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Call for investigation into allegations of sexual misconduct by Dagri Rinpoche


#21

Sorry to say , to be neutral , it appears when someone sign the petition one already believes Dagri is guilty otherwise no one really knows the truth yet .


#22

Bhante, it was my understanding that within the first four Nikayas slander meant, in part, publicly identifying individuals. Its late and I cant quite remember where or why I thought this, but I thought that it was proper from an early Buddhist context to name the skillful or unskillful action or dhamma, but not to name the person, at lead for monastics. One of the reasons I guess I thought this was because of the idea of solidifying identity upon the person who is being called out. I know I grappled with this issue within the spectrum of political discourse relatively recently, how to talk about the cultural or societal injustices or problems without scapegoating specific individuals.


#23

Speaking only for myself, of course, as someone who signed the petition, I am very much aware of the prevalence of sweeping things like allegations of sexual misconduct under the rug. Of another house. In a neighboring country. As such, and because I believe people are capable of making bad choices, and Dagri Rinpoche is a person, I lent my voice to the call for a proper investigation.


#24

The presumption of innocence is a legal presumption. I feel that this approach can lead to a kind of “bypassing,” where the legitimate claims of victims are discounted. Victims end up re-traumatized when the factual perpetrators are considered innocent, and their lackeys and enablers form protective committees around them, claiming to investigate the acts in question. I don’t know any of the facts of this case, but I’ve been involved in assisting with some other cases of clergy abuse, and the efforts made by religious organizations to protect criminal priests and to blame victims is astonishing and pervasive.

Facts drive cases. Any case of criminal sexual abuse by a person in a position of power needs to be investigated, not by the organization internally ( as so often happens), but by police and external bodies that have expertise in evaluating cases of clerical abuse.

I’ve always felt that "Buddhism’ should take the lead on being honest, vigorous, wise and compassionate with these cases of clerical abuse. Too many women, and men as well, have been traumatized by Buddhist teachers and “gurus,” with some attempting or committing suicide over the trauma suffered.

As Buddhists we should hold ourselves to the highest standards. We should always root out false claims, but at the same time, be ethical and diligent in referring for prosecution any sexual abuse by a Buddhist teacher or guru against a disciple.


#26

Update:
The group TARA-SOS (Taskforce for Acknowledging & Reporting Abuse), which posted the petition, announces that FPMT’s Board has hired an outside organization to investigate, and that a “mailbox” email address is now available to receive any further complaints about Dagri Rinpoche. They ask everyone to share the announcement together with the email address.

It’s worth a read, to appreciate the Board’s strong condemnation of any abuse and their promise of no retaliation against anyone who comes forward.

FPMT’s announcement.

[Edited to name who posted the petition.]


#27

A source/blog which I feel is very well informed and is up-to-date is worth to read: diffi::cult issues Owner is Tenzin Peljor, a (german) monk in tibetan tradition and very active; if I’ve it correctly then he’s also representant in the “german buddhist union” for the ordained members.


#28

The Tibetan tradition seems to follow different rules.
E.g. the sexual intercourse image clearly presented in the Kalachakra deity (Kalachakra - Wikipedia) in the Tantric Buddhism. The followers actually get involved in ‘sexual intercourse’ during the process of Kalachakra practice. It is surrounded by mystical and magical rituals, and includes the union of male and female yogic practitioners. Tantric deities in yab-yum (meaning: union of compassion and wisdom) are presented. A master would lead the initiated person to meditate through secret rituals with the hope to reach enlightenment quickly. Such a practice is one of the essential parts of the Buddhist tradition.


#29

Firstly, these kind of incidents would be unlikely to happen if the Vinaya was followed, as there are strict rules in the Theravada Vinaya against even so much as sitting in private with a woman, much less lewd speech or touching. It is certainly not forbidden for lay people to pull up an ordained person if they feel that the line is being crossed. As Visakha said to Ven Udayi:

Venerable, it’s not appropriate that you should sit alone with a woman on a private and concealed seat suitable for doing it. Although you may not be aiming at that act, people with little confidence are hard to convince.

Secondly, the Vinaya is not a secret text- the entire thing is available here on SuttaCentral! If reading rules of law seems boring, perhaps these Vinaya doodles will serve as a quick introduction. Lay Buddhists should be familiar with the Vinaya rules so that they know when a monk/ nun is crossing the boundaries.
It is only the ritual recitation of the Vinaya and ritual confession/ confirmation of each of the monks/nuns that is performed behind closed doors, as that is an internal disciplinary proceeding of sorts.

Mil 5.4.2

It was said, O king, by the Blessed One that the Dhamma and Vinaya proclaimed by the Tathāgata shine forth when displayed, and not when kept secret. And on the other hand the recitation of the Pātimokkha and the whole of the Vinaya Piṭaka are kept close and secret. But this last is not the case as regards all men. They are only kept secret up to a certain limit. And the recitation of the Pātimokkha is kept secret up to that certain limit on three grounds—firstly because that is the traditional custom of previous Tathāgatas, secondly out of respect for the Truth (Dhamma), and thirdly out of respect for the position of a member of the Order.’

It is the duty of us all - both Lay and Ordained to familiarize ourselves with the rules and uphold the high standard of values promulgated by the Buddha.
:pray::pray::pray:


#30

Don’t confuse so-called tantric sexuality with Vinaya.

The Tibetan Vinaya, in fact the Mulasarvastivada Vinaya, is just one of the Vinaya texts of the schools, and in important respects is similar to all the others.

The Tibetan monastic Sangha is ordained the same way as the Sangha elsewhere and follow the same basic rules. As with all traditions, there is variation of interpretation and practice. But the rules regarding sexual intercourse are no different.

It is a matter for debate among scholars to what extent tantric sex acts were considered symbolic or actual. Obviously they are not a part of early Buddhism. Regardless, they were not prescribed for monastics, who were expected to keep vows of celibacy.

I’m not saying this has always been followed, obviously there are cases where it has been broken. But the main idea, as accepted by all the Tibetan monastics I know, is that the Vinaya is to be followed, and celibacy is an important part of that.


#31

While in other schools, tantric sexual practices are seen as not breaching the Vinaya, my understanding is that in the Gelug school (Dagri Rinpoche’s order), ordained monks are not allowed to practice these methods as it is seen as a breach of vinaya.


#32

With the Gelug, it is clear. I am not so familiar with the other schools, but so far as I know, the lines between lay and ordained are well understood in all the schools. I am sure that the historical situation is complex, but we worked with the Tibetan Sangha when setting up the Australian Sangha Association, and they were all perfectly clear about this.

I’m wondering why you think this is not the case?


#33

My understanding is that the Gelug school is the most strict when it comes to Vinaya, because the tradition of Atisha and Tsongkhapa definitely states that karmamudra practices (sexual yoga) breaches the Vinaya.

However, I think that there are other opinions among scholars of the other schools, because there is a scholarly tradition in Indo-Tibetan Buddhism which sees tantric sex is a skillful means (upaya) which is supposed to be driven by compassion and bodhicitta (the desire to become awakened for the sake of all beings), then as long as one’s intentions are pure, then it does not really count as mundane sexuality, and thus does not breach the Vinaya. I cannot cite any particular Tibetan scholar at the moment, so here are some quotes which provide more context for what I am saying here:

From José Ignacio Cabezón - Sexuality in Classical South Asian Buddhism-Wisdom Publications (2017)

Some contemporary scholars have observed that in such instances wisdom serves as a kind of alibi for Mahāyāna antinomianism. There is some truth to this, but it is only half the story. The realization of emptiness, as we have seen, is said to represent a turning point in bodhisattvas’ relationship to the world of sense objects, for in the wake of realizing emptiness, the world is seen as “illusory,” desire weakens, and this makes bodhisattvas impervious to karmic contamination. It is therefore understandable that this should be considered a threshold in the spiritual career of bodhisattvas — the point at which bodhisattvas may engage in ethically “safe sex.” Although āryas are therefore not subject to conventional morality, including sexual morality, the flipside of this, of course, is that up to the time they become āryas, they can incur moral faults and ethical transgressions, and therefore up to that time they are bound by the norms of conventional morality. Making wisdom or gnosis the standard that bodhisattvas had to meet before they could engage in acts of sex-­for-­mercy therefore sets the bar high, making it difficult for anyone to justify contravening conventional ethical norms.

Having sex out of pity or compassion for someone is within the realm of human comprehension. It is more difficult (not to say dangerous) to imagine using sex as a means of converting others. Still, even that is not outside the realm of human comprehension. But what of sex after attaining wisdom: ārya sex? What is that like? What is it like to “seem to be strongly attached to pleasure (saṃrakta), but to be actually detached (virakta) from every passion,” as Mañjuśrī puts it in the Śūraṃgamasamādhi Sūtra? What is it like to have sex with no desire and no sense of self-­gratification? Although difficult to imagine, that is precisely the type of sex practiced by many contemporary asexuals, who go through the motions of sex for the sake of their partners. As strange as desireless sex may appear, therefore, there are people for whom this is the norm.

Time and again we see Buddhist scholastics wrestling with this issue — on the one hand, claiming that bodhisattvas are exempt from the earlier morality, but in the next breath attempting to constrain their transgressive behaviors. For example, the great Tibetan polymath Sakya Paṇḍita (Sa skya paṇḍita kun dga’ rgyal mtshan, 1182–1251) states in his Distinguishing the Three Vows:

A disciple (śrāvaka) monk is forbidden by the Sage to accept gold and silver, but a bodhisattva monk commits no transgression if others benefit from that action. For a disciple, even if such a deed is for the sake of other sentient beings, there will occur a transgression related to great attachment. For the Great Vehicle adept, however, no such infraction occurs if the deed was done to help others.

Sakya Paṇḍita, like his Indian predecessors, gives the bodhisattva a wide ethical berth. But immediately before this verse, he introduces a new constraint, urging monks and nuns to avoid any transgression of their vows if it “causes ordinary people to lose their faith.” In this way, Sakya Paṇḍita makes public opinion a major criterion in deciding what antinomian acts bodhisattvas could contemplate. Tsongkhapa agrees, stating that the breach of sexual ethical norms is proscribed if it leads to the “loss of faith by many people.” While both scholars therefore agreed that there was a higher law that permits bodhisattvas greater ethical leeway, they also felt a need to establish checks that would keep this freedom from getting out of hand.

A number of Buddhist sex scandals have come to light in recent years, and some of the Buddhist teachers involved in such controversies seem to have justified their actions by appeal to their extraordinary religious accomplishments. For example, one teacher, who knew he was HIV-­positive, apparently believed that his exalted spiritual status would prevent him from transmitting the virus to others. (One of his students was apparently infected with HIV from having unprotected sex with him and later died of AIDS.)761 Are such stories aberrations in the history of Buddhism? I do not believe they are. Contemporary Buddhist teachers’ inappropriate sexual behaviors are part of a more general problem that the Buddhist tradition has confronted for centuries. Does this mean that scholastic attempts to limit and constrain sexual antinomianism fail? The simple answer is probably yes. Setting the bar very high — at the direct perception of emptiness — does not seem to have prevented sexual abuse, either in ancient or in modern times. That is probably why the present Dalai Lama has argued, in recent years, for eliminating even wisdom as an alibi for behavior that contravenes conventional morality.762 Of course, in this case it is not the power of wisdom that is being denied, but instead the human frailty of self-­deception that is being acknowledged.

To sum up, a host of later Mahāyāna texts delineated clear guidelines that were meant to clarify when sexual and other transgressions were deemed appropriate and, more important, when they were not. Reacting to the sexual freedoms permitted bodhisattvas in the Mahāyāna scriptures, the scholastic tradition attempts again and again to rein in that freedom, setting strict limits and controls on bodhisattvas’ sexual comportment. They do so by limiting which bodhisattvas may have sex (only very advanced lay ones), by specifying who their partners may be (noncelibates and ideally people who are not married), by encouraging deep soul-­searching to discern true motivations, and by delineating various other conditions (sex had to be a last resort, it could only benefit and not harm the partner, and it could not lead others to lose faith). Is the tantric tradition more lax than exoteric Mahāyāna in this regard? Some tantras claim, after all, that certain empowerments, a variety of sacramental rites, the attainment of psychic power, and even enlightenment itself are impossible without sex. As the Guhyasamāja Tantra states:

Whoever . . . enjoys constant sensual stimulation,
ingesting urine and feces,
will possess the fortune of spiritual accomplishment.
Whatever accomplished man has sex
with his mother or sister,
as [part of his practice of] this supreme Mahāyāna Dharma
will, through these means, obtain manifold accomplishments.

Although the antinomian sexual practices mentioned in such texts were sometimes “domesticated” — treated allegorically, as symbols of abstract philosophical ideals, or as practices that were only to be visualized — this was not always the case. The earlier tantric tradition — what David White calls “hard core” — often takes those practices quite literally. But even when it does, it often restricts such acts to very advanced adepts, those who had reached the “completion stage” (sampanna krama, rdzogs rim); it also famously proscribes male ejaculation. Later Indian tantric texts tried to control sexual antinomianism in other ways. For example, the Indian tantric exegete Vīryavajra states that “when worldly beings who do not understand the reality of luminous mind . . . eat of the poison of desire, they fall headlong into saṃsāra.” The implication is that only advanced adepts who have understood “the reality of luminous mind” should attempt such practices. The fear of tantric antinomianism is also pervasive in much of the reformist rhetoric of the Tibetan chidar (phyi dar) — the “later propagation” of Buddhism that began in the tenth century — ­a rhetoric whose goal was to paint a picture of Tibet as a sexually debauched society in need of moral reform.769 The Tibetan saint Gampopa states that attachment to sexual pleasure during sexual yoga is inappropriate because it is a karma-­producing affliction, and Nubchen Sangyé Yeshé, the great tenth-­century Tibetan apologist for the form of nondualistic mysticism known as the Great Perfection (Rdzogs chen), goes out of his way to distinguish his system from “the methods of the tantras,” stating that the Buddha Samantabhadra “does not teach such things as male and female, nor does he speak of attaining bliss through grinding away at vaginas.” Even when permitted, the various controls on tantric sex make the sexual yogas of esoteric Buddhism appear more like fluid-­dynamic exercises than like the play of two lovers. Some traditions (like Nubchen’s) even imply that there is a teaching that supersedes tantra, a teaching that makes tantric sex altogether unnecessary. Either way, tantric sex ends up being constrained. It is either considered a series of bliss-­inducing physical exercises or else dismissed as a relatively crass method.

Rather than portraying Buddhist attitudes to antinomian sexuality in a simple, bipolar way — as if the law had been set down once and for all, and as if all departures from it were equally and forever transgressive — it is more accurate to stress the diachronic and dialectical character of these ideas. Such a dynamic approach does not deny the usefulness of the structuralist oppositions that have traditionally framed these discussions — monastic/lay, Śrāvakayāna/Mahāyāna, rule governed/antinomian — but it does recognize that each of these elements is internally heterogeneous. (Even tantric sexual ethics can at times be quite conservative.) The more dialectical approach that I am advocating also recognizes that such oppositions always presume a certain reference point, for the antinomian practices of one tradition (for example, the Mahāyāna) become the nomos-­to-­be-­transgressed in another (the tantra). Finally, the more dynamic approach recognizes that the impulse to regulate sexuality is a historical phenomenon. It never ceases, even when (perhaps especially when) a transition to a new nomos takes place. No aspect of Buddhist sexual ethics is ever immune from the impetus to define, to circumscribe, and to restrict. Thus what the antinomian impulse giveth in terms of freedom, the pronomian/scholastic tradition repeatedly taketh away. Instead of the mere fact of transgression, therefore, it is this dialectical push-­and-­pull that we need to understand: the repeated attempts in Buddhist history to seek freedom from the law, followed inevitably by the creation of new metaprinciples under which that new lawlessness could be understood, justified, controlled, or transcended.

From: David B. Gray 2019, The Cakrasamvara Tantra (The Discourse of Sri Heruka): A Study and Annotated Translation

The Cakrasamvara Tantra itself is also marked with signs of the development of the typical Buddhist sexual practice, characterized by the practice
of seminal retention. In spite of the passages which indicate sexual union for the purpose of producing the mixed sexual fluids for sacramental consumption, chapter twenty-six lists the following among the commitments that an adept must observe: “[he should] have an excellent churning stick in practice with a woman, yet observe chastity in meditation.” Chastity (brahmacarya) is understood here to include the practice of sexual union, provided that it is accompanied by seminal retention. Jayabhadra wrote that “yet observe chastity in meditation means that, at the time of the trickling of the ejaculate seminal essence, one should observe, i.e., practice, chastity. [This is] the seventh [commitment].” Likewise, chapter twenty-eight informs the reader that “the emanation of Sri Heruka, noted in all of the treatises on service, should always be retained.” Jayabhadra informs us that this refers to the retention of semen.

This redefinition of chastity was evidently taken by some as a justification for monks engaging of in such practices. The Buddhist scholar Tripitakamala felt that the compassionate imperative overrides the pratimokfa monastic vows, evidently providing justification for monks who wished to engage in the “great observance” of sexual union:

For bodhisattvas who practice the great observance (mahavrata) there are no definite norms; they engage in whatever actions that can perfect the aims of others. Through his
passion for all, a bodhisattva may unite with women who are on the road to the bad rebirths; for him “chastity” is that conduct which achieves the unexcelled state in which there is no regard for the pratimok1a vows, and so forth.

This re-interpretation of “chastity” would be supported by passages such as those quoted above from the Cakrasamvara Tantra, which were understood
to refer to seminal retention in sexual yogic practices. This re-interpretation was highly controversial in Buddhist monastic circles, and, not surprisingly,
there was considerable resistance therein to the practice of sexual yogas by monks.

One of the most ardent critics here appears to have been Atisa Diparhkarasrijfiana. Not that Atisa was hostile to the practice of the tantras per se. Indeed, according to his Tibetan hagiographies, he was a tantric adept before he was ordained as a monk. 325 Moreover, he was the author of several tantric works, including his important commentary on Luipa’s Srz-BhagavadAbhisamaya;326 and he aided Rin-chen bZang-po in the translation of multiple tantric texts. 327 Rather, Atisa was specifically concerned about monks engaging in the second and third “higher” consecrations, which if practiced literally would necessarily violate the vow of celibacy. He wrote in his Bodhipathapradtpa that:

Due to the specific prohibition in the Adibuddhamahatantra, 328 the secret and wisdom[ -gnosis] consecrations should not be received by the celibate. If these consecrations are taken, since those who live celibately and ascetically would be engaging in what is prohibited to them, their ascetic vows would be broken, and they would incur the downfalls which defeat the observant. And as they would certainly fall into the evil destinies, [for them]
there would be no success. 329

In his auto-commentary Atisa comments that the “higher” consecrations are suitable only for the laity, and insists that they should not be taken by the monks, who would be betraying their root vows, which in his view would have dire consequences. He wrote that:

Regarding consecrations there are two types: those on which householders rely, and those on which the celibate rely. Those on which the householder may rely include everything taught in the tantras, while the celibate from amongst those should avoid the secret and wisdom-gnosis consecrations. Why should they avoid those two? Celibacy
is understood to be one of the virtues which occurs as a point of doctrine, in reliance upon the Buddha’s teaching. Those two consecrations are regarded as not being in accordance with the practice of celibacy. The two consecrations would bring about the end of celibacy, and the end of celibacy would be the end of the Buddha’s teaching. And by its ceasing the continuum of merit making would be broken. Since from that basis there would arise innumerable non-virtuous people, the celibate should thus
avoid those two [consecrations].33

Atisa’s commentary here expresses the understandable anxiety that cenobitic fornication, especially if justified as spiritual practice, could undermine the foundation of Buddhist monasticism, and thus threaten the very existence of the religion, which traditionally centered around the monastic institutions.

While the sexual components of the tantras did not likely originate in the Buddhist monastic context, it seems almost certain that these practices were adopted by some Buddhists in the influential Northern Indian centers such as Nalanda and Vikramasila by the time At!Sa was writing in the early eleventh century. Yet they were not completely accepted nor unambiguously integrated into the monastic ritual program. Given their focus on the enjoyment (bhoga) of things prohibited to monks, such integration would not have come easily. That the monastic precepts were at times broken in monastic communities by tantric adepts is suggested by the hagiographies of siddhas such as Virupa331 and Maitnpa,332 who were monks until dismissed from the monasteries for allegedly violating the monastic code.

As Buddhist tantric traditions in India (likely) and Tibet (certainly, with some exceptions) appear to have been dominated by monks, Atisa’s proposed solution of excluding monks from two of the four higher consecrations was probably unacceptable. Thus, rather than excluding monks from these higher consecrations, the consecrations themselves were transformed, with overt sexual practices being replaced by the development of public symbolic performances, and with karmamudra (actual, physical consort) practices conducted privately, if at all. That compromise was possible on this issue is suggested by the Tibetan context, in which the tantras would come to be fully accepted within the monastic ritual programs. The Tibetans adapted the secret and wisdom-gnosis consecrations to the monastic context, removing completely-in public performances of the consecration ceremonies at least-all sexual practice, with the red and white drops being symbolized by neutral substances similar in appearance.3

The consecrations thus came to be performed in a symbolic fashion. Moreover, this dichotomy of real versus symbolic ritual performance corresponds to two modes of yoga that were also developed by tantric Buddhist monastic communities. These are practice with an actual physical consort (karmamudra), versus practice with a visualized consort (jfianamudrii).334 For example, VIravajra, commenting on the term “consort’s body” (prajfianga) in chapter fifty-one, explains that "consort’s body indicates either the physical consort for lay bodhisattvas, or the reality or symbolic seals335 for those on the path of liberation."336 There is some evidence which suggests, however, that the practice tradition of the sexual yogas has still been maintained, but has been reserved for the “highest” class of adept, for whom the issue of celibacy may no longer be a central concern.3

It is not surprising that, in the Buddhist monastic context, actual ritual and meditative practices involving sexuality would be down played and
replaced with symbolic or visualized practices in which the sexual body is removed from public view. But there is also evidence that this was a longstanding tendency within the tradition, which strongly emphasized the imperative for secrecy, and would thus not have approved of the open display, for example, of the Cakrasamvara consecration ceremonies. According to chapter twenty-seven of the Tantra, one should even hide one’s identity as an initiated adept, which is signified by the five insignia340 that one must keep on one’s person. The text informs us that: “As for having the five insignia bound, they should be in place at all times, always displayed at night, and concealed during the day.” This motif of tantrika by night, mildmannered citizen by day, is elaborated in the hagiography of the tantric Mahasiddha Saraha who was not a monk, but a brahmin, but as such was under at least as much pressure as a monk not to engage in transgressive behavior.

Given the esotericism employed by the tradition, from its inception up to the present day, it is not possible to ascertain to what degree transgressive practices were literally performed. The fact that authors such as Atisa and King Lha bLa-ma Ye-shes-’ od complained about their performance likely indicates that, during the eleventh century at least, some individuals, including monks, were doing so, and that they were attracting attention in so doing. Perhaps fittingly for a tradition based on deliberately obscure texts, the “secret” of the tradition, while always in the process of being revealed, will probably never be exhausted, never be fully revealed, given the infinite possibilities of textual interpretation.

So, we can see that in the Tibetan tradition, there was and probably continues to be some unresolved interpretative issues regarding literal practice of sexual tantric yogas and whether they are allowed for monks. While it seems like this is indeed quite rare, since visualized consort practice is easier and less problematic, there a scholarly tradition of defending sexual yogas as skillful means and thus as allowable for monks. Regarding how often this happens and the current status of this among the different Buddhist schools, I cannot say I know much.


#35

Not to put down any tradition…but I sense wrong view through and through in that. Maybe I am wrong but wow.

PS: not sure if I misused the quote tool but that is not the opinion of this forum member, but an opinion of the letter we are discussing.


#36

Oh man! Talk about tortured logic!
Having read the Vinaya, all I can do is shake my head in disbelief…
Could someone please invent a time machine, go back to the time of the second Buddhist council and show those chaps the results of their actions?
:roll_eyes:


#37

If you’re talking about tantra, it has nothing to do with the second Council. It appeared, drawing largely from Kashmiri Shaivism, more than a thousand years later.


#38

This particular trend of thought came about because of this discussion I had a few days ago regarding the freely available nature of the Dhamma in the Theravada tradition and why we should not heedlessly bring about changes in the framework the Buddha established.
To those who wanted to restrict the teaching of Dhamma to the laity vis a vis the ordained I said:

And who will be the Authority to decide who exactly is “worthy” or “ready” for higher teachings?
And what about those who don’t agree with the decision of that Authority?
Can you see where I’m going with this?
Sooner or later there will be the emergence of the “Benign Dictator Guru”, then an inner core group will emerge, then will come diktats, expulsions, protest groups… schisms, loss of the true teaching and the end of the Buddha Sasana… that is invariably the human way.

The path to Absolute Evil is paved with good intentions.

Instead, perhaps we should consider…

What are the causes and conditions that have allowed the Buddha’s carefully organized method of passing on the Teachings to not only survive but flourish for over 2500 years?
No other human organization has lasted as long.

If there hadn’t been that first split of ‘progressives’ wanting to use money, eat after midday, wander in the village at odd hours… If only they had stuck to the Vinaya and been able to sort out their differences amicably, maybe none of the cascading effect of different schools, the introduction of Tantra, etc …who knows, maybe none of this would have come to pass! :grin:

Nah, that’s just too much Back-to -the- Future kind of pipe dream isn’t it?
:rofl::rofl::rofl:


#39

I was thinking the other day about the pattern of blaming previous generations for contemporary problems. How, even it it might in some ways be true, it’s a waste of attention, energy, and effort. Especially since there’s no knowing If-Only’s alternative time lines.
Determine causes, sure, but to guide Right Action now and going forward.
This makes sense imo whether one believes in Rebirth or not. :wink:


#40

That is so very true isn’t it?
Logically, I am pretty sure that at that time in the past, everyone concerned was probably just doing their very best. Yet things often turn out so very differently don’t they? Hence the emotional outburst at suddenly seeing the net of Samsara. :joy:
As Bhante Brahmali says, maybe there’s only just a smidgen of free will and we’re all just near-robots! Talk about being enmeshed in the Matrix! :rofl:


#41

There was no such split. This is an oft-repeated fallacy in modern Buddhist studies. The events you are referring to are in the Second Council, and all historical (Vinaya) accounts of that event say the two parties were reconciled. The split between Theravada and Mahasanghika came later, after Asoka, and was due to differences in doctrine, specifically the nature of the arahant.

The Dipavamsa claims that the Second Council resulted in schism, but since it it disagrees with all historical sources, and was written over half a millennium later, it has no credibility on this point. See my Sects & Sectarianism for details.


#42

I stand corrected! Thank you Bhante!!
:pray::smile::pray: