(upbeat music) This podcast is brought to you by Free Buddhist Audio, the Dharma for real life. Our work is funded entirely by donations from our generous listeners. If you would like to help us keep this free, come and join us at freebuddhistaudio.com/community. Thank you and happy listening. - Mr. Chairman and friends, sometimes it happens that we live, as it were, we dwell very much in the present. Sometimes again, we let our thoughts go right. We think of the future. And sometimes again, we allow ourselves, the luxury, if you like, of just floating back into the past, not just a drifting back into the past. So it so happens that this afternoon, my mind goes floating back into the past. And I'm afraid it goes floating back many years. It goes back five years, 10 years, 15 years, 20 years. It goes back to the summer of 1942. Or it might have been 1941, but in either case, that's a pretty long time ago. And of course, it was here in London and it was during the war. And I remember that I'd very recently returned from the country, from the Southwest in fact. And I was at that time very deep in the study of Eastern philosophies and religions. The different systems, teachings, translations of texts. I was reading, in fact, at that time all the books on these Eastern teachings, these Eastern traditions that I could possibly get hold of, especially books on Buddhism. And it was at this time, more than 20 years ago, here in London, that I came across, I encountered two works which made a tremendous impression on me. In fact, it wasn't just a question of an impression, but even one may say an impact. One might go so far to say that reading them, just going through them for the first time was even a tremendous spiritual experience. So much so that I may even affirm that the perusal of those two works then changed radically the whole course of my life. Or perhaps I should say it made me realize for the first time what the course of my life really was. It made me realize in a word that I was a Buddhist, whatever that may mean. Now, the first of these works, the first of these tremendous works was the platform of scripture, which we in our ignorance then called the sutra of Y land. The other work was the diamond sutra. And it is, of course, with the diamond sutra that we're concerned today. And we're concerned with it, we're dealing with it not just as it were for biographical reasons, not just because I happened to be impressed by it and still am impressed by it today. We are dealing with it to be concerned with it, vitally concerned with it rather, because it is one of the most important, one of the best known, and also one of the spiritually most valuable of all the Buddhist scriptures, of all the Buddhist texts. It forms, it constitutes an integral, an essential part of the mainstream of Buddhist tradition, especially in the Mahayana Buddhist world. Whether we turn to China, whether we turn to Tibet, whether we turn to Japan, or to Mongolia, or to Korea, or to Vietnam. There we find in one language or another, one translation or another, recited almost daily, commented upon, meditated upon, explained, expounded. There we find the diamond sutra. So that if we do not have some acquaintance, at least with this great work, then we do not really, do not truly know Buddhism. Or at least it must be said that our knowledge of Buddhism is imperfect. Now Western Buddhists, whether it's Buddhists in this country, or Buddhist in the United States, or in Germany, or France, Western Buddhists have no doubt quite a lot to grumble about. Here in the West, we've no large monasteries containing hundreds of monks. Let's wait one great disadvantage we suffer from. We've no sympathetic employers to give us three month leave with pay when we want to go and meditate, which is what happens in Burma. We've no Buddhist processions, even just to enliven things, through the streets of London. We don't even have any public holidays on full moon days. And of course we've no Zen masters, and we've no cremation grounds, to visit in the moonlight. And sometimes, sad to say, it even rains during our retreats. But there's one thing at least that we can't grumble about. That we can't grumble about the lack of translations of the Dharman Sutra. There are at least eight complete translations in English alone, leaving aside those in French, German, Italian, Russian, and other languages. The first English translation of the Dharman Sutra, chronologically speaking, is that of Samuel Beale, which was published more than 100 years ago, published to be precise in the years 1864 to 65 in a journal. And the latest translation of the Dharman Sutra is that of Charles Luke, published in 1960. So we've no excuse for not at least reading this work. Our chairman referred to buying it and putting it on the shelf as it were up. That's easy enough, but we've no excuse even for not reading it, because the translations are there. Now, the full title of the work in the original Sanskrit, which is a Sanskrit Buddhist text, is Rancher Chedykar Pragnya Parameter Sutra. So let's take that. It's all one word in Sanskrit. Let's take it bit by bit backwards. First of all, what is a Sutra? S-U-T-R-A, what is a Sutra? A Sutra is simply the literary record of a discourse delivered by the Buddha, or of a dialogue in which the Buddha takes apart, usually across a leading part. And the Sutra can be either short or long, even very short or very long. Some Sutra, just a few pages, even a few lines, others go on for volume after volume after volume. And of course, there are hundreds of Sutra's. Some of them survive in the original Sanskrit, or in the original Pali. Others survive only in Chinese translations or Tibetan translations. So from just these few facts, we can begin to see that the picture is a little complex, not to say confused, but we're not going into all that sort of literary detail today. At the moment, we are more concerned with a more important question. And that is, what do we mean by Buddha? We say that a Sutra is a discourse, or a dialogue given by the Buddha. But what do we mean by Buddha? Literally, the Buddha, or a Buddha, is one who is wise. The word Buddha comes from a root meaning to know, to understand. So a Buddha is one who is wise, one who is awake, one who is in a word enlightened. But essentially, really the word means, one who knows, one who sees face-to-face reality, or one who fully and integrally experiences reality in the heights and the depths of his being. So a Sutra, a discourse given by the Buddha, a dialogue in which the Buddha takes part, is therefore not just a religious text in the ordinary sense. A Sutra is very much more than that. A Sutra represents the utterance, the word, the expression of an enlightened mind, if you like, of the enlightened mind. A Sutra is, as it were, a communication from the heart of reality, the heart of true being. It's, if you like, the truth of existence speaking, even appealing to the truth in us. So that when we read the Diamond Sutra, we are not just reading a book, not even a religious book, not even a scripture. When we read the Diamond Sutra, or in fact any Sutra, then if we are receptive, and this must be stressed again and again, if we are receptive, then we are in contact. So far as the medium of words allows, so far as our own limitations of various kinds permit in contact with a higher level of being, a higher level of consciousness. This is what the reading of the Sutra, the Diamond Sutra, really means, really represents. And we may have occasion to return to this theme a little later on. Next, the Diamond Sutra is a Pragnya Paramita Sutra. Pragnya Paramita means transcendental wisdom. Pragnya is knowledge in excelsis, or wisdom. Paramita is that which goes beyond, in other words, the transcendental, or the transcending, that which crosses over to the further shore. So Pragnya Paramita is translated, often, not only as transcendental wisdom, but as the wisdom that goes beyond. The wisdom that takes the plunge into the beyond, the plunge into the transcendental, the higher dimension, if you like. It's the wisdom that goes beyond all duality, that transcends or mind-made distinctions and divisions. And it is, of course, the fundamental thesis of Buddhism that it is by developing this wisdom, this transcendental wisdom, this wisdom that goes beyond that we gain nirvana, enlightenment, or Buddhahood, or whatever else one cares to turn it. So all the Buddhist scriptures, whether sutras or other works, all the Buddhist scriptures have some bearing on the development of transcendental wisdom, the wisdom that goes beyond. But there are some sutras which deal with it directly, which deal with it almost exclusively, deal with almost nothing else, simply and solely the perfection of wisdom, or transcendental wisdom. And these sutras, or sutras of this class, are known as Pragnya Paramita sutras, or sutras devoted to the perfection of wisdom, or transcendental wisdom. And then are altogether some 35 of these sutras devoted and dedicated to transcendental wisdom, some are long, some are short. And the diamond sutra is one of them. It's called the Pragnya Paramita sutra to indicate that it belonged to that group, that class of sutras, dealing specifically, dealing almost exclusively with transcendental wisdom, dealing with different aspects. Various aspects of transcendental wisdom. And finally, the title of the work is the Vajra Shadykar, Pragnya Paramita sutra. So what does this mean? Vajra, the first part of the word, means both diamond and thunderbolt. And the diamond or the thunderbolt occupies a quite important place in Buddhist symbolism. It also gives its name to one of the three great phases, of the development of Buddhism in India. First, as you know, came the Hinyana, the little vehicle, then the Mahayana, the great vehicle, and then the Vajrayana, the vehicle, the path, or the way of the diamond or the thunderbolt. And in Buddhist symbolism, in Buddhist thought, the Vajra, the diamond or the thunderbolt, connotes something of irresistible strength, irresistible potency, something capable of pulverizing, something capable of smashing, of shattering everything that stands in its way. And Shadykar means that which cuts, or it means a cutter. So we can now understand the meaning of the full title of the diamond sutra. The Vajra Shadykar Pragnya Paramita sutra. It means the sutra, or the discourse, on the transcendental wisdom that cuts like the thunderbolt, or cuts like the diamond. And this in turn gives us a clue to the meaning and the significance of the whole of the sutra itself. To begin with, the sutra is, by very definition, by virtue of the fact that it is termed the sutra, it is the word of the Buddha, what we call Buddha Vachana, the word or the utterance of the Buddha, the enlightened one. That is to say the diamond sutra is the expression, is an expression of the enlightened mind. It doesn't come from the ordinary mind, doesn't come from the brain, doesn't come from the logical mind, doesn't come from the lower consciousness, doesn't come from any mundane, any conditioned consciousness. The diamond sutra is the expression of the enlightened mind. And the enlightened mind is one with reality. The enlightened mind knows reality, sees reality face to face. So the diamond sutra, if you like, is a revelation, an exposition of reality itself. So that reading it, reflecting upon it, meditating upon it, bearing it in mind, we make contact. It may be through a thick veil, but we make contact so far as we are able with reality. And when we make that contact through the diamond sutra with reality, then the light of reality illumines the darkness of our hearts and the darkness of our minds. And as it illumines, the darkness of our hearts and the darkness of our minds, there appears, in this light, shining as it were, from reality, through the diamond sutra, into us, that appears, transcendental wisdom. And though we compare this transcendental wisdom to, as it were, light, it's at the same time, like a diamond, like a thunderbolt, this transcendental wisdom cuts through all our thoughts, cuts through all our ideas, all our concepts about reality. It cuts through. It destroys. It shatters, all our negative emotions, our fear, our anxiety, our anger, our jealousy, our possessiveness, our craving, our clinging. It cuts through all our negative emotions. It cuts through all our psychological conditionings, our conditionings on account of belonging to this nationality, this race speaking, this language, living in this sort of environment, and so on. It cuts through all our psychological conditionings, all our prejudices, all our metaphysical assumptions. It smashes in a word, this diamond, this thunderbolt, of transcendental wisdom, it smashes everything conditioned, everything, that stands in between us and reality, in between us and the seeing of the truth face to face. And above all, we may say, this thunderbolt, of transcendental wisdom smashes us, as we are present, know ourselves to be. When we, as we are present, experience ourselves, when we come into contact with that transcendental wisdom, then we feel its impact, like a thunderbolt as it were, smashing and destroying us. Now this, if one begins to think about it, if one begins to feel it, now this is a very terrible thing. I remember that D.H. Lawrence, in one of his points, says, it is a fearful thing to fall into the hands of the living God. They are so large, and they cradle so much of a man. Let me just read them again. It is a fearful thing, he says, to fall into the hands of the living God. Not the dead God. The living God. They are so large, and they cradle so much of a man. Not Lawrence. Being a poet expresses the matter theistically, since that was his natural idiom, as it were. But we can paraphrase that first line. It is a fearful thing to fall into the hands of the living God. We can paraphrase it in more Buddhist terms, perhaps more truly. And we can say that it's a fearful thing. We can say it's a terrible thing to get caught in the grip of reality. It's a terrible thing to get caught in the grip of transcendental wisdom. It's a terrible thing to get caught even in the grip of the diamond sutra, because once you get caught-- well, you're caught. You may wriggle and wriggle, but you can't get free. So the question arises, is one prepared for this? The question arises, does one want to get caught? Does one want to get caught? Crypt by reality, by transcendental wisdom, by the diamond sutra? If we don't, then it's better to leave the diamond sutra alone. It's even better just to leave it on the shelf, collecting dust. If we don't want to get caught, either diamond sutra is even better just to walk out of the door now. But even if we do want to get caught, even if we're happy to get caught, eager to get caught, it's better to proceed very slowly and very cautiously. Human kind cannot bear very much reality. I've quoted these words more than once before, and I make no apology for quoting them again. "Human kind cannot bear very much reality." And we certainly cannot bear very much of the diamond sutra. We can bear very little of it, in fact, if any of it. And this is why we are working our way into it, working our way into the subject, working our way into the diamond sutra very slowly. And, in fact, as our chairman said, rather anticipating what I'm going to say, though he didn't know I was going to say it, there can be no question of giving a complete, a systematic exposition of the teaching of the diamond sutra in all its depth and all its breadth, even if such an exposition could be given. Because, probably, there's not a single person in this room who could bear it. It would just be too much if some Buddha or some Bodhisattva was to come along, was to appear in mid-air as it were and start expounding the diamond sutra in its fullness and really telling us what it was all about than everybody would probably collapse in their chairs. Would have to be carried out, feet, foremost. And if ever we were to get round, if ever we do get round to really talking about the diamond sutra, then I'd suggest that we need to have the St. John's ambulance brigade standing by. So meanwhile, we're going slowly and cautiously. We've understood the meaning of the title of the sutra, and this has given us some insight into the meaning and significance of the whole work. So we'll now have a look at the literary framework of the sutra. And after that, if we feel brave enough and venturesome enough, we may just take a quick glance at some of the major insights of the sutra. But before we do that, just a few words about the text, the text of the diamond sutra, it is quite a short work. And it consists of a number of apparently unconnected paragraphs. It doesn't read smoothly and continuously, apparently, one topic leading on to the next term. You get a bit of this and a bit of that without any apparent order or sequence. The Chinese versions of the diamond sutra are divided into two parts and altogether 32 short, in fact very short, chapters. But we find no such divisions, in fact, in the original Sanskrit text. Now Han Shan, who was an enlightened Chan master of the Ming dynasty in China, makes an interesting suggestion. According to him, the Buddhist statements in the sutra, in the diamond sutra, are meant to resolve the unspoken doubts of the monk Subhouti whom he is addressing. So according to Han Shan, the actual sutra, the text of the sutra, gives only the Buddha's statements. But it does not give Subhouti's unspoken doubts in relation to which the statements were made by the Buddha. And this is the reason for the seeming, the apparent lack of connection and continuity. So in his commentary on the diamond sutra, Han Shan tries to spell out, tries to make explicit Subhouti's unspoken doubts. And in this way, make the whole sutra more connected and more intelligible to the student. Now according to Han Shan, there are 35 doubts which arose in Subhouti's mind, as he sat in front of the Buddha, which the Buddha resolved, 17 course doubts, which are dealt within part one of the sutra, and 18 subtle doubts, which are disposed of in part two. And as Han Shan interprets the sutra, when all doubts are cut off by the thunderbolt of transcendental wisdom, then one's absolute mind, which is the mind of supreme enlightenment, is revealed, is made manifest. So much than for the text of the sutra, now for its literary framework, especially the introduction. So far as form is concerned, the sutra is a dialogue. It's a dialogue between two persons. On the one hand, there's the Buddha. On the other, there's the monk, Subhouti. But Subhouti says very little, very little indeed. If Han Shan's interpretation is correct, this is simply because the dialogue is mainly between the Buddha on the one hand, and Subhouti's unspoken doubts on the other. Now there's something worthy of notice here, and that is that the dialogue is between the Buddha and Subhouti. That is to say, between God some of the Buddha, who lived 2,500 years ago, and Subhouti. In other words, the dialogue takes place between two historical characters, no mythological Bodhisattvas or other such beings are involved. In the heart sutra, well, along comes the Bodhisattva, Arloka Tespara. Then in other sutras, other perfection of wisdom or transcendental wisdom sutras, there's the Bodhisattva, Mandushri. These are mythological. If you like archetypal figures, they didn't exist historically speaking. But it isn't like that in the diamond sutra. The diamond sutra is a dialogue between two historical characters, Gautam of the Buddha and Subhouti. And this fact suggests something of great significance. It suggests that so far as this sutra, at least is concerned, we are firmly on the historical plane. We're not in some higher heavenly world. We're not in some remote Buddha field. We are here on this earth. On the historical plane. We find ourselves in this sutra in the midst of the everyday. One might even say, the worker day worked. And in this sutra, we are concerned with a communication, if you like, between two live human beings, the Buddha, an enlightened human being, Subhouti, a non-enlightened, but a nearly enlightened human being on the other hand. This is not a dialogue between personified virtues or archetypes or spiritual symbols, but between human beings. And this is born out. This fact is born out by the introduction to the sutra. Let me read the actual words. The sutra begins like this. "Thus have I heard at one time, the Lord," I'm glad it was a go to Mr. Buddha, "dwell to shravasti, in the Jaita Grove, in the garden of a nathapindica, together with a large gathering of monks, consisting of 1,250 monks, and with many bodhisattvas, great beings. Early in the morning, the Lord dressed, put on his cloak, took his ball, and entered the great city of shravasti to collect arms. When he had eaten and returned from his round, the Lord put away his ball and cloak, washed his feet, and sat down on the seat arranged for him, crossing his legs, holding his body upright, and mindfully fixing his attention in front of him. Then many monks approached to where the Lord was, saluted his feet with their heads. Thrice walked round him to the right, and sat down at one side. So could anything be simpler? Could anything be quieter? Could anything be more subdued, if you like, than this little introduction? One might say that it's almost Greek, almost doric even, in its severity, in its simplicity. And this is significant, this is meaningful. Because after all, the diamond sutra is a Mahayana sutra. And the Mahayana sutras usually begin very splendidly, indeed. The scene of many Mahayana sutras as described in their introductions is very often laid in some higher heavenly world. And we open with a magnificent description, usually, of how the Buddha sits there in all his glory, on a great elaborate lotus throne, as surrounded not only by monks and nuns, but by millions upon millions of non-human beings, in their various orders, all in attendance. And then the Mahayana sutra, at the beginning, usually describes how, before the Buddha opens his mouth, how, before he preaches, all sorts of wonderful things happen. All sorts of miracles occur. They often describe how, down from the sky, they come falling and raining, great golden flowers called mandaravas that are as big as a cartwheel, and thousands of these come floating down. And then we're told very often that Buddhas and Bodhisattvas start arriving from other worlds, other universes. They've heard, on some sort of intergalactic Bodhisattva, a radio, as it were, that the Buddha, Gautama and the Buddha, here is going to give a discourse, and they come flocking in from all quarters of the universe, and then the sutra describes this. And then it describes sometimes how a great ray of light issues from the Buddha's forehead when he's in meditation, and circles all around the universe, billions of billions of miles, and then comes back and hovers over the heads of every person in the assembly. So this is the usual opening of a Mahayana sutra, very gorgeous, very splendid, very mythological, full of symbolism, full of light, full of color, full of music, full of perfume. But here, in the diamond sutra, there's absolutely nothing of all that, absolutely nothing. Here, in the introduction to the diamond sutra, everything is simple, everything is natural, everything is ordinary, it's even prosaic. And if we just think, if we just close our eyes, we can even, as if we're imagine the scene. We can imagine the group of huts in somebody's garden, a few miles out of the city, in somebody's grove. We can just see as it were the Buddha in his yellow robes, staying there with his disciples. And some of the disciples, no doubt, were not living in the huts. They were camping out in the open air under the trees. And if we just watch, if we just imagine a bit further, we can as it were see the Buddha, that's quietly leaving his hut early in the morning, maybe at nine o'clock, and walking all the way into the city, and then in the city, just going quietly from door to door with his begging ball, just receiving whatever was given, a few handfuls of rice, a little curry, and so on. And then we can imagine him retiring to a grove of trees nearby, quietly eating what he had gathered, and then slowly and meditatively, walking back to his hut, just lying down, resting for a while, then getting up, then sitting outside and meditating. And then we can see, then we can imagine in the cool of the evening, the disciples from their huts, their begging rounds also over, their meal also finished, just gathering round, just waiting and just listening. And then subouti speaks. So this is the setting. This is the very simple. This is the very natural. This is almost the humble setting for the astounding, for the staggering discourse that follows. There are no signs, there are no wonders, no miracles, no lights appearing in the sky. Everything is so simple, so natural, so ordinary. And what does this mean? What does this simplicity mean? What does this naturalness mean? This ordinariness mean? Because it certainly means something. Every word in a suit from means something. And those who often people skip over the introductions, do get at the meat of the sutra as it were, and they miss half the significance of the whole thing. Because as I've observed in some other connection, I think in connection with the heart sutra, the frame here is part of the picture, and it shouldn't be ignored. So this simplicity, this naturalness of the introduction, describing the opening scene of the sutra, means that reality is to be experienced in the midst of everyday life, ordinary life, everyday life. Because there's just nowhere else to experience it. If you experience, if you are to experience reality anywhere, it can only be here. If you are to experience it at any time, it can only be now. So it's here and now. Don't let one's attention be diverted to higher heavenly worlds. Yes, the symbolism is very beautiful, it's very meaningful, but don't misunderstand it. It's here and it's now that we have to realise, that we have to see, that we have to attain. So it also means this simple description, this opening scene of the sutra. It means that ultimately, reality, transcendental reality, and everyday life are non-different. You don't have to get away from the conditioned, in order to realise the unconditioned. It's the conditioned in its depth, which is the unconditioned. Or as the heart sutra says, form is emptiness, i.e. reality, and emptiness is form. Our everyday life may be whatever it may be. It may be pleasurable, it may be painful. It may be wildly ecstatic, or it may be unbearably agonising. Or again, it may be just plain dull and boring, most of the time. But it is here, in the midst of all these experiences, good, bad and indifferent, pleasurable, painful and neutral, it's in the midst of all these experiences, and nowhere else, the enlightenment that Buddha would is to be attained. And this is what the introduction to the sutra, in its own way, is trying to tell us. And in a sense, this is the whole message of the sutra. The whole message of the Dharma sutra. And perhaps we really need not go any further than this. If we grasp this, if we understand this, if we take this as the message, that the Dharma sutra is trying to communicate to us, or that the Buddha is trying to communicate to us in the Dharma sutra, then perhaps it will be quite enough. And we need not go, as I've said, any further. However, for the sake at least of formal completeness, let us proceed. Another point is that the Buddha delivers the Dharma sutra in the open air. Now, have we ever noticed this? Those of us who read the sutra, have we ever considered the significance of this fact? That the Buddha habitually taught in the open air? Now, here are we sitting in a room, and listening to a talk, listening to a discourse. Well, this is not what happened in the Buddha s day. The Buddha himself habitually, as I've said, taught in the open air, here in his disciples lived, in fact, for the most part in the open air. For nine months of the year, they wandered about from place to place, on foot, of course. They wandered through forests. They took their time. They rested under trees. They meditated under trees. They climbed mountains. They crossed rivers. Sometimes they went into villages, usually just once a day to collect food. Sometimes they might go into preach and to teach. And then only for some three or four months of the year, at most during the rainy season, when one couldn't go around very easily, did they stay indoors? And even then, what did indoors mean? It didn't mean a house. Indors meant in a cave or in a hut in somebody's garden, or maybe on the outskirts of the forest. So how simple was life in those days? One just had, if one was a monk, one's three robes and one's bowl. And that was all you needed to get by with. Perhaps also a needle and a water strainer. There were no houses for one. There were no mortgages. No telephone or telephone bills. No television. No refrigerator. No car. No radio. No newspapers. No books. Not even the diamond suit. So life being simpler, thinking was simpler too. Minds in those days were unclatter. They were undistracted. And great truths were more easily surely apprehended. So we ought to be aware of all this. Aware of the great parts that life in the open air played in the lives of the Buddha and his disciples. Now we should be aware that there's not so as to discourage ourselves, of course. Not so as to make us think that it was easy then to develop transcendental wisdom, but difficult if not impossible now. No, we should be aware of this so that we can realize, perhaps, how many factors have arisen between us and enlightenment since the Buddha's day. A fact is which are not part of the normal human existence, but rather of a highly artificial way of life. Now let us come on to Subruti. He's the other person in the dialogue, but we haven't said much about him. The introduction represents him, as we've seen, as rising from his seat, putting his upper robe over one shoulder, kneeling on his right knee, bending forth his folded hands towards the Buddha. In other words, Subruti shows the Buddha the most profound respect. And what does this mean? It means that Subruti is receptive. And receptivity is the first requisite of the disciple, indeed, of anyone who would learn anything. You can be anything else you like. You can be wicked, you can be stupid, you can be full of faults, full of weaknesses. You may backslide, you may make mistakes, but in a sense, it doesn't matter. But one must be spiritually receptive. One must be willing and ready to learn. One must know that one does not know, and then everything is possible. So Subruti had this great quality, this great quality of receptivity. And perhaps it's for this reason that the Diamond Sutra is addressed to him. Subruti was also highly appreciative of the Buddha. And the first words that Subruti speaks in the Sutra through the Buddha are significantly words of praise. So Subruti says, "It is wonderful, O Lord. "It is exceedingly wonderful, O well-gone, "how much the Bodhisattvas, the great beings, "have been helped with the greatest help "by the Tathagata, the Arahat, the fully enlightened one. "It is wonderful, O Lord, how much the Bodhisattvas, "the great beings have been favored "with the highest favor by the Tathagata, "the Arahat, the fully enlightened one." These are Subruti's first words through the Buddha, words of praise, words of appreciation. Subruti appreciates what the Buddha has done for his disciples, especially for the great Bodhisattvas. He appreciates the help that the Buddha has given them. And he realizes that the disciples have been favored. There's no question of giving them what they deserve, right? Nothing conditioned can deserve the unconditioned. It's simply that the Buddha's compassion overflows without any consideration of minute. So it is of the utmost importance that we shall preserve this sense of wonder at the gift of the teaching. It's so easy, we may say, for the wrong sort of familiarity to breed content. We might, for instance, have heard of some wonderful sutra that had never been translated before. And then suddenly you hear, there's an English translation, now you can read it. So you're very happy and very eager, with great interest, with great enthusiasm, with great faith, you get hold of that and you read it, and you're so pleased to have it, because this is your first chance to go through it. But if you're not careful, after a while, you'll become careless. The wonder of it will wear off. The enthusiasm will die down. You'll no longer be so interested, also appreciative. You'll no longer value so highly the opportunity that you have of reading that newly translated sutra. So we should watch this, we should be careful of this, and make sure that the wrong sort of familiarity does not breed, even if not content, at least not breed even in difference and carelessness. Now having praised the Buddha, and only after having praised the Buddha, Subhuti puts to the Buddha his first question. And he asks, "How then, O Lord, "should a son or daughter of good family, "who have set out in the Bodhisattva vehicle stand? "How progress, how control their thoughts?" And it's with the Buddha's reply to this question, that the main body of the sutra begins, and it's here that we encounter the first of the great insight that the sutra contains. So let's see what the Buddha says in reply to Subhuti's first question. The Lord said, "Here, Subhuti, "someone who has set out in the vehicle of a Bodhisattva "should produce a thought in this manner. "As many beings as there are in the universe of beings, "comprehended under the term beings, "egg bone, born from a womb, moisture bone, "or miraculously bone, with or without form, "with perception, without perception, "and with neither perception nor non-perception, "as far as any conceivable form of beings "is conceived, all these I must lead to Nirvana, "into the realm of Nirvana, which leaves nothing behind." And yet, although innumerable beings have thus been led to Nirvana, no being at all has been led to Nirvana. And why? If anybody sat for the notion of a being should take place, he could not be called a Bodhis being. And why? He is not to be called a Bodhis being, in whom the notion of a self, or of a being should take place, or the notion of a living soul, or of a person. So this is perhaps the Supras fundamental insight. The insight that is to say that beings do not exist. In other words, that we do not exist. That's a rather staggering idea to come up against, isn't it? That our present mode of perception, our present mode of consciousness, even of being, that tells us, "I am I," is false, is wrong. Now, the question arises, do we take this statement seriously? We hear that beings do not exist, that we do not exist. So do we take this statement seriously? Can we even take it seriously? Are we prepared, in other words, for this is it we're blotting out, as it would appear to be, of our present existence? Are we prepared for what is sometimes called the spiritual death? Because if there's no spiritual death, then there's no spiritual birth, or rebirth. Now, in the passage quoted, the Buddha goes even beyond this. The Buddha makes a highly paradoxical statement, and incidentally, the whole Pragñā partamitā literature, the whole literature dealing with transcendental wisdom, is full of paradoxes. And this paradoxical statement of the Buddha's is about the Bodhisattva. The Bodhisattva represents, of course, as those who attended a last course of lectures will remember, represents the spiritual ideal of Buddhism in general, no Mahayana in particular. A Bodhisattva is one who seeks to gain enlightenment, not for his own sake merely, but for the good and the benefit of all. So what is it that the Buddha says? He says that the Bodhisattva should resolve to lead all beings to nirāṇa, to help them, to guide them, to teach them, to lead them in such a way that they all reach nirāṇa, they all reach enlightenment of Buddhahood. And second, the Buddha says, the Bodhisattva should realize that in reality, no being exists. First one is exhorted to lead all beings to enlightenment, to nirāṇa, then you're told to see that no beings exist. So obviously, there's a contradiction, and there's meant to be a contradiction here, and this contradiction is meant to express the very essence of the Bodhisattva ideal. Usually, we think of compassion as directed towards individuals. You see individuals so and so, suffering perhaps, and then your compassion or your pitiless arises. But the Bodhisattva does not perceive individuals. The Bodhisattva perceives the truth of selflessness. He perceives the truth of non-individuality, the truth of emptiness, that it is a shunnyatā. And out of this perception, this perception of non-individuality, selflessness, emptiness, out of this perception, this realization, if you like, that his compassion arises, the compassion which we perceive, which we interpret as compassion for individuals. Now, this fundamental insight of the sutra that beings do not exist, this insight into the truth of selflessness or emptiness is worked out in the sutra in various ways, has various fields of application. And we shall now turn to some of them, and then conclude. Following Dr. Konza, we may say that in the diamond sutra, the Buddha establishes the doctrine or the teaching or the realization rather of selflessness or emptiness in an ontological, a psychological and a logical perspective. So let us take each one of these in time. Ontologically, the doctrine of selflessness or emptiness means that no such thing as a separate entity exists. There's nothing which is really and truly and absolutely separate and itself. In pre-Mahayana Buddhist thought, the alleged separate real entities were technically known as dharmas. And we therefore have the Mahayana counter teaching, as we may call it, of Sarva dharma shunyata, or all dharmas are empty. And this means, or this statement means, that separate entities do not really exist. Habitually, of course, we chop reality up into bits. We split it up. We divide it. We distinguish one thing from another. This is this. That is that. Then we start preferring this to that, liking this more than that, choosing this rather than that, sticking to this and not to that. But this, according not only to the dharmas, sutta, but to the whole Buddhist tradition, is wrong. One should try instead to see things, not exactly as one. You don't reduce all difference to unity, blotting out the difference. But one should try to see things as sort of somehow interfeused. In this connection, there's the very beautiful simile of the Gandhavura sutta, of the intersecting beams of light. It's said that in reality things are like beams of light that mutually intersect. You've got beams of light is it where, flashing in all directions, shining in all directions, beams of light of different colors, red light, blue light, green light, yellow light, a ray of this color, a beam of that color, in all directions, crossing and criss-crossing. Now, what happens? One ray of light, one beam of light, does not obstruct any of the others. It all shines through one another. They're not lost or merged in one great light. No, they all maintain, as it were, their separate individuality. But their separate individuality is often no obstruction to interpenetration by other individuality. So that they're all mutually interpenetrating. So we should see things, we should see reality like that, not chopped up as it were, into mutually exclusive bits, but see all things as interfeusing and interpenetrating, one another, with neither individuality final, nor unity final, but both there, without obstruction, to each other at the same time. Now, the fact that separate entities do not really exist also negates the traditional categories of Buddhist thought. Buddhist thought uses various terms, it speaks of the Buddha, the Buddhist subject from merit, wisdom, and so on. But the sutra says, one should not think that these terms refer to any fixed or absolute or final entities. All these terms, which Buddhism itself uses, are just devices or piers, to help us on our way. They have a provisional value only, not an ultimate value, not an absolute value. And this, of course, brings us right back to the famous parable of the raft, in which the dharma, the teaching, is compared to a raft, it's something to carry you across to the other shore, and then to be abandoned. It also brings us back to Zen. There's a story, some of you, no doubt, note, that a disciple asked a Zen master, "If I met the Buddha, what should I do?" No doubt the disciple taught the master, or he should bow down and worship him. But the master said, "If you meet the Buddha, kill him." So what does this mean? It means, if you're really set on enlightenment, on Buddhahood, as we call it, don't let even the concept of Buddha stand between you and enlightenment. We might even go so far to say, there's nothing which stands between people and realization of reality, so much as religion. Because it's meant to help them. And then they get stuck in their hopes, and don't go beyond. So there's nothing which hinders you so much in your search for reality, as those things that help you. So Buddhism is probably unique in seeing this so clearly, and trying to sweep out of the way, to clear the path leading to enlightenment, even of Buddhism itself. No doubt you need Buddhism for a long time, you need your prayers, and your meditations, and your scriptures, and your chanting, and you need even your social gatherings, and your retreats, and you need to use Buddhist terms, and Buddhist ideas, and you think, Buddhistically, but in the end, you have to go beyond it, or in the end you have to sweep it all aside, and just be left as it were on your own, without even Buddhism, to guide you and to help you before you can fully encounter reality. So this is just another aspect of this ontological application of selflessness, or emptiness, or shrimlita. Now psychologically, the doctrine of selflessness means that we should not be attached anywhere, should not stand or settle down anywhere, should not depend on anything, should not lean on anything, or take anything as a support. Because after all, if entities do not really exist, there's nothing for us to depend on anyway. But it's very hard for us to realize this, we usually, we nearly all the time, want to depend on something, settle down somewhere, anywhere. So often you hear people say, especially later on, "I'd like to settle down." It's not just material, it's psychological, it's even spiritual, they want to find some cozy corner, some little nest, where they can be all warm and secure, and say, "Well, here I am, nothing can shake me." It's like a little bird in its nest on a bow, thinking, "Well, this is actually fixed." But of course it isn't quite like this, it isn't possible. But sooner or later, secure as we fancy ourselves, safe as we fancy ourselves, our supports are rudely pulled out from underneath us, and then of course we have to suffer. So the diamond structure says, or suggests that we develop an attitude, which is detached, which doesn't settle down anywhere, which doesn't try to establish itself anywhere, which is free, which is as it were flowing, which is completely spontaneous, not spontaneous in the sense of impulsive or irresponsible. It should be a sort of spiritual spontaneity, arising out of, freely and creatively arising out of, a realization of the truth of selflessness and emptiness. Now thirdly and lastly, logically, the doctrine of selflessness means that irrational thought is transcended. The basis of traditional logic, we may say, both in the western and the east, is the law of contradiction, that a thing cannot be both A and not A at the same time in the same sense. It can't be both say black and not black at the same time. But the sutra says, "Oh yes it can." The sutra says, "A thing is itself, it is what it is, it is because it is not itself, it is not what it is." It is A because it is not A. It is A because it is not A. In other words, according to the sutra, logic is abrogated. Reason breaks down. Not that reason is of no use at all. It's very useful indeed in the affairs of everyday life. But it's of no use at all where ultimate reality is consent. If you want to saw in the white, if you want to wring our way through the void, we must leave reason, leave logic far behind. And this is not easy to accept. It's even easy to misunderstand. There's no question of submerging. There's no question of a descent into irrationality. We must rise above reason, above logic, not for not sink, be light. And only then will transcendental wisdom develop. Only then we shall, shall we really apprehend the message of the diamond, sutra. Now much more could be set, but we must close now. We've touched, I'm afraid, we can touch. In fact, only the fringes of a vast subject. We simply cannot do more than this. To employ similarly, we may say that the diamond sutra is like the sun. Like the great sun shining in the sky. We know that if we approach to near the sun, by a few miles, we shall be blinded. We shall be scorched. We shall be consumed. But if we are receptive, if we keep, as it were, a respectful distance, then even from a distance, we can perceive the light of the sun. We can feel the warmth of the sun. And the diamond sutra is like this. If we keep a sort of respectful distance from it, don't go too near. We can feel the warmth of that teaching, the compassion as it were. We can see, we can perceive the light, the wisdom as it were, the transcendental wisdom. And one day, perhaps, we shall be ready to plunge right into the heart of this sun to become one with this sun. Because then, we shall be spiritually dead, and at the same time, never more spiritually alive. And then we shall have fulfilled the word of the Buddha in the diamond sutra. We hope you enjoyed the talk. Please come and help us keep this free at freebuddhistaudio.com/community. And thank you. [MUSIC PLAYING] [MUSIC PLAYING] [MUSIC PLAYING] [MUSIC PLAYING] [BLANK_AUDIO]
