The problem with secular Buddhism, and the many popular fusions of modern Buddhism with western psychotherapy, is that they tend to take the samsaric value system for granted, and use Buddhist teachings only as a source of therapeutic techniques providing a more prudent, less stressful way to pursue the worldly goals of this value system.
But clearly the Buddha utterly rejected the samsaric value system, and taught a path of profound renunciation aimed at a much deeper and more comprehensive transformation of one’s experience, values, motivations and goals. This part of the teaching has nothing in itself to do with either the reality or unreality of rebirth or the lack of rebirth. It was based on the Buddha’s wise observation that the typical, and entirely natural, human pursuit of fame, wealth, public esteem, monumental personal achievements, sexual gratification, political and military conquests, and teeming families is nothing but a frustrating rat race and an ultimately unsatisfying, frequently miserable path through life. He taught that one could make a complete end of suffering, and achieve a suffering-free state of total and profound peace in this very life. But achieving the goal of this path requires rejecting the path that is pointed to by our natural drives, and by most of our worldly social norms and imperatives. It’s not something that can be achieved by meditating a bit every day as you plot your conquests in the realm of worldly affairs.
This teaching, if true, is deep and utterly transformative for those who heed it and follow it, and is not a mere worldly psychological management technique. But also, if true, it would be equally applicable to beings that have only one life and beings who have many lives.
The belief in rebirth is almost entirely a faith-based belief. This should be clear to most people here. The issue of rebirth comes up again and again in discussions among different kinds of Buddhists, and between Buddhists and others, and the result is always the same. Although it is clear many people are strongly committed to the belief in rebirth, when asked to clarify the content of their belief and to offer evidence in support of that belief, they generally flounder badly. No one has ever brought forward a rationally compelling argument for belief in rebirth. If they had, one can be sure it would be widely circulated in Buddhist forums. But having read widely in scholarly Buddhist studies and more popular Buddhist discussions, it seems clear to me that there is little to be found. Even in this discussion forum, people who insist on the reality of rebirth have been asked from time to time to explain what they think is involved in rebirth, and defend the claim that rebirth actually occurs, but the results have not been impressive. There are some anecdotes and stories that float around in Buddhist circles, but they are not very compelling, objectively considered. Mostly, the defender of rebirth simply falls silent, and offers nothing. The intellectual or evidential case for rebirth is shabby, to say the least.
People who believe in rebirth and believe the materialists or other kinds of rebirth-skeptics are just stubborn, and are not giving the doctrine of rebirth a fair hearing, should advance the evidence they think the materialists should be paying more attention to. But again, having encountered many such discussions over many years, it does not appear to me that the defenders of rebirth have very much to offer. Given that, criticisms of the alleged “close-mindedness” of those who decline to believe in rebirth fall rather flat. The believers in rebirth might ask themselves which minds are actually the most closed. I think we are really in “put up or shut up” territory here, and the burden should not be seen as falling on those who decline to believe an extraordinary claim for which no compelling evidence has been offered, but rather on those who are advancing the extraordinary claim.
Now it is certainly true that the preponderance of textual evidence points strongly to the fact that the Buddha himself believed in rebirth. There are some texts in which the Buddha not only appears to express these beliefs, but also appears to represent those beliefs as very important and crucial to his outlook. There are other texts, however, in which the Buddha appears to be addressing substantially the same existential matters, but rebirth barely makes an appearance, and all of the emphasis is on “this very life” and the unwholesomeness of worrying about what does or does not come next, or what did and not come before. It is hard to know what to make of this, and it is reasonable to wonder whether the texts might represent a composite of both the Buddha’s teachings and those of either earlier teachers or subsequent followers.
Philology and history and textual scholarship can tell us, with varying degrees of probability, what the text says, and maybe even what the Buddha thought and taught. But these studies in themselves cannot tell you which of these statements are true and which of them are false. To say, “the Buddha knew the reality of rebirth from his personal experience” might seem like a quasi-scientific appeal to observation and experience, but is really just an additional faith-based belief. Ultimately, it rests on a decision to take certain textual pronouncement represented as coming from the mouth of the Buddha at literal face value, and as true. The Buddha said he “saw” people’s past and future lives, and saw them wandering on from womb to womb, and some people are disposed to accept those apparent claims on faith.
Is this the only way of following the Buddha? Not at all. One might think of it like this: Suppose one wonders what is at the top of some tall and remote Himalayan mountain that, so far as you are aware, has never been climbed. But you then discover the Greatest Sherpa in the World. This Sherpa tells you he has climbed the mountain, and knows the path to the top, and can lead you there. He tells you many things about what can be seen and experienced along the way. These accounts accord with the accounts of others who have tried to reach the top, but they contain other descriptions of even further reaches, descriptions conveyed with some detail and compelling verisimilitude. And he tells you what can be experienced at the top: “It’s very, very peaceful. The wind is surprisingly still. It’s cold and dry. It’s hard to breathe. And you can see Tibet from there! And India! And even Bhutan! I can lead you to the top.”
OK, sounds credible. But suppose he goes on to say, “And not only that, but you can touch the celestial vault! And you can put stars in your pocket! And you can talk to Indra and Shiva, and even Great Brahma! And you can see into all of the celestial mansions, and into the past and the future.”
Um, OK, I think a reasonable person at this stage might say, “I think this Sherpa has reached the top of the mountain, and knows a lot about what is up there, and that he is thus worth following. But all the same, I doubt you can see all of the realms of the cosmos from there, or that these purported beings and entities even exist. This Sherpa was perhaps intoxicated with the exhilaration of the summit, or has combined his own folk beliefs and private fantasies with what he veridically experienced. Still he’s worth following, because I think he knows the way.
If rebirth isn’t real, why is it so commonly believed? It is easy to account for the widespread belief in rebirth in Buddhist societies, just as it is easy to account for the widespread belief in heaven and hell in Christian societies. For one thing, human beings have both a strong craving to cling to life and perpetuate their existence, and a cognizance of the apparent limits of that existence. This horrifies them. So, they have invented a wide variety of thought systems providing some solace, some way out, from looks from a cold point of view like a fatal, final mortality. These systems don’t try to eliminate the root horror of mortality, but rather indulge us in the fantasy that mortality is an illusion.
Also, beliefs surrounding rebirth, heavens and hells, and some aspects of kamma, are a useful mechanism for moral and social control when wielded by social authorities. That is why in societies where these doctrines are regarded as orthodoxy, Buddhism receives strong state support and is even a state religion. It is extremely convenient doctrine for those tasked with controlling people’s behavior.
The monastics teaching these doctrines also have obvious and strong institutional motivations for perpetuating them. The main motivation is that they live a lifestyle that depends on the material support of the laity, and a good proportion of that laity appears to believe that the main benefit in giving stuff to monks is its kammic benefits not just in this life, but in other lives. So even monks who are sincere might be victims of motivated reasoning.
Also, even the truly spiritual can develop powerful motivations for wishful thinking about rebirth. If one has dedicated oneself to pursuit of the goal, and is reaching the end of one’s life not having achieved it, one is going to have a powerful emotional incentive to believe one has more lives to come and will have another crack at it. Accepting that one’s life is truly coming to an end an be a tough pill to swallow, and might feel like spiritual failure.
If one believes that the Buddha’s path really does point to the profound transformation and a complete end of suffering, but that one only has one life in which to achieve this goal, what follows? I think several important consequences.
First one might want to dedicate even more time toward the pursuit of the goal, since the window of opportunity for attaining it is small.
Second, one can reflect on the fact that the Buddha’s path is not a path through a gauntlet of torture, that only turns out to be justified in the end if you achieve nibbana, but is instead a path through higher and higher states of happiness, so it is worth pursuing even if you never reach the goal. The path toward the most perfectly pure state passes through states of increasing purity; the path toward the most perfectly liberated state passes through states of increasing liberation; the path toward the most perfectly blissful state passes through states of increasing bliss.
Third, one can reflect on the fact that, although as an individual you are not going to be “wandering on” after death, many fellow human beings and other sentient beings will be wandering on and coming into existence, and they need help. Even if you never get far on the path, you can help others do so, and helping others will make you happier. The more you get your own deluded and grandiose and melodramatically miserable ego out of the way, the more motivated you will be to use your short personal lifespan to do good for others, which includes both the beings who exist now and those will exist in the future. The Buddhist twist on all of this is the recognition that helping others does not consist in helping them achieve fame or money or sensual gratification, but helping them achieve peace and liberation.
So that’s an attitude you can take while still following the Buddha. You’re going to die. It’s final. Because that’s final, one would do well to prepare for that end by using one’s time wisely to loosen the tenacious clinging to life, the thirst for continued existence, and the horror of mortality that casts a pall of misery over our lives. Curiously, loosing this clinging does not make you more eager for your life to end, but makes you more peacefully joyful that you have a life at all in which you can bring some peace, joy and bliss to yourself and others.
