Early 1995 saw the culmination of
something that had been shaking the Buddhism of S.E. Asia for several years: a
prominent Thai monk, accused of sexual misconduct, was forced by the Sangha
Council of Thailand to disrobe, although he still maintained that he was
innocent of what he had been accused. The case received wide media coverage both
in Thailand and abroad.
I do not intend to go into the
details of this case, but feel something should be said in an attempt to correct
some of the damage done—if possible—as the faith of many Buddhists has been
badly shaken thereby, and because there are people ever ready to exploit such
situations for their own ends. Christian missionaries in Thailand and elsewhere
must be elated!
As in the recent sensational trial
of O. J. Simpson in the U.S., some people consider the monk in question to be
guilty, and point to his repeated refusal to undergo a DNA test as tantamount to
a confession; there are, on the other hand, people who consider him innocent and
feel he was framed, from motives of jealousy. (Well, some years ago, I became
the target of someone whose mind was so full of jealousy that he even found
fault with me for taking morning walks or organizing blood donations, so I have
had some direct experience of what jealousy can do). I am not going to take
sides in this, but will try to turn it around and use it to illustrate some
Dharma.
I first heard of this monk (I will
refrain from naming him as I abhor using names) in 1991, when he was already
well-known as charismatic and handsome. His books contained photos of him posing
like a movie star, obviously aware of his good looks and the effects he had upon
others. I remember thinking then that he was too handsome for his own good.
He had large followings in
Malaysia, Singapore, Australia and other countries, and I heard of him being
regarded and received as an arahant—saint—in many places—including the
Malaysian Buddhist Meditation Centre in Penang—and white cloths spread before
him to walk on and consecrate; some people then took these cloths home and
treated them as objects of veneration, like holy relics; he was rapidly becoming
a cult-figure, and did nothing to discourage this unhealthy trend; in fact, by
not discouraging it, he tacitly encouraged it and caused people to become
dependent upon him. It is this that I regard as his biggest mistake; he allowed
people to worship him, and now many people are confused and have lost their
faith. Of course, they lost their faith because it was misplaced, but he, in his
position, should have used his influence to correct this and teach that the
faith of a Buddhist must be in the Dharma, so that nothing can shake it. He
should have explained that personality is insubstantial, hollow and empty, and
will only let us down; like sand, it is not a good foundation, and will crumble
when troubles arise. Instead of doing this, however, he allowed people to
become addicted to him—quite the opposite of the Buddhist Way.
Sadly, this kind of thing is not
uncommon today; there are numerous teachers and gurus who are more concerned
with promoting themselves than with helping people to understand Dharma; in
reality, they are not teachers but cheaters!
I have seen, often, how the
excessive respect paid by lay-Buddhists to monks and nuns has a corruptive
effect; it becomes more intoxicating than whiskey, and one must be on guard
against it. It happens, in the case of the laity, when there is more faith than
wisdom, and in the case of the monks, when there is more self-esteem than
wisdom; in both cases it happens because the central place of the Dharma is
neglected or forgotten. Consequently, when scandals like this arise, many people
lose everything, whereas if their faith had been solidly rooted in the Dharma,
they would not have been so shaken, and would still have been able to carry on.
Long ago, I abandoned the
personality-cult of Christianity, and now, freed from the belief in Jesus as a
savior, regard him as a teacher. I do not mind that he was not fully enlightened
or free from imperfections; a person doesn’t need to be perfect in order for
me to learn from him something useful to me in my own life; in fact, it is
perhaps better that I see his imperfections, as it is easier to relate to him
than it would be to someone perfect. Christians are not allowed, or refuse to
see, the imperfections of Jesus; the Church has glossed over and explained them
away, and made him into an unrealistic figure. The image it has given of him is
of someone so far beyond us as to be impossible of emulation; this is what comes
of deification, of regarding a person as divine instead of human; rather than
being an elevation, it is really a degradation, and renders meaningless the
attempts of a teacher to lead people to higher things than they have hitherto
been aware of, and to indicate the potential of being human.
Milarepa, Tibet’s most famous
and respected yogi, was once requested by the people of a certain village to
stay with them as their guru. He gratefully declined, however, saying that if he
were to stay with them, there would soon come a time when they would focus
critically on his manners and behavior, and would no longer listen to him when
he explained the Dharma, and that would be to their detriment. It would be far
better, he said, if he kept himself at a distance. What was he saying? That the
Dharma is the most important thing, and should not be confused with personality.
If only we would realize and remember this, it would be so much easier for us to
understand the Dharma.
All
is not lost unless we allow it to be lost.
The
Dharma is always as it is.
