What is Jodo Shinshu
Rev. J.K. Hirano
Many of you know that besides supervising Salt Lake City, Ogden, Honeyville and Idaho Oregon Buddhist Temples, I am also the Director of the Buddhist Churches of America Center for Buddhist Education (CBE) and Ministers’ Assistants program (MAP). Most of the CBE and MAP programs are held at the Jodo Shinshu Center (JSC) in Berkeley, CA. Therefore many of the seminars are difficult to attend in person for people not living in California. However, we try to video tape and post most of them on the BCA CBE Youtube channel. A few months ago, we held a seminar: What is Shin Buddhist Orthodoxy. I chose this subject because I wanted to explain to what Jodo Shinshu Buddhism’s major ideas and thought was about. The speakers were Rev. John Paraskevoupolus from Australia, Rev. Takashi Miyaji of IBS and Rev. Kiyonobu Kuwahara of JSIO. Most of you know Revs Miyaji and Kuwahara, but may not know Rev. John, since he is from Australia. However, he is one of my favorite Buddhist teachers. He has written a number of books, that I consider some of the best commentaries about Jodo Shinshu in English such as; The Unhindered Path, Immeasurable Life and Fragrance of Light. I thought it would be a good idea to restate my own reason for choosing Jodo Shinshu, so this first portion is something I wrote years ago, but is absolutely true today. I will then split Rev. John’s talk into two parts, one for this month and one for next month.Hopefully both will help you better understand your own reasons for being Buddhist.
I have read books, articles, blogs, etc., about the experience of Americans and Buddhism. How and why has this religion, founded by an Indian nobleman in a small Indian kingdom some 2,500 years ago moved throughout the world and now become firmly established as part of the spiritual tapestry of the United States of America? As most who are at least marginally familiar with the Buddhist teachings know, there are many colors and flavors to this religion called Buddhism, from the basic teachings of Theravada Buddhism up to the newer Soka Gakkai forms of expression in chanting “Na Myo Ho Ren Ge Kyo.” Within these books and articles, I have found many of these American believers or followers of Buddhism express why their particular choice of Buddhism has interested them and transformed their lives. As Americans, we have been blessed to live in a time and place never seen in the history of Buddhism, all the various traditions are now gathered and available here in America.
A friend of mine, Michael Zimmerman, who is a retired chief justice of the Utah Supreme Court and is now the head priest of the Two Arrows Zen Center in Salt Lake City, had told me when he heard a Zen teacher say that in Zen there was “No Hope,” meaning there is only the “now,” something in those words rang true and resonated within him. This statement moved him deeply, and then sitting in Zazen opened a worldview that changed his life, which had been in transition and chaos at the time.
In all my readings and study, I have heard the reason Tibetan Buddhists, Zen Buddhists, those who have studied Vipassana meditation or just loved to read books by Thich Nhat Hahn or the Dalai Lama, why they became Buddhist or at least considered Buddhism right for their life and lifestyle. As a Jodo Shinshu Buddhist priest, I know that I have seldom expressed exactly why I chose Jodo Shinshu Buddhism as right for me, over the myriad forms of Buddhism now available. Jodo Shinshu Buddhism was the first organized form of Buddhism to establish itself in the United States in 1899. It’s about time we Jodo Shinshu Buddhist shared these teachings with the larger American community and this is my answer to the question, “Why Jodo Shinshu?”
Within Buddhism we find one of the most non-judgmental, compassionate teachings in the history of mankind. The historical Buddha Shakyamuni has said, “There are 84,000 paths to enlightenment.” What he means by 84,000 paths is that there are an infinite number of ways to awaken to Truth. Each of us human beings are individuals; consisting of our own histories and various causes and conditions which make up our lives. We each have our own stories and truths that make us who we are. Buddhism recognizes that the teachings must be flexible to encompass so many different viewpoints. There cannot be only one true and real teaching. Just as there cannot be only one story or history to identify each and every one of us, yet why is Jodo Shinshu out of those 84,000 paths the right truth for my life.
Jodo Shinshu has enabled me to see myself as the “foolish being” I know I am. Just as the idea of “No Hope” resonated with my friend Michael Zimmerman, “foolish being” rang true for me. I know without a doubt that I am a foolish being, filled with greed, anger, ignorance; however, I recognize how my life has been blessed and I am alive because of the wondrous compassionate embrace of Amida Buddha, the essence of the relationships that surround me and allow me to exist. Jodo Shinshu has shown me my life is not about just me, the foolish being, but in the relationships the world has given me. The words, the terminology, the rituals, the traditions all resonate with who I am. This is why I am Jodo Shinshu Buddhist.
The Significance of Orthodox Teaching in Jōdo Shinshū
Part one
Rev. John Paraskevopoulus
Good morning everyone. It’s a pleasure to be back at another Pacific Seminar after seven years. I am grateful for the invitation extended by the Center for Buddhist Education and the Jōdo Shinshū International Office to attend this event, and to share with you my thoughts on the important subject of orthodoxy. I admit to feeling some trepidation in tackling such a delicate topic, given the controversies that surround any attempt to uphold a teaching considered to be ‘correct’. Nevertheless, the consequences of abandoning any defence of traditional doctrines are so dire, that one feels duty-bound to speak up so as to stave off the demise—while still possible—of an invaluable spiritual heritage that, sadly, appears to now be on its last legs.
I won’t pretend that my talk will be embraced with any great enthusiasm by many in this audience, among whom I no doubt represent a minority. Yet, I didn’t come half-way around the world just to tell you what, perhaps, you wanted to hear; namely, that everything’s just fine and that we’re going in the right direction. Well, we aren’t, I’m sorry to say. I do believe, though, that the views I’ll be sharing with you today go to the heart of the matter, and so I will do my best to justify why I consider them to be true.
The term ‘orthodox’ comprises the Greek words orthos which denotes that which is ‘right’, ‘true’ or ‘straight’ and doxa, meaning ‘belief’, ‘view’ or ‘opinion’. This strictly corresponds to the Buddhist notion of samyak-dṛṣṭi or ‘Right View’. And what exactly is this asks the Buddha in the Saṃyutta Nikāya? He replies that it’s “knowledge of suffering, knowledge of the origin of suffering, and knowledge of the cessation of suffering.” Notice, here, that we are not given dogmatic propositions in which to believe; rather, he is pointing to a particular existential awakening as the key to determining the rectitude of our beliefs. This, of course, also has vital implications for our appreciation of Jōdo Shinshū.
A widespread concern among leaders of the sangha is the decline in numbers throughout our congregations. This has been an ongoing problem for some time, but there still appears to be genuine puzzlement regarding the cause. If current trends continue, then our tradition risks becoming just an empty shell, a decorative item stripped of all substance and meaning. But the reasons for this are not a great mystery, because once a teaching is deprived of its spiritual impact, people no longer know what to do with it, so it’s admired from a distance as a quaint cultural artefact that no longer speaks to us.
In his renowned poem, The Second Coming (written in the aftermath of the First World War), the great Irish poet William Butler Yeats describes a time of spiritual crisis and disorientation. He writes:
Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold; mere anarchy is loosed upon the world.
The best lack all conviction, while the worst are full of passionate intensity.
This evocative description aptly captures something of our present age of bewilderment, especially in relation to belief systems. Therefore, let’s see if we can identify the problem we are facing right now, with a view to proposing what might well be the only durable remedy.
What is the objective of a spiritual teaching? Is it simply to give us a moral code to live by, so that we can all get along without conflict or disappointments? Many people believe that this is, indeed, the sole purpose of religion; to help make the course of our existence run as smoothly as possible, by accepting certain approved beliefs and by observing sanctioned behaviours. However, the Buddhist tradition has a deeper problem in mind that it seeks to resolve. Hōnen states it beautifully, and with great pathos, as follows:
The blossom that opens in the morning is scattered by the evening breeze, and the dew, condensed in hours of darkness before dawn, is dispelled by the rays of the morning sun. Heedless or willfully ignorant of this procession of changes, we dream of prosperity all through life and, without understanding the nature of transience, hope for longevity. All the while, across the face of the earth moves the restless wind of impermanence, dissolving all that it touches.
Now we’re getting closer. You can deny it all you like (and most of us do), but it’s surely evident that the fundamental anxiety that seizes every reflective person is that we will all die, and that everything we’re attached to will perish along with us. The Buddha often warns of our inescapable destiny, which is old age, sickness and death. Indeed, the Larger Sūtra rightly points out that: “In the midst of worldly desires and attachments, one comes and goes alone, is born alone and dies alone.” That is the predicament the Dharma seeks to address; nothing else.
If you believe that its goal is to improve society, or help us become our ‘best selves’, then you’re in the wrong tradition because you’ll just end up having your expectations dashed. This is because the ruthless cycle of transmigration is steeped in suffering, dissatisfaction and impermanence – nothing stays the same and everything soon passes away. Furthermore, we are beings afflicted by the three poisons of ‘greed, anger and folly’ with minds full of ‘snakes and scorpions’ as Shinran laments. This the unsettling shadow that hangs over all of us.
Here is where the Buddhist teachings come to the fore (if we have ears to hear), because they teach that no temporal solution to the problem can be found. History is littered with the debris of ideologies and their ‘bloody utopias’ (as Ernest Becker calls them), which merely end up redistributing human misery. Despite attempts by big-tech billionaires to fund AI technology that will somehow give us a digital elixir for immortality, such desperate measures will prove to be in vain given the inherently unstable conditions of samsāra. The Buddha’s famous Fire Sermon doesn’t pull any punches:
O monks, everything is burning … With what is it burning? It is burning with the fire of passion, the fire of hatred, the fire of delusion. I declare that it is burning with the fire of birth, decay, death, grief, lamentation, pain, sorrow and despair.
As might be expected, this is hardly what people want to hear! Chögyam Trungpa speaks of “the neurotic pursuit of physical comfort, security and pleasure”. He says that “our highly organized and technological society reflects our preoccupation with manipulating physical surroundings so as to shield ourselves from the irritations of the raw, rugged, unpredictable aspects of life. Push-button elevators, pre-packaged meat, air conditioning, flush toilets, private funerals, retirement programs, mass production, weather satellites, bulldozers, fluorescent lighting, nine-to-five jobs, television – all are attempts to create a manageable, safe … and pleasurable world.”
He also remarks that we “use concepts as filters to screen us from a direct perception of what is. These are … used as tools to solidify our world and ourselves”, as are various spiritual and mental disciplines which serve to hold “onto our sense of self: drugs, yoga, prayer, meditation, trances, and various psychotherapies.”
However, all this busy (and often anguished) striving is but palliative in nature, and doomed to fail, because it’s a futile defence against ineluctable annihilation. We fear the loss of our fragile identities—constructed from conventional (yet false) notions—which are needed to protect us from the precarious fortunes of the world and the cruel finality of death. Everything we do along these lines is an attempt to find a place of unchanging rest in a hostile world that often appears to be constantly working against us and our interests.
These days, we pride ourselves on being ‘diverse’ and ‘inclusive’ when our true motives are anything but. Real diversity is practically unworkable, as it involves deeply uncomfortable compromises that prove difficult for its advocates to accept when put to the test; in pursuing an endless variety of subjective preferences, it also breeds turmoil in the absence of a unifying higher purpose. And perfect inclusivity is a unicorn – it doesn’t exist, as it’s always partial and selective, in accordance with our entrenched bias and prejudices.
The fact is that we seem to need foes in our lives; the ‘bad guys’ against whom we can vent our animosity and indignation (which, not surprisingly, are considered completely pardonable when we see ourselves as being on the side of the angels!). And, yet, we also strive to maintain an idealised version of ourselves, which serves to prop up our vanity and to make us feel good about who we are. By sanctifying our own desires, we demonize those who don’t conform to them. As a result, the Larger Sūtra says that “we entertain venomous thoughts, creating a widespread and dismal atmosphere of malevolence.” Thus, double standards are seen everywhere we turn. Needless to say, these are not behaviours consistent with the Dharma, as they only make people angry and unhappy.
So what do all these depressing facts have to do with orthodoxy? Well, everything, insofar as only a ‘right view’ on these matters can alleviate our troubled minds and disturbed hearts. This condition describes all of us—without exception—when we are cut off from the ‘true and real’ as we say in Jōdo Shinshū. Therefore, the importance of having a clear apprehension of our perilous lives becomes crucial in negotiating a safe passage through this ‘burning house’ in a ‘fleeting world’, with all its ‘lies and gibberish’ as Shinran reminds us.
The Dharma is confronting and ought to make us feel uncomfortable. If all it does is confirm you in your intolerance, gently strokes your ego, and fuels an inflated sense of personal virtue, then it isn’t doing its job. As Gesshō Sasaki observed over a century ago, “Jōdo Shinshū is not a religion of goodness but a religion of truth.” The problem is that we don’t really see our ugly self-righteousness, not to mention the unquenchable thirst that fretfully grasps and clings to momentary satisfactions. As the Buddha once said: “A slave to craving … is subject to sorrow.”
We sanitize the reality of how things really are so that the underlying dread that we feel, in the face of life’s harsh truths, is largely concealed. Accordingly, we overlook the fact that we regularly find fault in others, and ignore how resentful we become when things don’t go our way. In fact, Shinran offers the rather sombre reflection that “our desires are countless, and wrath, jealousy and envy are overwhelming, arising without pause; to the very last moment of life they do not cease, or disappear, or exhaust themselves”.
So when we hear the Buddha tell us that we’re all plagued by the ‘three poisons’, we tend not to believe that we ourselves actually suffer from this illness! But if we’re smugly satisfied with our own wisdom and moral decency, then we are effectively saying that his teachings are somehow mistaken, in that their sobering insights regarding our blighted human condition simply don’t apply to us. If you fail to recognise, in yourself, the very problems that Buddhism claims to solve, then there’s no basis for leading an authentic life of Dharma, because penetrating self-awareness will be absent. Why would you want real wisdom when you think that you’re already a perfectly fine and upstanding individual? This is not about promoting self-hatred, or anything like that, but seeing ourselves objectively in the mirror of a higher wisdom.
We all desire to get along without conflict and aggression, but no socio-political strategy will ever deliver such an outcome. The world’s problems cannot be addressed unless we first resolve them as they exist in us. Therefore, true discernment arises when we realize that there’s no prospect of deliverance if we rely on the corrupted conditions in which we are immersed. Candid Buddhists ought to readily admit that they are hopelessly caught in the quagmire of greed, anger and folly, and that they need urgent treatment to recover from this infirmity.
The practice of deep hearing (monpō) becomes possible when we come to see that we’re all vulnerable to the disease the Buddha was talking about. If you are convinced that you’re entirely healthy, then you’ll ignore the cure. But there can’t be a proper spiritual aspiration without an open mind that’s prepared to acknowledge that we are regularly selfish and hard-hearted; indeed, as a result of the ‘good’ opinion we have of ourselves, we are rarely prepared to accept our own complicity in the very circumstances that torment us so much.
The basis of Jōdo Shinshū is a disclosure of a truth that transcends the limitations of our own benighted subjectivity, and challenges the flattering view we often have of ourselves. Its insights can be unveiled and made known to us through spiritual acumen alone; though this doesn’t have its origin in our mediocre thoughts or feelings. Rennyo says that “Faith does not arise from within one’s self; the entrusting heart is given by the Other-Power.”
Conventional notions may help us to manage our functional responsibilities in life, but they are not the means by which we come to understand what is being unfolded. The sutras are not concerned with the workaday domain of daily existence (except with a view to transforming our responses to it). Furthermore, their teachings aren’t founded on what is just rational, although neither do they violate the rules that govern coherent thought.
The writings of our tradition are sacred because they comprise Amida Buddha’s revelation to us. They are not interested in promoting ‘ideas’ (which only lead to contention and disputes), for their words convey the initiative of the Transcendent in the midst of everyday life, which is what makes the Dharma come alive in our hearts. This means that they propose a method that can be directly authenticated as the active dimension of ultimate reality itself, opening up in ordinary people as shinjin; in other words, it’s not something that is subject to either ‘belief’ or ‘disbelief’ (such as we find with doctrinaire propositions that are prone to doubt), because it’s a truth that can be ‘tasted’—and thus immediately known—by each one of us a contemplative serenity.
This realization is not determined by external events or emotional states, in as much as we’re invited to come under the forceful sway of a Buddha–centered influence that exceeds our flawed designs. This is known as hearing the ‘Call of the Vow’. When this takes place, our way of being in the world undergoes a radical transformation; one that cannot emerge from our blind reactions to everyday predicaments. In this sense, the Dharma holds out the promise of perfect freedom, while giving rest and comfort to the vexed condition of the human heart. This is the warm, healing light of Amida that bestows an enduring peace that remains firm, even in the throes of life’s tempests.
The essence of reality is a Wisdom–Compassion that measures us by showing how unloving and ignorant we often are; yes, a tough truth to take in, but one that cannot possibly be seen by means of ordinary introspection alone. We have here a simple but profound teaching that can reach anyone who is sincere, receptive and hungry for a truth that is liberating. And what is the essence of this way? Its “true and fundamental intent”, according to Shinran, “is solely to teach the inconceivable Vow of Amida” whereby “foolish beings, ever floundering in birth-and-death … realize supreme shinjin and attain great joy … so that, without, being made to sunder blind passions, they are brought quickly to the realization of great Nirvāna.”
People are always seeking respite from their disquiet, looking for answers and purpose from a host of ideologies that tantalize us with the prospect of a better world. However, these options offer an unsteady basis for human well-being. For example, in judging others harshly according to, say, their political opinions, we’ll invariably lose our compassion and develop contempt for them. We will take sides and become prisoners of a hidebound bigotry. Hatred is then justified as a virtue, and divergent views will continue to divide us. Inevitably, this will incite “ignorant armies that clash by night” in the memorable words of the English poet Matthew Arnold.
Much of our psychology as human beings is wrongly fortified by a resistance to our mortality. We are driven to create defences—albeit unconsciously—against this hidden fear, by ‘standing out’ in the world (through various achievements, causes, and passions) so as to give our lives meaning and substance in the face of the yawning abyss that awaits us. In his great work, The Denial of Death, Becker called these our ‘immortality projects’. Yet, when any of our emotional reinforcements are threatened or undermined, the result is often rage, because this is but the panic and desperation that accompanies the sense of nothingness we feel when all our supports for maintaining a sense of purpose in our lives are mercilessly pulled out from under us.
We want to create a Pure Land on earth because we’ve denied the transcendent one, which does not pass away like everything else. Our indwelling, eternal buddha-nature (which is shared by all beings) yearns for more than just a mundane existence, so as long we’re not grounded in the unchanging truth it represents, we’ll end up chasing after new, but equally flimsy, utopias instead. We are always trying to fill the spiritual void in our existence with spurious substitutes. This is the tragedy of the human condition to which a life of nembutsu offers a compelling resolution.
Enough of setting the scene, so let’s return to the importance of having a correct conception of Jōdo Shinshū, without which there can be no meaningful orthodoxy. Many people don’t like this word as it brings to mind rigid fundamentalists and narrow-minded zealots who think that they alone have the truth. And, yet, outside the sphere of religion, we see people tenaciously clutching onto all manner of orthodoxies in every sphere of life – from politics and economics, to a plethora of social causes and cultural issues. So why is orthodoxy permitted in other fields of human endeavour (where it’s often brutally enforced by the way) but not with respect to spiritual beliefs?
Therefore, let us embrace this term without apology and explore its implications for our tradition. It goes without saying that there is, unquestionably, an orthodox basis to Jōdo Shinshū – and that is, of course, the writings of Shinran whose custodians have faithfully preserved and passed it down over the centuries. We also have the great treasure that is the collected works of the Shōnin in English, which is accompanied by deeply impressive commentarial material that imparts greater clarity on the master’s insights for audiences today.
Over 25 years following its publication, critiques of this work have begun to surface regarding certain inaccuracies in that translation. This is not for me to judge, but while any work on such a scale will, doubtlessly, leave room for some improvements, it would be a hyperbole to claim that it no longer represents the perspective of Shinran accurately, as some might be tempted to believe (because they may well have an interest in this being the case).
‘Authority’ is another word that is frowned upon these days but, in religious discourse, it’s indispensable. If there are no trustworthy guides considered integral to an undistorted appraisal of our tradition, then we’re left with as many interpretations as there are followers, with no means of adjudication. Until quite recently, this was not a controversial position to hold, but now it seems that almost everything is up for grabs.
If the excesses of such relativism remain unchecked, our thinking will become even more confused, and the Dharma will fail to take root in us as a new mind of awareness and a new heart of gentleness. This raises the important distinction between doctrine and pedagogy; the latter, naturally, has to take into account the modern mentality of our times, but it must do so without undermining the teachings.
A fish rots from the head, as they say, so if our doctrinal foundations are decaying, then the tradition is in peril. One example that keeps coming up is the claim that the Pure Land does not represent any kind of higher reality, but is just a lifeless metaphor we use to give us comfort in the face of life’s insecurities, which then acts as a spur for us to create (often compulsively) ideal communities here on earth.
Such a view reflects a completely secularised understanding of the Dharma, and is indisputably heterodox. Yet, in the Larger Sūtra, we read that the Pure Land “is vast in extent, unsurpassed and supremely wonderful, always present and subject neither to decay nor change” – nothing short, in fact, of Nirvāna itself. A notable difference in outlook, to say the least!
As a result (according to these critics), the masters of our tradition could not have really meant what they said, so they must have been talking about something altogether different. I was once shocked to hear a minister assert that we ought to regard Hōnen, Shinran and Rennyo as products of a medieval mindset, who really didn’t know any better because they lacked access to whatever current (yet passing) intellectual fads happen to be in vogue right now. So, the claim goes, if these sages had lived among us today, they would have benefitted from our more advanced ideologies, and thus might well have thought exactly as we do. The hubris of that remark left me speechless and demonstrated that such haughty—yet misplaced—confidence was, in fact, but the expression of this person’s own scepticism, uncertainty and confusion.
This is what is captured by the Japanese Buddhist term mayoi (from the Sanskrit māyā or ‘illusion’), which we don’t often come across in our tradition. It is similar to mumyō (darkness of mind) but evokes a broader range of suggestive meanings: hesitation, bafflement, indecision, perplexity, lack of resolution; it also means to waver, lose one’s way, or be blinded by emotion. Shinran called this the ‘long night of ignorance’ in which we misapprehend our ever-changing phenomenal world as the only reality. Yet the Dharma reveals that to be the illusory consensus of unenlightened beings – marked, as it is, by the widespread fear and loneliness seen among so many today.
Now, it is one thing for someone to harbour a personal and idiosyncratic view about the nature of reality – no problem at all; but to have the temerity to pass this off as a valid interpretation of Pure Land Buddhism is unacceptable in the face of overwhelming evidence to the contrary. When ‘up’ is said to be ‘down’ and ‘black’ is affirmed as ‘white’, then we may as well pack our bags and go home, for there is nothing left to salvage or discuss.
Others, again, emphatically deny that Amida is a ubiquitous reality that also transcends samsāra. Yet, Shinran teaches that the Tathāgata has emerged from the ‘Ocean of Suchness’ to take form as the Dharma-Body of Compassion for the benefit of sentient beings, and that it “pervades the countless worlds”. Whether you like it or not, that is the correct Jōdo Shinshū position. To retort that this is just an outdated way of looking at things, because modern science tells us that there is nothing other than flux and impermanence, is absurd. Science has no competence in relation to what is immaterial and, in any case, the Buddhist tradition explicitly declares that there is an Unconditioned reality (asaṃskṛta) that is not subject to dependent co-origination – this was directly confirmed by the Buddha himself and also experienced by a host of sages after him.
Another unfortunate misconception is when we hear that the essence of Jōdo Shinshū is nothing but ‘gratitude’ – not to the Tathāgata mind you, but towards others, and to the causes and conditions that make life on this planet possible. Of course, there is nothing wrong with being thankful for those things that support our existence, but this is not what Shinran and Rennyo mean by gratitude which, for them, has a completely spiritual focus.
And let’s not forget that, for many people today, the karmic circumstances that have led to life in this world have been nothing short of horrific, so we need to be careful when adopting a secular interpretation of what it means to be ‘grateful’. People who are suffering deeply are looking for permanent solutions, not short-lived panaceas, precisely because this fickle world has left them with very little to hope for. In our tradition, gratitude is an appreciation for the Primal Vow of Amida and for the conditions that have led us to the Pure Land path.
According to Perry Schmidt-Leukel, modern Buddhism can come across as “an easy pop-religion, a spirituality without dogmas or beliefs, without precepts or commandments, always peaceful and tolerant of almost everything. Or as no religion at all, but rather a form of wisdom-psychology, a lifestyle or trendy worldview most appropriate for the slightly weary but well-heeled post-modern intellectual”. Perhaps these are now bordering on clichés, but they’re not really that far from the truth.
It is a melancholy fact that many who think in this way simply don’t get what the tradition is talking about, because they cannot see that the Dharma, as an early Pāli text declares, “goes against the worldly stream” and is “unattainable by mere reasoning”. There is some kind of inner obstacle here that fails to discern the vividness of spiritual realities.
But owing to what I can only describe as an exaggerated self-regard, there is rarely, if ever, an admission of anything defective in our own judgement. The subtext of what I occasionally hear goes something like this: “If I’m unable to fathom what the tradition is purportedly talking about, then what others think it says can’t possibly be true because I am, after all, a highly educated modern thinker in a position of authority, and my superior worldview cannot accept what they claim” – a not uncommon, albeit condescending, attitude found among some of our intelligentsia (of whom Hōnen, it seems, had a rather dim view).
That is how we end up with misconceived notions such as “Amida Buddha is nothing but X” or “the Pure Land is nothing but Y”. This always involves a downgrade, whereby these substitutes invariably become less than what the tradition insists they are. Rather than rising to the level of transcendental truth, we succumb to a pernicious reductionism in which the vertical dimension of existence is collapsed into a horizontal one, thus confining reality to our own limitations. Indeed, in the foreword to the Tannishō, do we not read that “Nobody should defile the doctrine of Other-Power with their own arbitrary interpretations.”
Instead, we’re told that the ‘true and real’ is just another way of talking about this vague ‘oneness’ that we share with humanity at large (envisaged as nothing more than empathetic solidarity). In that case, let me ask this: Do we feel ‘at one’ with those we consider to be adversaries, whether they be Trump supporters, climate change deniers, vaccine sceptics, or transphobes? I very much doubt it, for human nature is such that we are, most assuredly, more partial to those who share our values. Nevertheless, we’re taught that only the Tathāgata receives all beings equally – this alone is true inclusivity. The Synopsis of the Jōdo Shinshū Creed from 1922 states:
Amida is absolute compassion that, in conformity with the truth, breaks down obstinate selfishness and loves ignorant and bewildered people, equally and universally, without any distinction of person.
So, the question is: Are we able to ‘walk the talk’, or do we just give lip service to it?
We are currently witness to the teaching being relentlessly disfigured, so that it’s made to conform to the spirit of the age because, it is claimed, we are now more sophisticated than our forebears, so we need to bring their understanding ‘up to date’ – what extraordinary arrogance! So, rather than approach the rich wisdom of these sublime doctrines with reverence and humility, we cynically trash whatever doesn’t satisfy our preconceptions, all of which is often done with a certain measure of secret bitterness against any genuine religious aspiration (for the mere reason that it’s lacking in us).
Part two
But if some find the traditional teachings that repellent, then why remain in our tradition? What possible benefit could be gained if none of it is real to you? Why not just discard this pretense altogether? That would be the honest thing to do, rather than trying to appropriate the Dharma to your own ends, which are the very antithesis of what has been taught for centuries. Those who don’t share Shinran’s vision need to seriously consider finding a home elsewhere. One doesn’t become a Jōdo Shinshū Buddhist just because we’re looking for a community that welcomes everyone, or because it doesn’t require meditation or austerities. Shallow reasons such as these aren’t good enough, and only serve to debase the currency of our teachings, leaving us with nothing but an exotic cultural club.
While it pains me to say this, it appears that some individuals seek ordination, for example, so that they can subvert the teaching from a position of power and influence. By remaking it in their own image, they do great harm to the spiritual lives of ordinary followers who look to ministers for pastoral guidance. Yet the monto, with their refreshing commonsense and lack of intellectual pretensions, intuitively suspect that there’s something seriously wrong here, as they struggle to reconcile what they’re hearing from our ostensible ‘leaders’ with the writings of Shinran and Rennyo. In this respect, they surely cannot fail to see that the Emperor is wearing no clothes.
This outrage against the Dharma is tantamount to slandering it – the most heinous crime there is in Buddhism. But that is precisely what we’re seeing in many Western sanghas of Jōdo Shinshū. To deprive genuine seekers of the confidence that we are, to quote Shan-tao, “constantly illumined by the light of the Tathāgata’s heart, grasped and protected, never to be abandoned” would be worse than killing their bodies. It gives me no pleasure to share these bleak impressions with you, and while sincerely hoping to be mistaken about this, I fear that my assessment is, regrettably, accurate for the most part.
The fact of Amida coming alive in our hearts and minds as a living presence is core to our faith, and thus non-negotiable. Any teacher who repudiates this foundational insight is misleading people and tearing down the very pillars of our tradition. We must stand up and resist this vandalism. And let us not forget that such was his own resolute commitment to orthodoxy, that Shinran himself felt compelled to excommunicate and disown his son for spreading heretical ideas among followers in the Kantō region. Only by taking such drastic (and personally quite tragic) measures were the true teachings able to be restored and accepted with confidence once again.
To my mind, at least, the only reason why anyone would deny the salvific efficacy of Amida’s Light and Life is because they have yet to encounter it in their own lives. This alone accounts for all the twisted interpretations that we see in great abundance these days. Rather than considering it a personal shortcoming that we have failed to realise shinjin ourselves, many trumpet their spiritual ignorance as a higher virtue that rids them (as they see it) from the trappings of backward thinking and metaphysical mumbo-jumbo.
The problem, you see, is not them but the Dharma, which is at fault because it has failed to conform to how we think today! Rest assured, though, that those who have a ‘true and real heart and mind’ would never belittle the teachings in this egregious manner because, according to Yoshifumi Ueda, “the person of shinjin is nothing but the manifestation of Amida’s working.”
Indeed, the primacy of shinjin is seldom mentioned or understood these days. This bedrock realisation, on which everything else hangs, is well-nigh ignored because it evidently hasn’t awakened in us. But you can’t impart to others what you yourself don’t have – in which case, this jubilant realization will never be faithfully transmitted to those who are in need of it. One of the reasons why Rennyo was considered the ‘second founder’ of Jōdo Shinshū was precisely because he restored shinjin to the heart of our tradition and its concerns, and made it accessible to ordinary folk. The same rehabilitation is needed now.
Without the activity of the Primal Vow becoming a transformative experience within us, we have nothing – just words in old texts that speak of arcane things that the modern mind finds unintelligible. But if we earnestly feel that way about the teachings, we need the courage to ask – is it possible that I may be at fault? Can all these extraordinary witnesses to spiritual truth over two thousand years have been so mistaken, deluded or mendacious and that we, alone, have got it right today?
Why do we assume that certain fashionable attitudes—which have been prominent in the West during a rather short period of history—are the sole arbiter of a vast and powerful vision of reality that has outlasted every ideology the world has ever known? Are we really still so enamoured with our increasingly tired notions of ‘progress’, which the Buddha would have dismissed as erroneous anyway (to the extent that they aren’t informed by the Dharma’s enlightened perspective), that we dare not confess to our failure in apprehending the truth that is being presented to us? Marco Pallis, an authority on Tibetan Buddhism who eventually came to Jōdo Shinshū at the end of his life, had this to say:
The pathetic hope, fostered by the mystique of ‘progress’, that by a successive accumulation of human contrivances, samsāra itself will somehow be, if not abolished, permanently tilted in a comfortable direction is as incompatible with Buddhist realism as with historical probability.
Thanks to the Pure Land masters, we have received a precious spiritual inheritance that, even now, can bring an abiding joy and well-being to our lives; so long as it isn’t wilfully distorted in the interests of profane agendas, bankrupt ideologies or a corrosive materialism that sees human beings as nothing but a bag of chemicals. We are hard-wired for spiritual truths, and so our longing for true Light and Life can only be fulfilled by an immeasurable reality that surpasses our ephemeral existence. The Larger Sūtra states:
If sentient beings encounter the Buddha’s light, their defilements are removed; they feel tenderness, joy and pleasure, and good thoughts arise. If sentient beings in the ... realm of suffering see this light, they will be relieved and freed from affliction. At the end of their lives, they all reach emancipation.
Deep listening, without any calculation or scheming on our side, exposes our minds to the Buddha’s beneficent action, which transfigures our disordered passions into fresh eyes of wisdom. This is why we are taught that the Dharma is Amida’s compassionate self-disclosure as “the true teaching, the true practice and the true realization of the Pure Land way” (which, as you would know, is the English title of the Kyōgyōshinshō).
It is this insight that ensures the integrity of our tradition; that is why a correct teaching (which has its source in ultimate reality itself) is instrumental to our awakening, for which there are no substitutes. It’s also why it must be defended for the sake of future generations, for how can you become awakened to the working of the Vow if you don’t know about it? That is the crucial function of orthodoxy. So, when it comes to our final release from the round of birth-and-death, it’s simply not true that all views are equally valid or uniformly sound. There is too much at stake here to allow the nonsense of an unhinged relativism to gain the upper hand.
People have always sought a deeper solace than what ordinary life can give them. What are the signs that this world is not enough? Unfulfilled yearning, unexplainable angst, incessant restlessness, and a persistent disenchantment; in other words, what the world initially promised us has failed to deliver – yet, this recognition is already the dawning of spiritual maturity. Edward Conze, a renowned scholar of Indian Mahāyāna, once remarked:
The Buddhist seeks for a total happiness beyond this world. Why should he be so ambitious? Why not be content with getting as much happiness out of this world as we can, however little it may be? The answer is that, in actual practice, we are not seen to be content ... Our human nature is so constituted that we are satisfied with nothing but complete permanence, complete ease and complete security. And none of that can we ever find in this shifting world.
But how can our spiritual inclinations be properly nourished when we no longer talk about transcendence? After all, the Nirvāna Sūtra explicitly affirms that the highest reality is “eternity, bliss, true self and purity” and “forever free of all birth, ageing, sickness and death”. Unless the compassionate intrusion of the Tathāgata is welcomed into our lives as a joyous awakening, then we’ll continue to endure, without relief, this ‘burning house’ (whose very nature is to be transient, uncertain, and fraught with danger).
So, turn away from commonplace thinking and let the Dharma do the work of bringing you home. Be emptied of yourself and just listen. Come completely as you are and cast yourself before the Vow that seeks to free you. True understanding is something you receive; it is not created by us, so we must be shown it. You cannot think your way to this realization – one can only reason from the working of the Vow, but not to it, because the basis of this awakening is a vision, not an argument. The light of this wisdom (which is always conferred) shows us the false life that we’re lost in, and the sea of confusion in which we’re drowning.
We seek happiness in samsāra, yet this realm is not perfectible and has nothing to offer that is ultimately reliable. Indeed, the Larger Sūtra observes that “outflows of depravity and defilement are everywhere, and there is nothing in which you can find true joy.” We are all oppressed by the three poisons and trapped in the ever-spinning hamster wheel of human existence (tossed about by customary notions of ‘good and bad’, ‘right and wrong’, ‘happy and sad’). The teaching, then, is difficult—not in terms of what you have to achieve—but of what you need to let go.
When deprived of Amida’s radiance, we come to feel the misery of our empty hearts. The Tathāgata knows this unvarnished truth about us and, without judgement, offers a remedy. This means that we must give our scriptures the benefit of the doubt, and suspend judgment pending discovery – which is to say that the awakening promised by the Dharma needs to be subjected to existential verification. We have to discern the meaning of what the tradition is telling us, without adulterating it; otherwise nothing will change.
What we witness today is a growing propensity to ignore (or worse) degrade the wisdom of the Pure Land masters, yet their exalted visions offer a trustworthy path that can steer us through the ‘brambles and thorns’, as Shinran described wrong views when they have become rampant. Do we see any appetite for defending orthodoxy these days, or is there just a cacophony of different perspectives, fuelled by our egos and their dogged personal preferences?
Only a teaching with veracity can serve as a unifying force against this spiritual malaise, because a fallacious exegesis does not help us to confront the fundamental problem faced by human beings. The Tannishō was written with the singular aim to combat the doctrinal deviations of its time, during which things had gone off the rails, as they have once again, albeit in novel ways that would have greatly dismayed the Shōnin.
Ultimately, Jōdo Shinshū reveals the universal significance of the 18th vow, which is like a torrent of refreshing water following a long drought; the final consummation of our heart’s true hankering for liberation. From our side, we see but shadows and fury; whereas peace and illumination can be found only where the Buddha stands – look at our unedifying culture wars, for example: all heat and no light. Under such conditions, as Shinran observed, “the use of violence and the poison of anger spread widely”.
Our current preoccupation with identity politics, for instance, is arguably an external means of dealing with a deep (and largely repressed) alienation that goes to the crux of a profound existential crisis regarding who we really are. The Buddha would have surely condemned any obsession with ‘imagined selves’ (given the inner turmoil to which it gives rise), while offering a potent remedy in his doctrine of anattā, in which he dismantles mistaken conceptions of selfhood.
Reality has to be unfolded to us through monpō; this is a form of surrender—through hearing—that needs to be front and center of our lives. Only in a spirit of wholehearted receptivity can we benefit from the exuberant wisdom of diamond-like shinjin. This helps us to rise above the prevailing din of frenzied acrimony, discord and mistrust, so that we may behold the incandescence of Amida in whom “brightness reigns and there is no darkness” as we read in the Shōshinge. Once we know what the Tathāgata is, the how of realization will answer itself naturally by means of the Primal Vow (without our fumbling and misguided contrivances).
Therefore, we don’t require complex theories or advanced hermeneutics in order to make these teachings intelligible to our desacralized age – faith alone is enough to see us through. So, how do we understand this? Shinran tells us that it’s to be set free from the grind of self-power. But what does that mean? Well, he says that to relinquish the path of jiriki is “to abandon the conviction that one is good, to cease relying on the self; to stop reflecting knowingly on one’s evil heart, and further to abandon the judging of people as good and bad”. Shinran observes that we are spontaneously made to acquire this awareness when true entrusting arises within us. This life-changing realisation is described by him as:
…the mind full of truth, reality, and sincerity; the mind of ultimacy, accomplishment, reliance, and reverence; the mind of discernment, distinctness, clarity, and faithfulness; the mind of aspiration, desire and exultation; the mind of delight, joy, gladness, and happiness; hence, it is completely untainted by the hindrance of doubt.
This is shinjin – the mind that is given to us by Amida Buddha, not something generated by lost, foolish beings “who are urgently seeking and urgently acting as though sweeping fire from their heads” to quote Shan-tao. So where exactly are we to find our spiritual haven? It is, to be sure, not in the world or among our fellow human beings (no matter how much we love either). The Buddha himself urges us to rest in “the peaceful, the deathless, the sublime, the auspicious, the secure, the destruction of craving, the wonderful, the amazing, the unailing, the shelter, the unafflicted, dispassion, purity, and freedom” (Saṃyutta Nikāya). Shinran confirms this as follows:
Nirvāna is called extinction of passions, the uncreated, peaceful happiness, eternal bliss, true reality, Dharma-Body … Suchness, Oneness and Buddha-nature ... it fills the hearts and minds of the ocean of all beings.
In Jōdo Shinshū, this is what we understand to be the Pure Land. In its active dimension, which reaches out to a suffering humanity, the Dharma-Body has also taken form as the Tathāgata (literally, ‘that which comes from Suchness’); the embodiment of a wisdom that is unarisen true reality, and a manifestation in our world of Absolute Oneness, such that (according to Beatrice Lane Suzuki) “wherever we see beauty, holiness, compassion or love manifested in our world of ignorance and illusion, we can know that it is because Amida’s light is shining through the darkness.”
I will conclude with a short passage from the Sūtra of Salvation through the Perfect Enlightenment of Amida, Supreme among Buddhas in which we are given a resplendent glimpse of our only enduring refuge:
The light of Amida Buddha is luminous, wondrous and surpassingly good. It is pleasing beyond compare and boundlessly excellent. Amida’s light is pure, without the least defilement or diminution. It is superbly beautiful, a hundred million times more brilliant than the sun and the moon. Among those that see it, there is none that does not come to possess a heart of compassion and rejoice.