William
Skudlarek
We wanted
to give a special
welcome and to
allow for an opportunity
for Monsignor
Felix Machado
to speak to all
of you. He is
here as the official
representative
of the Pontifical
Commission for
Interreligious
Dialogue.
Cardinal Arinze
is the prefect,
the head of that
congregation.
Monsignor Michael
Fitzgerald is
the secretary.
And in the position
of assistant secretary—I’m
not sure of the
exact title—is
Father Felix Machado,
whom you already
know and from
whom you have
already
heard.
But we would like
to offer a special
welcome to him
as the official
representative
at this assembly
and to invite
him to address
us.
Felix
Machado
When Jesus
entered Jerusalem
and the crowd
welcomed him with
rousing applause,
the donkey thought
it was all for
him. I feel like
that donkey. The
Catholic Church
has made an irreversible
commitment to
interreligious
dialogue. We see
this in Nostra
Aetate, a
document that
talks about the
Church’s deep
desire to enter
into interreligious
relationship and
dialogue. At the
time this document
of the Second
Vatican Council
was published
and even before
it was ratified
by the council
fathers in 1964,
the then pope,
Paul VI, established
a secretariat
for non-Christian
religions. Happily,
in 1988 the name
was changed from
Secretariat to
Non-Christians
to Pontifical
Council for Interreligious
Dialogue. I bring
here officially
the greetings
of Cardinal Arinze,
who is the president.
He is Nigerian,
himself born in
the family of
African traditional
religions. He
later on converted
and, much later,
so did his parents.
For the last seventeen
years, he has
been president
of the Pontifical
Council for Interreligious
Dialogue. I also
bring greetings
from Bishop Michael
Fitzgerald, an
Englishman with
an Irish heart.
He is involved
with Monastic
Interreligious
Dialogue and,
at the same time,
the European wing,
Dialogue Interreligieux
Monastique.
We have
tried to follow
the work of Monastic
Interreligious
Dialogue from
the beginning,
even before it
was named. As
I said yesterday,
I followed Gethsemani
I only through
the book,
and much desired
to be here. But
there are only
twelve people
in the council
and we cannot
always be present,
although we would
like to. The particular
work that is being
done for monastic
interreligious
dialogue, however,
is very precious
to us. When we
talk of dialogue
in the Catholic
Church, we try
to tell people
that everyone
has a place in
promoting interreligious
dialogue. Every
Catholic can promote
interreligious
dialogue.
I feel
there are four
forms of dialogue.
First, there is
a dialogue of
life. My father,
who is a simple
agriculturist
in India, unfortunately
had to give up
his education
after seventh
grade, although
he very much wanted
to pursue his
education. He
became a cultivator
of a little piece
of land to raise
our family. Nevertheless,
I have seen my
father every day
living a deep
dialogue. Indeed,
in India we cannot
avoid dialogue.
Secondly, there
is a dialogue
of collaboration,
collaborating
as far as possible
with people to
make this world
a better place
to live in. Then
there is the dialogue
of theological
discussion, what
people think
dialogue is only
about. But this
is a very small
portion of dialogue,
I would say, that
is meant for university
professors—discussion,
theology, et cetera.
The fourth form
of dialogue—dialogue
of religious experience—is
held in high esteem
by the Church.
Whenever the meetings
of the Dialogue
Interreligieux
Monastique are
held in Europe,
and if they are
anywhere close
by, the participants
are always invited
by the Pope and
the Pope receives
them personally.
In fact, when
Buddhist monastics
and Christian
monastics have
met in their exchange
program around
Rome, the Pope
gave them very
personal attention,
to encourage them,
because he believes
that this is the
foundation of
all dialogue.
I simply
wanted to elaborate
on this and say
that my presence
here is to report
all the good things
I’m seeing here
and all the good
people I’m meeting,
and to share them
with people in
the Vatican. Our
cardinal also
sends to Muslims,
Hindus, and Buddhists
a greeting on
the feast days
of these respective
religions. Our
message is translated
into many languages,
with a simple
wish: “Happy feast.”
It is a message
for doing something
together for the
good of the world.
I take this occasion
to personally
share this message
with you all.
Mary
Margaret Funk
We can
testify to Felix’s
warm reception
when in Rome this
last October.
On Sundays, he
is a parish priest,
living in a parish
and saying mass.
We asked him how
he has time with
his schedule,
and he said, “First
of all, I am a
priest.” It’s
wonderful for
us to know face
to face the people
that are in dialogue
in the Roman Vatican,
and they are very
interested in
what we do. it
is my pleasure,
now, to go back
to our original
program and welcome
a first-time speaker
in our assembly
of gatherings,
Thubten
Chodron. She is
a graduate of
UCLA, worked as
a teacher in Los
Angeles city schools,
and did graduate
work at USC in
education.
After
meeting the Dharma
in 1975, she studied
the practice of
Buddhism under
the guidance of
His Holiness the
Dalai Lama, Zopa
Rinpoche, and
other Tibetan
masters for many
years in India
and in Nepal.
She was ordained
a Buddhist nun
in 1977. She teaches
Buddhist philosophy,
psychology, and
meditation worldwide.
She has been a
spiritual director
to the Instituto
Lama Tsong Khapa
in Italy, resident
teacher at Amitabha
Buddhist Centre
in Singapore,
and resident teacher
at the Dharma
Friendship Foundation
in Seattle. Together
with Santikaro
Bhikkhu, she is
a cofounder of
Sravasti
Abbey in Liberation
Park, an inter-traditional
Buddhist monastery
that’s just beginning
near St. Louis,
Missouri. In 1990,
she was present
at His Holiness
the Dalai Lama’s
conference with
Jewish practitioners,
which was the
basis for the
book and the documentary,
“The Jew in the
Lotus.” In 2002
she received an
award from the
World
Fellowship of
Buddhists
for her work in
Jewish-Buddhist
dialogue. Ven.
Chodron was a
key organizer
for the 1996 interdenominational
conference of
Western Buddhist
nuns in Bodhgaya,
India, and has
been instrumental
in efforts to
reinstate the
full ordination
lineage for women
within the Tibetan
tradition. So,
how did you get
ordained?
Thubten Chodron
I
took the novice
tradition in the
Tibetan.
Mary Margaret
Funk
So
she went to the
Chinese tradition
to be ordained,
because as of
yet the Tibetan
nuns don’t have
in the lineage
ordination; is
that correct?
Thubten Chodron
They
have the novice,
but not the full
lineage.
Mary Margaret
Funk
So,
women, do we have
an interest here
or what? Her books
include: Open
Heart, Clear Mind:
Buddhism for Beginners,
Working with
Anger, Taming
the Monkey Mind,
Choosing Simplicity,
Transforming
the Heart,
and Blossoms
of the Dharma.
Ven. Chodron emphasizes
the practical
application of
Buddhist teachings
in daily life,
and is especially
skilled in explaining
them in ways easily
understood and
practiced by Westerners.
Thubten Chodron
I
was asked to speak
about the role
of consumerism
in causing suffering
and will focus
on consumerism
in the spiritual
realm, that is,
how religious
teachers and students
alike may be influenced
by the consumer
mentality.
I want to go through
my paper and highlight
some of the points
and then explain
a little bit what
I meant. First
of all, and here
I’m talking about
how our American
consumer mentality
has influenced
us as spiritual
seekers, lots
of students come
to Buddhism and
want the best
product. They
want the best
religion. They
want to jump around,
try a little bit
of this and that,
so that they get
the best product.
Another factor
of consumerism
is that we want
to be entertained.
So the Dharma
teacher should
definitely entertain
the students,
because if we
are not entertaining
enough, they might
go somewhere else.
As students, we
want instant gratification.
So whatever religion
we learn should
bring instant
results, and it
should work immediately.
Another
feature of consumerism
is that things
should be easily
available, so
we shouldn’t have
to put forth much
effort to get
the Dharma teachings.
In the ancient
traditions, people
traveled over
the Himalayan
Mountains, across
the Silk Road,
and went through
all sorts of hardships
to find teachers.
But nowadays,
as spiritual seekers,
we want our teachers
to come to us,
and we shouldn’t
have to go through
any kind of hardship
to get the teachings—nice
comfortable room,
right temperature,
good food, the
whole thing. So
things should
be easily available.
We shouldn’t have
to undergo difficulties.
We should also
be able to pay
as we go. That’s
another quality
of consumerism.
Here in the paper
I brought up the
whole topic of
how funds are
received and given.
In Buddhism, we
have the tradition
of dana or
generosity. Traditionally
this means generosity
from an open space
in our own heart,
giving because
we want to support
things that are
going well and
to support the
good work of others,
to remedy poverty
etc.
In
Buddhist retreats
and courses, some
people actually
charge for the
teachings, which
is not the way
it used to be
in olden times.
Some people ask
for dana,
except I’m questioning
if dana becomes
another way of
paying by making
it look like we
are receiving
offerings. Somehow,
however, it’s
presented as if
you received a
service, a Dharma
teaching, so you
should pay the
teacher. Are we
really allowing
dana to
flow freely, or
are we on a subtle
or not so subtle
level letting
people know that
they need to give
to support us.
The whole topic
then arises of
whether we make
our living out
of teaching the
Dharma, and whether
we as teachers
decide where to
go to teach according
to where we get
the most generosity.
Do we go to the
inner city to
teach? Do we go
to the Third World
to teach? Or do
we go to the places
where we get generosity?
Another
consumer quality
that characterizes
the contemporary
student is that
we are very self-centered,
and so we go into
the spiritual
domain with a
consumer mind:
What can I get
out of this? I
am here to get
something. You,
as the teacher
or the center
or the church,
should give me
what I’m demanding,
because this is
supply and demand.
Students don’t
come in with a
mentality that
the temple, monastery,
or church is a
place where we
go to give,
but a place where
I come to get.
As
students, we sometimes
get a little perk
on the side, which
is called status,
from our spiritual
practice. We want
to be close to
a teacher, and
we get a little
bit of status
bragging about
what teacher has
stayed at our
house or driven
around in our
car. We also get
some status by
getting all the
Dharma or Catholic
paraphernalia.
We all have gift
shops, don’t we?,
where you have
all sorts of beautiful
statues of Jesus
or the Buddha,
and all your offering
objects. So, as
good consumers,
especially when
we enter the practice,
we get all this
stuff. Then we
feel like we are
really religious
people, because
our altars are
full of all the
right stuff.
These
kinds of things
may be in our
mind as students.
But the consumer
mentality also
influences the
mind of the teacher.
This is a little
bit embarrassing,
but let’s face
facts: Spiritual
events need to
be announced.
On the one hand,
we need to let
people know they
are happening.
But what I find,
and here is where
I’m ignorant of
what’s happening
in the Christian
faith, is that
in Buddhist circles,
the advertisements
for religious
events are: “This
is the highest
teaching, the
most exotic teaching,
the most realized
master who has
done this miracle
and that miracle.
You can’t miss
this teaching
because it’s given
to a select group
of students; and
if you pay $99.99,
you will be one
of those select
group of students.”
In other words,
announcements
are made with
hype, and dressing
up the Dharma
and the teacher,
is utterly contrary
to the image of
the spiritual
practitioner that
I grew up with.
Also,
from the side
of the teacher,
the success of
one’s course,
teaching, or retreat
is measured in
numbers, because
in consumerism
we measure success
in numbers. How
many students
came to the retreat?
Did you get more
students than
the other teacher,
who was also teaching
a retreat the
same weekend?
Who is more popular?
Do I have more
students? Are
my retreats better
attended? How
much dana did
I receive? Because,
after all, we
are building a
center. We are
building this;
we are building
that. We need
funds. So, are
the students providing
the dana?
Was our course
a success? Sometimes
these courses
are given to raise
money. We say,
“We
are raising money
for the Dharma,
for our monastery,
our temple, our
whatever. You
pay to come to
the teachings,
and our events
are successful
if we get a lot
of money to take
back for the monastery.”
Or, sometimes
it goes into your
own pocket, because
if you are a lay
teacher, you have
to support your
family and send
your kids to summer
camp and all this
kind of stuff.
Success is measured
by numbers.
Also,
as teachers, we
have to make the
Dharma or our
religion appealing
to the consumer,
because if it
isn’t appealing,
then they are
going to take
their business
somewhere else.
And we can’t have
that. We talk
a lot about skillful
means and adapting
things for the
mentality of the
students, but
how much do we
water down the
Dharma or leave
out certain points,
or even in the
Christian faith
water down certain
things to make
it more appealing
so that you get
more people coming?
Are we really
being true to
the deep spiritual
meanings in which
we’ve been trained,
or are we just
making things
available in a
consumerist way
to a large number
of people so that
everybody buys
our product? Then
there is the whole
thing of making
a profit and fund-raising,
using the teachings
to fund-raise
to support ourselves
and so on.
Now,
the question comes,
why does this
cause suffering?
Because that’s
what I’m supposed
to talk about.
I think it causes
suffering in a
couple of ways.
One is that it
makes our own
spiritual traditions
degenerate in
a number of ways.
First of all,
we are teaching
one thing, and
not practicing
what we are teaching.
Then people say,
“What’s
going on? Do these
teachings work?
Is this something
viable if they
are teaching simplicity
and nonattachment
and humility,
but the whole
thing is run in
a totally different
way?”
By watering down
the teachings,
future generations
won’t get the
purity of what
we’ve been trained
in. So it’s harmful,
I think, on the
outward side for
society for the
transmission of
our faith to the
future, but it’s
also harmful individually
to us as practitioners.
In
Buddhism, we talk
about the eight
worldly concerns.
My teacher was
famous for talking
about this over
and over again,
because he wouldn’t
let us off the
hook.
These
are the four pairs
of things that
actually preoccupy
a lot of our life.
First is the pleasure
at receiving material
things and money.
We all like that.
And then there
is the displeasure
over not receiving
it, or having
it stolen from
us. Then there
is feeling happy
and pleasurable
when people approve
of us and praise
us. That’s a big
one. And there
is the feeling
displeasure when
we are blamed
and when people
don’t approve
of us or appreciate
us. The third
pair is feeling
pleasure when
we have a good
image and a good
reputation, and
the opposite is
feeling displeasure
when people talk
about us behind
our backs, our
reputation is
ruined, we lose
our good image.
The last pair
is pleasure from
the senses, seeing
beautiful things,
beautiful sounds,
taste, touch,
smells, and displeasure
when we encounter
physical sense-things
that cause us
displeasure.
We
get attached to
the pleasurable
experiences and
have an aversion
to the unpleasurable
ones. This is
all centered on
the mind that
grasps onto the
happiness of only
this life. As
religious practitioners,
I think the basic
foundation of
what we are trying
to do is go beyond
the happiness
of just this life.
We are trying
to reach some
kind of liberation,
salvation, understanding
of deeper truth,
or an open heart
that extends love
and compassion
to everybody.
We’re trying to
go beyond my happiness
in this life.
These eight worldly
concerns, of which
consumerism feeds
into and grows
out of, completely
destroy our spiritual
practice. It looks
like spiritual
practice on the
outside, but the
inside motivation
is basically the
happiness of only
this life.
In
Buddhism, when
we talk about
the demarcation
line between an
action that is
a spiritual action
and one that is
a worldly action—and
this can be either
physical, verbal,
or mental—the
defining line
is whether it’s
involved with
clinging to the
happiness of only
this life. I don’t
know about you,
but when I look
at my mind, almost
every single thought
is involved with
the happiness
of this life.
It’s actually
very difficult,
I think, to be
a genuine spiritual
practitioner,
especially when
these eight worldly
concerns take
root and consumerism
just flows out
of them. They
destroy our own
practice and then
harm the transmission
of our teachings
to future generations.
—Dialogue
Begins
