Respect in Buddhist Thought &
Practice
If you're born into an Asian Buddhist family, the
first thing your parents will teach you about Buddhism is not a
philosophical tenet but a gesture of respect: how to place your hands in
añjali, palm-to-palm over your heart, when you encounter a Buddha
image, a monk, or a nun. Obviously, the gesture will be mechanical at
first. Over time, though, you'll learn the attitude of respect that goes
with it. If you're quick to pick it up, your parents will consider it a
sign of intelligence, for respect is basic to any ability to learn.
As you get older, they may teach you the symbolism of
the gesture: that your hands form a lotus bud, representing your heart,
which you are presenting to the object of your respect in hopes of being
trained in how to become wise. Ultimately, as you grow more familiar
with the fruits of Buddhist practice, your parents hope that your
respect will turn into reverence and veneration. In this way, they give
a quick answer to the old Western question of which side of Buddhism --
the philosophy or the religion -- comes first. In their eyes, the
religious attitude of respect is needed for any philosophical
understanding to grow. And as far as they're concerned, there's no
conflict between the two. In fact, they're mutually reinforcing.
This stands in marked contrast to the typical Western
attitude, which sees an essential discrepancy between Buddhism's
religious and philosophical sides. The philosophy seems so rational,
placing such a high value on self-reliance. The insight at the heart of
the Buddha's Awakening was so abstract -- a principle of causality.
There seems no inherent reason for a philosophy with such an abstract
beginning to have produced a devotionalism intense enough to rival
anything found in the theistic religions.
Yet if we look at what the Pali Canon has to say
about devotionalism -- the attitude it expresses with the cluster of
words, respect, deference, reverence, homage, and veneration -- we learn
not only that its theory of respect is rooted in the central insight of
the Buddha's Awakening -- the causal principle called this/that
conditionality (idappaccayata) -- but also that respect is required to
learn and master this causal principle in the first place.
On the surface it may seem strange to relate a theory
of causality to the issue of respect, but the two are intimately
entwined. Respect is the attitude you develop toward the things that
matter in life. Theories of causality tell you if anything really
matters, and if so, what matters and how. For instance, take the what:
If you believe that a supreme being will grant you happiness, you'll
naturally show respect and reverence for that being. If you assume
happiness to be entirely self-willed, your greatest respect will be
reserved for your own willfulness. As for the how: If you view true
happiness as totally impossible, totally pre-determined, or totally
random, there's no need for respect, for it will make no difference in
the outcome of your life. But if you see true happiness as possible, and
its causes as precarious, contingent, and dependent on your attitude,
you'll naturally show them the care and respect needed to keep them
healthy and strong.
This is reflected in the way the Canon treats the
issue of respect. It depicts in great detail the varied ways in which
lay people of the Buddha's time showed respect to the Buddha and the
monastic Sangha, and the more standardized ways in which the members of
the Sangha showed respect to the Buddha and to one another. Especially
interesting is the protocol of respect surrounding the teaching of the
Dhamma. Buddhist monks and nuns are forbidden from teaching the Dhamma
to anyone who shows disrespect, and the Buddha himself is said to have
refused to teach his first sermon to the five brethren until they
stopped treating him as a mere equal.
This protocol, of course, may have simply been a
cultural accident, something picked up willy-nilly from the society of
the Buddha's time, but there are passages in the Canon suggesting
otherwise. Buddhism was one of the samana (contemplative) movements in
ancient India, which claimed to follow truths of nature rather than
mainstream cultural norms. These movements were very free in choosing
what to adopt from prevailing customs. Buddhist descriptions of other
samana movements often criticized them for being disrespectful not only
to outsiders but also among themselves. Students are shown being
disrespectful to their teachers, their group meetings raucous, noisy,
and out of control. All of this is then contrasted with the way
Buddhists conduct their meetings in mutual courtesy and respect. This
suggests that the Buddhists were free to reject the common customs of
respect but made a conscious choice not to.
This choice is based on their insight that respect is
a prerequisite for learning. You find it easier to learn from someone
you respect than from someone you don't. Respect is what opens your mind
and loosens your preconceived opinions to make room for new knowledge
and skills. At the same time, a person with a valuable teaching to offer
will feel more inclined to teach it to someone who shows respect than to
someone who doesn't.
However, the type of learning the Buddha emphasizes
is not simply the acquisition of information. It's a skill that allows
you to master other skills leading to total release from suffering and
stress. And this is where the issue of respect connects with causality,
for the Buddhist theory of causality centers on the question of how it's
possible to learn a skill.
As cybernetics theory shows, learning is possible
only where there is feedback; learning a skill requires the further
ability to monitor feedback and choose how to use it to modify behavior.
The Buddha's discoveries in causality explain the how and the what that
allow for these factors. The how he expressed as a causal formula; the
what, as an analysis of action: the factors that shape it, together with
the range of results it can give.
The causal formula, simply put, states that each
moment is composed of three things: results from past actions, present
actions, and the immediate results of present actions. Although this
principle seems simple, its consequences are very complex. Every act you
perform has repercussions in the present moment that also reverberate
into the future. Depending on the intensity of the act, those
reverberations can last for a very short or a very long time. Thus every
conditioned experience is shaped by the combined effects of past actions
coming from a wide range over time, together with the effects of present
acts.
Causality over time places certain limitations on
each moment. The present is not a clean slate, for it's partially shaped
by influences from the past. Immediate causality in the present,
however, makes room for free will. Not everything is determined by the
past. At any moment, you can insert new input into the process and nudge
your life in a new direction. Still, there is not so much room for free
will that causality becomes arbitrary. Each specific this in this/that
conditionality -- whether acting over time or in the immediate present
-- is always associated with a specific that. Events follow predictable
patterns that can be mastered.
The what that keeps this process in motion is the
factor that allows for feedback and the monitoring of feedback. The
primary element in that what is intention, which the Buddha identified
as the essence of action, or kamma. Intention, in turn, is shaped by
acts of attention, which ask questions about perceptions and create
views from those questions. Because you can attend to the results of
your intentions, there is a feedback loop in your mind that allows you
to learn. Because attention can ask questions, it can monitor that
feedback to determine how it can best be put to use. And because your
intentions -- guided by views and offering new input into the present --
can then reshape your experience, your ability to learn can make a
difference: you can change your behavior and reap the results of your
improved skills in terms of greater and greater happiness.
How far can that happiness go? In the course of his
Awakening, the Buddha discovered that the pursuit of skillfulness can
ultimately lead totally beyond the realm of rebirth. From this discovery
he identified four types of kamma: the first three giving pleasant,
painful, or mixed results in the round of rebirth, and the fourth
leading beyond all kamma to the end of the round of rebirth. In other
words, the principle of causality works so that actions can either
continue the round of rebirth or bring it to an end. Because even the
highest pleasure within the round is inconstant and undependable, he
taught that the most worthy course of action is the fourth kind of kamma
-- the type that led to his Awakening -- to put an end to kamma once and
for all.
The skill embodied in this form of kamma comes from
coordinating the factors of attention and intention so that they lead
first to pleasant results within the round of rebirth, and then -- on
the transcendent level -- to total release from suffering and stress.
This, in turn, requires certain attitudes toward the principle of
causality operating in human life. And here the quality of respect
becomes essential, for without the proper respect for three things --
yourself, the principle of causality operating in your life, and other
people's insights into that principle -- you won't be able to muster the
resolve needed to master that principle and to see how far your
potential for skillfulness can go.
Respect for yourself, in the context of this/that
conditionality, means two things:
1) Because the fourth kind of kamma is possible, you
can respect your desire for unconditional happiness, and don't have to
regard it as an unrealistic ideal.
2) Because of the importance of intention and
attention in shaping your experience, you can respect your ability to
develop the skills needed to understand and master causal reality to the
point of attaining true happiness.
But respect for yourself goes even further than that.
Not only can you respect your desire for true happiness and your ability
to attain it, you have to respect these things if you don't want to fall
under the sway of the many religious and secular forces within society
and yourself that would pull you in other directions.
Although most religious cultures assume true
happiness to be possible, they don't see human skillfulness as capable
of bringing it about. By and large, they place their hopes for happiness
in higher powers. As for secular cultures, they don't believe that
unconditional happiness is possible at all. They teach us to strive for
happiness dependent on conditions, and to turn a blind eye to the
limitations inherent in any happiness coming from money, power,
relationships, possessions, or a sentimental sense of community. They
often scoff at higher values and smile when religious idols fall or
religious aspirants show feet of clay.
These secular attitudes foster our own unskillful
qualities, our desire to take whatever pleasures come easily, and our
impatience with anyone who would tell us that we are capable of better
and more. But both the secular and the common religious attitudes teach
us to underestimate the powers of our own skillful mind states.
Qualities like mindfulness, concentration, and discernment, when they
first arise in the mind, seem unremarkable -- small and tender, like
maple seedlings growing in the midst of weeds. If we don't watch for
them or accord them any special respect, the weeds will strangle them or
we ourselves will tread them underfoot. As a result, we'll never get to
know how much shade they can provide.
If, however, we develop strong respect for our own
ability to attain true happiness, two important moral qualities will
take charge of our minds and watch out for our good qualities: concern
for the suffering we'll experience if we don't try our best to develop
skillfulness, and shame at the thought of aiming lower than at the
highest possible happiness. Shame may seem a strange adjunct to
self-respect, but when both are healthy they go together. You need
self-respect to recognize when a course of action is beneath you, and
that you would be ashamed to follow it. You need to feel shame for your
mistakes in order to keep your self-respect from turning into stubborn
pride.
This is where the second aspect of respect -- respect
for the principle of causality -- comes in. This/that conditionality is
not a free-form process. Each unskillful this is connected to an
unpleasant that. You can't twist the connection to lead to pleasant
results, or use your own preferences to design a customized path to
release from causal experience. Self-respect thus has to accommodate a
respect for the way causes and effects actually behave. Traditionally,
this respect is expressed in terms of the quality the Buddha stressed in
his very last words: heedfulness. To be heedful means having a strong
sense that if you're careless in your intentions, you'll suffer for it.
If you truly love yourself, you have to pay close attention to the way
reality really works, and act accordingly. Not everything you think or
feel is worthy of respect. Even the Buddha himself didn't design
Buddhism or the principle of this/that conditionality. He discovered
them. Instead of viewing reality in line with his preferences, he
reordered his preferences to make the most of what he learned by
watching -- with scrupulous care and honesty -- his actions and their
actual effects.
This point is reflected in his discourse to the
Kalamas. Although this discourse is often cited as the Buddha's
carte blanche for following your own sense of right and wrong, it
actually says something very different: Don't simply follow traditions,
but don't simply follow your own preferences, either. If you see,
through watching your own actions and their results, that following a
certain mental state leads to harm and suffering, you should abandon it
and resolve never to follow it again. This is a very rigorous standard,
which requires putting the Dhamma ahead of your own preconceived
preferences. And it requires that you be very heedful of any tendency to
reverse that priority and put your preferences first.
In other words, you can't simply indulge in the
pleasure or resist the pain coming from your own actions. You have to
learn from both pleasure and pain, to show them respect as events in a
causal chain, to see what they have to teach you. This is why the Buddha
called dukkha -- pain, stress, and suffering -- a noble truth; and why
he termed the pleasure arising from the concentrated mind a noble truth
as well. These aspects of immediate experience contain lessons that can
take the mind to the noble attainments.
The discourse to the Kalamas, however, does not stop
with immediate experience. It goes further and states that, when
observing the processes of cause and effect in your actions, you should
also confirm your observations with the teachings of the wise. This
third aspect of respect -- respect for the insights of others -- is also
based on the pattern of this/that conditionality. Because causes are
sometimes separated from their effects by great expanses of time, it's
easy to lose sight of some important connections. At the same time, the
mental quality that acts as your chief obstacle to discernment --
delusion -- is the one you have the hardest time detecting in yourself.
When you're deluded, you don't know you're deluded. So the wise approach
is to show respect to the insights of others, in the event that their
insights may help you see through your own ignorance. After all,
intention and attention are immediately present to their awareness as
well. Their insights may be just what you need to cut through the
obstacles you've created for yourself through your own acts of
ignorance.
The Buddhist teachings on respect for other people
point in two directions. The first direction is the obvious one: respect
for those who are further along the path than you. As the Buddha once
said, friendship with admirable people is the whole of the holy life,
for their words and examples will help get you on the path to release.
This doesn't mean that you necessarily have to obey their teachings or
to accept them unthinkingly. You simply owe it to yourself to give them
a respectful hearing and their teachings an honest try. Even --
especially -- when their advice is unpleasant, you should treat it with
respect. As Dhammapada 76 states,
Regard him as one who
points out
treasure,
the wise one who
seeing your faults
rebukes you.
Stay with this sort of sage.
For the one who stays
with a sage of this sort,
things get better,
not worse.
At the same time, when you show respect for those who
have mastered the path, you're also showing respect for qualities you
want to develop in yourself. And when such people see that you respect
the good qualities both in them and in yourself, they'll feel more
inclined to share their wisdom with you, and more careful about sharing
only their best. This is why the Buddhist tradition places such an
emphasis on not only feeling respect but also showing it. If you can't
force yourself to show respect to others in ways they'll recognize,
there's an element of resistance in your mind. They, in turn, will have
doubts about your willingness to learn. This is why the monastic
discipline places so much emphasis on the etiquette of respect to be
shown to teachers and senior monastics.
The teachings on respect, however, go in another
direction as well. Buddhist monks and nuns are not allowed to show
disrespect for anyone who criticizes them, regardless of whether or not
that person is awakened or the criticism well-founded. Critics of this
sort may not deserve the level of respect due to teachers, but they do
deserve common courtesy. This is because, as stated above, the patterns
of cause and effect are present to everyone's awareness, and even
unawakened people may have observed valuable bits and pieces of the
truth. If you open yourself to criticism, you may get to hear some
worthwhile insights that a wall of disrespect would have repelled.
Buddhist literature -- from the earliest days up to the present --
abounds with stories of people who gained Awakening after hearing a
chance word or a phrase of a song from an unlikely source. A person with
the proper attitude of respect can learn from anything -- and the
ability to put anything to a good use is the mark of true discernment.
Perhaps the most delicate skill with regard to
respect is learning how to balance all three aspects of respect: for
yourself, for the truth of causality, and for the insight of others.
This balance, of course, is essential to any skill. If you want to
become a potter, for example, you have to learn not only from your
teacher, but also from your own actions and powers of observation, and
from the clay itself. Then you have to weigh all of these factors
together to achieve a mastery of your own. If, in your pursuit of the
Buddhist path, your self-respect outweighs your respect for the truth of
causality or the insights of others, you'll find it difficult to take
criticism or to laugh at your own foolishness. This will make it
impossible for you to learn. If, on the other hand, your respect for
your teachers outweighs your self-respect or your respect for the truth,
you open yourself to charlatans and close yourself to the truth that the
Canon says "is to be seen by the wise for themselves."
The parallels between the role of respect in Buddhist
practice and in manual skills explains why many Buddhist teachers
require their students to master a manual skill as a prerequisite or a
part of their meditation. A person with no manual skills will have
little intuitive understanding of how to balance respect. What sets the
Buddha's apart from other skills, though, is the level of total freedom
it produces. And the difference between that freedom and its alternative
-- endless rounds of suffering through birth after birth, death after
death -- is so extreme that we can easily understand why people who have
given themselves to the pursuit of that freedom show it a level of
respect and veneration that's also extreme. Even more understandable is
the absolute level of respect and veneration for that freedom shown by
those who have attained it. They bow down to all their inner and outer
teachers with the sincerest, most heart-felt gratitude. To see them bow
down in this way is an inspiring sight.
So when Buddhist parents teach their children to show
respect for the Buddha, Dhamma, and Sangha, they aren't teaching them a
habit that will later have to be unlearned. Of course, the child will
need to learn how best to understand and make use of that respect, but
at least the parents have helped open the door for the child to learn
from its own powers of observation, to learn from the truth, and to
learn from the insights of others. And when that door -- when the mind
-- is opened to what truly deserves respect, all things noble and good
can come in.
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