May 2, 2004
Rev. Henry Ticknor
Unitarian Universalist Church of the Shenandoah Valley
All is Dukkha
Let me begin with a story. In the time of the Buddha, a woman named Kisagotami suffered the death of her only child. Unable to accept her loss, she ran from person to person, village to village, seeking a medicine to restore her child to life. The Buddha, she was told by one, is said to have such a medicine.
So, Kisagotami went in search of the Buddha. When she came into his presence she paid homage, and asked, “Can you make a medicine that will restore my child?”
“I know of such a medicine,” the Buddha said. “But in order to make it I must have certain ingredients.”
Relieved, the woman asked, “What ingredients do you require?”
“Bring me a handful of mustard seed,” said the Buddha.
The woman promised to obtain the seeds, but as she was leaving, he added, “I require the mustard seed be taken from a household where no child, no spouse, parent or servant has died.”
Kisagotami agreed and she began going from house to house in search of the mustard seed. At each house people agreed to give her the seed, but when she asked them if anyone had died in that household, she could find no home where death had not visited—in one house a daughter, in another a servant, in others a husband or parent had died.
Seeing she was not alone in her grief, the mother let go of her child’s lifeless body and returned to the Buddha, who said with great compassion, “You thought that you alone had lost a son, the law of death is that among all living creatures there is no permanence.”
Huston Smith, the author of many works on world religions, writes, “Buddhism begins with a man.”
Smith tells us “The historical facts of his life are roughly these: He was born around 560 BCE in northern India. His father was a king, but as India was not then united, it would be more accurate to think of him as a feudal lord.
His full name was Siddhartha Gautama. By the standards of his day his upbringing was luxurious. “I wore garments of silk and my attendants held a white umbrella over me.” He appears to have been extremely handsome for there are numerous references to the “perfection of his visible body.”
At sixteen he married a neighboring princess who bore him a son. Here in short was a man who seemed to have everything: family, appearance, wealth, a model wife who was described as a “majestic as a queen of heaven, constant ever, cheerful night and day, full of dignity and exceeding grace.” He was heir to his father’s throne and he was destined for a life of power and prestige.”
Despite all of this there settled over him in his twenties a discontent that was to lead to a complete break with his worldly estate. The background of his discontent is told in the legend of The Four Passing Sights, one of the most celebrated wisdom stories found in literature:
Soon after the birth, a great seer named Asita visited the king. The baby was brought for him to see. To the king’s alarm, the holy man burst into tears.
“Sir, what is wrong?” asked the king. “Do you foresee some disaster for my son?”
“Not at all,” said the seer. “His future is supreme. Your son shall become a Buddha, an Enlightened One, and free the world from its bonds of illusion. I weep only for myself, for I will not live to hear his teachings.”
Now, the king was distressed that his only heir might turn to a life of religion. He called upon eight Brahmin priests, all skilled in interpreting signs, and asked them to prophesy for the prince.
When the priests had conferred, their spokesman addressed the king. “Your majesty, if your son follows in your footsteps, he will become a Universal King and rule the known world. But if he renounces home and family for the life of a seeker, he will become a Buddha and save the world from its ignorance and folly.”
The king asked, “What would cause my son to renounce home and family?”
The priest answered, “Seeing the four signs.”
“And what are the four?”
“An old man, a sick man, a dead man, and a holy man.”
“Then none of these shall he see,” the king declared. And he placed guards around the palace to keep all such persons away.
One day Siddhartha thought he would visit a park outside the city. The king arranged the outing, with strict orders to his guards to keep the road clear of the old, the sick, the dead, and the holy.
As the prince passed through the city in his royal carriage, people lined the road to admire him. The guards followed the king’s orders as best they could. But even so, the prince spied in the crowd a man with gray hair, weak limbs, and bent back.
“Driver,” said Siddhartha, “what is wrong with that man?”
“He is old, my lord.”
“And what is ‘old’?” asked the prince.
“‘Old’ is when you have lived many years.”
“And will I too become ‘old’?”
“Yes, my lord. To grow old is our common fate.”
“If all must face old age,” said the prince, “then how can we take joy in youth?”
Not long after, the prince spied a man yellow-faced and shaking, leaning on a companion for support.
“Driver, what is wrong with that man?”
“He is sick, my lord.”
“And what is ‘sick’?”
“‘Sick’ is when your health has left you.”
“And will I too become ‘sick’?”
“It is likely, my lord. To be sick is our common fate.”
“If all must face sickness,” said the prince, “then how can we take pride in health?”
Before long, the prince spied a stiff, motionless man being carried along by four others.
“Driver, what is wrong with that man?”
“He has died, my lord.”
“And what is ‘die’?”
“‘Die’ is when your life is finished.”
“And will I too ‘die’?”
“You will, my lord, without a doubt. Of all our fates, death is the most certain.”
“If all must face death,” said the prince, “then how can we delight in life?”
At last the prince spied a man with shaved head and saffron robe.
“Driver, what is that man?”
“He is a seeker, my lord.”
“And what is a ‘seeker’?”
“A ‘seeker’ is one who renounces home and family to wander about, living on what he begs. Avoiding pleasure, he subdues the passions; meditating, he controls the mind. And so he strives for freedom from this world of tears and the endless round of rebirths.”
“Driver, return to the palace. No more do I care for parks or pleasure or anything that may pass away. Soon I too will be a seeker, renouncing this life that binds me.”
That very night, Siddhartha slipped into the women’s quarters for one last look at his sleeping wife and son. Then quietly he descended to the courtyard, mounted a white steed, and set out.
During the next six years, Siddhartha dedicated himself to the search of enlightenment so that he would better understand the suffering he had seen.Again, Huston Smith narrates the moment of “Siddhartha “awakening”. “Thereafter, while the Bo tree rained red blossoms that full mooned May night, Siddhartha’s meditation deepened through watch after watch until, as the morning sun glittered in the transparent skies of the east, his mind pierced at last the bubble of the universe…The great Awakening had arrived.” Gautama’s being was transformed and he emerged the Buddha. After a total of forty days lost in meditation, the Buddha rose and began his life of teaching.
In his first sermon, the Buddha presented the by now well known Four Noble Truths: 1. Life means suffering; 2. the origin of suffering is attachment; 3. the end of suffering is attainable and the path to the end of suffering is the middle way between the extremes of self-indulgence and excessive self-denial. The Eightfold path is the Buddha’s guide to ending individual suffering.
All is Dukkha say the Buddhists.
There are many ways of understanding the word 'Dukkha'. It has generally been translated as 'suffering' or 'unsatisfactoriness', but this term as used in the Four Noble Truths has a deeper and wider meaning. Dukkha contains not only the ordinary meaning of suffering, but also includes deeper ideas such as imperfection, pain, impermanence, disharmony, discomfort, irritation, or awareness of incompleteness and insufficiency.
By all means, Dukkha includes physical and mental suffering: birth, decay, disease, death, to be united with the unpleasant, to be separated from the pleasant, not to get what one desires. However, many people do not realize that even during the moments of joy and happiness, there is Dukkha because these moments are all impermanent states and will pass away when conditions change.
Therefore, the truth of Dukkha encompasses the whole of existence, in our happiness and sorrow, in every aspect of our lives. All is Dukkha say the Buddhists.
As some of you know, several years ago I was challenged by a severe case of congestive heart failure. In fact is, it was exactly six years ago yesterday that I was diagnosed. I had gone from running three or four miles four or five days a week to barely being able to walk from one room to another without getting winded. It was a truly terrible time in my life.
I remember sitting in my cardiologist’s office when he told us about the likely prognosis. “One third of patients stay the same,” he said, “ one third get worse and one third improve.” He also told us that according to history, most patients with congestive heart failure could expect to live five years from diagnosis and that regardless of the disease’s progression, my quality of life would forever be altered. Let’s see, six minus five is…hey I’m doing OK! I still exercise regularly, get outside to mow the lawn and as far as I can tell, my quality of life is good.
In the days and weeks immediately following this shocking news I was understandably anxious, depressed and there were all kinds of thoughts rushing through my head; some healthy and some not so healthy. I even sat down and wrote out the details of my own memorial service. I gave serious thought to ending my seminary studies and giving up my call to the ministry.
I also started to walk in the neighborhood. First to the end of our very short driveway; then to the corner and soon I was walking around the block. I was taking a fist full of pills morning, noon and night and the diuretics allowed me to shed twenty pounds of built-up fluid in just over a week. Take that South Beach!
One day I was having lunch with a friend who asked me how I felt about things. Without much thought I responded that if I was dying I wanted to die as well as I had lived and that I would try my best to live every day as the gift that it was. Somewhere in the back of my mind I recalled the words of Jack Kornfield: Pain in inevitable. Suffering is optional.
In every life, pain is inevitable, in every life there will be dukkha; how we respond to that suffering is optional.
Although pain and suffering are universal, that doesn’t mean we have an easy time accepting them. Modern medicine has a myriad of painkillers for both physical and emotional pain. But even with the modern pharmacopoeia pain and suffering can be avoided only so long. Our internal defenses may shield us for a time; but even they won’t make the cause of our pain disappear. The Buddha’s response to suffering was to follow the Eightfold Path that includes admonitions to follow a life of right relationships. The keys to living in right relationship include:
- Right understanding—I recognize and accept my grief and I recognize my suffering comes from my desire.
- Right speech—I must speak kindly and honestly, being positive and avoiding lies and unkind statements.
- Right action—I must treat people as I want to be treated
- Right effort—I must use moderation in all aspects of my living
- Right contemplation—I must think on things that work to build inner peace.
Buddhism suggests that if we want to be at peace with ourselves, then we must let go of those things that cause pain and suffering. If we are able to let go then our spirits will be lifted and we can begin the journey of recovery that ultimately leads to Nirvana that Houston Smith defines as the “highest destiny of the human spirit.”
I think one of the reasons many UUs find Buddhism so appealing can be found in its holistic approach to life. Just as we UUs proclaim the inherent worth and dignity of all persons, Buddhism proclaims that loving kindness and compassion are not limited to one’s parents, spouse, children, relatives and countrymen…but extends to all people and all beings.
We affirm the acceptance of one another in our spiritual journey. Buddhism stresses the importance of giving and service to the community and that spiritual growth is not something an institution gives its members; rather it occurs when individual members give of themselves. Jack Kornfield wrote, “True community arises when we can speak in accord with truth and compassion. This sense of spiritual community is a wondrous part of what heals and transforms us on our path.”
Just as Unitarian Universalists speak of the interdependent web of all existence, the Buddhists look upon all creatures as equal in essence and although different beings may differ in detail, they are all equal in so far as they are interrelated to one another.
The teachings of the Buddha can inform our everyday lives. We can live in right relationship with our families, our neighbors, and in our communities. We can practice right speech and right action—we treat others was we ourselves want to be treated. We can utilize the gifts of moderation, the middle way, as we try to find a middle ground between unchecked consumerism and living without those things that bring us the greatest pleasure. We can practice right contemplation. Whatever our spiritual practices we need to be committed to them, to derive joy from them and find peace in them.
We can be in right relationship with our bodies, understanding that illness is as much a part of life as is health. That death is part of living. Pain is inevitable, suffering is optional.
As we progress through this season of spring, let us take time to truly appreciate the beauty of the world for we will never experience this particular spring again. Let us take time to look closely at a flower, to see the intricate design of the petals, the color green of the leaves, perhaps to enjoy the sweet smell; only too soon will that blossom fade; only too soon will that flower once again become the dirt that it rose from.
Like the flowers and the people we love nothing lasts forever. Let us find the beauty in each and every being that we may begin to find our own beauty within.
As the Buddha said, “We sow the seeds of faith in the earth of a true heart. Our plow is mindfulness and our buffalo is diligent practice. Our harvest is love and understanding. Without faith, understanding and love, life would be nothing.”
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