During the month of March, I am publishing articles related to Higan, which occurs on the Spring and Fall Equinox and extends three days before and three days after to involve the six pāramitās.
The character Myō in the Myōhō Renge Kyō (Sūtra of the Lotus Flower of the Wonderful Dharma) was verified by the tongues of the two Buddhas (Śākyamuni and Many Treasures). The tongues of these two Buddhas are an eightfold double-blooming lotus flower. A wish-fulfilling gem, on top of this double-blooming lotus flower, is the character Myō. This wish-fulfilling gem, the character Myō, contains all the merits of Śākyamuni Buddha’s Six Paramita (the six kinds of practice by which He attained Buddhahood). In a previous life, Śākyamuni offered His own body to a hungry tiger and sacrificed His life to a hawk to save a dove (charity). When He was King Śrutasoma, he did not violate the Buddhist precepts even at the cost of his life (precepts). When he was Hermit Forbearance, he willingly endured the tortures of King Kālika cutting off his four limbs (forbearance). When he was Prince Dāna, he devoted his life to finding a wishfulfilling gem to save people (effort). When he was the Hermit Shōjari, he did not move until the eggs that a heron placed on his head hatched (meditation). And so on. Therefore, we in the Latter Age of Degeneration who simply believe in the Lotus Sūtra are able to receive the same merit gained by practicing the Six Pāramitā in full even if we haven’t performed any good deeds.
Nichimyō Shōnin Gosho, A Letter to Nichimyō Shōnin, Writings of Nichiren Shōnin, Followers II, Volume 7, Page 138-139
Accepting the reality in which we stand, tolerant people do not indulge in moods of resentment; they do not waste energy resenting that things are as they are. In the grip of resentment, we falsify the world, refusing to face the reality that has come to be. Wise patience does not struggle in this way; it does not exhaust resources of mind and body wishing that things were other than they are. Resentment of the real undermines our best efforts to see what we face and to deal with it constructively. Ideally, the practices of tolerance and patience would release us from the grip of these agitations, freeing the mind to deal with the situation calmly and directly. Letting go of unhelpful distractions, we are in a much better position to participate thoughtfully and effectively in the world.
“Guarding awareness” in the realm of morality, while indispensable, also leads to certain problems. The most significant of these recognized in Buddhist texts is attachment to rules and procedures themselves. “Grasping” the precepts too firmly and too rigidly was thought to prevent the development of more skillful forms of moral awareness. “Clinging” to rules for monks and nuns stands in the way of a deeper moral consciousness, just as craving and attachment cloud perceptions of the world generally. Moreover, attachment to moral rules often undermines the compassionate and liberating connection to other people that morality intends to cultivate in a society. Wherever rule-following becomes mechanical and self-serving, where there is only joyless guarding of one’s own moral standing, there the “perfection” of morality is rendered impossible.
[T]he attitude of the giver and the spirit of the gift are essential to the practice of generosity. Calm and even-minded, the enlightened donor is not moved by anything but the welfare of human beings and the openness of heart entailed in noble giving. Therefore, no thought is given to the rewards or “fruit” that inevitably flow back to the donor from a genuine act of generosity. Although there will be rewards that are a natural consequence of an act of giving, focus on those “fruits” demean and undercut the act. The higher and more selfless the conception of the gift, the greater is the perfection of giving. Thus the Large Sutra ends a section on the perfection of generosity by warning that the bodhisattva “does not aspire for any fruit of his giving which he could enjoy in Saṃsāra, and it is only for the purpose of protecting beings, of liberating them, that he courses [i.e., trains] in the perfection of giving.” Indeed, any attitude of self-congratulation on the part of the practitioner of giving is disdained. Self-satisfaction in a good deed displays the weakness of that act of generosity; it demonstrates that the motive and self-conception behind it are still immature. Coveting neither reward nor honor nor gratitude, the bodhisattva gives simply because a need exists. He gives anything, including himself, for the sake of others and in so doing meditates on the idea that “what is my very own this is yours.”
[T]he Large Sutra on Perfect Wisdom says: “But if it occurs to the bodhisattva, the great being, that ‘I course [train] in perfect wisdom, I develop perfect wisdom’ – if he perceives thus, then he moves away from perfect wisdom. … If the bodhisattva even perceives the perfection of wisdom, then he has fallen away from it.”
So, if you seek a kind of wisdom that is unchanging, an eternal wisdom that exists in and of itself, something that just is what it is without reference to context, relations, and time, then you seek it unwisely. The sutras recommend instead that you engage in the quest for wisdom without objectifying any of the elements in it—the seeker, what is sought, and the search are all “empty.”
Early Buddhist texts are insistent on the necessity of meditation in the quest for Buddhist enlightenment. Without this kind of intense and deliberate discipline, various forms of human diminishment were considered very likely to prevail. Early sutras name the “three poisons” – greed, aversion, and delusion – that were thought to dominate human minds. The kinds of calm, focused mentality formed in meditation were considered the most effective remedies for the “three poisons” of human life. When human greed prevails, we pull the world toward ourselves. When aversion dominates, we push the world away, and when delusion obtains, we are oblivious of our true circumstances, or hide in denial. The goal of meditative practice, therefore, is to eliminate the oppressive force of these obstructions so that the truth that is otherwise hidden from us is open to our minds. Particular meditations aimed at each of these poisonous obstructions were designed so that cures would be as appropriate as possible to the particular ailments they were meant to alleviate.
Wisdom is the sixth perfection, the final stage in the hierarchy of practices, and the most profound achievement for Buddhists. The other five practices can only reach a level of perfection when wisdom informs them thoroughly, altering their inner structure and deepest motivation. The difference between the ordinary practice of energetic striving and that same practice honed by wisdom is located in the quality of the conception of practice. Ordinary practice “perceives a basis,” that is, it operates as though the seeker, the act of seeking, and the energy sought are each separate and self-constituted entities. Ordinary practice “bases” itself on the naïve thought that all things are permanently identified by their “own-being.” This “common-sense” view fails to see what wisdom enables one to see, that there is no permanent “self-nature” separating the self from the energy that it seeks. …
Seeing all things wisely as “empty” of their “own-being” the bodhisattva begins to live differently in the world. Based on the vision that this perspective enables, this new way of living absorbs energy from the surrounding world and transmits quantities of energy that can be harnessed by others. Wisdom empowers that ability, in part by offering “freedom from the ideas of pleasant and unpleasant” and from all static dichotomies that keep us isolated and closed. Recognizing the contingent and ironic existence of all things, including one’s “self,” the bodhisattva is not overwhelmed by hardships. Although these hardships do not go away, their presence is “empty” of “own-being” and therefore open to a wide variety of conceptions and attitudes. Not bound to conventional self-understanding and not obligated to experience suffering and hardship as unbearable or insufferable, the bodhisattva attains levels of freedom, flexibility, and energy that are inconceivable in ordinary existence. It is in this light that the classic texts of Mahayana Buddhism envision the perfection of energy, and in this sense that they claim that “where there is energy, there is enlightenment.”
Today is the Spring Equinox, which Nichiren Shu celebrates as Higan. Reprinted below is a dharma talk given by Ryuei Michael McCormick in March 2005 at the San Jose Nichiren Buddhist Temple.
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Today we celebrate Ohigan. Ohigan is celebrated twice a year during the spring and autumn equinox, the time of year when the day and night are of equal length. The Ohigan is also a time of transition, from the short days of winter to the long days of summer and back again. As a time of seasonal transition, it also represents the transitions of human life, from the sunny summer of life to dark winter of death. This is why the Ohigan is a time to remember those who have passed on, particularly our ancestors and loved ones. It is also a time to give thought to another kind of transition, from this shore of birth and death to the other shore of enlightenment, wherein birth and death is transcended. In fact, we recite the Odaimoku and the Lotus Sutra for the purpose of enabling those of us still living and those who are deceased for whom we dedicate merit to both arrive at the other shore of awakening.
For any kind of journey one needs to pack, or make provisions. Even an overnight trip requires that we bring a change of clothes and toiletries like shaving gear, deodorant, and so on. What kind of provisions, then, do we need to journey to the other shore of enlightenment? In this case, a spare towel or shaving kit will not suffice. We need something that is both less substantial and at the same time more real. According to Mahayana Buddhism, those of us who aspire to buddhahood will require what are called the six paramitas. Paramita is usually translated as “perfection” as in the “six perfections.” But it actually means “crossing over.” So these are the six characteristics of those who are able to cross over from this shore of suffering to the other shore of enlightenment, and who, furthermore, are able to help others to make that transition and cross as well.
In the Unlocking the Mysteries Sutra (Skt. Samdhinirmochana Sutra) the Buddha explains these six provisions for crossing over to Bodhisattva Kuan Yin, the Regarder of the Cries of the World, who asked the Buddha, “How many things should bodhisattvas learn?” The Buddha replied, “In general, there are six things bodhisattvas should learn: generosity, self-discipline, patience, diligence, meditation, and wisdom.” (Adapted from Buddhist Yoga translated by Thomas Clear, p. 75)
Further on, Kuan Yin asks, “How many different kinds of each of the six paramitas are there?” The Buddha replied, “There are three kinds. The three kinds of giving are giving of goods, giving of teaching, and giving of fearlessness.” The Buddha then proceeds to explain each of the six paramitas in terms of the minimum benefit, a more proactive or far-reaching benefit, and a truly transcendent or selfless benefit. He starts with the paramita of giving. Giving of material goods is helpful, but giving people teachings whereby they can help themselves is even better. Best of all is to fearlessly stand by people in times of need or suffering even at the risk of one’s reputation or even life.
“The three kinds of self-discipline are the self-discipline of increasingly giving up what is not good, the self-discipline of increasingly developing what is good, and the self-discipline of increasingly benefiting all beings.” Here we see that self-discipline is not merely self-control but is the work of actively working for the well being of others.
“The three kinds of patience are the patience of bearing injury, the patience of serenity in suffering, and the patience of truthful observation of realities.” Here one is patient even with those who have caused offense or even harm. But even better is to be patient with all forms of suffering, to not be discouraged but to move forward. The last one is most remarkable and particular to bodhisattvas. To face all things as they really are, that is to say impermanent and empty of any fixed or permanent nature requires great patience and courage. At first, the teachings of no-self and emptiness are extremely disconcerting but with patience the bodhisattvas come to realize that things, including the true nature of our own lives, are not “empty and meaningless” but “empty and marvelous.” This is a talk for another day, but for now just note that the Buddha himself realized that the Buddha Dharma itself requires great patience and courage to fully understand and appreciate.
“The three kinds of diligence are diligence as armor, diligence of concerted effort to increasingly develop good qualities, and the diligence of concentrated effort to help sentient beings.” Diligence as armor means that the greatest protection we can have is to continuously strive to overcome our own selfishness and shortsightedness as well as against whatever hardships we may find ourselves faced with. Avoiding bad habits and curbing those we may already have is just a beginning however. We also need to actively cultivate the good. But even beyond that bodhisattvas make efforts for the sake of all beings.
“The three kinds of meditation are meditation in a state of bliss without discriminating thought, still and silent, extremely tranquil and impeccable, thus curing the pains of afflictions; meditation that brings forth virtuous qualities and powers; and meditation that brings forth benefit for sentient beings.” Here meditation is spoken of first in terms of the various states of calm abiding, the dhyanas from whence the word Zen comes from. Beyond that are those forms of meditation that in the sutras grant miraculous powers that can be used to help all beings. Best of all is to attain a state of meditation wherein peace and happiness is communicated to all beings thus inspiring them to initiate their own practice.
“The three kinds of wisdom are wisdom focused on conventional worldly truth, wisdom focused on ultimate truth, and wisdom focused on benefiting sentient beings.” (Ibid, pp.78-79) Conventional worldly truth covers everything from plain old common sense to theoretical physics, but the most important thing is acting skillfully in the world so as to benefit others. Ultimate truth is to realize emptiness wherein all things are dynamically interrelated and all duality is transcended. Best of all is to realize how best to use one’s insight to help all beings also awaken to the truth.
These are the six paramitas, the six kinds of qualities that enable us to cross over from delusion to enlightenment, from birth and death to deathlessness. According to Nichiren Shonin in the Kanjin Honzon Sho: “…Shakyamuni Buddha’s merit of practicing the bodhisattva way leading to buddhahood, as well as that of preaching and saving all living beings since his attainment of buddhahood, are altogether contained in the five characters of Myo Ho Ren Ge Kyo. Consequently, when we uphold the five characters, the merits that he accumulated before and after his attainment of buddhahood are naturally inclined to us.” This means that we should hear this description of the six paramitas as a promise that these are the kinds of qualities that we will find within our own lives and bring out more and more based on our trust and confidence in Namu Myoho Renge Kyo. This short phrase is a seed that we plant in our lives and cultivate every time we recite it, and the six paramitas are among the innumerable fruits that this seed will produce in our lives. Let us chant Namu Myoho Renge Kyo with full confidence and joyful anticipation of transcendent fruits that are our provisions for crossing over to the other shore of perfect and complete awakening and boundless compassionate action on behalf of all beings.
Copyright by Ryuei Michael McCormick. Reprinted with permission March 20, 2021
The mental attitudes of intolerance and impatience take an enormous toll on all of us. Residing in these closed and rigid postures, we resent the situation in which we stand, and that resentment undermines flexible points of view from which we might engage the world effectively. When impatient or intolerant, we diminish ourselves and others by inhabiting a rigid smallness of mind. The perfection of tolerance includes a patient willingness to accept present reality as the point of departure for transformative work in the world. The patient person is content to be wherever he or she is right now, no matter what this situation happens to be. Contentment in this case is not letting go of effort and striving; what it releases is the struggle, the unnecessary conflict that stands in the way of lucid assessment and sustained conviction.
Those who are most profoundly cultivated in the disciplines of morality will feel some degree of obligation to reach out to hungry beings wherever they are found on the planet. Beyond this sense of obligation, however, stands the personification of an ideal – the bodhisattvas – who respond to the needs of strangers not out of a sense of moral obligation but out of a far deeper sense of identity with all living beings. These bodhisattvas – people like Mother Teresa – no doubt begin their path with a sense of moral obligation but conclude it having shaped their own identity to include the welfare of others as an integral part of themselves. Although it may be true initially that I respond, if at all, to the hunger of unknown people in other cultures out of a sense of moral obligation and not out of a deeper sense of identity, it could occur through the practices of morality that my identity is so enlarged that I actually experience the links between their well-being and my own. When this occurs to the extent that my feelings for them are engaged, my actions will begin to be motivated by compassion rather than duty.
This is the image of the bodhisattva’s perfection of morality, an expansion of the self that includes others in the innermost domain of self-concern. Buddhists sometimes refer to this expansion as an experience of “no-self,” but it could just as well be conceived as a magnificent transformation or expansion of the self. Although moral practices begin by cultivating the sense of duty or obligation that we owe to others, it comes to ideal fruition in the irrelevance of this same sense of duty made possible by an enlargement of the self toward the ultimate goal of profound reverence for life.