Mindfulness of the heavens is a gate of Dharma illumination; for it gives rise to a wide and big mind.
念天是法明門、發廣大心故

This week we come to the sixth and final item in the set of six types of mindfulness.  There’s a reason that mindfulness of heaven (sometimes translated mindfulness of the gods) is the last on the list: it’s only if you have faith in the Three Treasures, exercise generosity and keep the precepts that you can be reborn in a heaven realm.  This week’s gate statement is the culmination of the previous five.

In a traditional view, we’re being encouraged to keep our eyes on the prize, to maintain awareness that if we do the right things, a good result will follow.  If we live upright  and wholesome lives, we’ll be reborn in a better place filled with peace and happiness, or we’ll leap free from the wheel of birth and death and enter Nirvana.  In the Hindu version of this teaching, we will be one with Brahman and escape the control of demons.

It will be useful here to review a bit of Buddhist cosmology—a bit only, because all of the planes and dimensions very quickly become quite complex.  It’s helpful to think of realms or worlds as the beings that make them up rather than as particular places.  A realm is determined by the perceptions and responses of its beings and sustained by their karma.  If somehow all the karma of the beings of a particular realm exhausts itself and they cease to be, then their realm disappears as well.  You may be familiar with the rokudo 六道, or six realms of samsara: devas or gods, humans, animals, asuras (fighting gods), hungry ghosts and hell dwellers.  How beings transmigrate through these realms is dependent on causes and conditions, namely the first five of the mindfulnesses we’ve been discussing.  

Buddhist cosmology also includes thirty one planes of existence that are classified into three realms, or trailoka: the formless realm (Ārūpyadhātu), the form realm (Rūpadhātu), and the desire or pleasure realm (Kamadhātu).  Moral conduct and engagement with giving can land one in the desire realm, while landing in the form or formless realm depends on the development of meditative concentration.  

Beings in the formless realm have attained a particular state known as the Four Formless Absorptions,  They don’t have any shape or location and are made up entirely of mind, and without any physical form, they are unable to hear the dharma.  The realm of form, on the other hand, is made up of beings that have physical form, though that form is subtle and not visible to beings in the realm of desire.  These beings are not pulled about by pleasure and pain.  Those in the desire or pleasure realm are still bound by their karma and subject to the suffering that comes with desire and clinging that arises from the senses.  The rokudo falls within this realm.  

Within the rokudo, the highest realm is that of devas or gods existing in something we might call higher heavens.  Those beings have long lives, various powers, and enjoy aesthetic pleasures.  If you’ve led a wholesome life, you may land in one of these realms based on your positive karma—but eventually that karma will exhaust itself and then it’s off to a lower realm.  The lower heavens include the asuras, or fighting gods.  (Why are they fighting?  Because they forgot themselves, got drunk, and were thrown down from their original heavenly home, and now they’re fighting to regain their lost kingdom, forever unable to break through the forces of those who guard it.)

Then come the earthly realms, which include humans, hungry ghosts and animals.  In the human realms, beings are capable of moral choice and have some say in their own destiny.  Because it’s a place of both pleasure and pain, it makes practice uniquely possible: the development of wisdom and compassion that enables liberation.  Thus birth in the human realm is a considered a precious opportunity.

While hungry ghosts and animals are within the earthly realm, their perceptions and experience of it are quite different from those of humans.  Hungry ghosts wander forever in search of sensual fulfillment, occupying for the most part deserts and wastelands.   Animals of whatever class, kind or size that are able to feel suffering make up the animal realm.

Finally there are the hell realms, characterized by the most extreme suffering based in fear and helplessness.  Unwholesome karma is what lands one here until that karma has completele unfolded; then, in a parallel with the heavens, it’s off to one of the higher realms on the basis of earlier, more positive karma that had not yet come to fruition.  There are myriad hell realms, each centered on a particular kind of torment.

You don’t have to believe in a literal rebirth in order to take something useful from this cosmological set-up.  We transmigrate around the rokudo moment by moment depending on our mindstates and responses to what’s happening.  I have a successful day at work and I feel like a deva.  Then I make a mistake and take some criticism, and I’m an asura.  I arrive at the dharma center and feel fortunate to have access to the Three Treasures, and then can’t decide where to stop for lunch on the way home.  I’m driven by my need for sleep, and then feel disressed when I look at my calendar and to-do list and know that I’ll be burning the midnight oil this week.  If we pay attention, we can see that no realm is really unfamiliar to us.

It’s important to see that while devas are in a heavenly realm, they’re still caught in samsara.  They eventually use up their various merit and succumb to aging, illness, and death, and must eventually take rebirth in other realms, which may be pleasant or otherwise according to the quality and strength of their past karma.  They come into existence based on their past karma and they’re as much subject to the natural laws of cause and effect as any other being in the universe.

Devas are not always especially knowledgable or spiritually mature.  In fact, they can be quite intoxicated by sensual indulgences, and none are considered worthy of veneration or worship.  A deva is not a “god” so much as any being enjoying longer life and a more generally comfortable and happy existence than humans.  They have no real concern or contact with the human world, so these are not beings to which one prays for intercession, for instance.  

Nonetheless. devas and heavens remind us of two things.  One is that acting skillfully and compassionately in the world leads to wholesome consenquences.  The other is that being intoxicated or caught up in sense pleasures, even in heaven, still leads to suffering because these things aren’t permanent.  In the next moment, we’re reborn in a hell realm when our toys are taken away.

In the Mahanama Sutta, the Buddha starts by teaching about mindfulness of Buddha, dharma and sangha, then tells Mahanama to reflect on his own virtue and generosity, covering the first five mindfulnesses.  Next Buddha tells him to cultivate conviction, virtue, learning, generosity, and discernment.  These are five mental factors that have to become dominant in the mind for awakening to occur; they appear over and over in the early texts.  These are the characteristics that got devas reborn in heaven realms.

Buddha says Mahanama should recall that those characteristics present in the devas are also present in him:  
At any time when a disciple of the noble ones is recollecting the conviction, virtue, learning, generosity, and discernment found both in himself and the devas, his mind is not overcome with passion, not overcome with aversion, not overcome with delusion. His mind heads straight, based on the [qualities of the] devas. And when the mind is headed straight, the disciple of the noble ones gains a sense of the goal, gains a sense of the Dhamma, gains joy connected with the Dhamma. In one who is joyful, rapture arises. In one who is rapturous, the body grows calm. In one whose body is calmed, experiences ease. In one at ease, the mind becomes concentrated. (1)

Certain helpful, wholesome qualities got the devas into heaven, and we can cultivate those same qualities so they are present in us.  This leads to liberation from the three poisonous minds of greed, anger and ignorance.

After each of the forms of mindfulness, the Buddha indicates how we should work with it.  In the case of devas, he says: Mahanama, you should develop this recollection of the devas while you are walking, while you are standing, while you are sitting, while you are lying down, while you are busy at work, while you are resting in your home crowded with children.

Walking, standing, sitting, lying down, known as the four postures, is another way to say "all the time."  Buddha said our zazen flows through all four postures and through the transitions between the postures.  In other words, we are to practice in every waking moment.

Now let’s look at wide and big mind, the second half of this week’s gate statement.  Magnanimous mind (daishin) is another term for this, and it’s one of the sanshin (three minds) for which our temple is named.  The other two are kishin (joyful mind) and roshin (nurturing or parental mind).  In the Tenzo Kyokun, Dogen says: As for what is called magnanimous mind, this mind is like the great mountains or like the great ocean; it is not biased or contentious mind.  Carrying half a pound, do not take it lightly; lifting forty pounds should not seem heavy.  Although drawn by the voices of spring, do not allow your heart to fall.  The four seasons cooperate in a single scene; regard light and heavy with a single eye.  On this single occasion you must write the word "great."  You must know the word "great."  You must learn the word ‘great.” (2) 

Magnanimous mind is about non-discrimination.  There are lots of metaphors in our tradition about non-discrimination, such as a monk’s mouth is like an oven, or the ocean accepts all rivers.  Non-discrimination is not engaging in judging, labeling, accepting and rejecting, but seeing and acknowledging everything clearly.  Magnanimous mind is deeply understanding that there is nothing outside of our lives or the Buddha way.  It’s seeing all of reality just as it is.  As soon as we start rejecting parts of our lives or ourselves, we’re putting constrains and limitations on something that’s actually limitless.  

Now we can start to see the connection between cultivating the qualities of heavenly beings and giving rise to magnanimous mind through developing conviction, virtue, learning, generosity, and discernment.

• Conviction is another word is confidence or faith in the Three Treasures and in the path until we see for ourselves.  It’s figuring out who to listen to and trust, what to believe or understand, and how to act on that basis.
• Virtue is about keeping precepts and living an ethical life.  Buddha says in Mahanama Sutta that virtue is conducive to concentration.
• Learning in this case is to be well versed in the dharma and thoroughly familiar with what the Buddha taught.
• Generosity: Mahanama is a layperson, so Buddha says he should say to himself:
• It is a gain, a great gain for me, that — among people overcome with the stain of possessiveness — I live at home, my awareness cleansed of the stain of possessiveness, freely generous, openhanded, delighting in being magnanimous, responsive to requests, delighting in the distribution of alms.
• Discernment is good judgement, based on the ability to see and understand things that are obscure or not obvious to others.

If we have faith in the Three Treasures, live an ethical life, study the dharma, practice generosity and use good judgement that comes from our insight into the true nature of reality, we will give rise to magnanimous mind—the mind of nondiscrimination and inclusivity.  

Now these are the things that got the devas into heaven, and we could decide that that’s what we want too as a result of our practice—and that’s when we have to remind ourselves of the real nature of devas, who are considered inferior to buddhas.  They aren’t omniscient; their knowledge is inferior to fully enlightened buddhas, and they especially lack awareness of beings in worlds higher than their own.  They also aren’t omnipotent; their powers tend to be limited to their own worlds, and they rarely intervene in human affairs.  They aren’t morally perfect, while they may lack human passions and desires, some of them are capable of ignorance, arrogance and pride.  It is, indeed, their imperfections in the mental and moral realms that cause them to be reborn in these worlds. 

Heavenly realms are not an escape from samsara.  Devas are still transmigrating around the rokudo.  Our practice is to surpass even the devas in seeing nonduality and taking action on that basis rather than on the basis of a heavenly reward.  Okumura Roshi writes, The first level of morality is to do wholesome actions expecting to be reborn in heaven, or having fear of being reborn in hell because of doing something bad. Both result in remaining within the six realms of samsara. The second level is to expect to attain enlightenment, be free from samsara and reach nirvana by doing what is good or compassionate and avoiding evil.  These two levels are still dualistic, and we should go beyond these two—samsara and nirvana should be one. That’s what the spirit of the precepts is trying to do—to get us to go beyond the duality between samsara and nirvana. We try to do good things, but not because we expect to be reborn in heaven or to gain some good thing, not because we are afraid to be reborn in hell, and not because we wish to reach nirvana. The good deed is just for the sake of actualizing reality, and it’s the same as our practice of the zazen of just sitting. (3)

Samsara and nirvana are both right here. and there’s no special place to get to and nowhere else to go, because nothing is outside of reality or the Buddha Way.  If that’s disappointing, consider that we don’t have to wait until the end of our lives to get to a heavenly realm.  Just like all the other realms in the wheel of samsara, heaven is right here —there’s no waiting.  Once we stop picking and choosing as a means of shoring up the small self, we reach heaven right in this moment.  For the devas, their heavenly realm is still part of samsara just as it is for us, so heaven isn’t an ultimate goal for either of us.  

There’s no long term advantage in aspiring to become a deva.  We’re just trading one realm of samsara for another.  Instead, this dharma gate is advising us to keep the devas in mind both for the helpful qualities they’ve cultivated and for their dharma position as beings that have not been liberated from samsara.  We can emulate them in cultvating magnanimous mind, but we do that right here in this day to day world.  We don’t wait until we get to heaven someday.

Notes
(1) The version of the Mahanama Sutta to which this discussion makes reference is found here.  
(2) From Okumura Roshi’s article for the Dogen Institute, Four Seasons of Accord.  
(3) from Okumura Roshi's forthcoming book on the precepts, to be published by the Dogen Institute.

Mindfulness of precepts is a gate of Dharma illumination; for [with it] we fulfill all vows.
念戒是法明門、一切願具足故.

According to this week’s gate statement, keeping precepts is how we carry out our bodhisattva vows.  First let’s understand what precepts are about and then let’s look at how precepts and vows are related.

A precept is a guideline for ethical behavior, some kind of instruction about the actions we should take.  In our tradition, the ten major precepts are: (1) do not kill, (2) do not steal, (3) do not engage in improper sexual conduct, (4) do not lie, (5) do not deal in intoxicants, (6) do not criticize others, (7) do not praise self and slander others, (8)do not be stingy with the dharma or property ,(9) do not give way to anger, (10) do not disparage the Three Treasures.  There are hundreds of precepts in the Theravada tradition, however.  

The Mahayana understanding is that precepts existed before Buddha’s awakening and didn’t originate with his teaching, but that’s not a historical perspective.  In the human realm, once the early sangha was established and people made mistakes, Buddha said, “You shouldn’t do such a thing again.”  The examples range from broad admonitions against killing people and taking their belongings to very specific rules about what colors your blanket has to be and prohibitions against monks having a women unrelated to them washing or sewing their clothes, or against having a new bowl until the old one has been mended five times.

Buddha’s disciple Upali memorized all these admonitions and the stories of how they happened, and recited them when all the monks gathered after Buddha died.  This is the source of the Vinaya precepts.  There were no regulations or precepts until monks made mistakes; even though they tried to practice and study the dharma, they were human, after all.

The basic idea of the bodhisattva precepts we receive is different.  These precepts are not a collection of prohibitions about mistakes.  Instead they simply describe reality; they’re ten ethical aspects of the dharma.  In that way, they pre-date the Buddha, who said that he didn’t invent the dharma; he awoke to it.  These precepts came into being at the time of Buddha’s awakening.

Dogen Zenji says in the very beginning of his Kyojukaimon (Comments on Teaching and Conferring the Precepts), “Receiving the precepts transcends the borders of past, present and future.”  The basis of bodhisattva precepts is the reality of all beings to which the Buddha awakened, which is characterized by impermanence, egolessness, and interdependence.  Because everything is impermanent, including the self, we can’t cling to anything, and if we deeply understand this, we’re released from attachment to self, possessions, etc.  Stealing doesn’t make sense because there’s nothing that’s really permanently ours.  If there is no self that persists through time, it doesn’t make sense to indulge our personal anger because there’s no self we need to defend.  Because everything is interconnected and arises from something else, we can only exist in relationship with other things and people.  That means that if we harm other beings, we harm ourselves.

Now we can begin to see the relationship between keeping precepts and carrying out vows.  The bodhisattva vows we chant after every dharma talk remind us that we vow to free all beings, end all delusions, enter all dharma gates and realize (make real) the Buddha way.

Precepts might seem restrictive if we think they’re all about what we’re not supposed to do.  Actually, precepts bring about freedom and liberation.  When we keep precepts, we don’t keep churning up our harmful karma, and we don’t keep adding to our own suffering and the suffering of others.  We’re not slaves to our thirsting desires, cravings and aversions.  

We can say that keeping precepts liberates all beings.  If nothing else, they’re liberated from our unskillful actions.  However, because of interdependence, our own liberation is also the liberation of others because we’re all in this together within this one unified reality.  If I’m creating safe, wholesome and peaceful circumstances in the world by observing precepts, I’m creating the conditions for other beings also to settle and cultivate wisdom and ethics and concentration.

If, instead, I’m doing whatever I want based on craving and aversion and the three poisonous minds, no one is going to feel safe around me.  No one is going to settle down and see clearly what’s happening.  Folks are just going to get more caught up in anxiety and unskillful responses to my behavior.

We can begin to free all beings by bearing the precepts in mind.  Likewise, precepts help us recognize and dissolve our own delusion because they describe reality as it is rather than as we create it in our minds.  If we pay attention to our use of intoxicants, whether that’s drugs and alcohol, food, shopping, other people or whatever, we begin to clear the clouds.  If we don’t give way to anger and instead can remain clearheaded, we can see what’s really happening and how we’re being triggered by clinging to delusions about the self.

This is of course where our zazen comes in.  Zazen and precepts are not separate—they’re complementary in our practice.  We need the precepts in order to settle down in zazen and cultivate awakening and insight.  If we’re running around being pulled by our karma and our delusions, we’re not creating the conditions for becoming quiet and seeing clearly.  Okumura Roshi has written, “Our zazen and the precepts are one. In our zazen practice, we put our entire being on the ground of true reality of all beings instead of the picture of the world that is a creation of our minds. By striving to keep the precepts in our daily lives, we strive to live being guided by our zazen.” (1)  Precepts describe reality, and zazen is also about seeing reality.  We can begin to end our inexhaustible delusions by bearing the precepts in mind.

Next, precepts help us recognize all the dharma gates we encounter as we move through the world.  Once we take the focus off of ourselves and remember that we’re part of an interconnected system, we can notice all the opportunities we have to practice.  We can turn every one of the precepts around, from a prohibition to positive action, and right there we can see all the gates we can enter.  When the precepts are turned around in this way, they’re sometimes called the clear mind precepts.  

• Instead of killing, there is protecting, cultivating, and encouraging life.  
• Instead of stealing, there is giving generously and honoring the gift not yet given.  
• Instead of misusing sexuality, there is respecting others and remaining faithful in relationships.  
• Instead of false speech, there is communicating truth.
• Instead of misusing intoxicants, there is remaining clear, polishing clarity for self and others, and seeing and dispelling delusion.
• Instead of speaking ill of others or dwelling on past mistakes, there is speaking kindly, and creating wisdom from ignorance.
• Instead of praising self or blaming others, there is maintaining modesty and extolling others.
• Instead of begrudging the dharma or materials, there is sharing understanding, and freely giving of self.
• Instead of harboring anger or ill-will, there is dwelling in equanimity, forgiving and cultivating kindness.
• Instead of abusing the three treasures there is respecting the Buddha, unfolding the dharma, and nourishing the sangha.

It’s good to refrain from doing the things the precepts warn us against, but we can go beyond that and actively enter into the dharma gates they offer us.  We can begin to find, recognize and enter myriad dharma gates by bearing the precepts in mind.

Finally, precepts lead us to make the Buddha way real, right here and now, moment after moment.  Okumura Roshi writes, “In order to nurture the seeds to actualize Buddha, we should strive not to kill. In the same way, the other nine major precepts all show the virtue of the true reality of all beings.”

So, how do we bear the precepts in mind?  Maybe it’s simply an internal agreement between ourselves and Buddha that we aspire to keep the precepts and help others all we can.  Maybe it’s with the public declaration of jukai and wearing a rakusu.  When we put on as robe, we’re wearing the Tathagatha’s teaching, and it’s pretty hard to forget.  Robes hold us up as well as serving as reminders and inspirations to others.  When I was training in Japan, we were required to wear koromo and rakusu when we went out on temple business because, according to the head of the temple, when people see monks they can’t do anything bad!  We can liberate others by serving as a reminder not to break precepts.

When we take the precepts, we publicly declare our intention to live as bodhisattvas, keep the precepts and free all beings.  In a way, it’s kind of a big deal and requires some discernment.  We reccognize that our practice isn’t just for ourselves.  We’ve taken vows to free all beings, end all delusions, enter all dharma gates and realize the Buddha way, and now we’re accountable for how we carry them out.  Zen is a practice—it’s something we do, so it’s all about our actions and activities.  

What do we do to carry out our vows?  There’s the eightfold path (2) and there’s keeping precepts.  Of course these are related as well: there’s the sila division of the eightfold path that includes right speech, right action and right livelihood.  For example, right speech is about refraining from the four evils: lying, idle or frivolous speech, harsh or abusive speech and divisive speech or backbiting or malicious gossip.  The precepts include not lying, speaking ill of others or praising self and blaming others.  

Right action happens naturally when we see reality as it is.  We understand suffering, interdependence, the true nature of self and how these three things are related.  There is nothing to learn and no decision to be made.  What I do affects others and what they do affects me; there’s no getting around it.  We all have a responsibility to take right action because the consequences are bigger than ourselves.

The precepts are all about taking right action.  When we really understand how the universe works, we don’t kill or steal or misuse sexuality or intoxicants.  We don’t have to stop ourselves from doing this stuff; it just won’t help or fix anything, so we don’t want to do it.  This is why the bodhisattva precepts existed before Buddha: no one has to tell us not to kill—killing just doesn’t arise.

The last item in the sila division is right livelihood.  The workplace is one of the most important practice containers.  We spend a lot of time there, and it’s one place we’re likely to be challenged to keep vows and precepts.  There’s the work itself that we’re being paid to do—does it move the world toward wholesomeness or unwholesomeness?  Is it built on killing, lying, stealing, abusing others or creating ill will?  Then there’s our own actions in the workplace.  Are we breaking precepts on our own, no matter what the work is?  As is true with just about everything else in Buddhism, precepts, vows and the eightfold path arise together and can’t really be pulled apart.  They’re just multiple aspects of the same thing.  

When we first encounter the bodhisattva vows, our reaction is usually “I can’t do that!” so we’re afraid to practice.  We may think it’s no use.  As Okumura Roshi frequently tells us, vow and repentence are two sides of one practice because our practice will always be incomplete.  We just have to keep going and doing our best, and the way we do that is by keeping precepts moment by moment.

Notes
(1) All quotes from Okumura Roshi this week are from his article “The Bodhisattva Precepts in Soto Zen Buddhism,” Dharma Eye vol. 13, 1–3 (2004).
​(2) We'll take a closer look at the eightfold path beginning with gate 75.

Mindfulness of generosity is a gate of Dharma illumination; for [with it] we do not expect reward.
念施是法明門、不望果報故.

Maybe you are thinking, oh no, she’s about to launch into a sermon, telling me to be nice and share my toys and then I’ll feel happy, or that I should feel grateful for all the good things in my life and want to give something back.  Yeah, yeah, generosity, hearts and flowers, blecch.  Boring.

We do hear a lot about generosity in this practice, particularly when it’s time for dharma centers to send out the annual fund appeal.  Most of the letters start with “In our practice, dana means giving,” and go on to say that this is your chance to show gratitude by giving generously to the center!

There is a lot of gee-whiz generalized discussion of generosity in spiritual communities, but it’s actually a fairly complex topic that’s interwoven with a number of other teachings in our tradition.  Dogen, Kodo Sawaki, Kosho Uchiyama, and Shohaku Okumura all have had something to say about it.  Generosity flies in the face of some of our most basic delusion, which makes it a challenge.  Let’s consider what generosity really is and then what difference it makes when we bear it in mind.

When we think of generosity, we think about giving something, like money or things, to someone else.  We consider someone to be generous when he puts the needs or desires of others ahead of his attachment to his possessions.  However, there’s a lot more going on here: we also have to receive without attachment, and we have to understand how generosity arises.

Dana was a part of society in ancient India before the Buddha.  It generally had to do with charity, either to the poor directly or by building public projects that benefitted everyone.  One of the earliest Hindu texts says, “Giving to the poor is true charity; all other giving expects some return.” (1)  Thus this is a very old teaching.

Of course, it’s good to help others who need our help and try to ease their suffering: feeding the hungry, housing the homeless, lending your book to a classmate who’s left hers at home.  These are the daily physical acts of generosity that we do, but the larger, absolute view is that there is no giving and receiving.  It feels like I have some object and I can give it to you if you need it,  but actually in this one unified reality there is no separation between giver, receiver and gift.  There’s nothing I can grasp and own because I’m just a temporary caretaker for “my” stuff, so it’s not possible for me to lose anything by offering it to you.

Sawaki Roshi’s expression was “Gaining is delusion, losing is enlightenment.”  This doesn’t mean we shouldn’t have any possessions, or we should give away everything we have.  (Zen practice does not encourage martyrdom; that’s just another form of ego attachment.)  It means that the idea that there is something we can gain that we don’t already have is delusion.  Losing the idea that there is something to be given or received, or gained or lost, is enlightenment.

In the Shobogenzo Shishobo, Dogen says, “Offering is not being greedy.” (2)  Offering doesn't necessarily mean giving things away.  Not drawing a line between my stuff and your stuff and trying to keep all my stuff for myself and get even more than I already have—that’s offering, or generosity.  Dogen goes on to say, "It is like offering treasures we are about to discard to those we do not know."  Okumura Roshi tells the story of putting his kids’ old broken rocking horse out by the trash and noticing that within ten minutes someone else had taken it home.  He thought it wasn’t worth giving away, but it was valuable to someone whose children didn’t have one.   Dogen says all our giving should be done with this kind of non-attachment.

We can see that there’s really a lot going on here.  Generosity is related to:

• teachings about craving and aversion, having preferences, judging and labeling.  All of these get in the way of generosity.
• the second precept about not stealing,  In the Kyojukaimon, Dogen says about this precept, “When mind and its objects are in thusness, the gate of liberation is open.  When I really see that there is no separation between mind and objects, there is nothing that is “mine” and “not mine” and I’m not constrained by greed.
• the three minds: magnanimous, nurturing and joyful from the Tenzo Kyokun.  It’s difficult to maintain these three approaches if you can’t be generous. (3)

If the opposite of generosity is greed, one of the three poisonous minds, then cultivating generosity would seem to be an important practice in dealing with our most basic delusions.  It helps us go from being inflexible and self-involved to being more accepting and outward-looking.  After all, being generous isn’t just about offering materials.  We can also offer openheartedness and acceptance of others.  We all know how good it feels and what a relief it is when others accept us for who we are and we can be authentic.  That’s a real gift!

Over and over we encounter teachings from Buddhas and ancestors about how we sit in zazen, begin to see how the world actually works, gain some understanding of interdependence, and on that basis our selfishness gives way to compassion and the desire to help others.  As Dogen says, practice and awakening are not two.  Generosity comes from our practice.  It’s not enough for me to tell you to be generous.  Nonattachment and concern for others arise because we see interdependence for ourselves and it becomes one of the bases for choosing how to act in the world.  Greed does not arise because it no longer makes sense.  It’s based on false information.

Generosity arises from our practice the same way compassion does, the same way right action does, and the same way anything we skillfully offer in the world does.  We might think of generosity as a feeling or an impulse, but it’s a practice, something we actually do that benefits both ourselves and others.  We don’t wait until we feel generous because of some circumstance that comes to our attention.  We constantly cultivate opportunities for generosity as part of our practice.

Dogen has some things to say about generosity and about dana paramita, the perfection of giving.  Last week we briefly reviewed the six paramitas or perfections:

• Dana Paramita: generosity, giving of oneself, giving time and support where needed, when needed, with no thought of return.
• Sila Paramita: virtuous, moral behaviour. Doing what is right, at the right time. Keeping disciplined and on the right path.
• Ksanti Paramita: patience; tolerance for people, situations and experiences outside our comfort. Acceptance and forbearance.
• Virya Paramita: energy, strength and diligence to stay on the path, even when it becomes difficult and uncomfortable.
• Dhyana Paramita: concentration and self reflection; contemplation of things outside our immediate understanding.
• Prajna Paramita: wisdom, understanding, letting go of intellect and embracing emptiness.

Dogen further says in the Shishobo that dana is the first of the paramitas because it’s the most powerful in changing the minds of living beings.  “The mind of a sentient being is difficult to change. We begin to transform the mind of beings by offering material things, and we resolve to continue to transform them until they attain the Way. From the beginning we should make use of offering.”

Similarly, Uchiyama Roshi said, “For breaking the ego’s grip, nothing is more effective than giving something up.” (4)  Here is where precepts come in—they ask us to give up things like praising self, stealing what we want, misusing intoxicants, etc. though we may enjoy them!  When we give up the chance to break precepts, what we’re offering to others is safety and security and peace.  Giving up the opportunity to feed our egos by calling attention to ourselves or fishing for complements is a generous act and others appreciate it.  We offer that renunciation to all beings.

We have to actively find ways to practice generosity because our habituated thinking leads us to default to self-centeredness.  Practice and understanding are complementary here, as is true in so many other areas: actively practicing generosity cultivates selflessness, and understanding the emptiness of the self leads to generosity.  

When Dogen says that generosity can change the minds of living beings, that includes ourselves as well.  Practicing generosity deepens our own understanding as well as helping others, and that help is not just the material items or information or whatever you’re giving; receiving is a practice as well.  We grew up hearing it’s better to give than to receive, but both really require equal attention in practice.  Receiving can be hard, but we have to receive in order to allow others the opportunity to give.  When I serve as tenzo and people thank me for cooking, I also thank them for eating.  I would not have had the chance to engage in food practice, cooking and offering the meal for practitioners, without their participation.  Likewise, the traditional almsround not only collects resources for the temple but allows donors the chance to earn merit.  Receiving those alms is also a practice of giving.

Sometimes we don’t want to receive because we’re worried about the real meaning of “gaining is delusion, losing is enlightenment.”  If someone offers me this and I take it, am I not giving in to attachment?  That’s when we ask ourselves, what’s my motivation?  Is my ego or self-image involved?  Am I reluctant to accept help and look weak?  We can remind ourselves that receiving is also generosity in that it allows giver to offer something.

In giving and receiving skillfully we’re demonstrating to others how to do it, and inspiring them.  When things stop being the objects of our thinking or consciousness—in other words, when we get beyond separation—we can give and receive and use those things to help all beings without the hindrances of ego, attachment or delusion.  It’s clean, and not sticky or muddy.

Now, what if what we’re attached to is not what we’re giving away but the reward that may come from our giving?  As soon as we give up dealing with things from the perspective of what they mean for me and my own agenda, that’s generosity.  We give for a lot of reasons; all generosity is good, but sometimes it’s not entirely selfless.  We give to feel good about ourselves.  We give so others will like or admire us.  We give today so others will give to us tomorrow.

We usually associate generosity with loving kindness and compassion, but it also has to have an element of wisdom.  We have to see how the world actually works and that we are supporting and supported by all beings already.  The reality of interconnectedness means that giving is constantly happening anyway.  

We also have to wisely discern whether or not our gift is helpful to the recipient.  Are we giving because we want to, or because it will actually help?  Are we giving what we would want, or what recipients really need?  Will that gift enable further suffering, like money for drugs or alcohol?  Are we giving so the recipient will just go away?  It all takes wisdom as well as compassion.  Is the reward we get from giving worth the suffering it may bring so the receiver?

Ask yourself and try to answer honestly: where or to whom in my life do I give with absolutely no expectation of reward?  It may be very hard to think of such a circumstance, which is OK—few human acts are completely without self interest.  Choose the circumstance with the least amount of expected reward and then consider why that particular situation is that way.  Now, how can you cultivate that same spirit at other times?

It’s good to pay attention to what’s going on in the body and mind when we give so that we don’t forget to practice and maintain mindfulness of generosity.  Is there some expectation of how this transaction “should” go?  What stories am I telling myself?  Is there some hesitation or holding back from this giving opportunity?  Some feeling of contraction or depletion or weakness?  Of giving too much or not enough?

Traditionally there are three kinds of things we can give:
1) Material support, like food and clothing: Traditionally this meant giving to monks as well as to those in society who need help.  If we have the resources, we can try to find ways to help folks with their basic needs through activities like charity knitting, or helping in a soup kitchen or crisis nursery.

2) Fearlessness: Because we’re making various kinds of efforts to see through our delusions and not to harm others, we free them from fear.  Because of the precepts, we’re not a threat to their lives, property or well-being.  As it says in the Heart Sutra, the bodhisattva relies on wisdom, the mind is without hindrance, and without 
hindrance there is no fear.  It’s fear that gets in the way of our generosity.  I may have an aspiration or impulse to give, but then what if I’m diminished?  

In this one unified reality, there is nothing to offer or accept, and nothing actually changes hands.  That means we don’t have to “own” something to offer it to the universe.  We can offer the snow on a mountaintop, the flowers in a prairie or a lovely sunset.  The way we offer them is to enter into the actual, authentic relationship we have with them rather than the made-up one that is about being separate and having an agenda.  As soon as we do that, there is no expectation of reward.  What reward can we possibly earn from offering a waterfall or a sand dune to the universe?   No personal reward is possible. 

3) Giving the dharma as teachings: It’s said that the highest gift of all is the gift of dharma, which we can offer by teaching, if we’re qualified, or by facilitating the teaching of others.  As we saw last week, by showing up in the temple and lending your spirit, you’re helping to give the gift of dharma, generously opening the door for the rest of the sangha here today and for those that will be arriving in the future.

All three of these offerings give us the opportunity to experience the generosity that expects no reward.

Mindfulness of Sangha is a gate of Dharma illumination; for [with it] attainment of the truth is steadfast.
念是法明門、得道堅牢故。

We’ve arrived at the third of the three treasures, so let’s consider first what sangha is, and then what it means to be mindful of or remember sangha.  The Sanskrit word sangha means a group of people who are unified by something—in our case, the dharma.  Laying this out across the three kinds of three treasures from Dogen’s Kyojukaimon;

• Manifesting: Sangha as the original group of people who practiced and studied with Shakyamuni ("Those who learned the Buddha’s Dharma are the Sangha Treasures.")
• Maintaining:  We who come together today to practice as bodhisattvas ("[Those] who relieve others of all different kinds of sufferings and release them from the burning house of the three worlds are the Sangha Treasure.")
• Absolute:  All beings ("The virtue of peace and harmony is the Sangha Treasure.")

After his awakening, the Buddha went looking for someone to whom he could teach the dharma, someone who would actually understand it.  He first goes in search of the five monks with whom he had practiced just before he left the group and sat down under the bodhi tree.  The Buddha established a sangha so people could practice without the distractions and responsibilities of householder life in the world, and so that the teachings would be preserved  and provide support for all practitioners.  Members of the ordained sangha were traditionally responsible for translating and spreading the teachings.  Because they were practicing in an upright, knowledgeable, proper way, they were worthy of receiving gifts, hospitality, offerings and respect from the laity.  The nature of that upright way was defined by 227 main rules of conduct, the pratimoksha.

Today in the Mahayana tradition we use “sangha” to refer to all practitioners, as in “the Western Buddhist sangha.”  In the Theravada tradition, sangha refers only to the ordained sangha or to people who have a certain level of attainment.  These are not the same thing—there can be ordained people who don’t have much understanding and laypeople who do. 

In Zen, the word we use for sangha is sōrin 叢林, which indicates a group of different kinds of trees.  In the forest, all kinds of plants and trees grow together with different shapes, colors, lifespan, seeds, fruits and flowers.  They are interdependent and living one life together.  Sangha is made up of all different kinds of people practicing together peacefully and harmoniously, using their various gifts, skills and experiences for the benefit of everyone.

Now that we know what sangha is, what about mindfulness of sangha?

As we’ve seen, mindfulness in our tradition is about something that is remembered—in essence, not forgetting to practice.  It’s about bearing something in mind—in this case, sangha—and not forgetting what sangha really is.  Mindfulness of sangha means remembering that we are not alone.  There are two sides to that.  One is that we have support because we can rely on dharma friends when we need to, and the other is that what we do affects others.

When we are deeply aware that we are not alone, we and others can remain steadfast in our practice.  We’re reliable, solid and committed to awakening.  North Americans sometimes don’t want to find a sangha when they begin their practice; it feels much safer to just stay home and read dharma books and maybe watch a video on how to sit.  We don’t want someone else telling us what to do.  Usually, in my experience, one of two things happens: people give up because it’s hard to practice alone, or they realizes they need to find a sangha in some form.

When we join a sangha, our initial exploration stops being a philosophical exercise and starts being a real practice.  Dharma is right here and now in people’s practice, not somewhere “out there.”  It becomes very apparent that we are not alone, whether we initially believe it or not.  During my first trip to Japan as a layperson with a rakusu, I thought sitting zazen in a Japanese temple would be really special.  I would be sitting in a “real” temple, where people had been sitting for centuries, surrounded by cinematic scenery.  Surely something extraordinary would happen—this would be “real” zazen!  Following my fantasy-filled zazen period, I went to a service, which of course was all in Japanese.  I didn’t understand any of it, but the bells were the same and my body knew what to do.  I could have been practicing with my home sangha.  I really felt that Japanese and Western practitioners were all practicing steadfastly together despite the different languages and places.  The whole idea of being special was extra, because we were really all one sangha.

When we join a sangha, at first we come to practice for our own support.  Someone lights the candle, rings the bells and offers a talk, and we come to benefit from those things.  Then we go home!  After awhile, we start to become aware of the issues and questions facing the sangha.  We start looking behind the scenes.  Wait, there’s an annual budget.  There are  various kinds of volunteer rotations, and questions about how to maintain the facilties.  Some people are managing retreats or teaching zazen to beginners or coming up with zendo guidelines.  There’s a whole community of things going on here that includes me but is bigger than just me and what I’m doing.  I’d only been practicing for about six months when I was recruited as a board member for the dharma center I was attending.  What an eye-opening!  There was so much more going on than just Sunday zazen and dharma talks!

One of my early mentors used to say to me and others when we came to practice that it was good we were there to “lend our spirit.”  Yeah, yeah, I thought, hearts and flowers stuff.  It wasn’t until some time later that I started to understand that actually, that’s really important.

Seido Roshi, the head of the temple where I trained in Japan, said: I don’t think there were so many practitioners at Koshoji [Dōgen’s temple]; it was a small group. Dōgen Zenji mentioned that we should not call a sōrin big or small depending on how many monks are practicing there. It’s not a matter of number.  Daisōrin 大叢林 ( “great sōrin“) means that there is even a small number of people who have the real authentic spirit of the Way.  This spirit is the most important thing. (1)

This all really came home to me when I was running the Milwaukee Zen Center.  Attendance at evening zazen was notoriously low.  People said, “I’d come if more people were there.”  So wait, everyone is at home waiting for someone else to make the first move?  I had to point out that if you come, others will come and practice with you.  Someone has to break that cycle of hesitation so that everyone can practice in a steadfast way.

As members of the sangha, we have some responsibility simply to show up occasionally.  We don’t have to ring bells, make tea or clean the zendo, though those things are really beneficial action for ourselves and others.  This is not about doing volunteer work.  We just have to be present to support the network of practice.  We all know that the energy is quite different in a zendo full of people sitting or chanting than in a zendo with only a few.  As much as Dogen Zenji said that it doesn’t matter whether there are a lot of monks or only a few, the reality is that if you arrive in a zendo day after day and it’s just you and the teacher and maybe a jikido, it can feel sort of forlorn and lonely.  It’s a little harder to take refuge in a sangha that’s kind of invisible.  

Of course, it’s a two-way street.  We have some responsibility to the sangha, but also it provides the container for our own practice.  I would argue it supports our development in several ways.  

• Encouragement and inspiration:  I see someone a little farther down the path than I am and feel that I can do it too.  I want to keep practicing and moving toward understanding.
• Practical help: I have a question about my zazen posture, the book I’m reading, or whether it’s time to take the precepts.  Getting practical answers can really help overcome the obstacles that can discourage us in our practice.
• Reflection of practice: I see my practice reflected in the responses of those around me, people who are on the same path that I am and know my aspiration, and provide course correction as needed.  You don’t get that practicing by yourself.  We need to know that we’re making effort in the right direction and being steadfast toward real truth and not our own ideas.  For instance, we can’t learn to lead and follow without others. 
• Cultivation of response to global suffering: I learn within the sangha to act skillfully in the face of individual and communal suffering and can take that understanding out into the world as a bodhisattva.  Again, this is difficult to do without the experience of being in a community that aspires toward wholesomeness, a community that’s willing to not just react for the short term with habituated thinking but to consider the larger impact.

We’ve talked about the manifesting and maintaining aspects of the sangha treasure; we also need to talk about the absolute aspect: all beings functioning together in peace and harmony.  We’ve seen previously that the absolute three treasures can’t be separated.  In this case, the absolute sangha treasure is the harmony of the awakened nature of all beings and the way they function according to the laws of this one unified reality. 

We can see that the sangha or the universe is one body and also many beings, one big self and also many small selves.  Just as the body is made up of cells, the absolute sangha is made up of all beings, and yet it’s still one entity.  If we don’t have a deep understanding that there is no fixed and permanent self nature that persists through time, and if we don’t have a deep understanding of dependent arising (that everything arises because of causes and conditions), then we think we can do whatever we want.  We can take as many resources and as much space as we want because we don’t see that we’re affecting others.  If one cell in the body does that, starts co-opting resources for itself and growing out of control, we call that cancer, and the whole body can die.

Sila (ethics/morality) are closely tied to sangha practice.  When we see the truth to which Buddha awakened, ethical behavior arises naturally and we don’t create disruption in the universe.  The result is non-violence, non-harming, self-restraint, and harmony in the sangha.  Sila is not something imposed from outside, but a sort of ethical compass within ourselves.  We pose no threat to another person’s life, property, family, rights, or well-being.  We simply do wholesome actions, avoid unwholesome actions, and try to benefit other beings.  If we can embody the precepts as individual bodhisattvas, chances are we will build and maintain a wholesome sangha.  Then we can take that practice out into the world and try to help create other wholesome organizations, which is not easy.  

The absolute aspect of the sangha treasure might seem like something abstract, but the reality is that it’s all about our moment by moment conduct in this life.  All sentient and insentient beings are awakened and they function according to the dharma, and it’s our job to see that and not get in the way, and then as bodhisattvas, to help others not to get in the way.

Buddhism is full of teachings about cultivating virtues that lead to skillful, ethical action, for example, the six paramitas, or perfections.  (We’ll take a much closer look at these at Gates 87 - 92.)

• Dana Paramita: generosity, giving of oneself, giving time and support where needed, when needed, with no thought of return.
• Sila Paramita: virtuous, moral behaviour. Doing what is right, at the right time. Keeping disciplined and on the right path.
• Ksanti Paramita: patience; tolerance for people, situations and experiences outside our comfort. Acceptance and forbearance.
• Virya Paramita: energy, strength and diligence to stay on the path, even when it becomes difficult and uncomfortable.
• Dhyana Paramita: concentration and self reflection; contemplation of things outside our immediate understanding.
• Prajna Paramita: wisdom, understanding, letting go of intellect and embracing emptiness.

Cultivating these things gives us a basis for seeing all beings as our sangha and seeing the interconnectedness of how they function.  Can we see all beings as awakened?  Can we see how they are interdependent, and if we do something there, there’s an effect across space and time?

If we forget about sangha, we forget about truth.  We can’t separate sangha from the truth of the reality of all beings.  If we do, we make a mistake and create suffering and dissonance in the larger organism.  In the Vimalakirti Sutra, Manjusri asks about the nature of Vimalakirti’s sickness.  He says:

From ignorance we hold attachment, and my sickness is thus caused.  Since all beings are sick, I am sick.  If they are no more sick then my sickness would cease.  And why?  A bodhisattva eters a life of birth and death for the sake of all beings; where there are birth and death, there is always sickness.  If all beings were free from sickness, then there would be no more sickness with a bodhisattva.  Just as when the only son of a wealthy merchant becomes sick, then his parents from their anxiety become sick also, and when he is restored to health, then they also recover their health; even so, a bodhisattva loves all beings as parents love an only sone.  As long as all beings are sick he is sick, when they recover their health, he also recovers his health.  Again you have asked about the cause of my sickness.  The sickness of a bodhisattva is caused only by his great compassion. (1)

If we can cultivate the wisdom to see that all sentient and insentient beings are our sangha, we have the compassion to acknowledge their suffering and try to help.  That means remaining steadfast in our practice: steadfast when we encounter incivility, short sightedness, divisiveness, false speech, misconduct, and a host of other sicknesses in our universal sangha.  The sangha is a group that is unified by something, and no matter whether we understand it or like it or not, we are all one absolute sangha treasure.

Notes
(1) “Living in the Sodo,” article by Seido Suzuki at Ancient Way.  
(2) Vimalakirti Sutra quoted in Eternal Legacy: Wisdom Beyond Words by Sangharakshita