(As in all my posts involving Pali you are quite welcome to skim the parts about the process of translation if it bores you; it’s there so that it’s available to those who may be interested in the difficulty of translating from the original texts, or who may care about the variety of ways in which texts can be spun. In general my posts are less about translation than about the dhamma, and it’s conversation about the way we see the dhamma in our lives that interests me most; the details of translation are toward the back of the field of horses in the race for my attention.)
If the previous encounters with suttas and Pali had convinced me but not quite motivated me to learn that ancient language, watching the antic dicing and slicing of certain prolific posters on the amazon.com Buddhism forum finally did succeed in kicking my butt into gear. I started working my way painfully slowly through Rune E.A. Johansson’s “Pali Buddhist Texts: An Introductory Reader and Grammar” in mid-December and only today have managed to get to the end of the first puny chunk of a sutta, in this case from the Majjhima Nikaya (I 265 “Experience is the Only Criterion”) but, ah, the reward at the end was worth the effort, even if it made me want to cry.
In this piece the Buddha has apparently just finished discussing Dependent Origination with the monks, and he asks them whether they would in the future base their talk of the dhamma on respect for their teacher, to which they say they would not. He asks if they would speak about that which other recluses had told them? Certain not! He asks if (once having understood Dependent Origination) they would go off and seek a different teacher, or might they return to observing the old rites and ceremonies of ordinary recluses and Brahmins; they would not do either.
In the penultimate line spoken by the Buddha, he asks if the monks would speak only of the things they had found out for themselves, having seen and known it personally. The author’s translation leaves out the word “only”. His translation is:
“Monks, do you not speak that which is known by yourselves, seen by yourselves, found by yourselves?”
Yet the vocabulary for this bit includes “only” – I assume he left it out because he felt that “by yourselves” carried that meaning but I think that leaving that word out – it is repeated twice in the Pali – caused a loss of the force of what the Buddha was actually saying.
The word translated as “only” is “eva” and the whole sentence in Pali looks like this:
Nanu bhikkhave yad-eva tumhākam sāmam ñātam, sāmam dittham sāmam viditam tad-eva tumhe vadethāti.
Using his vocabulary we have:
Nanu: Is it not?
bhikkhave: monks
yad: which
eva: only
tumhākam: you
sāmam: self
nātam: known
dittham: seen
viditam: found
tad: it
eva: only
tumhe: you
vadethati: do speak (with the “ti” at the end of the word being a sort of question-mark)
So we have something like: “Is it not, monks, only that which you(r)self have known, self seen, self found, it only you do speak?”
The active verb in Pali usually comes at the end of the sentence (as it does in modern Hindi). The ending verbal phrase with its subject and object is “tad-eva tumhe vadethāti” (it only you do speak) which then comes out as “you do speak (about) it only?” — smoothing it out a little more we have: “Do you speak about only that?”
But what is it he’s asking that they only speak about? It is that which “ tumhākam sāmam ñātam sāmam dittham sāmam viditam” or “you self know, self see, self found” — the “you” going with “self” in the first is understood as part of “self” (sāmam) in each part of that phrase, so we might say, “you yourself know, yourself see, yourself found”.
Now we have “Do you speak about only that which you yourself know, yourself see, yourself found?”
But we are still missing the front of the sentence. Let’s start by including yad-eva (which only). We already have a “which only” (tad-eva) which relates to the verbal clause about “speaking” at the end. So this “which only” (yad-eva) coming from the middle, before the phrase about knowing, seeing, finding – relates to that phrase: “which only yourself know, yourself see, yourself found”. Almost done, we have (roughly):
“Do you speak about only that which only yourself know, yourself see, yourself found?”
That seems a bit ambiguous. “Which only yourself know” could mean that they should only speak about things for which they have the only bit of knowledge in the whole wide world. That does not seem likely to be what the Buddha is trying to say, so perhaps we need to look at the context of this thought: the Buddha started by asking the group if they would base what they say on what their respected teacher says, or on what other teachers said, and they said they would not. Why would the Buddha get them to say they would not base what they say on what he said? The answer lies here: He is asking them to speak from what they know by themselves only, have seen by themselves only, have found out for themselves only. He’s talking about direct experience. With the context provided, we can now understand that the other “only” refers to their individual actions of coming to know, see, and find out. The “only” does not relate to exclusive knowledge. We can now make the sentence flow the way it should in English:
“Do you speak only about that which you came to know yourself, saw yourself, found yourself?”
Working back to the front of the sentence where we have “monks” and “is it not?” the Buddha might have put it this way in our times:
“Is it not so, monks, that you speak only about that which you came to know yourself, saw yourself, found yourself?”
That’s pretty good but it still loses the force of the double “only” in the sentence. To put that back in I’d revise again:
“Is it not so, monks, that you speak only about that which you came to know through your own efforts only, saw for yourself, found out by direct experience?”
What the Buddha said at the start of this piece – and his monks agreed – was that we should not be speaking about what our teachers say is so, however venerated they may be, even if our teacher is the Buddha himself. We should limit ourselves to discussing that which we have personally found out, seen, and that we know from our own experience. This point is reinforced by the final line (as translated by Mr. Johansson):
“Good, monks! You, monks, have been instructed by me through this timeless doctrine which can be realized and verified, leads to the goal, and can be understood individually by the intelligent.”
We can verify it for ourselves by realizing it in our own lives. The verification is as important as the realization, really, and we should only be talking about that which we have personally verified.
But, you may ask, what is it that makes me want to cry? It’s this:
I spend more time than I perhaps ought to perusing Buddhist forums on the internet where followers of the Buddha’s path spend a great deal of time discussing what they have been told or read. Debates are held over practices and tenets passed on out of respect for a very long and ancient lineage. Within these traditions some members are reputed to have verified — through their own direct experience — that karma and rebirth* represent the true workings of the cosmos and so are a valid and important part of the Buddha’s path. I cannot, of course, say whether they experienced these things or not – it was their experience, not mine, and it is not my place to make judgments; nor is it my place to defend their views — as the Buddha points out in the above snippet, we should stick to discussing what we know from our own experience, not from someone else’s.
Just for a foolish moment, I imagined a history in which the Buddha’s disciples had put at the forefront of their vows that they would do as the Buddha had asked and “speak only about that which they came to know through their individual efforts only, saw for themselves, found out by direct experience” and that they had never spent time on parts of what they were taught that they had not personally experienced. I saw a dhamma passed through the ages with a strong inoculation against all speculative views, and it was that view of some alternate reality in which the uncluttered heart of the Buddha’s teaching had remained easily visible and understandable that made me want to weep.
* among many other things
Instead of Buddhism, Try Critical Thinking
September 23rd, 2009 . Posted in Critical thinking, responses to comments | 6 Comments »Tags: buddhist practice, critical thinking, philosophy and skillsets, taking apart the wheel of dhamma, theory vs practice
The very first comment I’ve gotten on the talks posted to youtube was left soon after I put up SB002: Why Skeptical Buddhism? The writer questions the value of the choice of looking deeply into Buddhism when instead “one would be better served by honing critical thinking skills and general skepticism.” An interesting criticism.
My first response is to ask a question: “How does one best hone critical thinking skills and general skepticism?” Is it simply by sitting quietly alone, or going on long walks, or looking silently at life passing by and thinking, thinking, thinking about it? Will that sharpen up critical thinking, and help us see reasons for skepticism? It might, for some.
Next question: “Is there a faster way to improve our critical thinking skills and provide firmer ground for our skepticism?” Perhaps by studying the philosophies and methods of other critical thinkers and skeptics? Allowing them to teach us? Taking courses? Discussing critical thinking with others? Maybe taking a class on The History of Skepticism would provide some perspective.
It seems to me that most of us would agree that finding wise teachers, and discussing the issues that concern our critical, skeptical minds is going to serve us to better in honing our critical thinking skills, as well as give us much-needed context and the balance of others’ points of view as well. Better than what? Better than turning our backs on wise teachers, and discourse with alert and thoughtful companions.
Which is, in part, what Skeptical Buddhism offers: At least one wise teacher (though dead), and very likely more than one if we seek out prospective teachers with our critical-thinking skills activated; historical perspective; modern perspective; and a community of people actively seeking wisdom more than answers. It seems to me that “delving deeply into the teaching of Buddhism” is one quite valid path – if I devote a lot of time to it that doesn’t mean I’ve closed myself off to other paths. I listen to Point of Inquiry podcasts, and read philosophy and social theory, and even take long walks and think, think, think.
I devote a lot of time to the practice of the Buddhist path in part because of the wise teachers, in part because of contact with thoughtful and supportive peers, but also in part because Buddhism offers something that reading books, taking classes, discussing with others, and spending a lot of time considering things critically does not offer: a set of skills I can practice that gives me actual experience in how all that philosophy fits into my particular life, skills that improve my ability to carry out the commitments I wish to make based on my understanding of the world as it is, and the place I would like to have in it.
An example* of the difference between “honing critical thinking skills and general skepticism” and “delving deeply into the teachings of Buddhism” is the difference between understanding that I shouldn’t speak in anger, in the heat of the moment, to my kids, and being able to actually refrain from doing so because I both understand the reasons for keeping my mouth shut and have the skill set to support it.
I imagine a question coming in out of the ether asking why, then, I can’t just take the skill set out of Buddhism, and leave its philosophy behind, and that way I can stick to critical thinking and separately practice the mechanics formerly part of “Buddhism”.
I have recently seen discussion of removing meditation and mindfulness from their Buddhist setting, but those two things alone are shallow, and therefore not enough to actually shift my understanding of myself, the world, and the way I operate in it, not enough to make any great difference in the way I behave. I know this, because for years I tried those things without quite understanding what it was the Buddha taught except on a distantly theoretical level, and while the theoretical understanding was a fine thing, it didn’t have much effect on me.
It took understanding all the pieces and how they fit, before I was able to make sustained change in my life. I had to practice seeing the new view for myself, and learn how to focus on seeing how my old view of the world tangled me up and stole my power to do what was right. I had to put the pieces – the total view (philosophy) and the practice (skills) together – before real change happened.
So in my experience, this one is better served by letting Buddhism do what it does best: open my eyes to what it means to be a human, a complex but ephemeral creature interwoven of experience and desires, of regrets and fond memories, of dreams and schemes. I will let it support me in a moment-by-moment practice of being that human, seeing clearly what’s in my power and what is not, and being awed by the clear view of both. I will use the teachings as the string around my finger, always reminding me to pay attention because there are so very many assumptions deep in my personal operating system that otherwise I may forget to question.
* which may or may not be relevant to my particular life; I’m not telling