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The Right to Ask Questions
Should we take the Buddha at his word? Larry Rosenberg encourages us to put the teachings to the test.
After hearing the concerns of the Kalamas, the Buddha replied:
“Come, Kalamas. Don’t go by reports, by legends, by traditions, by scripture, by logical conjecture, by inference, by analogies, by consistency with your own views, by probability, or by the thought, 'This contemplative is our teacher.' When you know for yourselves that 'these mental qualities are unskillful; these mental qualities are blameworthy; these mental qualities are criticized by the wise; these mental qualities when acted on lead to harm and suffering’ then abandon them. When you know for yourselves that 'these mental qualities are skillful; these mental qualities are blameless; these mental qualities are praised by the wise; these mental qualities when acted on lead to well-being and happiness’ then keep following them.”
There’s a teaching story from China: People came from far and wide to hear the dharma talks of a young teacher. Apparently he had some depth. And one day, an old master came to hear him. He sat in the back of the meditation hall while the young teacher was giving a dharma talk. But the young teacher saw him, and out of respect, knowing that he was a renowned teacher and also much older, said, “Please, come up here, sit next to me while I give my talk.” So the old master rose and sat next to him. The young teacher resumed his talk, and every other word was a quotation from a different sutra or Zen master. The old master started to nod off in front of everyone. And the young teacher could see this out of the corner of his eye, but he just continued. The more authorities he cited, the sleepier the old master became. Finally, the young teacher couldn’t stand it anymore, so he asked, “What’s wrong? Is my teaching so boring, so awful, so totally off?” At that point, the old master leaned over and gave him a very hard pinch and the young teacher screamed, “Ouch!” The old master said, “Ah! That’s what I’ve come all this way for. This pure teaching. This 'ouch' teaching.”
Like the old master in this story, the Buddha, in his response to the Kalamas, is trying to emphasize the importance of direct experience. He acknowledges that people rely upon many different modes of authority, sometimes internal, sometimes external. Some of them are reliable and others are way off the mark. The question is, how do we tell which is which? How do we balance internal authority with external authority? As the Buddha says, just because something is ancient doesn’t mean it’s true. Just because it’s new doesn’t mean it’s true. Just because it’s in the scriptures doesn’t mean it’s true. Just because it seems reasonable, or you like the person teaching it, doesn’t mean it’s right.
What’s left, then? Where do we turn for authority in terms of knowing how to act? In the Kalama Sutta, the Buddha is not saying that ancient teachings are irrelevant, or that you have to reinvent the dharma wheel every time you think. He’s not saying not to accept the guidance of teachers or not to read the scriptures. After all, how else are you going to find out what’s criticized and praised by the wise? No, what he’s saying is: Don’t give final authority to these things. Don’t give final authority to your own ideas. You have to test the teachings, and your ideas, in the laboratory of your actions.
When you put something to the test, really to the test, don’t you find that it challenges, that it stretches you, too? This has certainly been my experience. Some of these wonderful teachings are inspiring. It can be intellectually satisfying and emotionally nourishing just to hear them. But you can’t stop there. If you want to gain any real benefit from them, you have to let them stretch your own lived experience. For the dharma to become firsthand knowledge—to feel the “ouch” of it—you have to live intimately with it, hold it up to scrutiny, and let it hold you up to scrutiny. In the end, the ball is always thrown back to you: “Be a lamp unto yourself,” says the Buddha. In other words, you must ultimately find the way on your own, by putting your ideas of the truth to the test. Your questions light the way.
So what is the test of truth? The Buddha offers a simple formula: Test things in terms of cause and effect. Whatever is unskillful, leading to harm and ill, should be abandoned; whatever is skillful, leading to happiness and peace, should be pursued. Apply the test of skillfulness to all teachings in all your actions. Where is this teaching taking you? Is it moving you in a direction that is wise and kind? One quick test isn’t enough, you know.
You have to keep at it, so that your sensitivity to the results of your actions grows more and more refined with practice. When you’ve done the hard work of asking these questions, then you can decide for yourself whether a teaching, or a teacher, is worth following. And at the same time, you’ve also taught yourself how to live—a learning that can bring with it joy and the energy to go even deeper.
Larry Rosenberg is a guiding teacher at the Insight Meditation Society in Barre, Massachusetts, as well as at the Cambridge Insight Meditation Center.
Image © Robert Crosby
This reminds me so much of advice I give to people who are about to become parents: Do what works best for your baby and your family, even if it contradicts your mother, your friends, parenting experts, magazines, and even your own opinions about what you thought you were going to do. Of necessity you will do what works because it is what works!
Oops. Must have dozed off while reading this.
For the Buddhist faith equals daily life. It is, though, a very difficult concept to comprehend (let alone practice considering the severe realities of samsara).
I think the mode of gratitude to you teacher should respect the tradition from which that person originates. However if you are too attached to your own ego, burp and fart all you want.
My practice is cobbled, and "cobblered", together on the kitchen floor, which is where I meditate in the hum of the fridge--part of me hypervigilant for the sounds of small children padding down, tea kettles, literal and metaphorical milkmen, part of me attuned to the food mettaphor of the universe. This works for me, with my beginner's mind, heart, and stomach--but...I sometimes fantasize about heading into the forest (or at least a retreat center), so that someone (even if it's only an exported version of me) could tell me if I'm "doing it right." What makes this spiritual marketplace, as you say, even more ripe for misunderstanding is that many of us are practicing in this kind of relative isolation, in lay-kitchens and -livingrooms. If separation is obvious suffering, it can also be more subtle: it's pretty safe suffering to do it all via podcast in your own kitchen, with no one looking (and I believe that the gift of virtual dharma in the form of teachers like Tara Brach is inestimable in my life)! This "But am I doing it right?" question, which is another flavor of Mara, may be common to the DIY spiritual warrior. Especially to those of us with questioning souls and shelves overstuffed with every book from neuroscience to Buddhism 2.0. When you blend a seeking nature with a good girl incarnation trussed up too tightly to intellect (me, me, me!), the question, "But am I doing it right?" unfolds and just keeps unfolding, like a giant sheet of puff pastry of doubt. I did have an insight last week which helped me a great deal; it was this: I shifted my thinking from my kitchen shelf to inside myself. The Buddha, I suddenly saw, was the original home cook, testing it all out, over and over, the 10,000 horrible dishes, and the 10,000 beautiful ones. A scientist and a cook. This helped me a LOT.
The other day I heard Ram Dass say that you could do it all perfectly--be the perfect practitioner--and still not be free. That was a real mettathud. So now, the ultimate toothpick-in-the-center test for skill and unskill is--does "this" (insert toothpick) make me more free?
There's probably a lot of freedom in staying out of spiritual centers and gatherings (not to mention forests), and on the kitchen floor, for me. For now.
Thank you for this article, Larry. It came at just the right moment, and helped me to step back and cradle my critical thinking skills. I am chewing on my version of your question: Are we--am I--responsible enough to catch the egg of our own trajectory when it's inevitably lobbed back to us through the Buddha's teachings?
Recently I was a samanera in a temple of the Thai tradition, and I came to this realization myself.
I have always questioned everything around me. So much so it got me in a lot of trouble with my parents. Anyway, for some reason I concocted this fantasy that I would find serious Dhamma practitioners at every sangha I visit. Specifically amongst the ordained monks
Well, I of course got to see the truth right away. There are serious monks, but the biggest lesson I learned was from what I would consider a completely fake monk. He seemed to care nothing for the wisdom of the Buddha, he never meditated, and he constantly lied to make himself seem important.
The lesson I learned was not to believe outward appearances, but to test everything. Only after testing it can I know what is good, and worth holding on to.
No one is perfect, and if I believe in something or someone out of blind faith I am sure to be let down. Rather if I keep an open mind and heart while applying a healthy amount of skepticism I can drop what isn't true, and pursue what is.