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CHAPTER 1
THE BUDDHA
Forget the teacher; remember the teachings was the Buddha's message to his followers. He opposed any cult of personality, any deification of him. Once a man saw him on the road and, struck by his clear eyes and vibrant presence, asked, "What are you? Are you a god?" "No," the Buddha told him. "I am awake."
The Buddha's great awakening is a model for spiritual seekers everywhere. He was a living example that it can be done — that the potential for enlightenment is within every human being and that we too can awaken to our true nature if we try. But who was the man behind the teachings? Before he became the Buddha, who was he? And what was the truth of existence that he found?
Unfortunately, neither the Buddha nor his sangha, his community of followers, left a detailed biography. And he lived eons before social media and confessional memoirs made everyone's life an open book. In fact, aside from some Vedic texts — ancient Hindu scriptures in Sanskrit — there were no written documents of any kind in India while the Buddha was alive. His teachings were strictly word of mouth, transcribed by his followers only centuries later.
The Buddha wasn't into personal revelations either. Enlightenment liberated him from self-concern, and he spoke about his past only when it was relevant to his teaching. Fortunately, however, for all he didn't say, the Buddha's life was sufficiently riveting for scholars and scribes in later times to embroider on myth, legend, and fragments of history to attempt to leave a biographical trail. Over the past millennia or two, creative minds have sought to make sense of the Buddha in poetry and prose, commenting on everything from his quotidian habits to his life-changing revelations. Given the embellishments through the years, aspects of his story are best appreciated for their symbolic rather than factual value.
The biography that follows is drawn first from the Buddha's own words as recorded in the Pali Canon, the collection of texts that represent the earliest record of his discourses. But it also gives a nod to more colorful renditions of the Buddha's life set down later on, among them the Nidana-Katha, or Jataka Tales, stories of the Buddha's previous lives; The Buddhacarita, or Acts of the Buddha, an epic biography by a first-century CE Indian Buddhist philosopher named Asvaghosa; and The Lalitavistara or Play in Full, a third-century CE Mahayana Buddhist sutra, or text, recounting the Buddha's early days. By the time Mahayana Buddhism, the second major Buddhist tradition, came along, several centuries after the Buddha died, he had assumed transcendent status — quite a contrast to the altogether human Buddha of the Pali Canon.
Theravadan texts in the Pali Canon were rendered in Pali, an Indic dialect similar to what the Buddha is thought to have spoken, while the later Mahayana texts were in Sanskrit, a scholarly language common to ancient India and much of Southeast Asia. Except for material from the Pali Canon, most Buddhist terms in Buddhism will be in Sanskrit, a form more likely to be familiar to readers.
The Early Years
The Buddha's story begins in ... well, even his birthdate is a guesstimate. Scholars have proposed dates ranging from 623 BCE to 322 BCE, but the current consensus puts the Buddha's birth at around 480 BCE and his death eighty years later, in 400 BCE.
He was born Siddhartha Gautama and raised in Kapilavastu, a city in the foothills of the Himalayas along the border of what is now Nepal. Northern India in those days was a checkerboard of independent states, ruled by tribes or clans. Siddhartha's father, King Suddhodana, was the raja, or ruler, of the Sakya clan. (After enlightenment, the Buddha was often referred to as Sakyamuni Buddha, "Sage of the Sakyas.")
Siddhartha's birth came at a time of great economic and social ferment in India, with the growth of towns and cities and an emerging merchant class. But the strict Hindu caste system was still intact. Priests and scholars — the Brahmins — comprised the highest caste, followed by the Kshatriyas, warriors and nobles like Siddhartha's family. Below that were the Vaishya — farmers and merchants — and then the Shudra, laborers. At the very bottom were the untouchables — not even worthy of being assigned a caste.
The Buddha would become one of the great spiritual revolutionaries of all time — an egalitarian who challenged the status quo and rejected discrimination of any kind. But as Siddhartha he was raised to be very much a man of his time. Suddhodana was a powerful and prosperous leader, and he brought up his son in princely fashion to inherit the kingdom. No luxury was spared. "I lived in ... total refinement," the Buddha later said of his privileged childhood. "A white sunshade was held over me day and night, to protect me from cold, heat, dust, dirt, and dew." He had three palaces to live in: one each for winter, summer, and the rainy season.
The Buddha's legend begins even before his birth. If the story seems fantastical today, it merely reflects his world at the time, dominated by a Hindu cosmology richly populated with gods, goddesses, devas, and other protective and destructive otherworldly beings. The Jataka Tales give a detailed account of the Buddha's past lives as a bodhisattva, or Buddha-to-be, perfecting the ten qualities said to mark a Buddha — generosity, goodness, renunciation, wisdom, firmness, patience, truth, resolution, kindness, and equanimity.
In popular accounts of the birth, Queen Maya, Suddhodana's wife, had a dream in which a great white elephant descended from on high, pierced her side with his tusk, and entered her womb. The Brahmin priests who were summoned to interpret the dream said she would bear a son who would become either a chakravartin — a wheel-turner, or universal ruler — or a great spiritual teacher. When she was nearing her due date, the queen and her entourage stopped to rest at a park in Lumbini, not far from Kapilavastu. It is said that there, holding on to a flowering branch, she delivered her son. Legend has it that the future Buddha stood up, walked to each of the four directions, and declared, "I am supreme in the world. This is my last birth; henceforth there will be no rebirth for me." Rebirth is an alien concept to most Westerners today, but in the Buddha's time, it was a foregone conclusion, and spiritual practitioners strove for a favorable rebirth in one of the heavenly realms. The Buddha, however, was destined for parinirvana — a kind of super-enlightenment after which he would be gone forever, never to be reborn.
When Queen Maya returned to the palace with her son, more seers were called in to foretell the baby's future. Seven of them said that if he remained a householder, as laypersons were called, he would become a universal leader. The eighth, however, said he would be become a great spiritual teacher "and remove the veils of sin and ignorance from the world." Queen Maya and King Suddhodana named their son Siddhartha, "one who has accomplished a goal."
Queen Maya died a week after giving birth, so raising Siddhartha fell to her sister, Mahaprajapati, Suddhodana's other wife. Years later, Mahaprajapati would become the first nun among the Buddha's followers and a champion of women's rights in his sangha.
Ever mindful of the prophecy, Suddhodana was determined that his son would be a world ruler. He confined Siddhartha to the palace compound. The boy was a diligent student, and when Suddhodana thought it was time to make a leader of him, Siddhartha easily mastered weaponry, horsemanship, and other manly arts. As he grew older, his father went to great lengths to ensure that nothing unpleasant crossed his path. Siddhartha's life was an endless round of sumptuous banquets and sensual pleasures, with musicians and beautiful courtesans attending to his every whim. The Buddha later described his youth as being a prisoner in a pleasure palace.
Suddhodana reasoned that marriage would keep his son on the world-ruler path, so he arranged a reception to introduce Siddhartha to prospective wives. Beautiful young women were paraded before the prince, who gave each one a bauble from the palace coffers. But when the last candidate, Yasodhara, stepped forward, all the jewels were gone. "Is there nothing for me?" she said, looking the prince straight in the eye. Smitten, he unclasped the emerald necklace from around his neck and fastened it around her waist.
As was the custom, Siddhartha had to prove himself as a warrior before Yasodhara's father would grant permission to marry his daughter. A tournament was arranged, with Siddhartha's cousin Devadatta and half-brother, Nanda, providing the competition. Though they were even more skilled than Siddhartha at archery, swordplay, and riding, Siddhartha miraculously outperformed them and won Yasodhara's hand. Perhaps Devadatta nursed a grudge: years later, jealous of the Buddha, he tried to kill him several times and take over leadership of the sangha.
Siddhartha and Yasodhara had a son, Rahula. Some sources say Rahula means "fetter" — and indeed family was one of the ties Siddhartha had to break in his journey toward self-realization.
For all the pampering, Siddhartha grew restless. Inevitably he became curious about life outside the palace walls. The encounters that opened him to the truth of suffering are symbolized by what are known as the Four Sights. After chafing at seclusion in the pleasure prison, Siddhartha persuaded his charioteer, Channa, to sneak him off to town. When Suddhodana got wind of the plan, he arranged for the roads to be swept of any disturbing sights. But the gods and devas — who interceded at key points throughout the Buddha's life — decided it was time to set his destiny in motion. As Siddhartha's chariot returned to the palace, a decrepit old man suddenly appeared beside the road. "What's that?" Siddhartha asked his charioteer. When he was told it was an old person and that aging came to all beings without exception, he was shocked. Twice more Siddhartha returned to town, encountering first illness and then death on succeeding visits. Haunted by the specter of old age, sickness, and death, Siddhartha agonized over how he could ever reign over beings who suffered so. How could he help anyone bear such sorrow and loss?
More likely, Siddhartha's encounters with reality took place over time, but once his innocence was pierced, his natural compassion emerged, and his quest for an end to suffering was ordained. The luxury of palace life no longer satisfied. On a fourth trip outside the palace, he encountered the fourth sight — a wandering ascetic, a sadhu. Suddenly it was clear to Siddhartha what he must do.
In one version of the story, Siddhartha informed his father that instead of being a warrior and a world leader, he wanted to become a homeless monk and search for an end to suffering. It was not unusual back then for a man to leave home to pursue a spiritual path, but it was customary to wait until later in life, when he had fulfilled his familial and societal duties. Suddhodana tried to convince his son to wait, but Siddhartha had made up his mind. When he informed Yasodhara of his intentions, she was understandably furious that he would abandon her and their son.
In a more romantic version of the story, Siddhartha told no one of his plans but one night simply slipped away after sneaking a last look at his sleeping wife and infant son. He feared that if he woke them to say goodbye, he would lose the will to embark on his quest.
Accompanied by Channa, he rode his horse to the edge of the forest, where he cut off his hair and beard, then handed his sword and jewelry to Channa with instructions to give them to his father with the message that Siddhartha would not come back until he had achieved his goal. Serendipitously, a homeless monk appeared just then, and Siddhartha exchanged his princely garments for the monk's ocher robe and begging bowl.
At this point in some renditions of the tale, Mara — an otherworldly being known as the Tempter, the Evil One — arrived to try and dissuade Siddhartha. "Oh, come on, give up this silly quest and go back home," Mara urged. "If you do, in a week you'll be a chakravartin." We don't have to take Mara's existence literally to understand that he represented the unconscious pull of samsara, or worldly conditioning, that exerts power over the unenlightened mind. Well named the Lord of Illusion, Mara would return at critical points throughout the Buddha's life to test his resolve.
Going Forth
Renouncing ordinary life to become a wandering monk was known as "going forth." At that time in India's history it was becoming increasingly popular with the spiritually inclined who opposed the strict, top-down religion of the Brahmin priests. For Siddhartha, who was twenty-nine when he left palace life behind, going forth was the beginning of a hero's journey — a break with the familiar life he had known to search for something more authentic and enduring. Haunted by the suffering he had glimpsed, Siddhartha felt compelled to join other renunciates living rough in the forest. "It isn't easy, living in a home, to practice the holy life [that is] totally perfect, totally pure, a polished shell," he later said. Because he understood the challenges so well, he was supportive of his lay followers later on.
The monks spent their mornings making an "alms run" to a nearby town, where they relied on the generosity of the townspeople to fill their begging bowls with food. During one such run in the city of Rajagaha, the capital of Magadha, one of the great kingdoms of northern India at the time, Siddhartha was spotted by Bimbisara, the king. Recognizing Siddhartha as well born and of warrior stock, the king urged him to stay and lead the Magadhan army. But Siddhartha refused, saying he had renounced worldly life for a spiritual quest. Bimbisara respected his commitment and told Siddhartha, "When you find what you're looking for, come back and teach me." After enlightenment, the Buddha kept his promise, and King Bimbisara became a disciple and close friend of the Buddha's, as well as a generous benefactor.
Siddhartha next looked for a teacher. He went first to Alara Kalama, who taught the jhanas, ever-higher levels of meditative absorption. Siddhartha quickly attained the seventh level, direct knowledge of nothingness — boundless space. But he did not think Alara Kalama's methods would lead to enlightenment, the "sublime peace," so he moved on.
He next sought out Uddaka Ramaputta. Ramaputta had reached an even higher level of absorption, the dimension of neither perception nor non-perception, which Siddhartha soon attained. Ramaputta offered Siddhartha the opportunity to stay and teach alongside him, but Siddhartha knew this too would not lead to the supreme awakening he sought, so again he moved on.
He then joined up with five other wandering ascetics pursuing enlightenment. Believing that the path to realization lay in extreme self-mortification, they pushed themselves beyond physical limits. Siddhartha became so emaciated that his "spine stood out like a string of beads," he later said, and when he touched his stomach, he could feel his backbone underneath the skin.
Near death but no nearer awakening, Siddhartha was visited by his old nemesis, Mara. Unhappy that Siddhartha might achieve enlightenment and thereby escape his influence forever, Mara launched an all-out offensive to plant doubt in Siddhartha's mind. Mara's efforts only made Siddhartha more determined to succeed. But first he had to survive an onslaught of operatic proportions.
Poets and historians had a field day with Siddhartha's last stand against the Tempter. In his narrative poem The Light of Asia — a nineteenth-century romantic view of the Great Awakening — Sir Edwin Arnold pulled out all the stops in describing the monsters Mara unleashed on Siddhartha: "Wherefore there trooped from every deepest pit / The fiends who war with Wisdom and the Light." First Mara sent out his daughters, Discontent, Craving, and Desire, "and their crew / Of passions, horrors, ignorances, lusts," but their seductions failed to arouse Siddhartha. Then came the "ten chief Sins," including Doubt, who "Hissed in the Master's ear: 'All things are shows, / And vain the knowledge of their vanity; Though dost but chase the shadow of thyself; / Rise and go hence ...'" Still Siddhartha sat unmoved.
(Continues…)
Excerpted from "Buddhism"
by .
Copyright © 2019 Joan Duncan Oliver.
Excerpted by permission of St. Martin's Press.
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