Chapter Four

Buddhism in Japan

Let us now turn to religion, perhaps the most important cultural influence in any society. In the case of Japan, the greatest cultural influence on its premodern history was Buddhism. This chapter is an introduction to the basic teachings of Buddhism plus a brief survey of the major characteristics of Buddhism in Japan, with special emphasis on the connections between Buddhism and native Japanese forms of religion.

The Buddha

The term "Buddha" means "enlightened person." At least in theory, therefore, anyone can become a Buddha. But when we say "the Buddha," unless otherwise specified, the term refers to the founder of Buddhism as a religion. Sometimes also called "the Historical Buddha," this person lived and traveled in the northern part of the Indian subcontinent in and around present-day Nepal and North-East India. Although there are detailed stories of his life that have become part of Buddhist lore, we actually know very little about his biography. Indeed, we are not even sure of his exact terminal dates.  Scholars of Buddhism have proposed 565-486 BCE, 463-383 BCE, and 624-544 BCE, and other dates. I recommend simply remembering 500 BCE as the approximate time of the Buddha's life.

We do know that he was disturbed by the age-old question of the meaning of life in light of the fact of certain death. More specifically, he was concerned with the problem of suffering. After years of meditating and wandering, he apparently became "enlightened" (let us not worry about the exact meaning of this term yet) and was recognized as such by others who asked him to guide them to enlightenment as well. His explanations became the core of Buddhist teachings.

The Dharma: Core Buddhist Teachings


Hindu Background <> The Four Noble Truths <> The Problem: Our Sense of Self <> The Eightfold Path


Hindu Background

In the Buddha's day, several religious traditions existed on the Indian subcontinent, the most important of which was Hinduism. Hinduism is a broad term (much like Christianity) to designate a large number of different but related systems of religious belief and practice. Hinduism is so complex that we cannot possibly do it justice here. Our concern is simply with a few major tenets of Hinduism that became a major influence on Buddhism (#List of similarities and differences between Buddhism and Hinduism#).

In many of its forms, Hinduism is much concerned with cycles of creation and destruction. The most important Hindu deities, for example, are sometimes depicted simultaneously destroying and creating. Such deities serve as symbols of the forces of nature, which both create and destroy without cease. One creator/destroyer deity is Shiva, the cosmic dancer. Shiva is usually depicted as male, and one of his symbols is the linga (phallus). But some depictions of Shiva show "him" with female features or with both male and female features. If depicted clearly as a male deity, Shiva is often depicted with a female counterpart. Such images of Shiva emphasize his role in creation, but Shiva, is also a destroyer. His cosmic dance takes away life for some while giving it to others. Other examples of creator/destroyer deities are Kali and Durga, who are almost always depicted as female.

Deities like Shiva, Kali, and Durga are concrete representations of a key concept in Hinduism and Buddhism: reincarnation, also called transmigration. As it applies to sentient beings, when a person or animal dies, its vital forces become re-embodied and it is born into a new life. When that life is over, it is reborn again, *over and over.* This cycle of reincarnation, called Samsara (#image#) is like a prison in which we are trapped. Why? Stated somewhat crudely, because we can never die and stay dead. Think about the prospect of never dying--it would be terrifying for many people.

Samsara is closely connected with *karma.* In Hinduism, the word karma has three closely related meanings. Most basically, it is any mental or physical deed. Karma is also the consequence of any mental or physical deed, and by extension, it can also mean the sum of all consequences of a person's mental and physical deeds in a past or present life. When speaking of karma in this third meaning, it is more accurate to use a term like "karmic situation" or "karmic balance."

Buddhist conceptions of karma were similar to those of Hindus. Early Buddhists stressed the role of karma in powering or driving the process of reincarnation. In this context, think of karma as energy connected with desires and cravings that seeks re-embodiment after death (there are other meanings of karma in Buddhist theology, but we will not take them up here). People want things, strive to attain goals, crave certain sensations, covet certain possessions, yearn for a better life, and so forth. These wants, strivings, cravings, covetings, and yearnings are a form of energy. Indeed, they produce significant, palpable effects: sleeplessness, higher blood pressure, ulcers, other physiological changes, as well as behavior such as working overtime, not working (in the case of coveting short-term ease or comfort), crime, heroism, and so forth. Our desires and other powerful emotions, in other words, *propel us from one birth to the next.* This concept has a certain intuitive appeal, for of course it is literally a burst of desire or passion that causes births.

This idea of karma has several implications. First, it suggests that our mental and physical deeds in the present lifetime will have an effect in determining the nature of our rebirth. In other words, if we reduce the sum of desires over our lifetime and perform good deeds (i.e., selfless deeds that benefit others), our karmic balance will improve (i.e., we will have less karma). Such a person will be reborn into a better life the next time around. Conversely, a lifetime of indulging our desires and performing deeds to satisfy them will accumulate more karma. Such a person will be reborn into a lower, more base existence, perhaps as an animal.

Is there any way to get out of the cycle of Samsara? Yes, but only over the course of many lifetimes, lowering the karmic balance each time around--at least according to most forms of Hinduism. When all karma is finally gone, there is no more energy to drive the cycle of Samsara. In a sense, it runs out of fuel. A person in such a situation would enter a state called nirvana--a word that means "to extinguish"--and *would not be reborn.* What is nirvana like? Nirvana is so radically different from the modes of existence we occupy, that *words cannot describe it* nor can we even imagine it. But most Hindus saw Samsara as a living hell or prison. The chance to escape from it and enter into nirvana, therefore is a desirable goal. An important legacy that Buddhism inherited from Hinduism was a generally negative or pessimistic view of life in this world.

Another Hindu teaching that became an important part of Buddhism was the doctrine of ahimsa, or not harming. To cause pain, suffering or death to another sentient being increases one's karmic burden or debt. Notice that karma is perfect justice. To the extent that a person produces it, that person must, quite literally, live with it--over multiple of lifetimes if necessary. Most forms of Hinduism and Buddhism prohibit consuming the flesh of animals. One should eat only those things that do not cause death, even to plants. Fruit, therefore, is a perfect food, since eating it does not harm the plant from which it came. (Jainism is a religion of India that takes not harming especially seriously. A strict Jain will sweep the path in front of him with a soft feather duster as he walks, to avoid stepping on small insects. He will also wear a gauze mask to prevent accidentally inhaling small insects. Incidentally, some extremely dedicated Jains take the quest for reducing karma so seriously that they stop wearing clothes and even starve themselves to death.)

The final contribution of Hinduism to Buddhism we examine here concerns deities. Hinduism contains thousands of greater and lesser deities. As we will see, the Buddha's original teachings had nothing to do with deities or external supernatural forces of any kind. All religions change over time, however, and as the centuries passed, Buddhism incorporated hundreds of Hindu deities into its teachings, art, and iconography. A large pantheon of deities, therefore, is another important Hindu legacy in Buddhism. In the most scholastic, abstract teachings of Hindu theology, deities do not actually exist. The purpose of deities and their representations in Hinduism is to assist those at lower levels of comprehension by providing concrete images of various religious truths. As we shall see when studying the doctrine of Skillful Means, this understanding of deities also became the (Mahayana) Buddhist view.

The Four Noble Truths

The basic teaching of the Buddha is called the Dharma, a term that also has other meanings in Buddhist theology that need not concern us here. The symbol of the Dharma is a wheel, particularly one with eight spokes. The core of the Dharma consists of two parts: the Four Noble Truths and the Eightfold Path. The *Four Noble Truths* summarize the Buddha's insight into the nature of reality and human existence. The Eightfold Path is a method, a series of steps, by which a person can retrace the Buddha's own quest for enlightenment.

Recall the context of the Buddha's first sermon, at least according to legend. After his former companions begged him to communicate his enlightenment experience, the Buddha did so, or at least attempted to do so, out of compassion for their suffering. He called his teaching the "Middle Way." The term "Middle Way" here does not mean the avoidance of extremes. Instead, it indicates the Buddhist idea of non-duality, i.e., the principle of reality that lies beyond existence and non-existence. More concretely, the "Middle Way" gradually liberates a person from the sense of "I" as an individuated self. See the discussion of the Five Heaps below  for more on this point.

The audience to whom the Buddha preached consisted of religious seekers, and most English translations of the first sermon refer to them as "monks." The sermon began with an explanation of the Middle Way:

These two extremes, O monks, are not to be practiced by one who has gone forth from the world. What are the two? That conjoined with passions, low, vulgar, common, ignoble, and useless, and that conjoined with self-torture, painful, ignoble, and useless. Avoiding these two extremes, [the enlightened one] has gained the knowledge of the Middle Way, which gives sight and knowledge, and tends to calm, to insight, enlightenment, nirvana. (Quoted in Sarvepalli Radhakrishnan and Charles A. Moore, eds., A Sourcebook in Indian Philosophy [Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1957], p. 274.)

Having explained the general principle of avoiding extremes, the Buddha then got to the heart of the matter: his insights into the condition of human existence. He continued:

This, O monks is the Middle Way: . . .

(1) Now this, O monks, is the noble truth of pain: birth is painful, old age is painful, sickness is painful, death is painful, sorrow, lamentation, dejection, and despair are painful. Contact with unpleasant things is painful, not getting what one wishes is painful. In short the five skandhas of grasping [form, sensation, conception, volition, and consciousness--see discussion below] are painful.

(2) Now this, O monks is the noble truth of the cause of pain: that craving which leads to rebirth [note the discussion of karma above], combined with pleasure and lust, finding pleasure here and there, namely, the craving for passion, the craving for existence, the craving for non-existence.

(3) Now this, O monks, is the noble truth of the cessation of pain: the cessation without a remainder of that craving, [namely,] abandonment, forsaking, release, non-attachment.

(4) Now this, O monks, is the noble truth of the way that leads to the cessation of pain: this is the noble Eightfold Path, namely, right views, right intention, right speech, right action, right livelihood, right endeavor, right mindfulness, right concentration. . . .

Knowledge arose in me; insight arose that the release of my mind is unshakable; this is my last existence; now there is no rebirth. (Quoted in A Sourcebook in Indian Philosophy, pp. 274-75.)

All around us are things we do not have. Most of us, for example, do not have a Rolls Royce car, and yet few suffer because of this lack. Not having something, in other words, does not itself cause us to suffer. It is the desire to have what we do not that causes us to suffer. The Buddha concluded not that life contains suffering (which would hardly have been insightful), but that suffering is so integral to human life that for all practical purposes, life is suffering. To put an end to the suffering, we must put an end to desires. If we succeed in eliminating all desires, then we also eliminate life as we know it. The result is a state called nirvana, in which one loses all sense of self and merges with the cosmos. Entering nirvana is the ultimate goal of most forms of Buddhism.

Some would object to the Buddha's formulation by suggesting that people simply satisfy our desires, which would prevent the suffering associated with them. This "solution," however only makes things worse in the long run. Lesser desires, when apparently satisfied, actually produce greater desires--the starting assumption of economics. The person without any car at all might be delighted with an old, used one. Soon, however, the car loses its appeal and the desire for a new one wells up. Having saved and sacrificed for the new car, the desire for a better model rears its ugly head. It is such a person who would eventually suffer by lacking a Rolls Royce. Vain attempts to eliminate suffering by "satisfying" desires only creates stronger desires and thus worse suffering.

The Buddha preached his sermon to persons who already possessed sophisticated religious knowledge and experience. He and his audience shared many common assumptions. Therefore, prior to examining the Eightfold path, we should survey the most important of these assumptions.

The Problem: Our Sense of Self

We have seen that desires cause suffering, but to eliminate desires, we must first understand their source. What causes desires? From where do they originate? The basic answer is our sense of existence as a distinct individual, in other words, our sense of self. Nirvana is the complete absence of this sense of self. Without any sense of self whatsoever, a person cannot exist as a distinct individual. In our present state of self-ish existence, nirvana is inconceivable. But suffering is easily conceivable, and characterizing nirvana as the complete absence of suffering or liberation from suffering made its attainment an appealing goal to many in ancient India and elsewhere.

If the sense of self is the source of desires that make our lives constant suffering, we must inquire into what constitutes this sense of self. What makes the thought "I am" seem natural, obvious, and unproblematic? According to basic Buddhist teaching, it is the #"Five Heaps"# (also called the "Five Aggregates" or "five skandhas") (1) matter or form; (2) sensation or perception; (3) conception; (4) volition; and (5) consciousness. The teaching that the Five Heaps constitutes our sense of self is extremely difficult to comprehend because it is so foreign to our common-"sensical" feeling that "of course, I am, I really am." One introductory text on Buddhism explains the matter as follows:

One of the most central of Buddhist ideas is that there is no self. The sense of self that we naively cling to is seen by the naked eye of meditation to be only a tenuous, ever-shifting amalgam of psychological elements, known traditionally as the five skandhas, or "heaps." . . . A key point is duality, which arises at the first skandha, form. Duality is a description for the most basic characteristic of the confused world of ego, the rudimentary building block of the suffering world of samsara. (Samuel Bercholz and Sherab Chödzin Kohn, eds., Entering the Stream: An Introduction to the Buddha and His Teachings [Boston: Shambala, 1993], p. 73.)

Notice the phrase "seen by the naked eye of meditation." Buddhist practice relies on *various techniques of meditation,* which, if practiced diligently over many years, enable practitioners to see themselves and their world in radically different ways. To really understand the Five Heaps, would require years of effort. Nevertheless, let us attempt to summarize them in relatively simple terms.

The first heap, "form," is a state of ignorance. For some reason (and I have yet to see a clear explanation given--it seems an article of faith), humans began to notice that the world around them was separate from themselves. It really was not separate, but people nevertheless began to notice forms distinct from themselves instead of undifferentiated, open space.

Having made the mistake of seeing the surrounding world as something separate, people defensively seek to preserve this incorrect vision. They do so by trying to experience that separate world through sensory perceptions. "So we begin to reach out and feel the qualities of 'other.' By doing this we reassure ourselves that we exist" (Entering the Stream, p. 77, words of Chögyam Trungpa.) Feeling is the second heap.

Fascinated with what the senses have created, people seek to explore it further, resulting in the third heap of conception. People create categories, distinctions, and theories to explain their differentiated world. They receive information from "outside" themselves and react to it on the basis of these categories, distinctions, and theories.

The fourth heap, volition, is much like the third. The major difference is that the third is a passive process, the result of reacting to incoming information. In the fourth heap, the process becomes active. Human agents volitionally seek to name, classify and categorize all existence. People become obsessed with attaching names to the artificial realities they have created.

Consciousness, the fifth heap, is the culmination of the previous four to produce the thoughts and emotions that for most people define their individual identities and their world views. At this stage, "we find the six realms [see Chapter 4] as well as the uncontrollable and illogical patterns of discursive thought" (Entering the Stream, p. 79.) At this point, desires connected with the false sense of self feed on each other, making life constant suffering and, as karma, propelling us from one existence into another.

Human actions continually reaffirm the false sense of self. Language is the ultimate tool for affirming the artificial world of names, categories and distinctions, making it seem obvious and real, and blocking out any possibility of perceiving the undifferentiated unity that exists prior to the Five Heaps. The nonstop internal conversation most people carry on inside their heads while awake may be the single greatest obstacle to enlightenment.

Let us pause to look at the broader picture, the context in which the *Five Heaps* play a key role. Here is how the universe works according to basic Buddhist teaching as explained in an introductory book: "For the Buddhist, the universe is a place of delusion and suffering, in which living beings--who are, if they but knew it, mere collections of "aggregates" [=heaps], forever fickle and changing--are condemned by their passions [=desires] to an endless cycle of rebirths." (Heinz Bechert and Richard Gombrick, eds., The World of Buddhism: Buddhist Monks and Nuns in Society and Culture [London: Thames and Hudson, 1984], p. 28.) By way of a summary, what follows is part of the text of the Buddha's sermon on dependent origination (the idea that what seems permanent and "real" is but the product of sensory creation, one thing creating another without stop). Notice as you read through it that the excerpt covers nearly every major point made thus far in the chapter:

On ignorance depends karma;

On karma depends consciousness;

On consciousness depends name and form;

On name and form depend the six organs of sense;

On the six organs of sense depends contact;

On contact depends sensation;

On sensation depends desire;

On attachment depends existence;

On existence depends birth; On birth depend old age and death, sorrow, lamentation, misery, grief, and despair. Thus does the entire aggregation of misery arise. (Indian Philosophy, p. 278.)

Having surveyed what Buddhists (and many Hindus as well) consider the major problems with human consciousness and existence, let us now turn to the Buddha's proposed solution.

The Eightfold Path

The Eightfold Path is often symbolized by the eight spokes of a wheel. Its ultimate goal is to lead to a person to enlightenment. While it may be possible for someone to accomplish all eight steps in one lifetime, most people will make slow progress over many lifetimes. In this scenario, the improved karmic state in each round leads to a better rebirth, which sets the stage for further progress. (The Buddha himself, according to legend, went through numerous past lives before his attainment of nirvana. Stories of events in these past lives--especially the Jataka Tales--serve as Buddhist parables to teach good behavior and the proper outlook on life.) The Eightfold Path is not something that one can normally accomplish quickly or easily. We consider it here one step at a time. (#more detailed text#)

1. Right views is to know suffering, the origin of suffering, the cessation of suffering, and the path that leads to the cessation of suffering.

The first step, in other words, is to know and accept the Four Noble Truths. This may sound easy, but how many of you reading this now genuinely accept the assertion that life is suffering as a fundamental truth? Even for those living in a cultural environment influenced by Buddhism, the Four Noble Truths are difficult for many to accept as truths. Indeed, in all religions, there are often many who mouth the official doctrine, but far fewer who genuinely take it to heart.

One aspect of the Four Noble Truths that we have not stressed sufficiently thus far is impermanence. The phenomena of this world are transient and fleeting, here today gone tomorrow. So, too, are we. The world we can perceive is temporary, yet people strive and strain in a futile effort to make it permanent. Most people live their lives as if they will never die--an absurd delusion according to Buddhist teaching.

2. Right resolve is the resolve to renounce the world and to do no hurt or harm.

Once a person accepts the Four Noble Truths as truths, the next step toward enlightenment is to resolve to act on that realization. Renouncing the world is to reject what sense of self has created. Doing so, however, is easier said than done. An initial step in the right direction is to do no additional harm to self or others. Take some simple, concrete steps. Stop eating meat, for example, cancel those subscriptions to Playboy and Playgirl, and refrain from anger the next time an obnoxious driver nearly runs you off the road. Do not make the suffering of life any worse for anyone.

3. Right speech is to abstain from lies and slander, from reviling, and from gossip.

Because the act of talking is so influential in defining the human world, it should receive attention early on. Step three is a more specific case of step two: do not increase the suffering of anyone, including yourself, by what you say. Is this possible? Could a person completely refrain from gossip, for example? Although rare, we could find someone whose speech does no harm. Step number three, while difficult, is still within the realm of the possible without going through any special or extraordinary training.

4. Right action is to abstain from taking life, from stealing, and from lechery.

This one seems straightforward. Regarding the first item, hunters should certainly find something better to do, and we should not go out and commit murder--but there is more. Have you ever consumed the flesh of a once-living creature? How many insects have you killed, accidentally or otherwise? And what about that mousetrap in the garage and the fly swatter on the windowsill? When measured against strict Buddhist standards, most of us would appear to be mass murderers. To what extent might we also be thieves and lechers?

5. Right livelihood is that by which the disciple of the Noble One supports himself, to the exclusion of wrong modes of livelihood.

Notice that this step pertains to "the disciple of the Noble One." The phrase probably refers to one who has taken formal Buddhist vows, though not at the level of a monk. Such a person lives in the community but has dedicated his life to the pursuit of the Buddhist path. Naturally, such a person must engage in the proper means of making a living, namely, doing work of benefit to others. Were the Buddha transported across time and placed into today's world, which occupations might be acceptable and which ones not? By what criteria would he decide (hint: think of the Four Noble Truths)? Which present-day occupation would be most opposed to the Buddha's basic teachings?

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6. Right endeavor is when a monk brings his will to bear, puts forth endeavor and energy, struggles and strives with all his heart to stop bad and wrong qualities that have not yet arisen from ever arising, to renounce those that have already arisen, and, finally, to establish, clarify, multiply, enlarge, develop, and perfect those good qualities already present.

This portion of the path explains the initial goal of meditation for monks. A monk is one who lives apart from the broader community in austere conditions to pursue the quest for enlightenment full time. Stage six, therefore, indicates a major step up in commitment and seriousness. There is no explicit mention of meditation here, but for the Buddha's audience, that meditation was the primary technique for attaining enlightenment would have been obvious.

What are some of the basic procedures and goals in meditation? Meditation is a form of introspective contemplation. One begins a session of meditation by sitting in the correct posture (there are several possibilities), always with the back held perfectly straight. For the uninitiated, just the posture alone becomes quite painful within a few minutes. More difficult is shutting off the internal conversation. The constant banter inside our heads has at least two undesirable effects. First, it constantly re-affirms the false sense of separate self. Second, it serves as a barrier to true introspection. In other words, the intra-cranial chatter prevents comprehending the true character of our minds. The first and most important step in meditation, therefore, is stopping the internal conversation. Try doing so for just one minute. To most people, stopping this conversation seems impossible, so accustomed we have grown to it. The ability to stop the internal conversation may take years to acquire, and there are numerous techniques to assist in this task. One of the most basic is focusing all attention on the *rhythmic inward and outward flow of the breath.* Merging one's full attention into this tide-like movement and becoming one with it is a tried and proven method for suspending the internal conversation. There are other concentration and visualization techniques in meditation, which me may have a chance to examine later.

Upon successful at suspension of the internal conversation, the meditator gains great insight into his or her mental states and feelings owing to an acute awareness of sensory perceptions and sensations as they first begin to form deep within the mind. Like buds on a plant, should any of these perceptions or sensations be improper (a feeling of anger, for example), the meditator can *nip it at the bud* before it becomes fully manifest. Proper perceptions and sensations, on the other hand (like a feeling of compassion) are allowed to become fully manifest. In this way, a monk can purify his thoughts and feelings, making them wholly good. (The average person, head full of chatter, is unaware of these perceptions and sensations until they have become fully manifest. At that point, it is too late to do anything about them.)

7. Right mindfulness is when, realizing what the body is--what feelings are--what the heart is--and what the mental states are--a monk dwells ardent, alert, and mindful, in freedom from the wants and discontents attendant on any of these things.

This stage builds upon the previous one. Notice that in number six, a monk actively strives and makes effort. That effort having had its effect, in stage seven, a monk ceases to strive. He has realized the truth about his own mental states, feelings, etcetera, and they no longer have any hold on him. His body may have gone without food for a long time, for example, and the monk knows that the feeling of hunger is present, but this feeling no longer causes him to desire to eat. A person at this stage is no longer a slave to the desires of his or her body and mind.

8. Right [rapture of] concentration is when, divested of lusts and divested of wrong dispositions, a monk develops and dwells in the first ecstasy with all its zest and satisfaction, a state bred of aloofness and not divorced from observation and reflection. By laying to rest observation and reflection, he develops and dwells in inward serenity, in [the] focusing of heart, in the zest and satisfaction of the second ecstasy, which is divorced from observation and reflection and is bred of concentration--passing thence to the third and fourth ecstasies. (Indian Philosophy,  pp. 277-78, but with minor modification.)

This final stage is subdivided in to four "ecstasies," the last two of which are so profound that words cannot describe them. In the first ecstasy, a monk is entirely aloof from his former mental states and modes of perception, though he is still able to observe and reflect on them. Here, observation and reflection are his last link with the "ordinary" world. Finally, he abandons even these, which sets in motion a process that ends in enlightenment.

#Somewhat different approach to the Eightfold Path#

Notice several important characteristics of this Eightfold Path. First, it is a stepwise progression, starting with relatively easy (if still difficult) tasks that become increasingly more demanding. Second, this is an arduous path, even in its early stages. Third, following the Eightfold Path is a personal quest. There is no superior being on whom to rely or to provide guidance, and there are no deities (deities come into Buddhism after it developed into a formal religion). The locus of the power to find enlightenment is within each person.


Major Varieties of Buddhism

Recall that enlightenment cannot be described in words. Although the Buddha himself had become enlightened, not even he was able to enlighten others. All he could do was set them in the right direction. The personal charisma of the Buddha after he became enlightened attracted followers. After his death, however, these followers did not always agree on their master's teachings. A few months after the Buddha died, his disciples assembled the First Buddhist Council. The purpose of this assembly was to establish a formal canon, true to the Buddha's teachings. A Second Buddhist Council convened a century later in another effort to unify Buddhist teachings. The participants in this council also compiled a biography of the Buddha. Soon after the Second Council, the Buddhist community split up over disagreements regarding issues of doctrine, canonical texts, and monastic discipline--the specifics of which need not concern us here.

At this time, Buddhism split into two major varieties: Mahayana and Theravada. Theravada means "Teaching of the Elders," and, at least according to the claims of Theravadins, remained closest to the teachings of the original Buddha. Theravada Buddhism stressed liberation of the individual by retracing the steps Shakyamuni had walked. Geographically, Theravada spread to southern India and across the sea to Southeast Asia. Today, it thrives in places such as Sri Lanka, Burma, and Thailand. Because Theravada Buddhism had little influence on East Asia, we do not deal with it in this course.

Mahayana means "Great Vehicle," a name that reflects its claim of having something for everyone. The highest ideal in *Mahayana Buddhism* was not individual enlightenment but enlightenment for everyone. The embodiment of this Mahayana ideal was the bodhisattva. A bodhisattva is one who has eliminated all desires and is therefore eligible to pass into nirvana. Out of a feeling of compassion for the millions of other suffering creatures, however, the bodhisattva withholds his/her/its entry into nirvana to remain in this world and help others. The various bodhisattvas have taken vows to remain in this world until all creatures are ready to enter nirvana. They may have to wait a long time! Some textbooks liken bodhisattvas to Christian saints, but there are significant differences in the theory behind each. In practice, however, the two types of beings have much in common as objects of prayers and ritual devotion.

Mahayana Buddhism developed a wide variety of instructional techniques intended to reach people at all walks of life. Indeed, with its many parables, symbols, diagrams, esoteric rites, meditation aids and so forth, Mahayana Buddhism may have been the most pedagogically sophisticated form of religion in the world. It was also highly flexible and adaptable and spread rapidly throughout Central and East Asia. The core doctrine of Mahayana Buddhism is Skillful Means, which is described in detail in a later section.

I do not want to leave the impression that Mahayana Buddhism is one, unified entity. The division between Mahayana and Theravada is roughly comparable to the divisions like Catholic vs. Protestant or Roman Catholic vs. Eastern Orthodox in Christianity. Just as there are many denominations of Protestant Christianity, so too are there many denominations of Mahayana Buddhism.

Mahayana Buddhism made extensive use of various Hindu deities. Some became bodhisattvas; others became lesser divinities. As we see in the next chapter, deities can be useful in Mahayana teaching and practice as inspirational symbols of desirable virtues or as objects of veneration to help train the mind. At the highest levels of understanding, there are no deities external to one's self (because, among other things, there is no self). For people at lower levels of understanding, however, deities can play a useful role in progress toward enlightenment.

Another development associated with Mahayana Buddhism was a theory of stages and cycles concerning the appearance of Buddhas in the world and the status of their teaching. In this theory Shakyamuni was only the most recent of a whole series of Buddhas that had appeared on earth at regular intervals. The Dharma, or Buddhist teaching, goes through three phases, which together constitute one full cycle. Specifically, 500 years after the Buddha's death (or, 1000 years in a competing version of the theory) is the period of the True Dharma. During this time, the Buddha's teaching is properly practiced, and the attainment of enlightenment is possible. Next comes a period of the Semblance Dharma, which lasts 100 years (or, 500 years in a competing version of the theory). In this stage, people practice the Buddha's teachings, but they only go through the motions without true understanding making enlightenment impossible. In the final stage, the Last or Final Dharma, which lasts 10,000 years, the teaching exists, but nobody practices it, even if only going through the motions. This stage is a time of misery and suffering on a vast scale, at the end of which, a new Buddha appears and a new three-stage cycle begins. There were other Buddhas before Shakyamuni and there will be others after him. This theory caused great anxiety in Japan during medieval times starting in the late Heian period because many feared that the world was about to enter stage three, the period of the Last Dharma. The most common Japanese term for this final stage is mappō, and we will return to this topic in subsequent sections below.

Buddhism Arrives in East Asia

Buddhism arrived in China toward the end of the Han dynasty, roughly during the first or second century CE. Prior to this time, there had been no major form of Chinese thought that viewed life, the concrete world, and the human body in so pessimistic a way as Buddhism. One of the earliest Chinese Buddhist meditation texts, dating from the third century, instructs mediators to ponder the corrupt and painful nature of life in a human body:

The ascetic engages in contemplation of himself and observes that all the noxious seepage of his internal body is impure. Hair, skin, skull and flesh; tears from the blinking of the eyes and spittle; veins, arteries, sinew and marrow; liver, lungs, intestines and stomach; feces, urine, mucus and blood: such a mass of filth when combined produces a man. It is as if a sack were filled with a leaky bag. (Quoted in Wm. Theodore de Bary, ed., The Buddhist Tradition in India, China, and Japan [New York: The Modern Library, 1969], p. 129.)

How pleasant! Buddhism, with all its focus on the wretched nature of the human condition, was a radical new way of thinking in late Han China.

Because of its clash with major Chinese traditions of thought, Buddhism came under immediate attack from intellectuals. Some arguments against it were relatively simple-minded and ethnocentric in nature. One critic, for example, attacked a Chinese follower of Buddhism in the following terms:

Confucius said, 'The barbarians with a ruler are not so good as the Chinese without one' Mencius criticized Chen Xiang for rejecting his own education to adopt the ways of [the foreign teacher] Xu Xing, saying, 'I have heard of using what is Chinese to change what is barbarian, but I have never heard of using what is barbarian to change what is Chinese.' You sir, at the age of twenty learned the way of Yao, Shun, Confucius, and the Duke of Zhou. But now you have rejected them, and instead have taken up the arts of the barbarians. Is this not a great error. (Quoted in The Buddhist Tradition, p. 135, with minor modification.)

Arguments to the effect that the Buddha was an uncultured Barbarian from India were common among Han Chinese literati.

As Buddhism became more firmly established in China, such arguments became less common. Nevertheless, throughout China's history, attacks on Buddhism for its non-Chinese roots inevitably came up. A famous example from a later dynasty is the Tang literatus Han Yu's memorial criticizing the emperor for having a Buddhist relic, supposedly the finger bone of Shakyamuni, brought into the imperial palace for veneration. Part of it reads:

Now the Buddha was a man of the barbarians who did not speak the language of China and wore clothes of a different fashion. His sayings did not concern the ways of our ancient kings, nor did his manner of dress conform to their laws. . . . If he were still alive today and came to our court by order of his ruler, Your Majesty might condescend to receive him, but it would amount to no more than one audience in the Xuanzheng Hall, a banquet by the Office for Receiving Guests, the presentation of a suit of clothes, and he would then be escorted to the borders of the empire, dismissed, and not allowed to delude the masses. How then, when he has long been dead, could his rotten bones, the foul and unlucky remains of his body, be rightly admitted to the palace? ("Memorial on the Bone of Buddha," quoted in Wm. Theodore de Bary et al., eds., Sources of Chinese Tradition, Vol. 1 [New York: Columbia University Press], 1960, with minor modification.)

Han Yu, incidentally, nearly lost his life for such a vigorous critique of the emperor's religious practices.

Other critiques of Buddhism from Chinese Confucian scholars were more sophisticated, addressing specific points of Buddhist doctrine and theology. For example:

The Buddhists are fundamentally afraid of life and death and are selfish. Is theirs the way for all? They devote themselves only to penetration on the transcendental level, not to learning on the empirical level. This being the case, can their penetration on the transcendental level be right? Their two levels are basically disconnected. Whatever is separated is not the Way. (Wing-tsit Chan, trans., Reflections on Things at Hand: The Neo-Confucian Anthology Compiled by Chu Hsi and Lü Tsu-ch'ien [New York: Columbia University Press, 1967], p. 282.)

Do not worry about understanding this passage in its entirety. The main point is that Buddhists allegedly neglect concrete, practical morality in favor of selfish attempts to transcend worldly affairs.

Despite such criticism, Buddhism became highly influential in China for several reasons. First, Buddhism came in to China just as the Han dynasty was deteriorating. This was a time of warfare, famine, dislocation and similar misery on a vast scale. The message that life is suffering resonated with the experiences of many Chinese at that time. Second, Chinese scholars translated Buddhist texts using the language and terminology of Daoism, because often no Chinese words existed for major Buddhist concepts. Daoism is a classical philosophy that stressed abandonment of the artifice of human society for to live in harmony with nature. Translating Buddhism through Daoism modified Buddhist teachings, giving them a more Chinese flavor. There was also a strong tendency in Chinese thought to synthesize and harmonize apparently antagonistic teachings. Buddhism appeared to many Chinese not so much to conflict with Confucianism and other native Chinese traditions, but to supplement and add to them. Many promoters of Buddhism also stressed that one could be a Buddhist without rejecting Confucianism or any other religious or philosophical system (more on this in the next chapter).

Despite its general acceptance, some Chinese intellectuals in all ages continued to attack Buddhism. Consider the following example from the Song dynasty:

A student should forthwith get as far away from Buddhist doctrines as from licentious songs and beautiful women. Otherwise, they will soon infiltrate him. . . . About Buddhist doctrines, it is all the more necessary to say that we should be cautious at all times. After we have gained self-confidence, they cannot confuse us. (Reflections on Things at Hand, pp. 283-4.)

Although this passage is part of a critique of Buddhism, it also attests to the strong attraction Buddhism exerted on educated Chinese. Its allure was seductive.

From China, Buddhism spread to Korea and then Japan. By the time Buddhism got to Japan, it was approximately 1000 years old and had changed much since the days of its founder. Although, as we have seen, Buddhism encountered some resistance when it first arrived in Japan, this resistance was not rooted in deep-seated cultural biases as was the case with Buddhism in China. Buddhism merged with native Japanese forms of religion in an almost seamless web. The basic formula was that native Japanese deities were local manifestations of Buddhas or lesser Buddhist deities--as we will see in a later section.

Although not specific only to Japanese Buddhism, one of the most important Buddhist ideas in Japan was the Six Courses (rokudō). The Six Courses is a foundational concept in Mahayana Buddhism and essential for understanding medieval Japan. Here, we examine the Six Courses from three #different but interrelated perspectives:# (1) as skillful means, (2) as metaphysics, and (3) as psychological theory. The first perspective introduces a new doctrine; the second revisits the idea of karma as energy that drives the process of reincarnation. The third perspective reveals a distinctive characteristic of Buddhism, namely, its insights into human psychology. Because perspectives two and three are closely interconnected, we examine them both in the same section.

The classic depiction of the Six Courses is a large wheel, a recurring symbol in Buddhism. The large wheel that describes the Six Courses is sometimes called the "Wheel of the Dharma" the "Wheel of Life," the "Wheel of Truth," or the "Wheel of Becoming." Regardless of its name, the wheel represents the cosmos as a whole, and illustrates the doctrine of dependent origination (do not worry about remembering this specific term--its meaning will become apparent throughout the chapter).

Before reading any further, study the following examples of how these wheels are typically depicted: *example 1*  *example 2*  *example 3* 

*Basic Structure.* The wheel's spokes create spaces for illustrating the Six Courses. The *innermost circle* features a snake, representing hatred or anger, a bird (usually a cock), representing lusts or desires, and a pig representing ignorance. Collectively known as the "Three Poisons," the snake, bird, and pig feed on each other, propelling the wheel around and around. In more elaborate depictions, there is a *second inner ring,* dark on the right side and light on the left. The dark side features a human figure in the process of spiritual deterioration. The light side features people advancing toward nirvana. Simpler depictions usually omit this second inner ring. The #outermost ring# features twelve images representing: (1) ignorance, (2) karmic formations, (3) consciousness, (4) name and form, (5) the bases of consciousness, (6) contact, (7) feeling, (8) yearning or desire, (9) clinging or attachment, (10) becoming, (11) birth, and (12) old-age-and-death. These twelve items are linked with the Five Heaps in Buddhist doctrine and illustrate the doctrine of #dependent origination#. But we shall not be concerned with the outer ring here here. For a more detailed explanation of the wheel, #click here.# 

Our main concern is with the Six Courses (six different realms of existence). The top half of the wheel contains three relatively favorable realms: (left) warlike demi-gods; (center) deities and Buddhas; and (right) humans. The bottom three realms are less appealing: (right) beasts; (bottom) hells; and (left) starving ghosts. Arranged as a hierarchy, the realms would be, in descending order: 1) deities and Buddhas; 2) warlike demi-gods; 3) humans; 4) beasts; 5) starving ghosts, and 6) hells. In practice, many Buddhists were especially interested in the last two realms: starving ghosts and hells. We, too, will focus our attention on the bottom two realms.

There are variations in the way these realms are depicted in Buddhist art. Some wheels contain only five realms, leaving out the warlike demi-gods. Others leave out the demi-gods and subdivide the realm of beasts into two, thus maintaining a total of six. Some depictions of the Six Courses take a form other than a wheel. This deviation from the wheel format is sometimes found in Chinese depictions, which are apt to show the Six Courses in a *hierarchical array,* usually next to what looks like a courtroom.

Returning to the classic wheel depiction, within each realm, even the three on the bottom, there is a Buddha or bodhisattva to symbolize that anyone, even a sufferer in hell, can someday achieve enlightenment. Each realm contains subdivisions. The human realm, for example, usually depicts birth, old age, sickness, and death. That of hells depicts up to eighteen different varieties of hell (and even more sub-hells, or "places"). There are also different kinds of starving ghosts. The large, half-human creature holding the whole wheel is actually turning it. Interpretations of this creature differ, but we should think of it as karma powering the cycle of samsara.


The Six Courses as Skillful Means

Perhaps the most important doctrine of Mahayana Buddhism is Skillful Means. Here is a typical dictionary definition:

[Skillful means] [r]efers to strategies, methods, devices, targeted to the capacities, circumstances, likes and dislikes of each sentient being, so as to rescue him and lead him to Enlightenment. "Thus, all particular formulations of the Teaching are just provisional expedients to communicate the Truth (Dharma) in specific contexts." (J.C. Cleary.) "The Buddha's words were medicines for a given sickness at a given time," always infinitely adaptable to the audience's conditions. (Quoted from: http://www.geocities.com/norbu3/glossary/e.htm; also found at: http://www.ymba.org/glossary.html#E)

As suggested by this definition, the doctrine manifests itself in many ways. One key feature is that skillful means assumes the ends justify the means. More specifically in the context of Buddhism, the idea is that most people are such slaves to their desires and so beset by spiritual ignorance that they will never begin walking the Eightfold Path without being bribed, tricked, frightened, or otherwise motivated into doing so. Clever means, therefore, are necessary to persuade or cajole people into living their lives more in accord with Buddhist principles. Skillful Means take on a variety of forms depending on the sophistication and circumstances of those they are meant to help. In whatever form they may take, Skillful Means are intended as provisional stepping stones to be discarded after a person reaches a higher level of comprehension.

Skillful Means are not only for persons at low levels of spiritual progress. Meditation and other techniques of advanced practitioners also qualify as Skillful Means. Because Buddhist enlightenment cannot really be described in words, even the Eightfold Path is a form of Skillful Means. Recall also that the Buddha's first sermon was the first act of Skillful Means. Indeed, Buddhism itself is Skillful Means on a large scale. Buddhism, in other words, is a provisional set of teachings and practices to point seekers in the direction of nirvana.

The doctrine of Skillful Means, for all practical purposes, authorizes telling lies if those lies serve noble ends. It is in this context that Buddhist preachers sometimes lectured to the masses about the realms of starving ghosts and hells. The idea was to frighten people into good (or at least better) behavior. Buddhism also developed heavens as Skillful Means, but there was a serious problem in describing heaven. If the idea is to use the reward of rebirth in paradise to lure people at low spiritual levels into better behavior, what sort of description would be appealing? How about, "If you live a morally upright life, you will be reborn into a place where you can sit on a lotus flower in a *peaceful state of spiritual bliss* for thousands of years?" Probably not. Or, what about, "If you live a morally upright life, you will be reborn in a paradise where you can be lazy, eat anything you want, get drunk every day, smoke pot to your heart's content, have sex any time and any way you like, and beat anyone you don't like to a bloody pulp?" In fact, a few descriptions of Buddhist heavens did take this sort of approach. Here, for example, is part of a much larger description of a classic Buddhist heaven, the Heaven of Thirty-Three. Its intended audience seems to have been males pursuing, or thinking about pursuing, formal religious austerities:

There [in the heaven], celestial nymphs [#large image#] with their playfulness captivate the wearied minds of those ascetics who had, in their life on earth, decided to purchase Paradise by first paying the price in austerities. They are always in the prime of their youth, and libidinous enjoyment is their only concern. They can be used by anyone who has done the required meritorious deeds; and for the celestial beings no fault is attached to possessing them. They are in fact the choicest of all rewards of austerities. (Quoted in Edward Conze, trans., Buddhist Scriptures [New York: Penguin Books], p. 223.)

Meditate, fast, and live a life of simple poverty, because the heavenly nymphs are waiting to reward you after you die! This message might well be appealing to many men, but would it not be contrary to the whole spirit of Buddhist teachings and goals? Yes it would be contrary, and the same scripture quoted above goes on to describe a disciple named Nanda, who resumed his meditation after hearing about the heavenly nymphs "in order that he might win them one day." But Nanda's teacher warned him that the pleasures of paradise are only temporary, and "the day must come when the deities fall to earth" and wail in distress over the loss of their previous, pleasurable existence. In conclusion: "Recognize that Paradise is only temporary, that it gives no real freedom, holds out no security, cannot be trusted, and gives no lasting satisfaction! it is better to strive for final release." (Buddhist Scriptures,  p. 224.) Because attempting to inspire better behavior by holding out a promise of heavenly delights was morally awkward and impractical, the typical emphasis in Skillful Means was on negative incentives, namely, starving ghosts and hells. Ghosts and hells were quite easy to describe--just look around at what goes on in human society.

In conceiving of the Six Courses as a form of Skillful Means, what actually happens at the time of death? In a typical description, a fiery cart manned by hideous-looking officials carries the deceased to the court of *King Yama* (J. #Enma#). King Yama  was an infernal Chief Justice, whose court happens to be located adjacent to the realm of hells. The officials who go to pick up the dead convey her or him across a vast river and then into a waiting room. Why the waiting room? Because the court system has a vast backlog of cases pending, and it will be a while--several years perhaps--before King Yama and his secretaries get around to someone's file. In the meantime, the deceased sits in the waiting room. There, s/he does not listen to piped in music but to the screams of those suffering in the various hells. Sitting there thinking about the past lifetime of sin and shortcomings, he or she might have no desire to get on with a speedy hearing.

But all must have #their day in court.# And in all too many cases, after reading the thick file containing notations of every good and bad deed in the person's lifetime, the infernal king finds little with which to be happy. Of course, should the good deeds outweigh the bad (metaphysically: a reduction in the karmic balance or burden), King Yama smiles and decrees that the person shall be reborn into a higher realm of existence than in the previous lifetime. This rebirth could be as a higher level of human being or even into one of the two realms higher than humans.

For those, however, whose the bad deeds outweigh the good, rebirth into a lower realm is required. In relatively mild cases, the deceased might be reborn into a lover level of human society. For worse cases, rebirth as some sort of animal may be in order. For the worst sort of offenses, however (like neglecting to make generous donations to Buddhist temples!), hard time as a starving ghost or in one or more of the hells will be necessary to repay the cosmic debt. As the infernal king recites the list of offenses, the deceased might protest his or her innocence. "I didn't do that! You've got the wrong person!" the defendant might plead. Justice will be done, however, thanks to a 100% effective video replay system, the "Soul Mirror." *Forced to face this mirror,* the deceased sees all past offenses replayed before his or her eyes. There can be no denying one's karmic debt, and the worst offenders are carted off to the realms of starving ghosts or hells to work off this debt for a few tens, hundreds or thousands of years--whatever is necessary. Once the debt is repaid, the person in question is reborn as a human to try it all over again.

You should know that there are numerous variations in the ways this process of judgment might be described. The above paragraphs explain it in the simplest terms. In some versions, for example, the deceased endures ten trials by ten different "kings" of hell. Even here, however, the trial before King Yama and his soul mirror is the most important one. Regardless of the details, however, the basic idea of a judgment in an other-worldly courtroom is a consistent feature of the Six Courses as Skillful Means. Can you translate this view of death and rebirth into metaphysical terms? Think about this matter briefly before reading on.

And what is it like to be a starving ghost or a resident of hell? It is an existence so wretched and painful that the mere thought of it should frighten anyone into changing his or her ways. Let us examine these two realms in more detail.

Starving Ghosts

Starving ghosts have a grotesquely distended belly, but the rest of the body is emaciated. The neck and throat in particular is extremely thin. These creatures are wracked by a constant hunger and thirst that can never be satisfied. They roam the earth (but are normally invisible to ordinary people) *constantly seeking things to eat and drink.* In their desperation, they will consume nearly anything, even putrid material and excrement. (Can you imagine what common household pet might have helped inform the idea of starving ghosts?) These pathetic creatures are desperate for assistance and succor, but, being invisible, go unnoticed and ignored. The only creatures that notice the starving ghosts are various demons, who enjoy tormenting any ghosts they may encounter.

*Click here* to see a generic image of a starving ghost. By the way the model of a starving ghost lies behind the creation of a well-known character in contemporary American popular media. Who? Can't figure it out (or not willing even to try?)--then #click here.# 

To better serve the purpose of frightening people into good behavior, Buddhists developed a list of specific varieties of starving ghosts. For example, there were *Carrion-Eating Starving Ghosts.* Those who were monks in a previous life but violated their monastic rules (by eating food intended for the needy, for example) are reborn as this type of ghost. They wander around graveyards, constantly seeking out rotten flesh and bones to eat. #Excrement-Eating Starving Ghosts# consist of those who refused to give donations to Buddhist monks out of greed. They constantly seek out feces and urine for their sustenance. *Vomiting Starving Ghosts,* in their former lives, were heads of households who denied food and other necessities to their wives and children out of greed, despite living well themselves. They are repaid by becoming ghosts whom demons force constantly to vomit. And there are many other varieties, each tied to a specific moral offense.

If you grew up believing that becoming a starving ghost was a real possibility, would you hold back the next time a Buddhist monk came through your village asking for donations? As Skillful Means, the idea behind teachings of starving ghosts was to make people think twice before behaving in a greedy fashion.

Hells

There were also many varieties of hell, each for a specific type of offense. One guilty of many offenses might have to spend time in several different hells before burning off enough acquired karma to be reborn as a person again. The whole realm of hell is a massive operation and requires a large staff of hell wardens and attendants to keep the place running and to ensure that residents stay on task. There are clients in need of being boiled in cauldrons, beaten and smashed with various types of objects, burned up by various types of flames, and so forth. This is hard work, but the *dedicated staff* is up to the task. Indeed, they seem to love their work, no doubt because they know they are making the cosmos a better place with each crack of the whip or swing of the iron rod (one #contemporary anime version#).

Specific hells exist for mothers who neglected their children, those who were corrupt government officials, anyone who killed a living creature on purpose, and enemies of the Buddhist religion, to name a few. The following is a description of the *Hell of Shrieking Sounds,* which is for Buddhist monks who tortured animals:

Many monks for such cause arrive at the Western Gate of this hell, where the horse-headed demons with iron rods in their hands bash the heads of the monks, whereupon the monks flee shrieking through the gate and into the hell. There, inside, is a great fire raging fiercely, creating smoke and flames. The bodies of the sinners become raw from burns and their agony is unbearable.

Notice the concern with monks who fail to live up to their vows, both here and in the description of starving ghosts. Of what might this concern be an indication? The following excerpt is a description of several of the many hells from a tenth-century Japanese Buddhist work:

Outside the four gates of hell are sixteen separate places which are associated with this hell. The first is called the place of excrement. Here, it is said, there is intensely hot dung of the bitterest of taste, filled with maggots with snouts of indestructible hardness. The sinner here eats of the dung and all the assembled maggots swarm at once for food. They destroy the sinner's skin, devour his flesh and suck the marrow from his bones. People who at one time in the past killed birds or deer fall into this hell. Second is the place of the turning sword. It is said that iron walls ten yojanas in height surround it and that a terrible and intense fire constantly burns within. The fire possessed by humans is like snow when compared to this. With the least physical contact, the body is broken into pieces the size of mustard-seeds. Hot iron pours from above like a heavy rainfall, and in addition, there is a forest of swords, with blades of exceptional keenness, and those swords, too, fall like rain. The multitude of agonies is in such variety that it cannot be borne. Into this place fall those who have killed a living being with concupiscence. Third is the place of the burning vat. It is said that the sinner is seized and placed in an iron vat, and boiled as one would cook beans. Those who in the past have taken the life of a living creature, cooked it, and eaten of it, fall into this hell. . . . (Quoted in Ryusaku Tsunoda, Wm. Theodore de Bary, and Donald Keene, comps., Sources of Japanese Tradition, Vol. 1 [New York: Columbia University Press, 1958], p. 194.)

But surely nobody reading this passage now has ever cooked and eaten the flesh of a once-living creature, so you probably have nothing to worry about! The following excerpt describes some of the activities of the hell wardens:

With a fish-hook the wardens pull [the sinner] out [of the great Caustic River], put him on dry land, and ask him: 'What then, my friend, do you want now?' And he answers: 'I am hungry, Sir!' On hearing this, they prize open his mouth with a red-hot iron crowbar, and push into his mouth a red-hot ball of copper, all afire, aflame, and ablaze. And that burns his lips, mouth, throat, and chest, and passes out below, taking with it the bowels and intestines. . . .

Such *personalized service* for each sinner! With that kind of close attention to karmic needs, a sinner can be in and out of hell in almost no time at all--merely a few hundred years perhaps.

In both China and Japan, artists exhausted their creativity making detailed paintings and drawings of the hells (#example 1#) (#example 2#). Buddhist monks would often display them to popular audiences (most members of whom would be illiterate) and describe the horrors of each hell in vivid detail. Did these monks really believe that specific places called hell really existed? Were these hells really part of proper Buddhist doctrine? As Skillful Means, yes; as literally real, external places to which one goes, no. In other words, at higher levels of Mahayana teaching, hells did not exist (nor did starving ghosts) as specific, separate entities. If portraying them as such would help frighten the ignorant masses into better behavior, however, it is the duty of the Buddhist clergy to help the masses by doing so.

(Here is a page with #short descriptions of hell# from various world religious traditions.)

The Six Courses as Metaphysics and Psychology

It is also possible to interpret the Six Courses as a concrete image or metaphor for the more abstract process of karma-driven reincarnation. This interpretation would have greater appeal to persons at a relatively high level of religious sophistication. In this section, we illustrate the Six Courses as metaphysics by quoting extensively from Buddhist scripture. The following excerpts are all from a section called "Seeking rebirth," which states that "if you [the recently deceased] still continue to feel a desire to exist as an individual, then you are now doomed to again re-enter the wheel of becoming." (Quoted in Conze, Buddhist Scriptures, p. 229. All subsequent passages will be cited by a page number in parentheses.) Keeping the material on karma and reincarnation from Chapter One in mind, let us re-examine the process of death, starting with the judgment before King Yama.

Along with the metaphysical teaching of karma, we also see another important dimension: the psychological. In this more sophisticated view, King Yama is actually one's own mind:

You are now before Yama, King of the Dead. In vain will you try to lie, and to deny or conceal the evil deeds you have done. The Judge holds up before you the shining mirror of Karma [the Soul Mirror], wherein all your deeds are reflected. But again you have to deal with dream images, which you yourself have made, and which you project outside, without recognizing them as your own work. The mirror which Yama seems to read your past is your own memory, and also his judgment is your own. It is you yourself who pronounce your own judgment, which in its turn determines your next rebirth. No terrible god pushes you into it; you go there quite on your own. The shapes of the frightening monsters who take hold of you, place a rope round your neck and drag you along, are just an illusion which you create from the forces within you. Know that apart from these karmic forces there is no Judge of the Dead, no gods, and no demons. Knowing that, you will be free! (pp. 229-31)

At first the recently deceased tries to delude himself or herself, denying the many evil deeds of the past life. But karma cannot be denied, and these deeds have set up desires in the person that propel him or her into a new rebirth and another round of misery. And it is all in the mind. There is really no external agent. We seek new births by our own deluded desires. By realizing the nature of this process, we can stop it. Notice that this passage offers a possible way out. In the visual depiction of the Six Courses, the Buddhist divinity within each realm symbolizes this way out. Notice also that in the view described here, we have returned essentially to the Four Noble Truths.

The process of rebirth continues as follows:

If you have deserved it by your good deeds, a white light will guide you into one of the heavens, and for a while you will have some happiness among the gods. Habits of envy and ambition will attract you to the red light, which leads to rebirth among the warlike [demi-gods], forever agitated by anger and envy. If you feel drawn to a blue light, you will find yourself again a human being, and well you remember how little happiness that brought you! If you had a heavy and dull mind, you will choose the green light, which leads you to the world of animals, unhappy because [they are] insecure and excluded from the knowledge which brings salvation. A ray of dull yellow will lead you to the world of the ghosts, and, finally, a ray of the colour of darkish smoke will lead you into the hells (pp. 230-31).

As in the passage on the judgment cited above, this passage also ends with a possible way out:

Try to desist, if you can! Think of the Buddhas and Bodhisattvas! Recall that all these visions are unreal, control your mind, feel amity towards all that lives! And do not be afraid! You alone are the source of all these different rays. In you alone they exist, and so do the worlds to which they lead. Feel not attracted or repelled, but remain even minded and calm! (p. 231)

Again, it is karma that causes the rebirth, but since karma is nothing but our desires, we have the power to extinguish it at any time and stop the process. We make our own destiny, and the Six Courses are all in our heads.

The final passage we examine connects karma, psychology, and rebirth with the biological fact that sexual intercourse causes birth. The first half of the passage describes the powerful urge to be reborn within the newly deceased:

An overpowering craving will come over you for the sense-experiences which you remember having had in the past, and which through your lack of sense-organs you cannot now have. Your desire for rebirth becomes more and more urgent; it becomes a real torment to you. This desire now racks you; . . . whenever you try to take some rest, monstrous forms rise up before you. Some have animal heads on human bodies, others are gigantic birds with huge wings and claws. Their howlings and their whips drive you on, and then a hurricane carries you along, with those demonic howlings in hot pursuit. Greatly anxious, you will look for a safe place of refuge (p. 231).

It turns out that this place of refuge is in the sex act:

Everywhere around you, you will see animals and humans in the act of sexual intercourse. You envy them, and the sight attracts you. If your karmic coefficients destine you to become a male, you feel attracted to the females and you hate the males you see. If you are destined to become a female, you will feel love for the males and hatred for the females you see. Do not get near the couples you see, do not try to interpose yourself between them, do not try to take the place of one of them! The feeling which you would then experience would make you faint away, just at the moment when egg and sperm are about to unite. And afterwards you will find that you have been conceived as a human being or as an animal (pp. 231-32).

So now we know where babies really come from. Some voyeuristic spirit of a recently deceased person sees a couple having sex and the passions build up uncontrollably. He or she then jumps in between the couple and ends up being reborn as their baby. (With this insight in mind, instead of spending thousands of dollars on fertility treatments, perhaps couples having difficulty conceiving should try having sex in public places where they would be readily visible to hundreds of recently deceased persons. Should doing so cause any legal difficulties, a freedom of religion defense might work.) Notice the underlined part. Again, the text reminds us that there is a way out of the process at any time, if only we rectify our minds by casting out the desires within them.

What about the realms of Starving Ghosts and hells? As Skillful Means, a Buddhist might portray them as places "out there" into which a sinner falls. In fact, however, they are "in here," that is, *in our heads* (lecture on #Buddhahood and hell# by a Buddhist priest). Consider the grotesque appearance and life of a starving ghost. In terms of the Four Noble Truths, what is a starving ghost? It is the embodiment of desires, in all their ugliness. Through our desires, we make ourselves into starving ghosts, and we put ourselves into numerous hells. Life is, after all, suffering. The Six Realms do indeed exist--inside our heads as psychological states. It is within each person's power, therefore, to determine his or her own rebirth. The same goes for the attainment of nirvana, which is outside the Six Courses entirely. (Strictly speaking, Mahayana doctrine holds that the Six Courses are nirvana and nirvana is the Six Courses--but we need not concern ourselves with this matter here.)


"Shintō"

Many of you have heard of the term "Shintō" in its sense of native Japanese religion. Though you would not know it from a typical dictionary definition, the term "Shintō" is highly problematic from an historical perspective when used to designate the pre-Buddhist or non-Buddhist forms of religion in the Japanese islands in ancient or medieval times. The typical English or Japanese dictionary definition of Shintō is largely a creation of modern times and serves or has served specific political purposes. Prior to the nineteenth century, "Shintō" as an organized religion did not exist independently of Buddhism, which is one reason I have not used the term so far. It is much more useful to substitute a term like "native religion," even though what was native and what came in with Buddhism is often very difficult to distinguish.

Religion in Ancient Japan (Background Material)

In ancient times, religion was perhaps the most important aspect of life at all levels of Japanese society, from local villages to imperial court. In this section, we first look at native religious traditions in the Japanese islands prior to the coming of Buddhism and then look more closely at early forms of Japanese Buddhism and how Buddhism merged with native religious traditions. In terms of time, our coverage ranges from the tomb period (4th century) to the end of the Nara period (8th century).

It cannot be overemphasized that our knowledge of Japanese religious practices prior to the coming of Buddhism is limited. Because it was Buddhism that produced written religious materials, all existing accounts of native religious activities reflect at least some Buddhist influence. Furthermore, as early as the Nara period, Buddhism and native religious traditions began to merge. By the Kamakura period, it had became virtually impossible to separate native religious practices from those of Buddhism.

The details of native religious practices varied from one part of the Japanese islands to another. One concept common to nearly all such practices was that of kami. The word kami is often translated as "spirit," "nature spirit," "god" or "deity," but there is no precise equivalent in English. The word kami also means "above" in premodern and modern Japanese, and it is likely that the kami meaning "deity" and kami meaning "above" were once a single term. Combining these two meanings, kami were things that stood out to the people of ancient Japan as distinctive in a superior fashion. More specifically, they stood out as being better than other examples of items in the same category. Pine trees were quite common in ancient Japan, as they are today, but a particularly large pine tree, or one with distinctive beauty or a peculiar shape, might be *designated a kami*  (notice the rope with paper hanging down).  Ancient Japanese designated other distinctive, beautiful, or powerful features of the *natural world* as kami.

To indicate the object designated as distinctive in this sense, it was common practice to place a rope around it, upon which was hung white folded paper at regular intervals. Later, it became common to erect simple gateways called torii to mark the path leading to a kami site. These torii, usually, #but not always# *red in color,* now mark the entrances to Shintō shrines.

Human beings were also eligible for kami status. A person with an unusual talent for singing and poetry, for example, might come to be regarded as a kami of verse after his death. Those wanting to become proficient at this art might ritually ask this deceased bard, now a kami, for assistance in that purpose. As in most animistic religions, the world of the kami and the world of humans were not regarded as two completely separate places. There was substantial overlap. Kami, in other words, were part of the daily life of humans in ancient Japan.

How would one have communicated with kami in ancient times? Although there is a general format for praying at shrines today, we cannot be sure how such things were done in the remote past. There would have been a designated place for the kami. In the case of a rock, tree, waterfall, etcetera, the object itself would have been the site of worship. If it were small enough, the kami-object might be encircled with a simple enclosure or fence. In the case of a person, a simple wooden structure might be constructed to house his or her spirit. In many cases, these simple shrines gradually became the focal point for local community activities and festivals.

The arrival of Buddhism in the Japanese islands resulted in the construction of elaborate Buddhist temples. These elaborate temples influenced shrine construction, which also became more elaborate. As is customary, we use the word "shrine" to designate a structure associated mainly with native religious traditions and "temple" to designate a structure associated mainly with Buddhism. In practice, however, the two were not always distinct. Buddhist temple compounds in medieval Japan often contained shrines within them. In such cases, the kami of the shrines were thought to be protectors of the Buddhist temple. Although Buddhism was controversial when the Soga first began worshiping the image sent by the king of Paekche (in Korea), the sense of conflict between native kami and Buddhism faded rather quickly, never to return until the days of Japan's nation building process starting in the 1860s.

Agriculture was the foundation of all economic activity in Japan until the start of this century. The most important kami, therefore, were those associated with agriculture. In many localities during the Tomb period and later, villagers worshiped a *pair of kami,* one male and the other female. The thinking was that the fertility of these kami was closely connected with the fertility of the land and that such worship would help ensure a bountiful harvest. *Sexual imagery* in the form of depictions of male and female organs, often carved out of stone, was common in such worship. This imagery is still seen in numerous local festivals, although with the diminished importance of agriculture, religious depictions of sexual organs today are often regarded as aids for couples trying to conceive.

The leaders of locally powerful clans worshiped these agricultural deities since the livelihood of everyone in the area depended on good harvests. In time, many of these clans (uji) came to regard these agricultural deities as their ancestral founders. Local agricultural deities, in other words, became the ujigami (uji-founding kami) of the major local clans. As the confederation of clans in the Yamato area extended its hegemony over the other uji and peoples of the Japanese islands, their ujigami became more widely known.

Of particular importance, of course, was the Yamato royal family, whose ujigami was Amaterasu, a female solar deity (often called the "sun goddess"). Her "deity-body" (shintai--an object in which the kami spirit is thought to inhere) is housed at the *inner shrine at Ise,* near the coast of the old Yamato region. Worship of Amaterasu was an important duty of the Yamato king, who was as much a religious leader as he was a secular leader. After the Taika Reforms of 645, Amaterasu became, at least in theory, a kami of great importance for all of the Japanese islands.

Moving a few centuries back in time to the early tomb period, religious life seems to have been dominated by women with special spiritual powers. These women functioned as shamans and were often political leaders as well. Female leadership in religious and political life was common throughout many parts of East Asia prior to the spread of Confucianism and Buddhism. In Ryūkyū, for example, female shamans (#noro# in Japanese; nuru in Okinawan) played a major role in local religious and political life until this century. The head priestess of Ryūkyū (#Kikoe-Ōgimi#) was nearly as powerful as the king until the seventeenth century. In Japan, by the time of the Taika Reforms, female shamans no longer played a role in the official state religious ceremonies. A few centuries earlier, however, female shamans sometimes served as leaders of the Yamato Kingdom.

The most famous such ruler was Queen Pimiko (also pronounced Himiko or Himeko), the ruler of the country of Yamatai in the Japanese islands around the beginning of the third century. According to Chinese records, the country of Yamatai:

formerly had a man as ruler. For some seventy or eighty years after that there were disturbances and warfare. Thereupon the people agreed upon a woman for their ruler. Her name was Pimiko. She occupied herself with magic and sorcery, bewitching the people. Though mature in age, she remained unmarried. She had a younger brother that assisted her in ruling the country. After she became the ruler, there were few who saw her. She had one thousand women as attendants, but only one man. He served her food and drink and acted as a medium of communication. She resided in a palace surrounded by towers and stockades, with armed guards in a state of constant vigilance.

Most Japanese scholars think that Yamatai was located either in northern Kyūshū or in the Yamato region of Honshū. Notice, at least in this account, the close connection between religious power and political power.

Honji-Suijaku

As we have seen, the appeal of Buddhism to Japanese in the sixth century was as a superior, more powerful form of magic than native shamanism. As Buddhism spread during the Asuka period and later, it permanently altered native religious traditions. Under Buddhist influence, for example, women no longer played a major role in religious life (at least in the major urban areas--the situation in the countryside may have been different), even in native religious rites at shrines. Buddhism also began to absorb elements of Japan's native religions into itself. Native kami, for example became protectors of Buddhist temples in their area, and many Buddhist temples contained shrines to these kami within their compounds. It was only after Buddhism became established that scribes recorded native Japanese prayers and religious practices. Japanese documents purporting to describe Japan's native religious practices before the coming of Buddhism were all written after the coming of Buddhism. We cannot always be sure, therefore, which elements in these documents were purely Japanese and which were Buddhist. Many were undoubtedly a mixture of the two religious traditions.

By the Nara period, the process of combining native Japanese forms of religion with Buddhism was well underway. The idea developed that Japanese kami were local manifestations (suijaku, gongen, or keshin) of Buddhas or Bodhisattvas. In such a relationship, the Buddhas or Bodhisattvas were known as honji, or "original ground". All major Japanese kami became formally linked with Buddhist counterparts. For example, the great solar Buddha, Vairocana, became linked with the Japanese solar deity Amaterasu (*see illustration*). Specifically, Amaterasu came to be regarded as the local Japanese manifestation of the solar Buddha. In this way, Buddhism absorbed native Japanese religion, and the two became thoroughly interconnected.

The proper technical term for this interconnection is honji-suijaku. The honji element was always a Buddhist deity in medieval times, and the suijaku was the local Japanese manifestation of that Buddhist deity. This local Japanese manifestation would also be a kami. Among other things, this formulation indicates the primacy of Buddhism at least in formal religious circles during medieval times. As we move closer to modern times, some Japanese began to re-formulate honji-suijaku, with native deities on a par with, or even superior to their Buddhist counterparts. But such a re-formulation never attained much influence until the 1860s and 70s.

We have seen that religion was a major part of the politics and symbolism of imperial rule following the Taika Reforms. The religion of the emperor and his or her court was a mixture of Buddhist and native elements. A large portion of the emperor's time and energy was taken up with religious rites. As the political power of the emperors grew after 645, what was once the religion of one particular uji (albeit a particularly prominent one) gradually became the official religion of the new Japanese state. The emperors established a large *shrine at Ise,* in the Yamato area, to house the spirit of Amaterasu. This shrine became an important symbol of the imperial family. In modern times, it became an important symbol of Japan as a nation. Traditionally, the shrine buildings were torn down and rebuilt every twenty years. The following is the text of an official "grain-petitioning" prayer said during the second month at the Ise shrine:

By the solemn command of the Emperor,

I humbly speak before you,

Great Sovereign Deity, whose praises are fulfilled

In the bed-rock below

On the upper reaches of the Isuzu river

At Uji in Watarai:

I humbly speak this solemn command

To bring and present the great offerings

Habitually presented at the Grain-petitioning of the Second month.

Notice the importance of agriculture as reflected in this ancient prayer. Notice also that the increasingly "national" scope of the religious rites of the imperial family to different parts of Japan went hand-in-hand with the spread of the political power of the imperial family.