OznAsia

When I first started spending time in Asia I was drawn to the many beautiful temples in Thailand. At the same time I couldn't help noticing how many people in that country live in poverty. Eventually I came to realise that the reason the temples were so elaborate was that people would give money to the temple building fund in order to make merit. Money was often given for the building of new temples but nothing would be given to maintain old ones so they were often left in disrepair.

Everyday Buddhist practice in Asia depends on the interpretation placed on the teachings. The concept that we in the West usually refer to as karma may have a slightly different interpretation in Asian countries.

Most Asians who consider themselves at least nominally to be Buddhists place a lot of emphasis on the practice of making merit. The belief is based on the principle of what goes around comes around; what you give out, you get back. Most Buddhists are not seeking enlightenment in this life. They generally believe there are a few more lives on their way after this one and they see it as a gradual process. By making enough merit in this life they hope to be born into a better life next time around.

Practices that are adopted for the making of merit include donating to temple building funds and feeding the monks. But do these donations actually bring much benefit to anyone? I know monks in some temples barely have enough to eat but in others food is thrown away. I recently visited a temple in Malaysia which was a huge complex and the building was just going on and on and on—another pagoda, more Buddha images, a huge statue of Kwan Yin. And everywhere there were notices encouraging visitors to donate to the building fund. The same temple had many shops around the complex selling items of worship or perhaps more accurately, souvenirs. It seemed obvious to me that this was a huge money-making concern. Some of these buildings were being used at times for teaching dhamma but I suspect most served very little practical purpose.

When I was in China I found that many old temples had been beautifully restored and they charged admission to tourists. Chinese people were queueing to get into such temples. And yet when I wandered into another temple there was no entry fee. There were no tourists there but many people were busy actually doing things that might be considered as practicing dhamma. I felt a much warmer atmosphere in this temple than those being used as a tourist attraction.

In another temple in another Chinese city I noticed there were many monks and nuns entering a pagoda meeting hall. I struck up a conversation with a monk who could speak English. He told me there was a conference to discuss the problem of commercialisation of Buddhism. Apparently what was happening was that businessmen would invest money for the restoration of an old temple and later they would get a cut from the entry fees paid by tourists.

Another supposedly merit making process involves the release of captive wildlife. There will be a market outside a temple. A vendor will sell you a cage full of birds which you then liberate. You feel good because you've freed the birds. But unless there was a market created by this practice the birds would not be captive in the first place.

Many markets also sell tortoises for 'liberation'. The tortoises already had their freedom in the wild but someone caught them so they could then sell them in the market for releasing, hopefully back into the wild. This process gets even more crazy.
The large temple complex I mentioned above has a 'tortoise liberation pond'. People bring the tortoises to the temple and they think they will make merit by 'liberating' the tortoises into this extremely overcrowded pond from which they have no escape. If only someone would liberate the thousands of tortoises from the liberation pond.

It's not all like that though. In one temple I bought some home-made cookies. As the woman took my money she said that the money raised from the sale of cookies supported the orphanage. I'd much rather contribute to an orphanage than a building fund.

If you've been reading this blog for some time you'll know that in the past I've done volunteer work for Tzu Chi. This organisation encourages supporters to make merit by donating to their charity work that really does help people in need in what I'd like to believe is the true spirit of Buddhism.

I'd like to end today by paraphrasing Buddhadassa who said that the Buddha said that a glimmer of mindfulness makes more merit than to feed the entire sangha and the Buddha himself.

Labels: Asia, Buddhadasa, Buddhism, Malaysia, religion, thailand

On the way back from Mahasarakham I dropped into Korat to spend some time with Nid. She knows that I don't mind visiting the occasional temple so had picked out one or two of the, literally, thousands of temples in the district, that she thought I might find interesting. But first we took a look at the floats for the Tian pansa candle procession. You can see the photos of these on my flickr page.

We started at Wat Phayup which includes a 'cave' temple. Wat or วัด is Thai for temple or monastery. At Wat Phayup we found a small open-air tour bus that was doing the rounds of temples and other interesting sites of Korat. It was only 20 baht (less than A$1) a head so we joined and got commentary as well—in Thai.

I would have been happy with this. Nid seems to feel an obligation to this man she calls 'Dad'. I have no such expectation. Still, she wanted to show me even more on Sunday before I checked out of my hotel at midday and headed on to Bangkok.

She met me for breakfast Sunday morning. She'd managed to find a map and we set off to Wat Narai Maharaj. The main temple was locked and Nid went off to find someone to let us in. She returned with monk, a young man about the same age as my son David.

Chut (ฉัดร) was a friendly guy who spoke good English and after he'd shown us the various shrines around his monastery he offered to take us to Mahajula University, a Buddhist university that he had attended. I was concerned about how much time we had but neither he nor Nid seemed to think there was a problem. So we set off in a sorngtheau.

At the university we passed some classrooms and even though it was Sunday morning there were classes in progress. Chut started a conversation with a teacher from one of the classes and next I was invited to take over the lesson. It turned out that it was an English class and the Thai teacher was keen to have a native speaker talk with his students, just as I used to invite any visiting foreigner to speak with my students at Wat Xam in Cambodia.

Eventually it was decided that we should start making tracks back to the wat and then to my hotel. While we were waiting for the sorngtheau Nid and Chut were carrying on a conversation in Thai about what Chut should call me. He wanted to call me 'Dad' (he actually said 'Daddy') as Nid does and I have no problem with this. I really like this young man who was going out of his way to be kind to two people he'd only just met. Then again, this sort of thing is not uncommon in Thailand. On the other hand Nid suggested to him that 'Sir' might be more respectful considering the age difference. He felt that 'Dad' was indeed respectful and suggested a much closer relationship and I agree. The last thing I need is to have someone calling me 'Sir', especially someone I am fond of.

So, to Nid and Chut, thank you for your kindness and respect during my visit to Korat. I look forward to seeing you both again on my next visit.

Labels: Asia, Buddhism, religion, thailand, travel

In countries such as Thailand and Cambodia I observe that spirit beings are often a part of local belief systems. Often these beings are considered to be evil. These beliefs come from Animism that dominated these cultures before Buddhism was introduced. Unlike some religions, Buddhism doesn't usually attempt to replace existing religions but offers its teachings as further enrichment. Over the years the two have blended. It is not uncommon to find Buddhist monks refer to spirit beings. In fact, such beings have been adopted into Buddhist teachings.

In my early study of Buddhism I read several books by Trevor Ling whose interest was largely with the Theravada Buddhism of Burma. Recently I discovered a book of Ling's 'Buddhism and the mythology of evil' first published in 1962 which discusses the various mythological 'evil' creatures and compares them to Mara as a symbol of evil.

Ling points out that Buddhist teachers have embraced the existing folk beliefs rather than contradict them but have used the all-encompassing name of Mara. Instead of trying to teach that these beings do not exist (as I'm aware of Christian missionaries doing in Cambodia) the Buddhist teachers have used them as a way of describing that which is a distraction from ones path. The stories may describe horrible beings that do terrible things but this is intended as a metaphor for our own inability to concentrate on our path. Ling also sees the Christian concept of Satan in the same light.

The problem this raises in teaching religious paths in the modern world is that science has cast doubt on the existence of such beings. However the existence of distractions from ones path is very real. Ling suggests that perhaps the symbols of Satan and Mara have had their day but the reality which is symbolised by these mythological creatures is still relevant.

'If, because the symbol is outworn and irrelevant in a scientific age, it is discarded, then the reality to which it pointed has no longer any representation by means of which men may be constantly reminded of it. There is thus a need to find other effective ways of speaking of this reality which these symbols formerly represented.'

Buddhism and the mythology of evil
A study in Theravada Buddhism
Trevor Ling
first published George Allen & Unwin, 1962
republished 1997 by Oneworld Publications, Oxford

Labels: Asia, book review, Buddhism, Burma, Cambodia, folklore, religion, storytelling, teaching, thailand

I've had an interesting relationship with God ever since I decided he didn't exist back when I was eight years old. God shouldn't blame me for that. Certainly the responsibility must rest with the Methodist Sunday School I attended. They couldn't provide a realistic enough picture of the Almighty to convince this sceptical child. At that stage my atheism remained a secret between me and God. I couldn't trust anyone else with the information because if it ever got back to my mother she might have beat the Jesus out of me.

Probably at that stage of my life I didn't even know the word 'atheist' but I knew what I believed. When I did discover the word I decided it was the best one to describe me. That was until a few years later I discovered the word 'agnostic' and decided that to be an atheist was just as arrogant as being a theist. Both of them think they know the answer.

A little later in my life I discovered Buddhism and was pleased that it didn't come with a prerequisite of a belief in God. I also dabbled a little in the New Age and didn't object to the concept that God might be something that exists in all of us and binds us together (but perhaps not so well) rather than the anthropomorphic God created in man's image.

Perhaps my belief system has been a fluid one throughout my life. Recently, Gaye, who is about to become a Catholic, asked me to define my beliefs at this point in time. I stated that it depends on ones definition of 'God'. If God is the all-powerful being who created everything including man in seven days then I am an atheist. At this point I looked up into the sky and said, 'I'm sorry God, but you don't exist.' On the other hand, I explained, if God is something that exists in all of us, then I am an agnostic.

The day after this it was rainy on and off. Whenever it rained it would last about two minutes and then stop again for another hour or so. That afternoon I needed to go to the supermarket which is just over the road. When I left the house I looked up in the sky and noticed it was looking like rain once again. I decided it wasn't a problem considering the current pattern. I wouldn't have to wait more than two minutes for it to pass over. I clearly didn't need an umbrella. When I was leaving the supermarket the rain was really pissing down. It was too heavy for me to run through. I would have been soaked in no time and I already had a cold. So I sat down under shelter outside the supermarket. Occasionally it seemed to be slowing down and I would get up to see if it was worth making a run for it. Each time, as I got to the edge of the awning it would come down heavy once again.

It was obvious that God was playing a game with me. It was his gentle way of letting me know I was wrong. He was serious about it. In the end I did have to run back through the rain and got soaked through. But not too serious. Let's face it, if he was really serious he could have zapped me with a bolt of lightening or sent a bus to knock me down as I ran across the road. He obviously likes me because he didn't do either and I'm still here writing this blog. But I don't give in easily. When I reached the house I looked up into the sky, shook my fist and yelled, 'You still don't exist.'

Since then there have been a number of similar incidents. God is not being mean but he obviously wants to remind me that he is more powerful than me.

When I first got my car, I was parking it in the space right outside the house. But flowers would fall from the trees and stain the paint. So I started parking it in the parking lot where there are no flowering trees. This morning when I came out to my car I could see that God had been at it again. He had sent a big bird with diarrhea to fly over my car and caused it to let fly just as it was passing over my car's windscreen.

OK God, I acknowledge that you may be more powerful than me but I still don't believe you exist.

Labels: religion

Over 2,500 years ago Siddhartha Gotama sat in meditation under a fig tree (ficus religiosa). He stayed sitting until he achieved enlightenment and became known as the Buddha. Cuttings from that tree were planted and cuttings from the progeny also. Since then cuttings from the descendants of the original tree under which the Buddha achieved enlightenment have spread around the world and are revered by Buddhists as Bodhi (enlightenment) trees.

Before Siddhartha left home to take up the path of searching for enlightenment he had one son named Rahula. At the age of seven Rahula joined his father as a novice monk, apparently the first. I assume Rahula remained a monk until his death and so there are no descendant of the Buddha himself.

Perhaps we can think of the Bodhi trees that have now been planted around the world as the closest thing to a living descendent of the Buddha. I photographed this one close to the bank of the Mekong River in Mukdahan which I visited yesterday for the first 90-day reporting of my current visa for staying in Thailand.

Labels: Asia, Buddhism, religion, thailand, travel

On Sunday night I watched the BBC's review of the week's news. It showed the presidents of Afghanistan and Pakistan along with Barack Obama showing their solidarity and talking about the need to suppress the Taliban in these two countries. And of course there is the suggestion that is so often raised that if the Taliban take control of Pakistan they will have access to Pakistan's nuclear weapons. The thought is planted in our minds but no one seems to want to take this suggestion any further. We are left with the thought to do what it will in our minds.

I want so much to give Barack Obama a chance. He talked about the need for change and he talked about withdrawing from Iraq. Is this man sincere? I hope so, but...

And then it dawned on me. Change? Nothing has changed.

I cast my mind back to the late 60s and early 70s, to the time of the Vietnam war. The justification for that war was the domino theory—if one country fell to communism all the others would fall too like a row of dominoes. We were inculcated with the fear of communism to entice us to accept that war just as now we are inculcated with the fear of al-Qaeda and extreme Islam so that we support today's wars.

Did the communist dominoes fall as we were told they would after Vietnam won the war?

'If you want to shrink something, you must first allow it to expand.
If you want to get rid of something, you must first allow it to flourish.
If you want to take something, you must first allow it to be given.
This is called the subtle perception of the way things are.'

Ajahn Sumano Bhikku
Monk in the Mountain

Labels: Barack Obama, Buddhism, Islam, propaganda, religion, terrorism, US, Vietnam

I was raised in a Christian home and taught to believe that Christmas is a Christian celebration. I have since come to understand the real meaning of Christmas.

Christmas is training for children in the only commandment of the religion of Capitalism:

Thou shalt covet.

'What do you want Santa to bring you?' we ask of children too young to separate the fairy tale from reality. Even the most selfless child soon learns that they have to come up with something to ask Santa to bring. And those who've been through it before can demonstrate to younger siblings and friends that you don't have to be modest in your desires.

I confess that I too covet. Perhaps what I want for Christmas is too big, too much. Maybe Santa can't even fit it in his sleigh. Dear Santa, this year for Christmas can you bring to children of all ages (up to 99 or so) throughout the developed world the understanding that there are kids in many countries who not only have no toys but don't have enough to eat? Dear Santa can you somehow help us to put the needs of those people ahead of our own never-ending insatiable desire for more and more toys that won't make us happy anyway?

Labels: children, Christmas, poverty, religion

I find Indian people to be not unfriendly. If an opportunity is presented they'll ask where you are from and then launch into a conversation about cricket or whatever else they deem relevant. Generally, I'd say, Indian women are a little more shy than the men.

From time to time in the dining room of the youth hostel I'd noticed a couple of women, probably in their late 30s, who were usually accompanied by a tribe of kids. On my last full day there, I came down for breakfast and the two women were at a table without the kids. They smiled 'hello'. Breakfast wasn't ready. They were waiting too so I struck up a conversation with them.

I'm coming to learn that Indians don't always look like Indians. If you plonked these two someone in Thailand they'd probably be accepted as Thais—at least until they tried to speak the language. They come from Nagaland, one of the states in India's north-east close to the Burmese border. They told me that their ancestors had come from Mongolia. Their kids go to boarding school in Delhi. This week was a holiday so rather than bring the kids home, the two mums had come to Delhi to spend a week with them at the youth hostel. The kids were a little bored with the hostel's breakfasts so this morning the mums had come alone.

We continued to chat after breakfast arrived and I asked about their home state. 'The people are mostly Christians,' one said. It turns out that the two are sisters-in-law and one of the husbands is a pastor. Asians often assume that if one is a Westerner then one is also Christian. They are usually surprised when I tell them this is not necessarily the case.

Over breakfast we continued to chat about this and that—pleasant conversation. They both spoke good English. When we had finished one of them said, 'You realise it is my duty to tell you about the Lord Jesus Christ?'

'What do you think you can tell me? I was raised in a Christian family, went to Sunday School every week as a child and four of my siblings continue to practise Christianity.'

Generally I am tolerant of religious beliefs of others. I take a live-and-let-live attitude. But when someone starts trying to convert me, I figure they're fair game. In my younger days I had a lot of fun debating with the Jehovah's Witnesses who came knocking on my door. I was polite and respectful to my new friends but I had no qualms about explaining what I considered to be some of the shortcomings of their religion.

The one who thought it was her duty to convert me laughed out loud at times about some of my claims. I wonder, was she laughing at me or was it a nervous laugh. Anyway, we parted as friends.

Labels: Asia, India, religion