of the refuge-act should be understood
to be only a fraction of what the act implies by way of background and future
evolution.
Turning to the act of taking refuge itself, we find in the first place that
it is an act of understanding. Though inspired by reverence and trust, it must
be guided by vision, by an intelligent perceptivity which protects it from the
dangers of blind emotion. The faculty of intelligence steers the act of refuge
towards the actualization of its inner urge for liberation. It distinguishes
the goal from the distractions, and prevents the aspirant from deviating from
his quest for the goal to go in pursuit of futile ends. For this reason we find
that in the formulation of the noble eightfold path right view is given first.
To follow the path we must see where it leads from, where it goes, and the steps
that must be taken to get from the one point to the other.
In its initial form the faculty of intelligence involved in taking refuge comprehends
the basic unsatisfactoriness of existence which makes reliance on a refuge necessary.
Suffering has to be seen as a pervasive feature infecting our existence at its
root, which cannot be eliminated by superficial palliatives but only by a throughgoing
treatment. We must come to see further that the causes of our dissatisfaction
and unrest lie within ourselves, in our clinging, craving, and delusions, and
that to get free from suffering we must follow a course which extinguishes its
causes.
The mind also has to grasp the reliability of the refuge-objects. Absolute certainty
as to the emancipating power of the teaching can only come later, with the attainment
of the path, but already at the outset an intelligent conviction must be established
that the refuge-objects are capable of providing help. To this end the Buddha
has to be examined by investigating the records of his life and character; his
teaching searched for contradictions and irrationalities; and the Sangha approached
to see if it is worthy of trust and confidence. Only if they pass these tests
can they be considered dependable supports for the achievement of our ultimate
aim.
Intelligence comes into play not only with the initial decision to take refuge,
but throughout the entire course of practice. The growth of understanding brings
a deeper commitment to the refuges, and the deepening of the inner refuge facilitates
the growth of understanding. The climax of this process of reciprocal development
is the attainment of the supramundane path. When the path arises, penetrating
the truth of the teaching, the refuge becomes irreversible, for it has been
verified by direct experience.
The going for refuge is also an act of volition. It results from a voluntary
decision free from coercion or outside pressures. It is a choice that must be
aparappaccaya, "not compelled by others." This freely chosen act brings
about a far-reaching restructuring of volition. Whereas previously the will
might have been scattered among a multitude of interests and concerns, when
the taking of refuge gains ascendency the will becomes ordered in a unified
way determined by the new commitment. The spiritual ideal comes to the center
of the inner life, expelling the less crucial concerns and relegating the others
to a position subordinate to its own direction. In this way the act of refuge
brings to the mind a harmonization of values, which now ascend to and converge
upon the fundamental aspiration for deliverance as the guiding purpose of all
activity.
The act of taking refuge also effects a deep-seated reversal in the movement
of the will. Before refuge is taken the will tends to move in an outward direction,
pushing for the extension of its bounds of self-identity. It seeks to gain increasing
territory for the self, to widen the range of ownership, control and domination.
When refuge is sought in the teaching of the Buddha the ground is laid for this
pattern to be undermined and turned around. The Buddha teaches that our drive
for self-expansion is the root of our bondage. It is a mode of craving, of grasping
and clinging, leading headlong into frustration and despair. When this is understood
the danger in egocentric seeking comes to the surface and the will turns in
the opposite direction, moving towards renunciation and detachment. The objects
of clinging are gradually relinquished, the sense of "I" and "mine"
withdrawn from the objects to which it has attached itself. Ultimate deliverance
is now seen to lie, not in the extension of the ego to the limits of infinity,
but in the utter abolition of the ego-delusion at its base.
The third aspect of going for refuge is the emotional. While going for refuge
requires more than emotional fervor, it also cannot come to full fruition without
the inspiring upward pull of the emotions. The emotions entering into the refuge
act are principally three: confidence, reverence, and love. Confidence (pasada)
is a feeling of serene trust in the protective power of the refuge-objects,
based on a clear understanding of their qualities and functions. Confidence
gives rise to reverence (gaurava), a sense of awe, esteem, and veneration born
from a growing awareness of the sublime and lofty nature of the Triple Gem.
Yet this reverence does not remain cool, formal, and aloof. As we experience
the transforming effect of the Dhamma on our life, reverence awakens (pema).
Love adds the element of warmth and vitality to the spiritual life. It kindles
the flame of devotion, coming to expression in acts of dedicated service by
which we seek to extend the protective and liberative capacity of the threefold
refuge to others.
V. The Function of Going for Refuge
The going for refuge is the door of entrance to the teaching of the Buddha.
It functions in the context of the teaching as the entranceway to all the practices
of the Buddhist discipline. To engage in the practices in their proper setting
we have to enter them through the door of taking refuge, just as to go into
a restaurant and have a meal we have to enter through the door. If we merely
stand outside the restaurant and read the menu on the window we may come away
with a thorough knowledge of the menu but not with a satisfied appetite. Similarly,
by merely studying and admiring the Buddha's teaching we do not enter upon its
practice. Even if we abstract certain elements of practice for our personal
use without first taking refuge, our efforts cannot count as the actual practice
of the Buddha's teaching. They are only practices derived from the teaching,
or practices in harmony with the teaching, but so long as they are not conjoined
with a mental attitude of taking refuge in the Triple Gem they have not yet
become the practice of the Buddha's teaching.
To bring out the significance of going for refuge we can consider a contrast
between two individuals. One meticulously observes the moral principles embedded
in the five precepts (pañcasila). He does not formally undertake the
precepts in the context of Buddhist ethical practice but spontaneously conforms
to the standards of conduct they enjoin through his own innate sense of right
and wrong; that is, he follows them as part of natural morality. We might further
suppose that he practices meditation several hours a day, but does this not
in the framework of the Dhamma but simply as a means to enjoy peace of mind
here and now. We can further suppose that this person has met the Buddha's teaching,
appreciates it and respects it, but does not feel sufficiently convinced to
acknowledge its truth or find himself impelled to go for refuge.
On the other hand let us suppose there is another person whose circumstances
prevent perfect observance of the precepts and who cannot find leisure for practicing
meditation. But though he lacks these achievements, from the depths of his heart,
with full sincerity, understanding, and dedication of purpose he has gone for
refuge to the Triple Gem. Comparing these two persons we can ask whose mental
attitude is of greater long-term spiritual value -- that of the person who without
going for refuge observes the moral principles embedded in the five precepts
and practices meditation several hours a day, or that of the other person who
cannot accomplish these practices but has sincerely gone for refuge to the Buddha,
Dhamma, and Sangha. No clear pronouncement on this case is found in the suttas
and commentaries, but enough indication is given to support an intelligent guess.
On this basis we would say that the mental attitude of the second person, who
has gone for refuge with clear understanding and sincerity of heart, is of greater
long-term spiritual value. The reason for such a judgment is as follows.
As a result of his moral and meditative practices the first individual will
enjoy peace and happiness in his present life, and will accumulate merit which
will lead to a favorable rebirth in the future. However, when that merit ripens,
it will become exhausted and expend its force without leading to further spiritual
development. When the fortunate rebirth resulting from the merit comes to an
end, it will be followed by rebirth in some other plane, as determined by stored-up
kamma, and the person will continue to revolve in the cycle of existence. His
virtuous undertakings do not contribute directly to the transcending of the
samsaric round.
On the other hand the person who has sincerely gone for refuge to the Triple
Gem, without being capable of higher practices, still lays the foundation for
spiritual progress in future lives merely by his heartfelt act of seeking refuge.
Of course he has to reap the results of his kamma and cannot escape them by
taking refuge, but all the same the mental act of going for refuge, if it is
truly the focus of his inner life, becomes a powerful positive kamma in itself.
It will function as a link tending to bring him into connection with the Buddha's
dispensation in future lives, thereby aiding his chances for further progress.
And if he fails to reach deliverance within the dispensation of the present
Buddha it will very likely lead him to the dispensations of future Buddhas,
until he eventually reaches the goal. Since this all comes about through the
germination of that mental act of going for refuge, we can understand that the
taking of refuge is very essential.
The importance of going for refuge can be further gauged through a textual simile
comparing faith to a seed. Since faith is the motivating force behind the act
of refuge, the analogy may be transferred to the refuge-act itself. We explained
earlier that the mental act of going for refuge calls into play three cardinal
faculties -- understanding, will, and emotion. These three faculties are already
present even in that very simple, basic act of seeking refuge, contained there
as seeds with the potential to develop into the flowers and fruits of the Buddhist
spiritual life. The understanding that leads a man to go for refuge -- the understanding
of the danger and fearfulness of samsaric existence -- this is the seed for
the faculty of wisdom which eventually issues in direct penetration of the four
noble truths. The element of volition is the seed for the will to renunciation
-- the driving force that impels a man to renounce his craving, enjoyments,
and egoistic clingings in order to go forth in search of liberation. It functions
as well as the seed for the practice of right effort, the sixth factor of the
noble eightfold path, by which we strive to abandon unwholesome impure mental
states and to cultivate the wholesome and pure states. Devotion and reverence
for the Triple Gem -- these become the seed for the germination of "unwavering
confidence" (aveccappasada), the assurance of a noble disciple whose confidence
in the Buddha, Dhamma, and Sangha can never be shaken by any outside force.
In this way the simple act of going for refuge serves as the threefold seed
for the development of the higher faculties of right understanding, right effort,
and unshakable confidence. From this example we can again understand the taking
of refuge to be very essential.
VI. The Methods of Going for Refuge
The methods of going for refuge divide into two general kinds: the superior
or supramundane going for refuge and the common or mundane going for refuge.
The supramundane going for refuge is the going for refuge of a superior person,
that is, of an ariyan disciple who has reached the supramundane path leading
irreversibly to nibbana. When such a person goes for refuge to the Triple Gem,
his going for refuge is a superior refuge, unshakable and invincible. The ariyan
person can never again, through the remainder of his future births (which amount
to a maximum of only seven), go for refuge to any other teacher than the Buddha,
to any other doctrine than the Dhamma, or to any other spiritual community than
the Sangha. The Buddha says that the confidence such a disciple places in the
Triple Gem cannot be shaken by anyone in the world, that it is firmly grounded
and immovable.
The common way of going for refuges is the way in which ordinary persons, the
vast majority below the ariyan plane, go for refuge to the Triple Gem. This
can be subdivided into two types: the initial going for refuge and the recurrent
going for refuge.
The initial going for refuge is the act of formally going for refuge for the
first time. When a person has studied the basic principles of the Buddha's teaching,
undertaken some of its practices, and become convinced of its value for his
life, he may want to commit himself to the teaching by making an outer profession
of his conviction. Strictly speaking, as soon as there arises in his mind an
act of consciousness which takes the Buddha, Dhamma, and Sangha as his guiding
ideal, that person has gone for refuge to the Triple Gem and become a Buddhist
lay disciple (upasaka). However, within the Buddhist tradition it is generally
considered to be insufficient under normal circumstances to rest content with
merely going for refuge by an internal act of dedication. If one has sincerely
become convinced of the truth of the Buddha's teaching, and wishes to follow
the teaching, it is preferable, when possible, to conform to the prescribed
way of going for refuge that has come down in the Buddhist tradition. This way
is to receive the three refuges from a bhikkhu, a Buddhist monk who has taken
full ordination and remains in good standing in the monastic Order.
After one has decided to go for refuge, one should seek out a qualified monk
-- one's own spiritual teacher or another respected member of the Order -- discuss
one's intentions with him, and make arrangements for undergoing the ceremony.
When the day arrives one should come to the monastery or temple bringing offerings
such as candles, incense, and flowers for the shrine room and a small gift for
the preceptor. After making the offerings one should, in the presence of the
preceptor, join the palms together in respectful salutation (anjali), bow down
three times before the image of the Buddha, and pay respects to the Buddha,
Dhamma, and Sangha, as represented by the images and symbols in the shrine.
Then, kneeling in front of the shrine, one should request the bhikkhu to give
the three refuges. The bhikkhu will reply: "Repeat after me" and then
recite:
Buddham saranam gacchami
I go for refuge to the Buddha;
Dhammam saranam gacchami
I go for refuge to the Dhamma;
Sangham saranam gacchami
I go for refuge to the Sangha.
Dutiyampi Buddham saranam gacchami
A second time I go for refuge to the Buddha.
Dutiyampi Dhammam saranam gacchami
A second time I go for refuge to the Dhamma.
Dutiyampi Sangham saranam gacchami
A second time I go for refuge to the Sangha.
Tatiyampi Buddham saranam gacchami
A third time I go for refuge to the Buddha.
Tatiyampi Dhammam saranam gacchami
A third time I go for refuge to the Dhamma.
Tatiyampi Sangham saranam gacchami
A third time I go for refuge to the Sangha.
The candidate should repeat each line after the bhikkhu. At the end the bhikkhu
will say: Saranagamanam sampunnam "The going for refuge is completed."
With this one formally becomes a lay follower of the Buddha, and remains such
so long as the going for refuge stands intact. But to make the going for refuge
especially strong and definitive, the candidate may confirm his acceptance of
the refuge by declaring to the monk: "Venerable sir, please accept me as
a lay disciple gone for refuge from this day forth until the end of my life."
This phrase is added to show one's resolution to hold to the three refuges as
one's guiding ideal for the rest of one's life. Following the declaration of
the refuges, the bhikkhu will usually administer the five precepts, the ethical
observances of abstaining from taking life, stealing, sexual misconduct, false
speech, and intoxicants. These will be discussed in subsequent articles.
By undergoing the formal ceremony of taking refuge one openly embraces the teaching
of the Buddha and becomes for the first time a self-declared follower of the
Master. However, going for refuge should not be an event which occurs only once
in a lifetime and then is allowed to fade into the background. Going for refuge
is a method of cultivation, a practice of inner development which should be
undertaken regularly, repeated and renewed every day as part of one's daily
routine. Just as we care for our body by washing it each morning, so we should
also take care of our mind by implanting in it each day the fundamental seed
for our development along the Buddhist path, that is, the going for refuge.
Preferably the going for refuge should be done twice each day, with each refuge
repeated three times; but if a second recitation is too difficult to fit in,
as a minimum one recitation should be done every day, with three repetitions
of each refuge.
The daily undertaking of the refuges is best done in a shrine room or before
a household altar with a Buddha-image. The actual recitation should be preceded
by the offering of candles, incense, and possibly flowers. After making the
offerings one should make three salutations before the Buddha-image and then
remain kneeling with the hands held out palms joined. Before actually reciting
the refuge formula it may be helpful to visualize to oneself the three objects
of refuge arousing the feeling that one is in their presence. To represent the
Buddha one can visualize an inspiring picture or statue of the Master. The Dhamma
can be represented by visualizing, in front of the Buddha, three volumes of
scripture to symbolize the Tipitaka, the three collections of Buddhist scriptures.
The Dhamma can also be represented by the dhammacakka, the "wheel of Dhamma,"
with its eight spokes symbolizing the noble eightfold path converging upon nibbana
at the hub; it should be bright and beautiful, radiating a golden light. To
represent the Sangha one can visualize on either side of the Buddha the two
chief disciples, Sariputta and Moggallana; alternatively, one can visualize
around the Buddha a group of monks, all of them adepts of the teaching, arahats
who have conquered the defilements and reached perfect emancipation.
Generating deep faith and confidence, while retaining the visualized images
before one's inner eye, one should recite the refuge-formula three times with
feeling and conviction. If one is undertaking the practice of meditation it
is especially important to recite the refuge-formula before beginning the practice,
for this gives needed inspiration to sustain the endeavor through the difficulties
that may be encountered along the way. For this reason those who undertake intensive
meditation and go off into solitude preface their practice, not with the usual
method of recitation, but with a special variation: Aham attanam Buddhassa niyyatemi
Dhammassa Sanghassa, "My person I surrender to the Buddha, Dhamma, and
Sangha." By surrendering his person and life to the Triple Gem the yogin
shields himself against the obstacles which might arise to impede his progress
and safeguards himself against egoistic clinging to the attainments he might
reach. However, this variation on the refuge-formula should not be undertaken
lightly, as its consequences are very serious. For ordinary purposes it is enough
to use the standard formula for daily recitation.
VII. Corruptions and Breach of the Refuge
Corruptions of the refuge are factors that make the going for refuge impure,
insincere, and ineffective. According to the commentaries there are three factors
that defile the going for refuge -- ignorance, doubt, and wrong views. If one
does not understand the reasons for going for refuge, the meaning of taking
refuge, or the qualities of the refuge-objects, this lack of understanding is
a form of ignorance which corrupts the going for refuge. Doubt corrupts the
refuge insofar as the person overcome by doubt cannot settle confidence firmly
in the Triple Gem. His commitment to the refuge is tainted by inner perplexity,
suspicion, and indecision. The defilement of wrong views means a wrong understanding
of the act of refuge or the refuge-objects. A person holding wrong views goes
for refuge with the thought that the refuge act is a sufficient guarantee of
deliverance; or he believes that the Buddha is a god with the power to save
him, or that the Dhamma teaches the existence of an eternal self, or that the
Sangha functions as an intercessory body with the ability to mediate his salvation.
Even though the refuge act is defiled by these corruptions, as long as a person
regards the Triple Gem as his supreme reliance his going for refuge is intact
and he remains a Buddhist follower. But though the refuge is intact, his attitude
of taking refuge is defective and has to be purified. Such purification can
come about if he meets a proper teacher to give him instruction and help him
overcome his ignorance, doubts, and wrong views.
The breach of the refuge means the breaking or violation of the commitment to
the threefold refuge. A breach of the refuge occurs when a person who has gone
for refuge comes to regard some counterpart to the three refuges as his guiding
ideal or supreme reliance. If he comes to regard another spiritual teacher as
superior to the Buddha, or as possessing greater spiritual authority than the
Buddha, then his going for refuge to the Buddha is broken. If he comes to regard
another religious teaching as superior to the Dhamma, or resorts to some other
system of practice as his means to deliverance, then his going for refuge to
the Dhamma is broken. If he comes to regard some spiritual community other than
the ariyan Sangha as endowed with supramundane status, or as occupying a higher
spiritual level than the ariyan Sangha, then his going for refuge to the Sangha
is broken. In order for the refuge-act to remain valid and intact, the Triple
Gem must be recognized as the exclusive resort for ultimate deliverance: "For
me there is no other refuge, the Buddha, Dhamma, and Sangha are my supreme refuge."[4]
Breaking the commitment to any of the three refuge-objects breaks the commitment
to all of them, since the effectiveness of the refuge-act requires the recognition
of the interdependence and inseparability of the three. Thus by adopting an
attitude which bestows the status of a supreme reliance upon anything outside
the Triple Gem, one cuts off the going for refuge and relinquishes one's claim
to be a disciple of the Buddha, Dhamma and Sangha.[5] In order to become valid
once again the going for refuge must be renewed, preferably by confessing one's
lapse and then by once more going through the entire formal ceremony of taking
refuge.
VIII. The Similes for the Refuges
In the traditional Indian method of exposition no account or treatment of a
theme is considered complete unless it has been illustrated by similes. Therefore
we conclude this explanation of going for refuge with a look at some of the
classical similes for the objects of refuge. Though many beautiful similes are
given in the texts, from fear of prolixity we here limit ourselves to four.
The first simile compares the Buddha to the sun, for his appearance in the world
is like the sun rising over the horizon. His teaching of the true Dhamma is
like the net of the sun's rays spreading out over the earth, dispelling the
darkness and cold of the night, giving warmth and light to all beings. The Sangha
is like the beings for whom the darkness of night has been dispelled, who go
about their affairs enjoying the warmth and radiance of the sun.
The second simile compares the Buddha to the full moon, the jewel of the night-time
sky. His teaching of the Dhamma is like the moon shedding its beams of light
over the world, cooling off the heat of the day. The Sangha is like the persons
who go out in the night to see and enjoy the refreshing splendor of the moonlight.
In the third simile the Buddha is likened to a great raincloud spreading out
across the countryside at a time when the land has been parched with a long
summer's heat. The teaching of the true Dhamma is like the downpour of the rain,
which inundates the land giving water to the plants and vegetation. The Sangha
is like the plants -- the trees, shrubs, bushes, and grass -- which thrive and
flourish when nourished by the rain pouring down from the cloud.
The fourth simile compares the Buddha to a lotus flower, the paragon of beauty
and purity. Just as a lotus grows up in a muddy lake, but rises above the water
and stands in full splendor unsoiled by the mud, so the Buddha, having grown
up in the world, overcomes the world and abides in its midst untainted by its
impurities. The Buddha's teaching of the true Dhamma is like the sweet perfumed
fragrance emitted by the lotus flower, giving delight to all. And the Sangha
is like the host of bees who collect around the lotus, gather up the pollen,
and fly off to their hives to transform it into honey.
Taking the Precepts
Going for refuge to the Triple Gem -- the Buddha, the Dhamma, and the Sangha
-- is the door of entrance to the Buddha's teaching. To enter the teaching we
have to pass through this door, but once we have made the initial commitment
by taking refuge it is necessary to go further and to put the teaching into
actual practice. For the Buddha's teaching is not a system of salvation by faith.
It is essentially a path leading to nibbana, the end of suffering. At the outset
we need a certain degree of faith as the incentive for entering the path, but
progress towards the goal depends primarily upon our own energy and intelligence
in following the path through each of its successive stages. The teaching takes
the attainment of deliverance away from every external resort and places it
into our own hands. We have to realize the goal for ourselves, within ourselves,
by working upon ourselves with the guidance of the Buddha's instructions.
The path of liberation that the Buddha points to is the threefold training in
moral discipline (sila), concentration (samadhi), and wisdom (pañña).
These three divisions of the path rise up each in dependence upon its predecessor
-- concentration upon moral discipline and wisdom upon concentration. The foundation
for the entire path, it can be seen, is the training in moral discipline. Because
this first section of the path plays such a pivotal role it is vitally important
for the serious practitioner to obtain a clear understanding of its essential
meaning and the way it is to be practiced. To aid the development of such an
understanding we here present an explanation of the training in sila or moral
discipline, giving special attention to its most basic form as the observance
of the five precepts (pañcasila). The subject will be dealt with under
the following headings: (I) the essential meaning of sila; (II) the five precepts
individually explained; (III) the eight precepts; (IV) the benefits of sila;
(V) the undertaking of sila; (VI) the breach of sila; and (VII) the similes
for sila.
I. The Essential Meaning of Sila
The Pali word for moral discipline, sila, has three levels of meaning: (1) inner
virtue, i.e., endowment with such qualities as kindness, contentment, simplicity,
truthfulness, patience, etc.; (2) virtuous actions of body and speech which
express those inner virtues outwardly; and (3) rules of conduct governing actions
of body and speech designed to bring them into accord with the ethical ideals.
These three levels are closely intertwined and not always distinguishable in
individual cases. But if we isolate them, sila as inner virtue can be called
the aim of the training in moral discipline, sila as purified actions of body
and speech the manifestation of that aim, and sila as rules of conduct the systematic
means of actualizing the aim. Thus sila as inner virtue is established by bringing
our bodily and verbal actions into accord with the ethical ideals, and this
is done by following the rules of conduct intended to give these ideals concrete
form.
The Buddhist texts explain that sila has the characteristic of harmonizing our
actions of body and speech. Sila harmonizes our actions by bringing them into
accord with our own true interests, with the well-being of others, and with
universal laws. Actions contrary to sila lead to a state of self-division marked
by guilt, anxiety, and remorse. But the observance of the principles of sila
heals this division, bringing our inner faculties together into a balanced and
centered state of unity. Sila also brings us into harmony with other men. While
actions undertaken in disregard of ethical principles lead to relations scarred
by competitiveness, exploitation, and aggression, actions intended to embody
such principles promote concord between man and man -- peace, cooperation, and
mutual respect. The harmony achieved by maintaining sila does not stop at the
social level, but leads our actions into harmony with a higher law -- the law
of kamma, of action and its fruit, which reigns invisibly behind the entire
world of sentient existence.
The need to internalize ethical virtue as the foundation for the path translates
itself into a set of precepts established as guidelines to good conduct. The
most basic set of precepts found in the Buddha's teaching is the pañcasila,
the five presents, consisting of the following five training rules:
(1) the training rule of abstaining from taking life;
(2) the training rule of abstaining from taking what is not given;
(3) the training rule of abstaining from sexual misconduct;
(4) the training rule of abstaining from false speech; and
(5) the training rule of abstaining from fermented and distilled intoxicants
which are the basics for heedlessness.
These five precepts are the minimal ethical code binding on the Buddhist laity.
They are administered regularly by the monks to the lay disciples at almost
every service and ceremony, following immediately upon the giving of the three
refuges. They are also undertaken afresh each day by earnest lay Buddhists as
part of their daily recitation.
The precepts function as the core of the training in moral discipline. They
are intended to produce, through methodical practice, that inner purity of will
and motivation which comes to expression as virtuous bodily and verbal conduct.
Hence the equivalent term for precept, sikkhapada, which means literally "factor
of training," that is, a factor of the training in moral discipline. However,
the formulation of ethical virtue in terms of rules of conduct meets with an
objection reflecting an attitude that is becoming increasingly widespread. This
objection, raised by the ethical generalist, calls into question the need to
cast ethics into the form of specific rules. It is enough, it is said, simply
to have good intentions and to let ourselves be guided by our intuition as to
what is right and wrong. Submitting to rules of conduct is at best superfluous,
but worse tends to lead to a straightjacket conception of morality, to a constricting
and legalistic system of ethics.
The Buddhist reply is that while moral virtue admittedly cannot be equated flatly
with any set of rules, or with outward conduct conforming to rules, the rules
are still of value for aiding the development of inner virtue. Only the very
exceptional few can alter the stuff of their lives by a mere act of will. The
overwhelming majority of men have to proceed more slowly, with the help of a
set of stepping stones to help them gradually cross the rough currents of greed,
hatred, and delusion. If the process of self-transformation which is the heart
of the Buddhist path begins with moral discipline, then the concrete manifestation
of this discipline is in the lines of conduct represented by the five precepts,
which call for our adherence as expedient means to self-transformation. The
precepts are not commandments imposed from without, but principles of training
each one takes upon himself through his own initiative and endeavors to follow
with awareness and understanding. The formulas for the precepts do not read:
"Thou shalt abstain from this and that." They read: "I undertake
the training rule to abstain from the taking of life," etc. The emphasis
here, as throughout the entire path, is on self-responsibility.
The precepts engender virtuous dispositions by a process involving the substitution
of opposites. The actions prohibited by the precepts -- killing, stealing, adultery,
etc. -- are all motivated by unwholesome mental factors called in Buddhist terminology
the "defilements" (kilesa). By engaging in these actions knowingly
and willingly we reinforce the grip of the defilements upon the mind to the
point where they become our dominant traits. But when we take up the training
by observing the precepts we then put a brake upon the current of unwholesome
mental factors. There then takes place a process of "factor substitution"
whereby the defilements are replaced by wholesome states which become increasingly
more deeply ingrained as we go on with the training.
In this process of self-transformation the precepts draw their efficacy from
another psychological principle, the law of development through repetition.
Even though at first a practice arouses some resistance from within, if it is
repeated over and over with understanding and determination, the qualities it
calls into play pass imperceptibly into the makeup of the mind. We generally
begin in the grip of negative attitudes, hemmed in by unskillful emotions. But
if we see that these states lead to suffering and that to be free from suffering
we must abandon them, then we will have sufficient motivation to take up the
training designed to counter them. This training starts with the outer observance
of sila, then proceeds to internalize self-restraint through meditation and
wisdom. At the start to maintain the precepts may require special effort, but
by degrees the virtuous qualities they embody will gather strength until our
actions flow from them as naturally and smoothly as water from a spring.
The five precepts are formulated in accordance with the ethical algorithm of
using oneself as the criterion for determining how to act in relation to others.
In Pali the principle is expressed by the phrase attanam upamam katva, "consider
oneself as similar to others and others as similar to oneself." The method
of application involves a simple imaginative exchange of oneself and others.
In order to decide whether or not to follow a particular line of action, we
take ourselves as the standard and consider what would be pleasant and painful
for ourselves. Then we reflect that others are basically similar to ourselves,
and so, what is pleasant and painful to us is also pleasant and painful to them;
thus just as we would not want others to cause pain for us, so we should not
cause pain for others. As the Buddha explains:
In this matter the noble disciple reflects: 'Here am I, fond of my life, not
wanting to die, fond of pleasure and averse from pain. Suppose someone should
deprive me of my life, it would not be a thing pleasing or delightful to me.
If I, in my turn, were to deprive of his life one fond of life, not wanting
to die, one fond of pleasure and averse from pain, it would not be a thing pleasing
or delightful to him. For that state which is not pleasant or delightful to
me must be not pleasant or delightful to another: and a state undear and unpleasing
to me, how could I inflict that upon another?' As a result of such reflection
he himself abstains from taking the life of creatures and he encourages others
so to abstain, and speaks in praise of so abstaining.
Samyuttanikaya, 55, No. 7
This deductive method the Buddha uses to derive the first four precepts. The
fifth precept, abstaining from intoxicants, appears to deal only with my relation
to myself, with what I put into my own body. However, because the violation
of this precept can lead to the violation of all the other precepts and to much
further harm for others, its social implications are deeper than is evident
at first sight and bring it into range of this same method of derivation.
Buddhist ethics, as formulated in the five precepts, is sometimes charged with
being entirely negative. It is criticized on the ground that it is a morality
solely of avoidance lacking any ideals of positive action. Against this criticism
several lines of reply can be given. First of all it has to be pointed out that
the five precepts, or even the longer codes of precepts promulgated by the Buddha,
do not exhaust the full range of Buddhist ethics. The precepts are only the
most rudimentary code of moral training, but the Buddha also proposes other
ethical codes inculcating definite positive virtues. The Mangala Sutta, for
example, commends reverence, humility, contentment, gratitude, patience, generosity,
etc. Other discourses prescribe numerous family, social, and political duties
establishing the well being of society. And behind all these duties lie the
four attitudes called the "immeasurables" -- loving-kindness, compassion,
sympathetic joy, and equanimity.
But turning to the five precepts themselves, some words have to be said in defense
of their negative formulation. Each moral principle included in the precepts
contains two aspects -- a negative aspect, which is a rule of abstinence, and
a positive aspect, which is a virtue to be cultivated. These aspects are called,
respectively, varitta (avoidance) and caritta (positive performance). Thus the
first precept is formulated as abstaining from the destruction of life, which
in itself is a varitta, a principle of abstinence. But corresponding to this,
we also find in the descriptions of the practice of this precept a caritta,
a positive quality to be developed, namely compassion. Thus in the suttas we
read: "The disciple, abstaining from the taking of life, dwells without
stick or sword, conscientious, full of sympathy, desirous of the welfare of
all living beings." So corresponding to the negative side of abstaining
from the destruction of life, there is the positive side of developing compassion
and sympathy for all beings. Similarly, abstinence from stealing is paired with
honesty and contentment, abstinence from sexual misconduct is paired with marital
fidelity in the case of lay people and celibacy in the case of monks, abstinence
from falsehood is pared with speaking the truth, and abstinence from intoxicants
is paired with heedfulness.
Nevertheless, despite this recognition of a duality of aspect, the question
still comes up: if there are two sides to each moral principle, why is the precept
worded only as an abstinence? Why don't we also undertake training rules to
develop positive virtues such as compassion, honesty, and so forth?
The answer to this is twofold. First, in order to develop the positive virtues
we have to begin by abstaining from the negative qualities opposed to them.
The growth of the positive virtues will only be stunted or deformed as long
as the defilements are allowed to reign unchecked. We cannot cultivate compassion
while at the same time indulging in killing, or cultivate honesty while stealing
and cheating. At the start we have to abandon the unwholesome through the aspect
of avoidance. Only when we have secured a foundation in avoiding the unwholesome
can we expect to succeed in cultivating the factors of positive performance.
The process of purifying virtue can be compared to growing a flower garden on
a plot of uncultivated land. We don't begin by planting the seeds in expectation
of a bountiful yield. We have to start with the duller work of weeding out the
garden and preparing the beds. Only after we have uprooted the weeds and nourished
the soil can we plant the seeds in the confidence that the flowers will grow
healthily.
Another reason why the precepts are worded in terms of abstinence is that the
development of positive virtues cannot be prescribed by rules. Rules of training
can govern what we have to avoid and perform in our outer actions but only ideals
of aspiration, not rules, can govern what develops within ourselves. Thus we
cannot take up a training rule to always be loving towards others. To impose
such a rule is to place ourselves in a double bind since inner attitudes are
just simply not so docile that they can be determined by command. Love and compassion
are the fruits of the work we do on ourselves inwardly, not of assenting to
a precept. What we can do is to undertake a precept to abstain from destroying
life and from injuring other beings. Then we can make a resolution, preferably
without much fanfare, to develop loving-kindness, and apply ourselves to the
mental training designed to nourish its growth.
One more word should be added concerning the formulation of the precepts. Despite
their negative wording, even in that form the precepts are productive of tremendous
positive benefits for others as well as for oneself. The Buddha says that one
who abstains from the destruction of life gives immeasurable safety and security
to countless living beings. How the simple observance of a single precept leads
to such a result is not immediately obvious but calls for some thought. Now
by myself I can never give immeasurable safety and security to other beings
by any program of positive action. Even if I were to go on protest against all
the slaughterhouses in the world, or to march against war continuously without
stopping, by such action I could never stop the slaughter of animals or ensure
that war would come to an end. But when I adopt for myself the precept to abstain
from the destruction of life, then by reason of the precept I do not intentionally
destroy the life of any living being. Thus any other being can feel safe and
secure in my presence; all beings are ensured that they will never meet harm
from me. Of course even then I can never ensure that other living beings will
be absolutely immune from harm and suffering, but this is beyond anyone's power.
All that lies within my power and the sphere of my responsibility are the attitudes
and actions that emanate from myself towards others. And as long as these are
circumscribed by the training rule to abstain from taking life, no living being
need feel threatened in my presence, or fear that harm and suffering will come
from me.
The same principle applies to the other precepts. When I undertake the precept
to abstain from taking what is not given, no one has reason to fear that I will
steal what belongs to him; the belongings of all other beings are safe from
me. When I undertake the precept to abstain from sexual misconduct, no one has
reason to fear that I will try to transgress against his wife. When I undertake
the precept to abstain from falsehood, then anyone who speaks with me can be
confident that they will hear the truth; my word can be regarded as trustworthy
and reliable even in matters of critical importance. And because I undertake
the precept of abstaining from intoxicants, then one can be assured that the
crimes and transgression that result from intoxication will never be committed
by myself. In this way, by observing the five precepts I give immeasurable safety
and security to countless beings simply through these five silent but powerful
determinations established in the mind.
II. The Five Precepts
1. The First Precept: Abstinence from Taking Life
The first of the five precepts reads in Pali, Panatipata veramani sikkhapadam
samadiyami; in English, "I undertake the training rule to abstain from
taking life." Here the word pana, meaning that which breathes, denotes
any living being that has breath and consciousness. It includes animals and
insects as well as men, but does not include plants as they have only life but
not breath or consciousness. The word "living being" is a conventional
term, an expression of common usage, signifying in the strict philosophical
sense the life faculty (jivitindriya). The word atipata means literally striking
down, hence killing or destroying. Thus the precept enjoins abstinence (veramani)
from the taking of life. Though the precept's wording prohibits the killing
of living beings, in terms of its underlying purpose it can also be understood
to prohibit injuring, maiming, and torturing as well.
The Pali Buddhist commentaries formally define the act of taking life thus:
"The taking of life is the volition of killing expressed through the doors
of either body or speech, occasioning action which results in the cutting off
of the life faculty in a living being, when there is a living being present
and (the perpetrator of the act) perceives it as a living being"[6]
The first important point to note in this definition is that the act of taking
life is defined as a volition (cetana). Volition is the mental factor responsible
for action (kamma); it has the function of arousing the entire mental apparatus
for the purpose of accomplishing a particular aim, in this case, the cutting
off of the life faculty of a living being. The identification of the transgression
with volition implies that the ultimate responsibility for the act of killing
lies with the mind, since the volition that brings about the act is a mental
factor. The body and speech function merely as doors for that volition, i.e.,
as channels through which the volition of taking life reaches expression. Killing
is classified as a bodily deed since it generally occurs via the body, but what
really performs the act of killing is the mind using the body as the instrument
for actualizing its aim.
A second important point to note is that killing need not occur directly through
the body. The volition to take life can also express itself through the door
of speech. This means that the command to take life, given to others by way
of words, writing, or gesture, is also considered a case of killing. One who
issues such a commend becomes responsible for the action as soon as it achieves
its intention of depriving a being of life.
A complete act of killing constituting a full violation of the precept involves
five factors: (1) a living being; (2) the perception of the living being as
such; (3) the thought or volition of killing; (4) the appropriate effort; and
(5) the actual death of the being as a result of the action. The second factor
ensures that responsibility for killing is incurred only when the perpetrator
of the act is aware that the object of his action is a living being. Thus if
we step on an insect we do not see, the precept is not broken because the perception
or awareness of a living being is lacking. The third factor ensures that the
taking of life is intentional. Without the factor of volition there is no transgression,
as when we kill a fly while intending simply to drive it away with our hand.
The fourth factor holds that the action must be directed to the taking of life,
the fifth that the being dies as a result of this action. If the life faculty
is not cut off, a full violation of the precept is not incurred, though in harming
or injuring living beings in any way its essential purpose will be violated.
The taking of life is distinguished into different types by way of its underlying
motivation. One criterion for determining the motivation is the defilement principally
responsible for the action. Acts of killing can originate from all three unwholesome
roots -- from greed, hatred, and delusion. As the immediate cause concomitant
with the act of killing, hatred together with delusion functions as the root
since the force which drives the act is the impulse to destroy the creature's
life, a form of hatred. Any of the three unwholesome roots, however, can serve
as the impelling cause or decisive support (upanissaya paccaya) for the act,
operating over some span of time. Though greed and hatred are always mutually
exclusive at a single moment, the two can work together at different moments
over an extended period to occasion the taking of life. Killing motivated primarily
by greed is seen in such cases as killing in order to gain material benefits
or high status for oneself, to eliminate threats to one's comfort and security,
or to obtain enjoyment as in hunting and fishing for sport. Killing motivated
by hatred is evident in cases of vicious murder where the motive is strong aversion,
cruelty, or jealousy. And killing motivated by delusion can be seen in the case
of those who perform animal sacrifices in the belief that they are spiritually
wholesome or who kill followers of other religions with the view that this is
a religious duty.
Acts of taking life are differentiated by way of their degree of moral gravity.
Not all cases of killing are equally blameworthy. All are unwholesome, a breach
of the precept, but the Buddhist texts make a distinction in the moral weight
attached to different kinds of killing.
The first distinction given is that between killing beings with moral qualities
(guna) and killing beings without moral qualities. For all practical purposes
the former are human beings, the latter animals, and it is held that to kill
a fellow human being is a more serious matter ethically than to kill an animal.
Then within each category further distinctions are drawn. In the case of animals
the degree of moral gravity is said to be proportional to the animal, to kill
a larger animal being more blameworthy than to kill a smaller one. Other factors
relevant to determining moral weight are whether the animal has an owner or
is ownerless, whether it is domestic or wild, and whether it has a gentle or
a vicious temperament. The moral gravity would be greater in the former three
alternatives, less in the latter three. In the killing of human beings the degree
of moral blame depends on the personal qualities of the victim, to kill a person
of superior spiritual stature or one's personal benefactors being more blameworthy
than to kill a less developed person or one unrelated to oneself. The three
cases of killing selected as the most culpable are matricide, parricide, and
the murder of an arahat, a fully purified saint.
Another factor determinative of moral weight is the motivation of the act. This
leads to a distinction between premeditated murder and impulsive killing. The
former is murder in cold blood, intended and planned in advance, driven either
by strong greed or strong hatred. The latter is killing which is not planned
in advance, as when one person kills another in a fit of rage or in self-defense.
Generally, premeditated murder is regarded as a graver transgression than impulsive
killing, and the motivation of hatred as more blameworthy than the motivation
of greed. The presence of cruelty and the obtaining of sadistic pleasure from
the act further increase its moral weight.
Other factors determinative of moral gravity are the force of the defilements
accompanying the act and the amount of effort involved in its perpetration,
but limitations of space prohibit a full discussion of their role.
2. The Second Precept: Abstinence from Taking What Is Not Given
The second precept reads: Adinnadana veramani sikkhapadam samadiyami, "I
undertake the training rule to abstain from taking what is not given."
The word adinna, meaning literally "what is not given," signifies
the belongings of another person over which he exercises ownership legally and
blamelessly (adandaraho anupavajjo). Thus no offense is committed if the article
taken has no owner, e.g., if logs are taken to make a fire or stones are gathered
to build a wall. Further, the other person has to have possession of the article
taken legally and blamelessly; that is, he has to have the legal right over
the article and also has to be blameless in his use of it. This latter phrase
apparently becomes applicable in cases where a person gains legal possession
of an article but does so in an improper way or uses it for unethical purposes.
In such cases there might be legitimate grounds for depriving him of the item,
as when the law requires someone who commits a misdemeanor to pay a fine or
deprives a person of some weapon rightfully his which he is using for destructive
purposes.
The act of taking what is not given is formally defined thus: "Taking what
is not given is the volition with thievish intent arousing the activity of appropriating
an article belonging to another legally and blamelessly in one who perceives
it as belonging to another."[7] As in the case of the first precept the
transgression here consists ultimately in a volition. This volition can commit
the act of theft by originating action through body or speech; thus a transgression
is incurred either by taking something directly by oneself or else indirectly,
by commanding someone else to appropriate the desired article. The fundamental
purpose of the precept is to protect the property of individuals from unjustified
confiscation by others. Its ethical effect is to encourage honesty and right
livelihood.
According to the commentaries, for a complete breach of the precept to be committed
five factors must be present: (1) an article belonging to another legally and
blamelessly; (2) the perception of it as belonging to another; (3) the thought
or intention of stealing; (4) the activity of taking the article; and (5) the
actual appropriation of the article. By reason of the second factor there is
no violation in taking another's article if we mistakenly perceive it as our
own, as when we might confuse identical-looking coats, umbrellas, etc. The third
factor again provides a safeguard against accidental appropriation, while the
fifth asserts that to fall into the class of a transgression the action must
deprive the owner of his article. It is not necessary that he be aware that
his possession is missing, only that it be removed from his sphere of control
even if only momentarily.
Taking what is not given can be divided into many different kinds of violation.
We might mention some of the most prominent. One is stealing, that is, taking
what is not given, secretly, without the knowledge of the owner, as in housebreaking,
a midnight bank theft, pickpocketing, etc. Another type is robbery, taking what
is not given by force, either by snatching someone's belongings away from him
or by compelling him to hand them over by means of threats. A third type is
fraudulence, laying false claims or telling lies in order to gain someone else's
possessions. Still another is deceit, using deceptive means to deprive someone
of an article or to gain his money as when storekeepers use false weights and
measures or when people produce counterfeit bills for use.
The violation of this precept need not amount to a major crime. The precept
is subtle and offers many opportunities for its breach, some of them seemingly
slight. For example, transgression will be incurred when employees take goods
belonging to their employers, pocketing small items to which they have no right
with the thought that the company will not miss them; when using another's telephone
to make long-distance calls without his consent, letting him cover the bill;
in bringing articles into a country without declaring them to customs in order
to avoid paying duty on them; in idling away time on the job for which one is
being paid in the expectation that one has been working diligently; in making
one's employees work without giving them adequate compensation, etc.
By way of its underlying roots, the act of taking what is not given can proceed
either from greed or hatred, both being coupled with delusion. Stealing by reason
of greed is the obvious case, but the offense can also be driven by hatred.
Hatred functions as the motive for stealing when one person deprives another
of an article not so much because he wants it for himself as because he resents
the other's possession of it and wants to make him suffer through its loss.
The degree of blame attached to acts of stealing is held to be determined by
two principal factors, the value of the article taken and the moral qualities
of the owner. In stealing a very valuable article the degree of blame is obviously
greater than in stealing an article of little worth. But where the value of
the article is the same the blameworthiness of the action still varies relative
to the individual against whom the offense is committed. As determined by this
factor, stealing from a person of high virtuous qualities or a personal benefactor
is a more serious transgression than stealing from a person of lesser qualities
or from an unrelated person. This factor, in fact, can be even more important
than the cash value of the object. Thus if someone steals an almsbowl from a
meditative monk, who needs the bowl to collect his food, the moral weight of
the act is heavier than that involved in cheating a racketeer out of several
thousand dollars, owing to the character of the person affected by the deed.
The motivation behind the action and the force of the defilements are also determinative
of the degree of moral gravity, hatred being considered more culpable than greed.
3. The Third Precept: Abstinence from Misconduct in regard to Sense Pleasures
The third precept reads: Kamesu micchacara veramani sikkhapadam samadiyami,
"I undertake the training rule to abstain from misconduct in regard to
sense pleasures." The word kama has the general meaning of sense pleasure
or sensual desire, but the commentaries explain it as sexual relations (methunasamacara),
an interpretation supported by the suttas. Micchacara means wrong modes of conduct.
Thus the precept enjoins abstinence from improper or illicit sexual relations.
Misconduct is regard to sense pleasures is formally defined as "the volition
with sexual intent occurring through the bodily door, causing transgression
with an illicit partner".[8] The primary question this definition elicits
is: who is to qualify as an illicit partner? For men, the text lists twenty
types of women who are illicit partners. These can be grouped into three categories:
(1) a woman who is under the protection of elders or other authorities charged
with her care, e.g., a girl being cared for by parents, by an older brother
or sister, by other relatives, or by the family as a whole; (2) a woman who
is prohibited by convention, that is, close relatives forbidden under family
tradition, nuns and other women vowed to observe celibacy as a spiritual discipline,
and those forbidden as partners under the law of the land; and (3) a woman who
is married or engaged to another man, even one bound to another man only by
a temporary agreement. In the case of women, for those who are married any man
other than a husband is an illicit partner. For all women a man forbidden by
tradition or under religious rules is prohibited as a partner. For both men
and women any violent, forced, or coercive union, whether by physical compulsion
or psychological pressure, can be regarded as a transgression of the precept
even when the partner is not otherwise illicit. But a man or woman who is widowed
or divorced can freely remarry according to choice.
The texts mention four factors which must be present for a breach of the precept
to be incurred: (1) an illicit partner, as defined above; (2) the thought or
volition of engaging in sexual union with that person; (3) the act of engaging
in union; and (4) the acceptance of the union. This last factor is added for
the purpose of excluding from violation those who are unwillingly forced into
improper sexual relations.
The degree of moral gravity involved in the offense is determined by the force
of the lust motivating the action and the qualities of the person against whom
the transgression is committed. If the transgression involves someone of high
spiritual qualities, the lust is strong, and force is used, the blame is heavier
than when the partner has less developed qualities, the lust is weak, and no
force is used. The most serious violations are incest and the rape of an arahat
(or arahatess). The underlying root is always greed accompanied by delusion.
4. The Fourth Precept: Abstinence from False Speech
The fourth precept reads: Musavada veramani sikkhapadam samadiyami, "I
undertake the training rule to abstain from false speech." False speech
is defined as "the wrong volition with intent to deceive, occurring through
the door of either body or speech, arousing the bodily or verbal effort of deceiving
another."[9] The transgression must be understood as intentional. The precept
is not violated merely by speaking what is false, but by speaking what is false
with the intention of representing that as true; thus it is equivalent to lying
or deceptive speech. The volition is said to arouse bodily or verbal action.
The use of speech to deceive is obvious, but the body too can be used as an
instrument of communication -- as in writing, hand signals, and gestures --
and thus can be used to deceive others.
Four factors enter into the offense of false speech: (1) an untrue state of
affairs; (2) the intention of deceiving another; (3) the effort to express that,
either verbally or bodily; and (4) the conveying of a false impression to another.
Since intention is required, if one speaks falsely without aiming at deceiving
another, as when one speaks what is false believing it to be true, there is
no breach of the precept. Actual deception, however, is not needed for the precept
to be broken. It is enough if the false impression is communicated to another.
Even though he does not believe the false statement, if one expresses what is
false to him and he understands what is being said, the transgression of speaking
falsehood has been committed. The motivation for false speech can be any of
the three unwholesome roots. These yield three principal kinds of falsehood:
(1) false speech motivated by greed, intended to increase one's gains or promote
one's status or that of those dear to oneself; (2) false speech motivated by
hatred, intended to destroy the welfare of others or to bring them harm and
suffering; and (3) false speech of a less serious kind, motivated principally
by delusion in association with less noxious degrees of greed or hatred, intended
neither to bring special benefits to oneself nor to harm others. Some examples
would be lying for the sake of a joke, exaggerating an account to make it more
interesting, speaking flattery to gratify others, etc.
The principal determinants of the gravity of the transgression are the recipient
of the lie, the object of the lie and the motivation of the lie. The recipient
is the person to whom the lie is told. The moral weight of the act is proportional
to the character of this person, the greatest blame attaching to falsehoods
spoken to one's benefactors or to spiritually developed persons. The moral weight
again varies according to the object of the lie, the person the lie affects,
being proportional to his spiritual qualities and his relation to oneself in
the same way as with the recipient. And thirdly, the gravity of the lie is contingent
on its motivation, the most serious cases being those with malicious intent
designed to destroy the welfare of others. The worst cases of false speech are
lying in a way that defames the Buddha or an arahat, and making false claims
to have reached a superior spiritual attainment in order to increase one's own
gains and status. In the case of a bhikkhu this latter offense can lead to expulsion
from the Sangha.
5. The Fifth Precept: Abstinence from Intoxicating Drinks and Drugs
The fifth precept reads: Suramerayamajjapamadatthana veramani sikkhapadam samadiyami,
"I undertake the training rule to abstain from fermented and distilled
intoxicants which are the basis for heedlessness." The word meraya means
fermented liquors, sura liquors which have been distilled to increase their
strength and flavor. The world majja, meaning an intoxicant, can be related
to the rest of the passage either as qualified by surameraya or as additional
to them. In the former case the whole phrase means fermented and distilled liquors
which are intoxicants, in the latter it means fermented and distilled liquors
and other intoxicants. If this second reading is adopted the precept would explicitly
include intoxicating drugs used non-medicinally, such as the opiates, hemp,
and psychedelics. But even on the first reading the precept implicitly proscribes
these drugs by way of its guiding purpose, which is to prevent heedlessness
caused by the taking of intoxicating substances.
The taking of intoxicants is defined as the volition leading to the bodily act
of ingesting distilled or fermented intoxicants.[10] It can be committed only
by one's own person (not by command to others) and only occurs through the bodily
door. For the precept to be violated four factors are required: (1) the intoxicant;
(2) the intention of taking it; (3) the activity of ingesting it; and (4) the
actual ingestion of the intoxicant. The motivating factor of the violation is
greed coupled with delusion. No gradations of moral weight are given. In taking
medicines containing alcohol or intoxicating drugs for medical reasons no breach
of the precept is committed. There is also no violation in taking food containing
a negligible amount of alcohol added as a flavoring.
This fifth precept differs from the preceding four in that the others directly
involve a man's relation to his fellow beings while this precept ostensibly
deals solely with a person's relation to himself -- to his own body and mind.
Thus whereas the first four precepts clearly belong to the moral sphere, a question
may arise whether this precept is really ethical in character or merely hygienic.
The answer is that it is ethical, for the reason that what a person does to
his own body and mind can have a decisive effect on his relations to his fellow
men. Taking intoxicants can influence the ways in which a man interacts with
others, leading to the violation of all five precepts. Under the influence of
intoxicants a man who might otherwise be restrained can lose self-control, become
heedless, and engage in killing, stealing, adultery, and lying. Abstinence from
intoxicants is prescribed on the grounds that it is essential to the self-protection
of the individual and for establishing the well-being of family and society.
The precept thus prevents the misfortunes that result from the use of intoxicants:
loss of wealth, quarrels and crimes, bodily disease, loss of reputation, shameless
conduct, negligence, and madness.
The precept, it must be stressed, does not prohibit merely intoxication but
the very use of intoxicating substances. Though occasional indulgences may not
be immediately harmful in isolation, the seductive and addictive properties
of intoxicants are well known. The strongest safeguard against the lure is to
avoid them altogether.
III. The Eight Precepts
Beyond the five precepts Buddhism offers a higher code of moral discipline for
the laity consisting of eight precepts (atthasila). This code of eight precepts
is not entirely different in content from the fivefold code, but includes the
five precepts with one significant revision. The revision comes in the third
precept, where abstaining from sexual misconduct is changed to abstaining from
incelibacy. The third precept of the eightfold set thus reads: Abrahmacariya
veramani sikkhapadam samadiyami, "I undertake the training rule to abstain
from incelibacy." To these basic five three further precepts are added:
(6) Vikalabhojana veramani sikkhapadam samadiyami, "I undertake the training
rule to abstain from eating beyond the time limit," i.e., from mid-day
to the following dawn.
(7) Nacca gita vadita visukhadassana-mala gandha vilepana dharanamandana vibhusanatthana
veramani sikkhapadam samamadiyami, "I undertake the training rule to abstain
from dancing, singing, instrumental music, unsuitable shows, and from wearing
garlands, using scents, and beautifying the body with cosmetics."
(8) Uccasayana mahasayana veramani sikkhapadam samadiyami, "I undertake
the training rule to abstain from high and luxurious beds and seats."
There are two ways in which these precepts are observed -- permanently and temporarily.
Permanent observance, far the less common of the two, is undertaken generally
by older people who, having completed their family duties, wish to deepen their
spiritual development by devoting the later years of their life to intensified
spiritual practice. Even then it is not very widespread. Temporary observance
is usually undertaken by lay people either on Uposatha days or on occasions
of a meditation retreat. Uposatha days are the new moon and full moon days of
the lunar month, which are set aside for special religious observances, a custom
absorbed into Buddhism from ancient Indian custom going back even into the pre-Buddhistic
period of Indian history. On these days lay people in Buddhist countries often
take the eight precepts, especially when they go to spend the Uposatha at a
temple or monastery. On these occasions the undertaking of the eight precepts
lasts for a day and a night. Then, secondly, on occasions of retreat lay people
take the eight precepts for the duration of their retreat, which might last
anywhere from several days to several months.
The formulation of two distinct ethical codes follows from the two basic purposes
of the Buddhist moral discipline. One is the fundamental ethical purpose of
putting a brake on immoral actions, actions which are harmful either directly
or indirectly to others. This purpose falls into the province of the fivefold
code of precepts, which deals with the restraint of actions that cause pain
and suffering to others. In enjoining abstinence from these unwholesome actions,
the five precepts also protect the individual from their undesirable repercussions
on himself -- some immediately visible in this present life, some coming to
manifestation only in future lives when the kamma they generate bears its fruit.
The other purpose of the Buddhist training in moral discipline is not so much
ethical as spiritual. It is to provide a system of self-discipline which can
act as a basis for achieving higher states of realization through the practice
of meditation. In serving this purpose the code functions as a kind of ascesis,
a way of conduct involving self-denial and renunciation as essential to the
ascent to higher levels of consciousness. This ascent, culminating in nibbana
or final liberation from suffering, hinges upon the attenuation and ultimate
eradication of craving, which with its multiple branches of desire is the primary
force that holds us in bondage. To reduce and overcome craving it is necessary
to regulate not only the deleterious types of moral transgressions but also
modes of conduct which are not harmful to others but sill give vent to the craving
that holds us in subjection.
The Buddhist code of discipline expounded in the eight precepts represents the
transition from the first level of moral discipline to the second, that is,
from sila as a purely moral undertaking to sila as a way of ascetic self-training
aimed at progress along the path to liberation. The five precepts also fulfill
this function to some extent, but they do so only in a limited way, not as fully
as the eight precepts. With the eight precepts the ethical code takes a pronounced
turn towards the control of desires which are not socially harmful and immoral.
This extension of the training focuses upon desires centering around the physical
body and its concerns. The change of the third precept to abstinence from incelibacy
curbs the sexual urge, regarded in itself not as a moral evil but as a powerful
expression of craving that has to be held in check to advance to the higher
levels of meditation. The three new precepts regulate concern with food, entertainment,
self-beautification, and physical comfort. Their observance nurtures the growth
of qualities essential to the deeper spiritual life -- contentment, fewness
of wishes, modesty, austerity, renunciation. As these qualities mature the defilements
are weakened, aiding the effort to reach attainment in serenity and insight.
IV. The Benefits of Sila
The benefits sila brings to the one who undertakes it can be divided into three
classes: (1) the benefits pertaining to the present life; (2) the benefits pertaining
to future lives; and (3) the benefit of the ultimate good. These we will discuss
in turn.
1. Benefits pertaining to the present life.
At the most elementary level, the observance of the five precepts protects one
from coming into trouble with the law, ensuring immunity from temporal punishment
at least with regard to those actions covered by the precepts. Killing, stealing,
adultery, bearing false testimony, and irresponsible behavior caused by drunkenness
being offenses punishable by law, one who undertakes the five precepts avoids
the penalties consequent upon these actions by abstaining from the actions which
entail them.
Further temporal benefits accrue through the observance of the precepts. Following
the precepts helps to establish a good reputation among the wise and virtuous.
At a more inward level it leads to a clear conscience. Repeated violations of
the basic principles of ethics, even if they escape detection, still tend to
create a disturbed conscience -- the pain of guilt, uneasiness, and remorse.
But maintaining the precepts results in freedom from remorse, an ease of conscience
that can evolve into the "bliss of blamelessness" (anavajjasukha)
when we review our actions and realize them to be wholesome and good. This clarity
of conscience fosters another benefit -- the ability to die peacefully, without
fear or confusion. At the time of death the various actions we have regularly
performed in the course of life rise to the surface of the mind, casting up
their images like pictures upon a screen. If unwholesome actions were prevalent
their weight will predominate and cause fear at the approach of death, leading
to a confused and painful end. But if wholesome actions were prevalent in the
course of life the opposite will take place: when death comes we will be able
to die calmly and peacefully.
2. Benefits pertaining to future lives.
According to the Buddha's teaching the mode of rebirth we take in our next existence
is determined by our kamma, the willed actions we have performed in this present
existence. The general principle governing the working of the rebirth process
is that unwholesome kamma leads to an unfavorable rebirth, wholesome kamma to
a favorable rebirth. More specifically, if the kamma built up by breaking the
five precepts becomes the determining cause of the mode of rebirth it will conduce
to rebirth in one of the four planes of misery -- the hells, the realm of tormented
spirits, the animal world, or the world of the asuras. If, as a result of some
wholesome kamma, a person who regularly breaks the five precepts should take
rebirth as a human being, then when his unwholesome kamma matures it will produce
pain and suffering in his human state. The forms this suffering takes correspond
to the transgressions. Killing leads to a premature death, stealing to loss
of wealth, sexual misconduct to enmity, false speech to being deceived and slandered
by others, and the use of intoxicants to loss of intelligence.
The observance of the five precepts, on the other hand, brings about the accumulation
of wholesome kamma tending to rebirth in the planes of happiness, i.e., in the
human or heavenly worlds. This kamma again, coming to maturity in the course
of the life, produces favorable results consonant in nature with the precepts.
Thus abstaining from the taking of life leads to longevity, abstaining from
stealing to prosperity, abstaining from sexual misconduct to popularity, abstaining
from false speech to a good reputation, and abstaining from intoxicants to mindfulness
and wisdom.
3. The benefits of the ultimate good.
The ultimate good is the attainment of nibbana, deliverance from the round of
rebirths, which can be achieved either in the present life or in some future
life depending on the maturity of our spiritual faculties. Nibbana is attained
by practicing the path leading to deliverance, the noble eightfold path in its
three stages of moral discipline, concentration, and wisdom. The most fundamental
of these three stages is moral discipline or sila, which begins with the observance
of the five precepts. The undertaking of the five precepts can thus be understood
to be the first actual step taken along the path to deliverance and the indispensable
foundation for the higher attainments in concentration and wisdom.
Sila functions as the foundation for the path in two ways. First the observance
of sila promotes a clear conscience, essential to the development of concentration.
If we often act contrary to the precepts our actions tend to give rise to remorse,
which will swell up to the surface of the mind when we sit in meditation, creating
restlessness and feelings of guilt. But if we act in harmony with the precepts
our minds will be imbued with a bliss and clarity of conscience which allows
concentration to develop easily. The observance of the precepts conduces to
concentration in a second way: it rescues us from the danger of being caught
in a crossfire of incompatible motives disruptive of the meditative frame of
mind. The practice of meditation aimed at serenity and insight requires the
stilling of the defilements. But when we deliberately act in violation of the
precepts our actions spring from the unwholesome roots of greed, hatred and
delusion. Thus in committing such actions we are arousing the defilements while
at the same time, when sitting in meditation, we are striving to overcome them.
The result is inner conflict, disharmony, a split right through the center of
our being obstructing the unification of the mind needed for meditative attainment.
At the outset we cannot expect to eliminate the subtle forms of the defilements
all at once. These can only be tackled later, in the deeper stages of meditation.
In the beginning we have to start by stopping the defilements in their coarser
modes of occurrence, and this is achieved by restraining them from reaching
expression through the channels of body and speech. Such restraint is the essence
of sila. We therefore take up the precepts as a form of spiritual training,
as a way of locking in the defilements and preventing them from outward eruptions.
After they have been shut in and their effusions stopped we can then work on
eliminating their roots through the development of concentration and wisdom.
V. The undertaking of Sila
The Buddhist tradition recognizes three distinct ways of observing the precepts.
One is called immediate abstinence (sampattavirati), which means abstaining
from unwholesome actions naturally through an ingrained sense of conscience
resulting either from an innately keen ethical disposition or from education
and training. The second is called abstinence through undertaking (samadanavirati),
which means abstaining as a result of having undertaken rules of training with
a determination to follow those rules as guidelines to right action. The third
way is called abstinence through eradication (samucchedavirati), which means
abstaining from the transgressions covered by the precepts as a result of having
cut off the defilements out of which transgressions arise.
For purposes of self-training Buddhism emphasizes the importance of the second
type of abstinence. Immediate abstinence is seen as praiseworthy in itself but
not sufficient as a basis for training since it presupposes the prior existence
of a strong conscience, which is not a reality in the overwhelming majority
of men. In order to develop the mental strength to resist the upsurge of the
defilements it is essential to undertake the precepts by a deliberate act of
will and to form the determination to observe them diligently.
There are two ways of formally undertaking the five precepts, the initial and
the recurrent, corresponding to the two ways of going for refuge. The initial
undertaking takes place immediately after the initial going for refuge. When
the aspirant receives the three refuges from a bhikkhu in a formal ceremony,
this will then be followed by the administering of the five precepts, the monk
reciting each of the precepts in turn and the lay disciple repeating them after
him. If there is no monk available to administer the refuges and precepts, the
aspirant can take them upon himself by a strong and fixed mental resolution,
preferably doing so before an image of the Buddha. The presence of a monk is
not necessary but is generally desired to give a sense of the continuity of
the lineage.
The undertaking of the precepts is not a one-shot affair to be gone through
once and then dropped off into the storage bank of memories. Rather, like the
going for refuge, the precepts should be undertaken repeatedly, preferably on
a daily basis. This is the recurrent undertaking of the precepts. Just as the
disciple repeats the three refuges each day to strengthen his commitment to
the Dhamma, so he should recite the five precepts immediately after the refuges
in order to express his determination to embody the Dhamma in his conduct. However,
the practice of sila is not to be confused with the mere recitation of a verbal
formula. The recitation of the formula helps reinforce one's will to carry out
the training, but beyond all verbal recitations the precepts have to be put
into practice in day-to-day life, especially on the occasions when they become
relevant. Undertaking the precepts is like buying a ticket for a train: the
purchase of the ticket permits us to board the train but does not take us anywhere
by itself. Similarly, formally accepting the precepts enables us to embark upon
the training, but after the acceptance we have to translate the precepts into
action.
Once we have formed the initial determination to cultivate sila, there are certain
mental factors which then help to protect our observance of the precepts. One
of these is mindfulness (sati). Mindfulness is awareness, constant attention
and keen observation. Mindfulness embraces all aspects of our being -- our bodily
activities, our feelings, our states of mind, our objects of thought. With sharpened
mindfulness we can be aware exactly what we are doing, what feelings and states
of mind are impelling us towards particular courses of action, what thoughts
form our motivations. Then, by means of this mindfulness, we can avoid the unwholesome
and develop the wholesome.
Another factor which helps us maintain the precepts is understanding (pañña).
The training in moral discipline should not be taken up as a blind dogmatic
submission to external rules, but as a fully conscious process guided by intelligence.
The factors of understanding give us that guiding intelligence. To observe the
precepts properly we have to understand for ourselves which kinds of actions
are wholesome and which are unwholesome. We also have to understand the reason
why -- why they are wholesome and unwholesome, why the one should be pursued
and the other abandoned. The deepening of understanding enables us to see the
roots of our actions, i.e., the mental factors from which they spring, and the
consequences to which they lead, their long-term effects upon ourselves and
others. Understanding expands our vision not only into consequences, but also
into alternatives, into the different courses of action offered by any objective
situation. Thence it gives us knowledge of the various alternatives open to
us and the wisdom to choose some in preference to others.
A third factor that helps in maintaining the precepts is energy (viriya).The
training in right conduct is at base a way of training the mind, since it is
the mind that directs our actions. But the mind cannot be trained without effort,
without the application of energy to steer it into wholesome channels. Energy
works together with mindfulness and understanding to bring about the gradual
purification of sila. Through mindfulness we gain awareness of our states of
mind; through understanding we can ascertain the tendencies of these states,
their qualities, roots and consequences; then through energy we strive to abandon
the unwholesome and to cultivate the wholesome.
The fourth factor conducive to the training in sila is patience (khanti). Patience
enables us to endure the offensive actions of others without becoming angry
or seeking retaliation. Patience also enables us to endure disagreeable circumstances
without dissatisfaction and dejection. It curbs our desires and aversions, restraining
us from transgressions through greedy pursuits or violent reprisals.
Abstinence through eradication (samucchedavirati), the highest form of observing
the precepts, comes about automatically with the attainment of the state of
an ariyan, one who has reached direct realization of the Dhamma. When the disciple
reaches the stage of stream-entry (sotapatti), the first of the ariyan stages,
he becomes bound to reach full liberation in a maximum of seven more lives.
He is incapable of reverting from the course of forward progress towards enlightenment.
Simultaneously with his attainment of stream-entry the disciple acquires four
inalienable qualities, called the four factors of stream-entry (sotapattiyanga).
The first three are unshakable faith in the Buddha, the Dhamma, and the Sangha.
The fourth is completely purified sila. The noble disciple has cut off the defilements
which motivate transgressions of the precepts. Thus he can never deliberately
violate the five precepts. His observance of the precepts has become "untorn,
unrent, unblotched, unmotiled, liberating, praised by the wise, not clung to,
conducive to concentration."
VI. The Breach of Sila
To undertake the precepts is to make a determination to live in harmony with
them, not to ensure that one will never break them. Despite our determination
it sometimes happens that due to carelessness or the force of our conditioning
by the defilements we act contrary to the precepts. The question thus comes
up as to what to do in such cases.
One thing we should not do if we break a precept is to let ourselves become
ridden by guilt and self-contempt. Until we reach the planes of liberation it
is to be expected that the defilements can crop up from time to time and motivate
unwholesome actions. Feelings of guilt and self-condemnation do nothing to help
the matter but only make things worse by piling on an overlay of self-aversion.
A sense of shame and moral scrupulousness are central to maintaining the precepts
but they should not be allowed to become entangled in the coils of guilt.
When a breach of the precepts takes place there are several methods of making
amends. One method used by monks to gain exoneration in regard to infringements
on the monastic rules is confession. For certain classes of monastic offenses
a monk can gain clearance simply by confessing his transgression to another
monk. Perhaps with suitable modifications the same procedure could be applied
by the laity, at least with regard to more serious violations. Thus if there
are a number of lay people who are earnestly intent on following the path, and
one falls into a breach of a precept, he can confess his lapse to a Dhamma friend,
or, if one is not available, he can confess it privately before an image of
the Buddha. It must be stressed, however, that confession does not aim at gaining
absolution. No one is offended by the ethical lapse, nor is there anyone to
grant forgiveness. Also, confession does not abrogate the kamma acquired by
the transgression. The kamma has been generated by the deed and will produce
its due effect if it gains the opportunity. The basic purpose of confession
is to clear the mind of the remorse bearing upon it as a consequence of the
breach. Confession especially helps to prevent the concealment of the lapse,
a subtle maneuver of the ego used to bolster its pride in its own imagined perfection.
Another method of making amends is by retaking the five precepts, reciting each
precept in turn either in the presence of a monk or before an image of the Buddha.
This new undertaking of the precepts can be reinforced by a third measure, namely,
making a strong determination not to fall into the same transgression again
in the future. Having applied these three methods one can then perform more
virtuous actions as a way of building up good kamma to counteract the unwholesome
kamma acquired through the breach of the precept. Kamma tends to produce its
due result and if this tendency is sufficiently strong there is nothing we can
do to blot it out. However, kamma does not come to fruition always as a matter
of strict necessity. Kammic tendencies push and tug with one another in complex
patterns of relationship. Some tend to reinforce the results of others, some
to weaken the results, some to obstruct the results. If we build up wholesome
kamma through virtuous actions, this pure kamma can inhibit the unwholesome
kamma and prevent it from reaching fruition. There is no guarantee that it will
do so, since kamma is a living process, not a mechanical one. But the tendencies
in the process can be understood, and since one such tendency is for the wholesome
to counteract the unwholesome and hinder their undesired results, a helpful
power in overcoming the effects of breaking the precepts is the performance
of virtuous actions.
VII. The Similes for Sila
The texts illustrate the qualities of sila with numerous similes, but as with
the three refuges we must again limit ourselves to only a few. Sila is compared
to a stream of clear water, because it can wash off the stains of wrong actions
which can never be removed by the waters of all other rivers. Sila is like sandalwood,
because it can remove the fever of the defilements just as sandalwood (according
to ancient Indian belief) can be used to allay bodily fever. Again sila is like
an ornament made of precious jewels because it adorns the person who wears it.
It is like a perfume because it gives off a pleasant scent, the "scent
of virtue," which unlike ordinary perfume travels even against the wind.
It is like moonbeams because it cools off the heat of passion as the moon cools
off the heat of the day. And sila is like a staircase because it leads upwards
by degrees -- to higher states of future existence in the fortunate realms,
to the higher planes of concentration and wisdom, to the supernormal powers,
to the paths and fruits of liberation, and finally to the highest goal, the
attainment of nibbana.
Notes
1. Khuddakapatha-Atthakatha: Saranagatanam ten'eva saranagamanena bhayam santasam
dukkham duggatim parikkilesam himsati vidhamati niharati nirodheti.
2. It should be remarked that although the ariyan Sangha can include lay persons,
the word "Sangha" is never used in the Theravada Buddhist tradition
to include the entire body of practitioners of the teaching. In ordinary usage
the word signifies the order of monks. Any extension beyond this would tend
to be considered unjustified.
3. Tappasada-taggarutahi vihatakileso tapparayanatokarappavatto cittuppado saranagamanam.
4. Natthi me saranam aññam Buddho (Dhammo Sangho) me saranam varam
-- traditional Buddhist devotional stanzas.
5. Though the traditional literature always explains the breach of the refuge
as occurring though a change of allegiance, it would seem that a complete loss
of interest in the Triple Gem and the feeling that reliance on a refuge is not
necessary would also break the commitment to the threefold refuge.
6. Khuddakapatha Atthakatha (Khp. A.), p. 26.
7. Khp. A., p. 26.
8. Majjimanikaya Atthakatha, Vol. I, p. 202 (Burmese ed.).
9. Khp. A., p. 26.
10. Khp. A., p. 26.
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