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by Michael Jolliffe

Abbot Geshe Jamphel Explores What It Means “To Be Truly Free”

Photo by fdecomite via Flickr. Creative Commons Attribution.

In a time when there is a heightened awareness of global terror and especially during the American presidential elections, the word “freedom” is often heard. But what does “freedom” mean from a Buddhist perspective? During teachings on Shantideva’s Bodhisattva’s Way of Life, Geshe Jamphel, abbot and resident teacher of Nalanda Monastery in France, explores this question.

“We can look at freedom in different contexts. For example, we don’t wish for the weather to be too hot or too cold, we don’t want to be thirsty, and we don’t want to be hungry; we want to be healthy and not ill. However, things do not always arise as we wish them too. Therefore, we can clearly see that we don’t have freedom,” writes Geshe Jamphel. “Also, in a free country like France, there are still people living in situations of unbearable suffering, which may lead them to commit suicide. You could even say that such a person is less free than someone in prison. If we do not make effort to be liberated from the afflictions, our mind will deteriorate into such states. In short, if we don’t make effort to construct a path that is liberating us from samsara, we can construct as many freedoms as we want in this world, but we will never be free.”

Read more on mandalamagazine.org.

From Mandala October-December 2008.

by Michael Jolliffe

Hurray!

July-September 2011

DHARMA IN THE MODERN WORLD

After Osama bin Laden's death was announced in the United States, hundreds of people spontaneously started to celebrate in the streets, May 2, 2011. Photo by Mo Kaiwen.

By Sarah Shifferd

When I was a small child, we had a family friend – a rather eccentric fellow who drove a TR7 the color of neon baby aspirin and insisted it was burgundy – who referred to Good Friday as “Hurray They Got Him Day.” He didn’t sincerely wish to celebrate the capture and crucifixion of Jesus Christ. He just had a twisted sense of humor.

Today was Hurray They Got Him Day in the United States of America. And it’s no joke. After nearly 10 years of devoting huge resources of manpower and money to the search, US Navy Seals and CIA operatives raided a compound in Abbottabad, Pakistan. After a lengthy gun battle, they walked away with the dead body of Osama bin Laden.

Like most Americans who were adults or teenagers at the time, I remember September 11, 2001 like it was yesterday. I remember the voice of a close friend on my answering machine, choking with tears and panic as she urged me to wake up and turn on the television. Like most Americans, I spent the day glued to that television. I watched the second plane strike. I watched the fires burn. I watched the South Tower collapse, then the North Tower. I watched coverage coming from Shanksville, Pennsylvania, where brave passengers forced the terrorists away from the controls of the plane, knowing they would all die as it crashed into the ground. I watched the Pentagon, looking for all the world like an ashtray that some drunkard knocked to the floor without putting out his cigarette. I watched the endless replays and the commentary. I cried and shook with fear. I called friends. I listened to the tears in my father’s voice as he – always the good historian – gave me context for what I had just witnessed.

That night I sat huddled on my couch, a mere seven miles from Logan Airport in Boston, and listened to the military planes buzz overhead. The next day, I watched as newscasters flashed pictures of the hotel where many of the terrorists had stayed on September 10 – a place I drove past nearly every day. I heard that Logan Airport, my airport, was littered in box cutters. And then it started – the names of people from the Boston area who died. Names of those in the Twin Towers. Those on the planes. Those in the Pentagon. The names of the terrorists. The endless names, the grief, the outrage, the makeshift memorials all over New York and Pennsylvania and Washington, the boards where people posted pictures of missing loved ones, the firefighters who wouldn’t stop looking through that monstrous pile of rubble for their colleagues and loved ones.

And I watched Osama bin Laden take credit for the worst terrorist attack ever to occur on the soil of the United States of America. I watched George W. Bush vow retribution and send troops into the wilds of Afghanistan to hunt him down. And I watched tonight – May 1, 2011 – as President Barack Obama informed the nation that it was over, that Osama bin Laden was dead at last.

To me, it seemed like an echo of old news. Bin Laden was so often rumored to be dead and had fallen so completely out of the 24-hour news cycle, I had almost forgotten we were still looking for him.

But it wasn’t old news for anyone else. Again, I watched – this time via streaming internet video instead of a small TV with a jerry-rigged antenna. I watched the crowds gather in the night outside the White House, chanting “USA! USA! USA!” I cried as firefighters in Times Square raised their fists in the air while the famous ticker relayed the news. I watched the spontaneous celebrations all over my country. The evil man who hurt us so badly was dead. I watched as President Obama, looking weary but happy, told me, “The world is safer.”

And I watched my mind. I watched the initial confusion and disbelief. I looked at pictures on various news websites, all of which interspersed pictures of September 11 with pictures of Osama bin Laden at various stages of his life. I watched as the emotions I felt on September 11 reared up again in response to those pictures – men standing 110 stories above the ground outside of Windows on the World, cloths pressed against their faces, smoke spewing out of the restaurant behind them. The Twin Towers burning. Firefighters laying in the street, their skin blackened, their colleagues exhausted. The Twin Towers burning. The rubble pile. The Twin Towers burning, burning, burning, burning, burning. Burning from every possible angle and direction, that thick plume of black smoke as real in that moment as it was nearly 10 years ago. And I watched as, in response to President Obama’s words, a very faint voice inside me said, “We got him!”

And I watched as another faint voice laughed and wagged a finger and said, “Uh-uh-uhhh! Negative rejoicing!” And I smiled and purified.

I called my friend Annie and listened to the tired grief in her voice upon hearing the news. I thought about the other people who died alongside Osama bin Laden. I wondered who the soldier was who pulled the trigger, or if there was more than one who had the honor of bringing down the world’s most wanted man. I wondered what now. What will happen now that he’s dead?

I thought about negative rejoicing and how for most people, that’s normal and right and sane. I thought about the karma needed to create September 11 and darkly wondered if we weren’t just creating it all again, on an even grander scale.

Then I watched another memory. I watched Lama Zopa Rinpoche on my computer screen, standing in a temple somewhere in Tibet. His back was to the camera and he held a khata in his hands, ready to offer it to a statue. I watched Rinpoche talk about the benefits of offering to the Buddha. I watched Rinpoche pause and clear his throat loudly a few times. Rinpoche said, “This is Osama bin Laden’s khata. Offering for him. Probably this is the only time … the only time he ever gets to create merit.” I watched Rinpoche throw the khata towards the statue. I sat in that memory for awhile, then I turned it off and went to bed.

The clip mentioned above is found in Mystic Tibet, a 90-minute documentary that captures Lama Zopa Rinpoche leading 50 pilgrims from around the world on a journey to Tibet’s most sacred sites.

Sarah Shifferd (formerly Gyalten Mindrol) is a freelance writer and editor offering service to FPMT Education Services and Mandala. She also writes for various classical music organizations and is currently researching a book on Buddhism and social responsibility.

by Adam

To Be Truly Free

October-December 2008
ASK A TEACHER

In a time when there is a heightened awareness of global terror and especially during the American presidential elections, the word “freedom” is often heard. But what does “freedom” mean in a Buddhist perspective? During teachings on Shantideva’s Bodhisattva’s Way of Life, Geshe Jamphel, abbot and resident teacher of Nalanda Monastery in France, had this to say:

Many countries today have the freedom of democracy, whereas others lack this freedom. If we look at a democratic country such as France, we will see that it didn’t have democracy from the beginning, but by looking at the faults of their former system and the benefits of democracy, the French people chose democracy. Equality, liberty, and fraternity were only spoken about at a certain moment and not before. We can say that the French people chose this freedom of democracy that they have now, but before they did not have this.

All beings need freedom, and this is the most excellent condition for humans to live with. However, as long as we are under the power of factors such as the afflictions, our freedom is lost. Humans look for happiness and do not want suffering. But despite not wanting it, suffering arises due to the afflictions. Because the unwished for arises, we can see that there is a lack of freedom. We need to get away from the unwished for, namely, the afflictions.

We can look at freedom in different contexts. For example, we don’t wish for the weather to be too hot or too cold, we don’t want to be thirsty, and we don’t want to be hungry; we want to be healthy and not ill. However, things do not always arise as we wish them too. Therefore, we can clearly see that we don’t have freedom. Also, in a free country like France, there are still people living in situations of unbearable suffering, which may lead them to commit suicide. You could even say that such a person is less free than someone in prison. If we do not make effort to be liberated from the afflictions, our mind will deteriorate into such states. In short, if we don’t make effort to construct a path that is liberating us from samsara, we can construct as many freedoms as we want in this world, but we will never be free.

Someone who achieves what he was looking for, such as definite emergence [renunciation] and the correct view [of emptiness], has freedom as he has liberated himself completely from being under the sway of the afflictions. Usually when we talk about freedom, we refer to things like political freedom, or living in a country where you have freedom of movement, and so forth. However, in such a country you may still not have the employment that you would like, or the partner that you would like; so you do not achieve what you are seeking. Such a person cannot be said to be really free as he isn’t achieving what he is looking for.  You may have freedom of movement, but if you don’t have a resource such as money, you cannot exercise this freedom much. The Tibetans in exile have the freedom to practice the Dharma, yet we demonstrate for freedom for Tibetans in Tibet! So the freedom of movement and being able to practice the Dharma is not enough.

We don’t have freedom in samsara because we are under the control of the afflictions, which leads to the generation of suffering. The fact that the suffering we do not wish still arises, shows that we have no freedom. In contrast, a bodhisattva is under the control of virtuous mental factors, such as love and compassion, which lead to bliss and happiness. He has achieved what he wished for and therefore we can say he is free. However, there is no freedom for one who acts under the control of the afflictions. All errors arise on the basis of conditions. They are not independent or self-powered. All the faults of the afflictions and our acts that are motivated by the afflictions arise on the basis of conditions; and these conditions are the afflictions themselves.

We have the causes for being patient and the causes for being angry. However, due to our habituation with anger, these causes are very strong; but because we have buddha potential, we have the ability to strengthen our habituation with patience. Having heard Dharma teachings we can strengthen our understanding of the benefits of patience and our habituation with it. Those who are under the sway of the afflictions have a choice, but not knowing about Dharma they make wrong choices. We who know about Dharma, however, are more likely to make right choices. We have been under the sway of the afflictions since beginningless time. Now that we understand the situation, we should make effort to cultivate patience and the other antidotes.

Causes and conditions which produce everything are neither inherently existent nor free from previous causes and conditions. The causes and conditions from which we have arisen are also not free. We did not arise from a creator god, or the actions of a certain person, or other causes that are free from other influences.

Buddhists maintain that every cause was caused itself. No cause has freedom or independence, but rather each cause arises on the basis of numerous previous causes. So from many previous causes, the later results come about. We can therefore see how the mind has been afflicted since beginningless time. On the basis of this mind, which always has a preceding moment acting as a cause, sufferings arise within our own continuum. We ourselves have created these sufferings. It is not that someone else has given them to us. Thus, we ourselves have to work with our mind to change this situation. No one else will bring this about for us.

If you decide that from today onwards anger has no benefit and therefore you will no longer be angry with others, this is an attitude that you are free to develop. It will not be granted to you by a supreme god.

There is no independent cause. All impermanent phenomena are other-powered because they have causes. That is why our afflictions and our suffering arise in dependence on previous causes. The pacification of the afflictions and suffering is not granted to us by a creator god or external being. We ourselves, relying on studying, reflecting, and meditating, can bring this pacification about. Bringing about the total cessation of all the causes of our suffering is something that we have to do for ourselves. The more we lessen the causes of our suffering, the more we become free. When finally all the causes of our suffering have ceased, we attain an authentic freedom.

This is an extract from Nalanda Monastery’s five-year full-time residential Basic Program. The transcripts of these teachings, as well as other information, can be found at their web site: www.nalanda-monastery.eu

by Adam

The Dharma of Politics: Adventures in Interdependence

August / September 2008

ACTIVISM

The Dharma of Politics: Adventures in Interdependence

By Rebecca Novick

“If we serve sentient beings by engaging in political activities with a spiritual orientation, we are actually following the bodhisattva’s way of life.” HIS HOLINESS THE DALAI LAMA

I met my lama at a demonstration. It’s hard to imagine a less spiritual place – a busy intersection beneath the drab utilitarian architecture of the Los Angeles Federal Building at rush hour. It was December 10t, 1991- International Human Rights Day.  Less than one year later, I found myself half way around the world in the North Indian town of Dharamsala, filming a documentary about human rights abuses in Tibet. I remember my teacher telling me once, “Spirituality and politics aren’t different. People think they are, but they are the same”. He put out his two forefingers and rubbed them together side by side as he spoke.

I had never been interested in politics before I became a Buddhist, but the Tibetan cause seemed to be a special case because it represented something beyond the sphere of conventional political goals. This thought was echoed in something that His Holiness the Dalai Lama once said. “The political struggle for the restoration of Tibetan freedom should not be seen in the same light as we view ordinary politics.” He went on to explain that this is because Tibetan freedom is focused on a culture that “has the potential to bring happiness to all sentient beings”.

In Tibet, taking refuge is a political act. The Guru – the fourth Jewel – embodies the Buddha, the Dharma and the Sangha. The Dalai Lama, who China’s leaders have called “a monster with a human face,” is considered the guru of most Tibetans. Even possessing a photo of him can be cause for arrest. And because of the history of protest against its rule, the Communist Chinese government views Tibetan Buddhism itself as a seditious system. But even before the Chinese occupation, Tibetans happily merged Dharma and politics, with a system of government made up largely of monastics, and a domestic policy based on religious principles. The Tibetan freedom struggle is rooted in the Dharma. It’s no coincidence that monks and nuns are usually at the forefront of dissent.

In speaking with hundreds of Tibetan men and women – torture survivors and veterans of protests in Tibet from fifty years ago to the present – I’ve heard stories to both break your heart and mend it. Many of these people told me about doing tonglen for their torturers – mentally taking on their suffering and negative karma and giving them their happiness. A young nun told me how she prayed every night that tomorrow the prison guards would beat her instead of her cellmates. Ani Pachen described how, after being released from a nine-month sentence of solitary confinement, she asked the guards to close the door because she hadn’t finished her retreat. Every day, Mahayanists are taught to pray to take on the suffering of the world. These are people who really know how to live and die for others, I thought.

But in the pain and loss that went along with these experiences, it has been repeatedly brought home to me that the Dharma we now enjoy in the West spilled out of Tibet in rivers of blood and tears. To my confused and painfully self-conscious mind, the Buddha’s teachings seemed a miraculous elixir of sanity and happiness. Maybe it’s just the way I was raised, but I couldn’t imagine taking it without a proper thank you. I joined a local Tibet Support Group, organized campaigns, and stayed up late licking cheap envelopes. Later, I started a radio program about Tibet. I also attended Dharma teachings and tried to practice them as well as I could. It wasn’t always an easy balance, and I found myself thinking that if I could completely devote my life to my practice I would be a better practitioner. Or alternatively, if I just dedicated my life to activism it would make me a better activist. I don’t think that way any more.

Things shifted during March of this year. I had been ramping up my practice for about a month before the protests in Tibet began. Rather than racing through my commitments as if I were being chased by wolves, I slowed down and allowed the meaning some time and space to seep in. The harmony of emptiness and dependent arising, for so long an exquisite idea lying on some distant shore, for the first time seemed to hold the promise of true revolution right under my nose. I spent my days merrily experimenting with ways to actually enact this liberating reality, however imperfectly, rather than simply admiring it and chatting about it with my Dharma friends.

And then March 10 2008 arrived. Tibet erupted, and I was flung off my cushion and back out onto the street. But the shift felt completely natural, as if the work in the world was simply a continuum of the work in the mind. The tension I had sometimes felt between the two seemed to have disappeared. And strange as it may sound, there was a huge sense of joy among my activist friends, even with the emotionally difficult news coming out of Tibet. It felt like tsundue, enthusiastic effort. Simply, joy in doing good. The feeling of camaraderie among those who work for Tibet transcends all boundaries of age, race and culture. This isn’t just a Tibetan cause. It belongs to all of us.

Not everyone responded in the same way, of course…

Rebecca Novick is a writer and the producer of The Tibet Connection radio program www.thetibetconnection.org She is currently based in Dharamsala, India.


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