Buddhist Prayer

*This post originally appeared on DH back in 2010. The conversation back then was rich, so I decided to repost it today.

We had a ceremony this morning at zen center commemorating the Parinirvana, or physical death day, of the Buddha. It was a short ceremony, attached to our regular children's precept ceremony, but I noticed that, at one point, the doan (basically a chanting leader), spoke in language that could be called a prayer. He said something to the effect of "May Shakyamuni Buddha continue to support and lead us through our lives." Now, it's important to note that there isn't a belief here of a deity hovering over our world, determining what is happening and what will happen in the future. If anything, a statement like this is calling forth the buddhanature - enlightened energy - within each of us to continue to manifest in our lives.

About a week ago, there was a post over at Barbara's Buddhism Blog about prayer in Buddhism. She basically takes the stance that we Buddhists do not pray because prayer assumes a petitionary stance towards some outward deity or spirit. In the comments section that follows the post, there's a fascinating set of exchanges between Barbara and a commenter named Jeff Wilson. Wilson brings up that many Japanese Zen practitioners, in everyday life, make petitionary prayers in daily life to such figures as Kwan Yin, Jizo, and other bodhisattvas, while at the same time, believing in the core Buddhist doctrine of interdependence. He parses this activity out as an example of working within the relative or practical world, while at the same time, maintaining the ultimate view that there is nothing separate in this world. Barbara was having none of that, and defended her position, getting snotty at the end in my opinion.

All of this, though, raises the question for me of why such discomfort with the word "prayer" and activities that would fall under it's domain? I don't get it. Possibly it's tied up the definition Barbara seems to give, that prayer is basically done towards the outside, suggesting a belief in a supernatural being having an ability to control some aspect of your life. Well, maybe. But does it have to be? Can one not pray, even petition for something or some quality, but from within?

I'd answer a resounding yes! Look at the old Sufi poets, who spoke constantly of God, but were often, if not exclusively "praying" to wake up what was already within them. I "pray" to Jizo fairly frequently, especially to call from within me that equanimity that seems to disappear when I am biking in traffic.

The fuss I have seen when it comes to prayer - and I've seen it in people in my own sangha, as well as people writing online - seems curiously limiting to me. Because those monotheistic folks do prayer, we Buddhists better eschew it. Or because it sounds like a petition to a deity, we better say we don't do it. Or because Buddhists are about meditation, we don't pray. Honestly, I can only guess at the myriad of reasons for eschewing prayer in all forms, but it all seems like a reaction to other traditions, an act of separating Buddhism from other spiritualities, which seems like a waste of time and energy to me.

In her post, Barbara suggests that Zen folks don't pray, but we do "invoke." The main definitions of invoke are "to petition for help or support," or "to appeal to or cite as authority." Sounds like prayer if you ask me. And I see no issue with it at all. My petitions to Jizo do not change my view that there is no separate God out there. And I can imagine that plenty of Buddhists around the world can invoke, or pray, to any number of deities and still maintain a similar understanding. And maybe some do think there are separate bodhisattvas floating around out there, protecting and helping people. I guess I'm not all that interested in judging these folks as "wrong practitioners" for believing in such things.

*Jizo image from the Michigan Aikido blog.

Being Stingy With Discomfort

Over at Notes from a Burning House, Algernon offers a somewhat different take on the issues of race and religious intolerance. It's a refreshing, dharma-centric post that includes the following:

Discussions of race are hard because there is a stigma about feeling uncomfortable. If you admit that you feel uncomfortable with people who look, smell, or live differently than you do, someone might jump on you and equate you with the KKK. So people don't "go there." And it's a shame, because "going there" in an atmosphere of compassion and wisdom would really clear the air, benefit us as individuals and a society.

But admitting to discomfort and living with discomfort are, in themselves, troubling ideas. We are trained to believe that happiness is the elimination of discomfort. Impossible, kids. This idea of "happiness" itself arises from the noble truth of discomfort.

It is okay to be uncomfortable with the Islamic community center in lower Manhattan, even though they have a right to build it. It is okay to be uncomfortable with Glenn Beck's rally, too, but if you're feeling angry -- have a read of Dr. King's speech. The sad love for humanity in that speech, and its great purpose, extend to the Glenn Beck followers of the world, too.

I totally agree with Algernon that we need to be willing to "go there" more often. It's an essential step, both individually and collectively, to making peace. Not some powder puff, shiny happy people kind of peace, but true peace - the kind that comes through a liberation of hearts and minds.

Let's step back from these large scale issues, and look at the more mundane, daily life kind of experiences.

When you sit zazen, how often does discomfort arise? And when it comes, how do you approach it?

When you are with family or friends, how often does discomfort arise, and how do you approach it when it comes?

When you are with co-workers or others you know, but not very well, how often does discomfort arise, and how do you approach it when it comes?

When you are with strangers, how often does discomfort arise and how do you approach it when it comes?

Is there any situation in life that is free of discomfort? Don't just believe Algernon's comments above about discomfort, check for yourself. Start with yourself, when you are alone, or not deliberately engaged with others.

I'm really interested in this issue of not "going there." How so many of us, myself included, get hooked on the idea that the best life is one free of discomfort and dis-ease. And how when those things are present, we either press them into hiding, or we exaggerate the hell out of one surface aspect. The eighth precept speaks about not being stingy with anything, but how many of us practitioners actually share freely our experiences of discomfort and disease? And even more importantly, do so in a way that isn't imposing or dumping upon others?

When I look at all of this through the eighth precept, it's pretty clear to me that I'm often possessive, often stingy when it comes to discomforts and disease. Sharing these experiences, especially when they are full blown in the moment often scares the crap out of me. I don't want to appear to be a mess. Sometimes, I fear rejection. Other times, I'm worried about having to fend off unwanted offers of "help." Mostly though, when I think about it, I'm stingy because I don't expect anyone to truly listen to whatever is occurring for me - and unfortunately, this is often the case in life.

The reality is that every moment of sharing is a moment of risk taking. There's no way to know how anything you say or do will be taken, even by your mother, lifelong partner, or best friend. So, all you can really do is assess the situation, feel out if the timing might be right, and then decide whether to share or not.

I think a large part of the reason why the big social issues go round and round with variations on the same old story is that each of is doing much the same in our own lives. Leaping on fear and hate bandwagons is so much easier than sitting with a sense of being exiled from one's self, which is another way to look at discomfort.

How often does exile arise for you, and when it comes, how do you approach it?

I plan on sitting with this question for awhile. If you'd like, please join me.