Reviews the book Essential Tibetan Buddhism

·期刊原文
Reviews the book `Essential Tibetan Buddhism,'
edited by Robert A.F. Thurman

by Digby Anderson
National Review

Vol. 48 No.20 1996.10.18

pp.73-74

Copyright by National Review

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HELLO, DALAI
Essential Tibetan Buddhism,
edited by Robert A. F. Thurman
(HarperCollins, 317 pp., $28)

THE New York Times noted recently that the number of Buddhists in the U.S.
had reached 800,000, and there are probably two or three times that if you
include the legions of chic white people who don't know much about the
religion but fancy it nevertheless and call themselves ``Buddhists.'' There
are even Buddhist celebrities, including Richard Gere and Columbia's
Professor Thurman, father of Uma. I have never seen anything in NATIONAL
REVIEW's pages to suggest that it has a very large number of Buddhist
readers. But to those who are, I would unreservedly recommend Professor
Thurman's book. Can I recommend it to non-Buddhists?

Suppose a Catholic were asked to collect the ``essential'' texts of his
religion. We might have the texts of the great Councils, the writings of
the early Fathers, some Aquinas, some Augustine, de Caussade, Newman,
extracts from the Bible, the Missal, the Divine Office, perhaps one
encyclical on modern times. Of course we -- Catholics, other Christians,
and non-Christians in Christian cultures -- can read these and understand
them in part. So we might take it for granted that people from other
cultures can. I doubt it. It is what you bring to the text that counts. It
exists in a tradition. Those Christians who have fled the modernizing
Catholic and Anglican churches for Eastern Orthodoxy report a continuing
strangeness. And Orthodoxy is a branch of the same religion.

Essential Tibetan Buddhism produced three sets of reactions in me. They
were interest and respect, bafflement and refusal, and alarm. The book
starts with a long introductory essay which is a masterpiece, in the sense
that it shows enough of a strange religion to arouse interest and respect.
Tibetan Buddhism has found a very effective champion in Robert Thurman. His
essay discusses the centrality to Tibetan Buddhists of real Buddhas living
among them. It discusses the founding teacher and his ``angelic
disciples,'' the essential teaching, the enlightenment movement, the
history of Buddhism and its spread through India and Asia, asceticism and
monasticism, the renaissance of Buddhism and the great flowering of the
Tibetan variety and its spread beyond Tibet, the sad story of the Chinese
occupation and the exile, and the way Tibetan Buddhists read spiritual
intent into plain history.

The second section is a collection of essential Tibetan Buddhist texts:
``Mentor Worship,'' ``Seeing the Buddha,'' ``Meeting the Buddha in the
Mentor,'' ``Practicing Transcendental Meditation,'' ``Practicing the Loving
Spirit of Enlightenment,'' ``Practicing the Liberating Wisdom,''
``Practicing the Creation Stage,'' ``Practicing the Perfection and Great
Perfection Stages.'' These are the equivalent of Augustine's Confessions or
de Caussade's letters. Here are a few lines:

NAMO GURU MANJUGHOSHAYA!/May the glorious, precious root Mentor/sit in the
lotus of my heart/and sustain me with his great kindness./May he grant
attainments of body, speech, and mind./I invoke the glorious Losang
Drakpa,/who lovingly teaches just as he sees/the complete essence of the
path of all Sutra and Tantra,/who holds the complete holy Dharma of the
Victor.

The reaction of a non-Buddhist, or at any rate of this non-Buddhist, to
this and most of the other extracts is complete bafflement. Then bafflement
turns to rejection. This stuff is completely foreign. Either I determine to
take it seriously, and that means not just study it but somehow become a
part of it, or I stop now. To toy with it, dabble in it, extract helpful
bits from it would be sheer cultural tourism. It's a bit like French
cooking. Do it properly or not at all. You can embrace it, reject it, even
persecute it. But don't play with it.

The last text is an address given in Oslo by the Dalai Lama upon accepting
the Nobel Peace Prize. This great, baffling religion and one of its
greatest men suddenly give way to ecumenical internationalese, a United
Nations type of address on the interrelatedness of all things and the
centrality of the planet. And oh what familiar cliches: ``Today we are
truly a global family . . . to pollute the air or the oceans, in order to
achieve some short-term benefit, would be to destroy the very basis of our
survival . . . We must develop a sense of universal responsibility . . . in
respect of the different issues that confront our planet . . . the young
people of many countries have repeatedly called for an end to the dangerous
destruction of the environment . . .'' There's more and worse, such as the
idea that vicious regimes can be made to change through peaceful protest --
not a mention of the willingness of the West to spend on arms to contain
and defeat vicious regimes. No, it's not rot. It is talk calculated n ot to
offend: insights about personal renewal preceding political renewal but
diluted with eco-speech and the obligatory genuflections to ghastly young
people.

Christian leaders, of course, do this sort of thing all the time. Vatican
II and papal encyclicals are full of it. The style and rhetoric are
horribly familiar. At least the strangeness of the ancient texts induces
respect. The greatest problem that religions have today is that people see
them as small things, hobbies, easily mastered, lightly worn. The great
religions are, on the contrary, ``thick,'' deep in the sense of profound
but, more important, wide in the sense of impinging on all aspects of life.
Why do their present-day leaders, holy men like the Dalai Lama or Pope John
Paul II, men usually so robust, allow themselves to be caught talking,
albeit on untypical occasions, in a way that sells religion short?