The
flood waters were rising and some of the huts at the river’s edge were
beginning to be swept away. Villagers began to panic as they came face
to face with the foolishness of having built their village against a
sheer cliff at water’s edge. Many of them began running frantically back
and then forth along the river bank beside themselves with indecision,
some of these overloaded with small children and belongings. Others
backed away from the rushing waters up to the cliffs, looking helpless
and forlorn. Those in denial went about their normal business as if this
day had brought nothing newsworthy.
The
chief, ever courageous, emerged from his hut, assessed the situation by
scanning the length of the river with discerning eyes, grabbed up his
youngest daughter in one hand and his embellished staff of authority in
the other, and shouted,
“Follow me, villagers!”
He
had picked a point along the shore at which he plunged boldly and
confidently into the water at a right angle headed directly for the
opposite shore. He waded deeper and deeper as the water reached his
waist, then his chest, but his determination remained unaltered. Many
others followed immediately behind, holding belongings and frightened
children over their heads, leading horses and beleashed dogs a-paddle.
However,
the more timid waited at the shore and watched the chief’s progress,
while others, the even more panic stricken, continued to run up and down
the shore, and others, the flood deniers, went about their normal
business too stunned to note the chief’s actions. Gradually the chief
and his closest followers, having nearly disappeared below the waves,
began to ascend as they approached the opposite river bank. But by this
time the waters had risen even urther, many of the trailing timid were
tragically swept away in the raging waters for having hesitated,
followed soon by the panicked and by the deniers. The chief had saved
half of the villagers.
We
live in a relentlessly uncertain world yet need to make decisions in
that world. It is the rare decision indeed that comes with absolute
certitude. Trust17 is that which bridges the gap between the little we
actually know and the plenty we would need to know in order to make a
decision of guaranteed outcome. Trust belongs to the nuts and bolts of
human cognition. We may try to bring as much discernment as possible
into our trust but in the end we necessarily make a jump, big or little,
into the unknown,
“[Gulp] Well, here goes!”
In
this way we have entrusted ourselves, for better or worse, to our baby
sitters, to our teachers, to our accountant, to TV pundits, to our
dentist, to the authority of science, and for fewer and fewer of us to
our national leaders. Or we put our trust in alternatives to all of
these. We have no choice whether to trust, only who or what to trust.
In
fact, we grow up, before we know it, trusting a mass of tacit and
unexamined assumptions instilled at such a young age that we later
forget that they are tacit and unexamined, that they are products of
trust. Moreover, in this modern age of mass media and mass marketing,
values have become cheap, manufactured at will and instilled into us
electronically, planted and cultivated by the marketers one year then
overturned the next to plant something new. We worship celebrities for
no good reason other than that they are celebrities, we celebrate greed,
we obsess over hair and clothes, our cars and personal entertainment
centers are our shrines, we are taught from the youngest age that “good”
is inevitably expressed through the barrel of a gun because that is all
that the “bad” understand. In this modern age we are mired in trust,
but this trust is almost entirely implicit, unexamined and undiscerning,
and largely consciously manipulated by others to their own ends. It
requires ample blind faith.
Many
people place trust in a rational mind that can keep its options open
until certitude is realized. That is timidity. There is no more
discernment in timidity than there is in denial or in blind faith, for
in timidity we invariably fall back into our tacit unexamined
assumptions, the biases and conditioning we inevitably grew up with
before we could have recognized what they were. Timidity is in effect to
place certitude in those biases and conditioning as providing reliable
standards for interpreting what lies beyond, then to proceed in baby
steps from there. Courage is to place our trust elsewhere, even if just
as a working assumption or thought experiment to see what it feels like.
Discerning courage is to add reason to this.
There
is no getting around trust in an uncertain world. Life-altering
decisions generally arise from a sense of urgency that demand big acts
of trust and therefore enormous courage; they are way beyond the reach
of the timid or of the deniers who cling fearfully to their certitude.
This is the courage of the great explorers, of the hippies of yore on
quest in India with nothing but a backpack, and more commonly of the
betrothed or of the career bound, stirred by deep longing or by
desperation. The Buddhist Path fully embraced by one resolved to ascend
the stem toward Awakening will shake one’s life to the core and this
will demand particularly courageous trust.
And
so, trust in the Triple Gem must be great enough to overcome our tacit
and unexamined trust. We do best to embark on the exploration of the
Sasana from the vantage point of the Buddha, not from that of Madison
Avenue, John Wayne or Rupert Murdoch. We do best to replace wild and
random influences with those upheld in Buddhism from the outset. Since
trust is unavoidable, replacing unexamined trust with discerning trust
is generally a good idea. It is the alliance of trust and discernment
that reaches furthest.
Trust
in the Triple Gem is, moreover, essential for bending our minds around
Buddhism, because Buddhism includes difficult understandings and
practices to internalize. Until we understand what it is the Buddha
realized, what it is the Buddha taught and what it is the Sangha has
upheld for one hundred generations, we cannot be certain where this way
of life and Path of practice will lead us. Until we have experienced
deeply this way of life and traveled far on this Path of practice we
will not understand what the Buddha understood, taught and entrusted to
the Sangha. Therefore, until we have experienced this way of life and
traveled far on this path we require trust, ardent trust in the Triple
Gem, to nourish our Buddhist aspirations and practice, just as sun,
water and soil nourish a flower. Trust in the Triple Gem is what first
turns our heads toward virtue, wisdom and peace.
Those
born into Buddhist cultures and families commonly learn trust in the
Triple Gem from infancy, before they possess the gift of discernment. It
is the job of the Sasana to ensure that the discernment of others,
particularly of the Noble Ones, stands behind the notions and values
imparted to the little ones. For others, particularly those coming to
Buddhism as adults, the initial seed of trust is often found in little
things. Sariputta, who would one day become the Buddha’s leading
disciple in wisdom, gained his initial trust in the Buddha simply by
observing the deportment of one of the early Noble Ones on alms round.
Many of us in the West who are not born Buddhists gain the initial trust
through encounters with Buddhists, who often exhibit profound peace and
kindness, or through the profundity that shines through the Buddha’s
teachings, even before we grasp more than a hint of their import. Bold
at first, that trust will grow progressively more discerning and acquire
more confidence with experience.
There
is great drama in these great decisions, initially urgency and fear,
then reflection, then commitment, then outcome. Where trust is ongoing,
devotion or veneration might follow. The resolution to trust is
experienced as a sudden relief, carrying the taste of safety. The
uncertainty that has given rise to fear and urgency may not yet be
eliminated, but once urgency has turned to commitment, worry can be
relinquished. The sense of ease is a refuge, a sense of entrusting
oneself, much as we as children entrust our well-being to our parents.
The trust we place in the Triple Gem often arises from a sense of
urgency as great as that of the villagers in the story above. This is
called in Pali saṃvega, a kind of horror at the realization of the full
nature and depth of the human condition.18 It is said that the
Buddha-to-be experienced samvega when, as a somewhat frivolous Nepalese
playboy, he learned, to his dismay, of sickness, of old age and of
death, and in response began his quest, like the hippies of yore, to
India. Samvega arises when we lose our capacity for denial, which is a
likely outcome when frivolity ceases. The Buddha-to-be then recognized
at the sight of a wandering ascetic an option that gave rise to the bold
resolution to address his despair. It is said that he then experienced a
sense of calm relief that in Pali is called pasada, the antidote to the
distress of samvega.
Underlying
the metaphors of both Refuge and Gem is, in fact, protection or safety.
A refuge at the Buddha’s time was understood as the protection provided
by a mentor, patron or benefactor in return for a vow of allegiance.19
Gems, similarly, were generally believed to have special protective
properties. Refuge in the Triple Gem represents, particularly for those
not born Buddhist, a bold decision to entrust oneself to a way of life,
understanding and practice that will at first have all the uncertainty
and mystery that virgin territory has to the explorer or that a deep and
dark cave has to the spelunker. Just as a plan of action is a refuge to
relieve the panic of the castaway or of those buried in rubble,
entrusting oneself to a Path of practice toward Awakening provides a
refuge from samvega.
But is this a trust that arises out of wise reflection and discernment?