What Do You Believe In?

G’KAR: What do you believe in?

NA’TOTH: Myself, Ambassador.

G’KAR: Too easy an answer. We all believe in something… greater than ourselves. Even if it’s just the blind forces of chance.

NA’TOTH: Chance favours the warrior.
Babylon 5, “By Any Means Necessary” (s1ep12)

I have been re-watching the classic science-fiction series, Babylon 5, and I found this neat dialogue between two of the Narn characters. G’Kar is a devout follower of the Narn religion, while his attaché Na’Toth is not.

G’Kar makes a good point: everyone believes in something. Even an atheist believes in something: science and reason instead of faith. Even someone who is agnostic believes in a higher power even if they can’t define it for themselves. Or people believe in chance, or the natural world or whatever. All of these are beliefs.

But then, I wonder: is belief (even Buddhist belief) just an extension of oneself? Is it a way to make sense of the world outside ourselves?

By the way, I think there’s nothing wrong with having beliefs (Buddhist or otherwise), but I think one’s beliefs are a good indicator of one’s inner fears and anxieties. Two people might sincerely believe in the God of the Bible, but each one emphasizes something different, or interprets God differently. So, how much of this is real, and how much is this just a projection of oneself onto the world?

So, then back to the top of the post: what do you believe in, and what does it say about you? 😏 You can learn a lot just by exploring this question.

Namu Shakamuni Butsu

P.S. Featured photo is “best buddies” Londo and G’kar from Babylon 5. RIP Andreas Katsulas (G’kar).

P.P.S. If you remember Mr Morden from Babylon 5, and his question “what do you want?”, that too is very instructive.

Ablution

A floor tile mosaic showing two peacocks flanking a foundatin. Above the fountain is the Greek palindrome "ΝΙΨΟΝΑΝΟΜΗΜΑΤΑΜΗΜΟΝΑΝΟΨΙΝ".

Recently, I have been dabbling in learning ancient Greek language for the first time in years. I polished off my old DVD copy of the Greek 101 course from The Great Courses which I bought during the Pandemic after my local library no longer had it available.¹ It’s been fun to review old lessons, get reacquainted with such a gorgeous language, and so on.

Anyhow, something I wanted to share was a famous axiom in Koine Greek found throughout the Eastern Roman (a.k.a. the Byzantine) world:

ΝΙΨΟΝΑΝΟΜΗΜΑΤΑΜΗΜΟΝΑΝΟΨΙΝ
(Νίψον ἀνομήματα, μὴ μόναν ὄψιν)

“Wash your sins, not only your face.”

This is pronounced as Nipson anomēmata mē monan opsin. This is a famous palindrome (same forwards or backwards) that according to Wikipedia is attributed to one Saint Gregory of Nazianzus. I am not super familiar with the Orthodox tradition, but feel free to consult Wikipedia for more details. You can find it at many monasteries across the Eastern Roman world, including the holy font at the Hagia Sophia, the central church of Constantinople.

In any case, the concept of ablution is also found in Buddhism and expresses a similar sentiment.

Buddhism has a popular custom whereby one performs some kind of ablution with water or incense before approaching a Buddhist altar to pray. It is not strictly required, but is commonly performed as a gesture of respect toward the Buddhist deity you are visiting by cleansing oneself at a superficial level. Within Japanese Buddhism, some sects encourage this more than others; from what I have learned Tendai Buddhism tends to emphasize this a lot, Pure Land Buddhist sects (e.g. Jodo Shu and Jodo Shinshu) do not. The emphasis varies, in other words.

But also ablution in Buddhism is not limited to the external ritual; we also the concept of repentance (e.g. “washing the soul”). This is not the same thing as Western religions, where someone begs God for forgiveness for transgressions committed. Instead, the Buddha strongly encouraged us to constantly evaluate our past conduct, and use the Dharma as a kind of yard-stick to measure them: were they skillful actions, or unskillful actions? Inevitably, one must confront their own unskillful actions. We all do. It is part of being a human being.

So, in Buddhism, many traditions have a ritual were people reflect on their past actions and renounce them, resolving to do better. It is encouraged to do this in front of a statue of the Buddha, and to repeat the liturgy out loud, not just in one’s mind:

All of the misdeeds I’ve committed in the past, are the result of my own greed [or craving], anger and delusion [or ignorance]. I renounce [or repent] these misdeeds.
Translations vary by community, this is just one example.

The idea is that by acknowledging and confessing one’s faults, one not only learns from one’s mistakes, one also potentially diminishes some negative karma that one has sown, and also prevents further self-harm (i.e. guilt, self-recrimination) by letting go and forgiving oneself.

So, just as the old Greek palindrome says, Buddhist practice is not only washing one’s face, but also one’s “soul”.²

Namu Shakamuni Nyorai

P.S. A common misunderstanding is the primary language in the Roman Empire was Latin. In fact, most of the population spoke Greek as their primary language, though this varied widely by region. This prevalence of Greek was both a leftover from the Hellenistic Age, but also because even Romans felt that Greek was a prestige language, and wealthy Romans hired Greek tutors for their children when possible. Julius Caesar’s famous “Et Tu Brute” quote was actually recited in Greek (Kai Su Teknon).

¹ I prefer having hard copies of things, whenever possible.

² Buddhism is somewhat unique among world religions in that it teaches the concept of “no-soul” (anatman), so by “soul” I don’t mean a literal soul, but the mind and one’s provisional self.

Culture, Religion, and Curry

A long time ago, my wife and I watched this TED Talk in Japanese about religion and how Japanese culture approaches it:

The TED Talk is entirely in Japanese, with no subtitles, so unfortunately most folks here won’t be able to easily follow it. Which is a shame because it’s quite good. I had a saved in my personal playlist, and rewatched it recently. There a couple points in particular that I wanted to tease out:

The priest in question, Matsuyama Daiko, was raised in a “priest family” in Japan (e.g. Buddhist priest),¹ but attended a Catholic school growing up. This is not unusual. My sister-in-law also attended a Catholic school in Japan, we have good friends who are a Buddhist priest family. Matsuyama makes the point that Japan approaches religion the way it approaches dinner: in the West we tend to feature a main dish, and maybe a few smaller side dishes (or none). In Japan, food is usually not served with a main dish, but several dishes that are more or less same quantity.

An example of a traditional meal in Japanese cuisine. Photo by cyclonebill from Copenhagen, Denmark, CC BY-SA 2.0, via Wikimedia Commons

In the same way, while Matsuyama is an ordained Buddhist priest, he grew up with a wide exposure to other religions but sampled many dishes. It’s not unusual for a Japanese person to do Buddhist stuff, but also visit Shinto shrines during Hatsumode, get married in a Christian chapel, etc. Hence, like many dishes, Japanese tend to sample many traditions, and respect them all. People have their personal inclinations (or none at all), but they are not forced to choose following A versus following B. I don’t want to oversell this too much, but it is a practical approach to religion and one you’ll find not just in Japan, but other Asian cultures as well.

The second point that Matsuyama makes that I thought was interesting was the idea of variation even within the same religion. Matsuyama talked about how Buddhists in Theravada countries might look at Japanese Buddhism (Mahayana), and be confused by some of its practices, and vice-versa. So, he used the example of curry. Curry is a food that is found across all of Asia, but there’s an incredible amount of local variety. I LOVE curry. I eat any kind of curry, and love the sheer variety.

Different curry dishes arise from different environments and circumstances: availability of ingredients, cooking methods, climate, and so on. Matsuyama stated that Indian curry tends to be very spicy, which is handy in a hot, dry climate as some parts of India are, because it helps you sweat. Japanese curry, which tends to be very hearty and mild, works well in a climate that is colder. Thai curry uses a lot of coconut milk, something not available in Japan, and seafood. Curry as consumed in the UK has also been adjusted for local resources and taste.

A metal bowl with dark colored lamb curry, mixed with potatoes, and a spoon to scoop.

A fast-food tray with a bowl of tikka masala curry, an orange colored curry with basmati rice on one side, and naan bread. A glass of mango lassi in the back.

A blue and white bowl containing white rice on one half, and Japanese yellow curry with beef, potatoes and carrots on the other half.

A bowl of greenish-brown curry with bamboo shoots, beef, and a serving spoon.

Yet all of these are unquestionably curry. Anyone can taste any of these dishes and immediately recognize it as curry. In the same way, each tradition and sect with Buddhism is easily recognizable. It may not suit one’s personal taste, but the variety of cultures, historical precedents, people and geography have led to a variety of traditions, and there’s something for everyone. Of course, this is true of other world religions too, but I wanted to use Buddhism as the example.

So, when looking at the variety of ideas, teachings and practices, consider the example of curry. Different curries arise from different conditions, and each is suitable for different people, but also curry is delicious no matter how you try it. So, don’t be afraid to sample other versions.

¹ Unlike most Buddhist countries where monks are celibate and usually live a cloistered life, Buddhist monks in Japan are (for complex historical reasons that are too long to go into here) parochial, live among communities and marry.

The Contradictions of Organized Religion

This post was inspired by a recent play-through of Fire Emblem: Three Houses and contains spoilers to the game.

In addition to the main plot, Three Houses contains a lot of subtle side-stories and hidden lore that players discover as they explore the monastery. For example, the game strongly hints that the official history of the Church of Seiros is a fabrication used to obfuscate the real history of Lady Rhea the archbishop.

Lady Rhea doesn’t just venerate Saint Seiros (pictured above); she is Saint Seiros disguised for countless eons. The game, especially in the Silver Snow route, also reveals her divine dragon ancestry, the real source of the holy relics (remains of her siblings), and hints that other saints, namely Seteth (Saint Cichol) and Flayn (Saint Cethleann) are still alive after all these centuries, hiding their identities even as they manage the church.

Rhea/Seiros fears a repeat of a terrible massacre of her loved ones by humans centuries ago. Thus, she uses the Church to keep the peace, obfuscate the past with false narratives, suppress dissent, manipulate the governments of Fódlan, and (in a less cynical sense) gives the masses something positive to believe in: the goddess Sothis, her mother.

Rhea’s actions, like Lady Edelgard‘s, are morally grey in that they are driven by sincere desires to address the evils of society, but through questionable means.¹ Good intentions lead to controversial decisions that nevertheless become church canon over the centuries.

It’s not hard to see the relevance of this toward real-world organized religions.

Organized religion is not, of course, being manipulated by divine dragon beings (presumably). However, seeing as how church official history can obfuscate unpleasant aspects of the past, one can’t help but wonder how many such inconvenient truths that we’ll never know about have been smoothed over and polished for the sake of unity and peace.

Further, is an inconvenient truth better than a convenient lie? This answer isn’t so easy.

This is where the inherent contradictions of organized religion come into play: humans tend to manipulate and corrupt religious teachings in order to further an agenda, often with well-meaning (or at least benign) intentions. And yet, in spite of this cynical view, organized religion is necessary to preserve and carry on teachings across generations. Thus, followers often have to make the best of an awkward situation.

Everyone in their own personal religious path has to try to resolve these contradictions and try to put teachings into practice as best they can. Or, like Edelgard, throw them out completely and expose the hypocrisy. This latter choice entails conflict, and worse: the risk of simply replacing one convenient lie with another more suited to one’s preferences if they are not careful.

Anyone who says religion is easy is either wrong or trying to sell you something.

¹ Further in Three Houses, Rhea and Edelgard’s intentions are irreconcilable, mutually exclusive, and in the end one of them must destroy the other, hence the tragedy of the whole story.

Buddhist Sophistry

In the famous Chinese-Buddhist treatise, Mind Seal of the Buddhas (linked here and here), written in the 17th Century by a monk named Ouyi is the following quotation:

The Pure Land [Buddhist] teaching is profound and wondrous. It destroys all sophistry and cuts off all delusive views….Those of worldly intelligence, the followers of Confucianism and the devotees of Zen, may try to figure it out to the limit of their powers, but the more they think about it, the farther off they get. In terms of being able to reach the wisdom of the Buddhas and mesh with the wonders of the Path, such intellectuals are not as good as simple men and women who recite the Buddha-name in all sincerity.

Buddhism tends to be a pretty cerebral religion. It begins, first and foremost with the mind, after-all.

Furthermore, the intellectual history of Buddhism is long, and at times pretty torturous. In places where Buddhism flourished, such as India (until the 12th century) and China, numerous schools would spring up and scholarly debates were the norm. Debates between the Yogacara and Tiantai schools in China (and by extension Japan) were heated, convoluted and involved some theological hair-splitting at times. This was not even limited to the “scholastic” schools of Buddhism either. For anti-intellectual, more empirical schools such as Zen, debates and schisms happened more often than we’d care to admit. The image of the Zen master who is aloof from the world and one with everything was more often romanticism than actual reality.

A master of sophistry….

Ouyi’s comment about “sophistry”, meaning logical arguments that seem sound but have no substance, is interesting because it acknowledges this tendency, and the need to get to the heart of Buddhist teaching and practice. Ouyi seems to be making a jibe against the scholastic debates of his time (17th Century China) and asserts that Pure Land Buddhism is somehow above all this because it relies on simple, straightforward practices but with a profound underpinning. However, is Ouyi correct?

My experiences with Pure Land Buddhism has been mixed. It’s emphasis on faith definitely side-steps a lot of intellectual posturing and arguments. It appeals to the heart and not the brain. Its practice of reciting the Buddha’s name is very portable and easy to get started on, even for the “worst” Buddhist disciple. And yet even in Pure Land Buddhism, people can and do take things too far and get caught up so much in defending their particular doctrine that they are not above sophistry. Some of the teachings by certain Pure Land schools are perplexing, confusing and elaborate justifications for doctrines that are outmoded or don’t make sense in the wider Buddhist context. But such people have invested in them for so long that they can’t give them up. For me, Pure Land Buddhism has been no better or worse than other Buddhist schools.

So how does one make sense of it all?

The sutras are a good starting point, but they can’t be 100% trusted because they were composed so long after the Buddha, and often by different authors at different times. So even the sutras, the closest things we have to the Buddha’s authentic teachings, require a grain of salt.

Similarly, one cannot rely on one’s own intuition because there are many hidden biases we can’t see. The Buddha even warned against this in the Kalama Sutta (more on this later).

Teachers and doctrinal traditions similarly have to be viewed with a respectful, but critical eye. Like the sutras, they are formed from specific times, place and people.

Interestingly, the Buddha addressed all this and more in a famous (and often misquoted) sutra called the Kalama Sutta (AN 3.66). He was approached by a village of the Kalama people who were concerned about the abundance (glut?) of teachers and teachings in the area and couldn’t make sense of it all. The Buddha advised:

So in this case, Kālāmas, don’t go by reports, by legends, by traditions, by scripture, by logical conjecture, by inference, by analogies, by agreement through pondering views, by probability, or by the thought, ‘This contemplative is our teacher.’ When you know for yourselves that, ‘These qualities are unskillful; these qualities are blameworthy; these qualities are criticized by the observant; these qualities, when adopted & carried out, lead to harm & to suffering’—then you should abandon them.

But, the translator, Ven. Thanissaro Bhikku, also warns that this is not a blank check to do whatever you feel is right:

Although this discourse is often cited as the Buddha’s carte blanche for following one’s own sense of right and wrong, it actually sets a standard much more rigorous than that. Traditions are not to be followed simply because they are traditions. Reports (such as historical accounts or news) are not to be followed simply because the source seems reliable. One’s own preferences are not to be followed simply because they seem logical or resonate with one’s feelings. Instead, any view or belief must be tested by the results it yields when put into practice; and—to guard against the possibility of any bias or limitations in one’s understanding of those results—they must further be checked against the experience of people who are observant and wise. The ability to question and test one’s beliefs in an appropriate way is called appropriate attention. The ability to recognize and chose wise people as mentors is called having admirable friends.

The point of all this, I think, is that the key to getting past sophistry in Buddhism (or anything, really) is to use your head. Judge a Buddhist teaching or practice by its results in your life, and others, and not by how it sounds or feels to you or how rational it sounds.

If you look at the sutras more holistically, it’s clear the Buddha repeatedly advocated things like:

A wholesome, clean lifestyle that is free from blame, and respectable in the eyes of the community.¹
A life of modesty and moderation.
Non-violence and goodwill towards all beings.
A life based on wisdom and insight, not irrational beliefs.

So, Buddhist teachings that work toward this end are obviously the ones you want to adopt, emulate, and practice. On the other hand, teachings that encourage the opposite, even if they are part of the Buddhist tradition and otherwise make sense, should be avoided. Even if they make you feel good or are somehow pleasing, in the long run, they are like a bag of chips in that give a short-term thrill, but no lasting substance.²

And, like Forrest Gump, that’s all I have to say about that.

¹ This goes double for Buddhist monastics, as shown in the Dhammapada:

Restraint with the eye is good,
good is restraint with the ear.
Restraint with the nose is good,
good is restraint with the tongue.
Restraint with the body is good,
good is restraint with speech.
Restraint with the heart is good,
good is restraint everywhere.
A monk everywhere restrained
is released from all suffering & stress.

Hands restrained,
feet restrained
speech restrained,
supremely restrained–
delighting in what is inward,
content, centered, alone:
he’s what they call
a monk.
Verses 360-362, translation by Ven. Ṭhānissaro Bhikkhu

But even for laypeople, he encouraged the same basic lifestyle (cf. the Sigalovada Sutta):

Killing, stealing, lying and adultery, These four evils the wise never praise.
translation by Ven. Narada Thera

² A long time ago, when I was a teenager, I used to attend a certain Christian church, and I remember we had revivals and other faith-based gatherings. I had a lot of happy memories of those, and feeling very energized in my faith at the time, but inevitably when it was over, I would feel a sense of loss or withdrawal. I think I was just there for a sense of community and belonging, but despite my best efforts I was not a sincere believer. Eventually, I did come to this conclusion and left it being for good. Later, I started to adopt the Buddhist path in earnest.

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