Sometimes Zen practitioners praise enlightenment and imagine that the precepts are expendable guidelines for behavior that enlightened people do not need, but this is actually dangerous. The precepts are a powerful means for us all to practice awakening -- a practice that is never finished.
Ways to Approach the Precepts
As Robert Aitken discusses in his book The Mind of Clover: Essays in Zen Buddhist Ethics, we can take three different approaches to practicing the precepts. We can take them literally as statements telling us what we should and should not do. We can also view them compassionately and recognize that we all make mistakes. And we can enact them nondualistically with “don’t know mind," an awareness that opens beyond all ideas, even of right and wrong.
But here's the key: we actually need all three approaches, or we are likely to get lost. We need the literal view to offer us a sense of direction and wake us up when we are causing harm. But if we only take the precepts literally, we can get lost in fundamentalism and neglect important contextual information. The classic example of someone taking a moral precept too literally is the person who refuses to lie when the Nazis knock on the door looking for Jewish people, condemning those hidden inside to death. Clearly something has gone wrong in our literalism. Additionally, sometimes two precepts may be in conflict. We might indulge our anger and yell at our child for running into a busy street, but our deeper motive is to preserve their life. We can become overly judgmental of ourselves and others if we are too rigid with the precepts.
Compassion inspires us to honor the precepts out of care for everyone's well-being. We love our neighbors as ourselves. In addition, compassion helps us forgive ourselves for breaking one precept to honor another. We can actually forgive ourselves for lying if it means saving human life. Additionally, we can be compassionate with others who break precepts for we have seen how often we break them ourselves. But if we are only compassionate in understanding why people break precepts, we lose all clarity on what is beneficial and what is harmful. We recall the literal guidelines to help us behave skillfully and reduce suffering, but we hold these guidelines compassionately.
Finally, we practice-realize the precepts nondualistically. Though words fail in expressing nonduality, still, Zen teachers offer pointers. Dogen writes, "To study the Buddha Way is to study the self. To study the self is to forget the self. To forget the self is to be actualized by myriad things. When actualized by myriad things, your body and mind as well as the bodies and minds of others drop away. No trace of enlightenment remains, and this no-trace continues endlessly" (Genjo Koan). Expressing nonduality in an elegant way, Thich Nhat Hanh writes that "the self is made of nonself elements." We might describe the realization of nonduality as awakening to "thusness," the intimate presence of beings beyond conception. From this perspective, there are no separate beings, and there is not even right or wrong. There is only the no-thing-ness of everything.
Expressed differently, good and bad are merely two sides of one coin. They have no intrinsic essence of their own. Our relative truths are provisional designations that are dependent on changing causes and conditions. Ultimately, as Aitken says, "there is no absolute [truth], and that is the absolute" (Mind of Clover, 110). Everything is shapeshifting. There is nothing that we can hold onto. This lack of absolute truth continues endlessly. So rather than grasp our ideas about right and wrong, we hold our ideas more lightly. If we get lost in fixed conceptual maps, we miss ever-changing circumstances. We are the driver driving straight down a curving road. We must be awake to offer an appropriate, beneficial response.
And, a person can get lost in "no knowing" too. A total lack of compass points can be dangerous. We need to know which side of the road to drive on, and we need some guardrails to prevent us from veering off course and causing harm. Even "don't know mind" is not the final word in Zen. As Shunryu Suzuki says, "not always so." As we read in the Prajna Paramita Sutra, realization is the absence of any fixation. Any place we get stuck becomes a problem for us. We should not even get stuck in "no knowing" or imagine that there is any fixed state to attain.
Sometimes enlightenment is described as "awakening to nonduality," "opening to oneness," or "realizing suchness," and the path to enlightenment is described as silencing our discriminating (thinking) minds. This basic samadhi practice ostensibly fulfills all the precepts. The argument goes that in a state of oneness, one does not break the precepts because one exists in harmony with all beings, moment after moment. While it is true that we may be able to entrust ourselves to "oneness" when we are doing kinhin, meditating in the zendo, or even instinctively reacting to stop a child from running into a busy street, it is magical thinking to believe that "oneness" upholds the precepts in all circumstances. During World War II, Japanese soldiers described themselves as "at one with killing," and Zen masters encouraged this view, describing meditation in battle as the "highest wisdom of enlightenment" that "preserved the precepts." Causes and conditions (like mob psychology) sometimes inspire harmful actions. We need the literal precepts to ring like bells and wake us up when we are individually or collectively lost. We may be “at one" with our circumstances and still cause grave harm.
Unfortunately, spiritual teachers sometimes imagine that nondual realization (which is little more than initiatory awareness) is the equivalent of enlightenment and automatically honors the precepts even as it transcends right and wrong. Some teachers who are "lost in oneness" neglect ethical guidelines and abuse students, telling them they too should let go of all notions of right and wrong and "be one" with them. They say this nonconceptual "intimacy" is enlightenment itself. One might say about those teachers, "they only behaved that way because they were not actually enlightened." But why do we believe this? Because we conceive that a precept was broken and someone was harmed. "Oneness" is not enough.
Perhaps practitioners imagine that if they allow any view to arise, they will get lost in conceptual maps, but in a mature, integrated practice, duality is no hindrance to nonduality. Even thoughts are "thus." While it is vital to recognize thoughts as merely thoughts if we hope to be free from the tyranny of absolutist thinking, we go too far when we deny the importance of careful thinking when it comes to honoring the precepts. Even Buddha initially rejected women from his sangha. He had to be convinced by Ananda's careful arguments to admit women. We hold all kinds of unconscious biases, and consciously considering the precepts while we interact in this world can help awaken us to these biases.
The notion that we need to cease thinking to open to oneness, be enlightened, and embody the precepts is an immature view. While students do need to open beyond thinking as part of their development, there is no reason to be rid of thinking. Recognize thinking as thinking, and we are liberated from absolutist ideas. Thoughts are just thoughts, empty of any fixed essence, and utterly dependent on fleeting causes and conditions. Everything shines with Buddha's light, even our ideas. Thinking is just part of the landscape of life. And, thinking carefully is useful.
Another common refrain is that one of the attributes of "the enlightened person" is being satisfied, which means that one no longer breaks the precepts because all immoral actions are born of dissatisfaction. It is true that in pointing toward nondual realization (or the "absolute"), we say there is "no suffering;" suffering has no fixed, intrinsic essence. However, there is also no separate, fixed self. Describing "an enlightened person" runs the risk of projecting limited, fixed ideas about enlightenment into an idealized, separate self that does not actually exist. One consequence of this misunderstanding is that we might compare our experiences to this idolized, imaginary person. If we believe that "realizing oneness" and "being satisfied" define enlightenment, we might abuse ourselves for being upset when we feel wronged. This may be innocuous enough when we don't get the last cookie. But how about when a person is raped or someone they love is taken from them violently? Would we say that they should "be satisfied" or that they are not enlightened? At the very least, this judgmental idea makes people feel unnecessary guilt about their pain, heaping suffering on suffering.
A person who is awake still gets hungry. When we are hungry, we want food. This is an appropriate response. Case 14 in the Blue Cliff Record states: "A monk asked Yun Men, 'What are the teachings of a whole lifetime?' Yun Men said, 'An appropriate response,'" suggesting a more flexible way of thinking about practice-enlightenment. We can even awaken to dissatisfaction. Every phenomenon is a dharma gate, just as it is. The expression that there is "no suffering" is true but one-sided, and we do not comprehend "no suffering" by denying the relative truth of suffering. Indeed, as Thich Nhat Hanh says, without the dust of samsara, there can be no nirvana.
Look closely into whatever arises and see that form is exactly emptiness. Enlightenment is not an individual matter but pervades the entire cosmos, including our dissatisfaction, anger, and broken hearts. Enlightenment does not depend on the contents of our minds. Rather than slipping into denial or self-abuse, we can hold suffering compassionately, look deeply into it, and see that it has no fixed essence, which allows us to care for our pain compassionately as it unfolds. A healthy practice does not encourage spiritual bypass at any level. Please do not use the dharma to dismiss anyone's suffering, including your own. Instead, let each phenomenon be a dharma gate.
So we practice the precepts in three equally important ways, integrating our intellect, compassion, and nondualistic awareness. Like waves, water, and sunlight, these are not mutually exclusive modes of practice. While balancing these approaches to the precepts may sound complicated, essentially we practice the precepts with as much intelligence, compassion, and awareness as we can.
The Three Refuges
In our list of sixteen precepts, the Three Refuges are the first three: we take refuge in Buddha, Dharma, and sangha.
In a literal sense, we take refuge in the historical Buddha, in his story of enlightenment, which serves as inspiration to us in our practice.
From the compassionate view, to take refuge in Buddha is to take refuge in ourselves as Buddha. This does not mean that we are separate, fixed identities but that we are each dependent arisings born out of infinite causes and conditions. Each of us is an expression of this buddhanature, though we must practice to realize this.
And nondualistically, we take refuge in realization. Ultimately, there is "no suffering, and no cause of suffering" (The Heart Sutra). We are already free and there is nothing to attain. This is the intimate realization of "things as it is" (to quote Shunryu Suzuki).
Second, we take refuge in the Dharma, or literally, the Buddhist teachings. We allow the teachings to guide our practice and cultivate insight so that we might alleviate suffering. Of course, part of the teachings is to question them and try them for ourselves.
We can also translate Dharma as "phenomena," things exactly as they are. From the perspective of compassion, we take refuge in the intimate caw of a crow. We take refuge in our own broken hearts. We take refuge in laughing children and "ants and sticks and grizzly bears" ("Dedication," LiVZ liturgy).
And nondualistically, we take refuge in the exact equality of emptiness and form -- in the way phenomena are boundless and boundlessness is nothing other than phenomena. All phenomena are dharma gates exactly as they are, exactly thus.
Third, we take refuge in sangha, or literally, our Zen practice groups. And what a joy it is to come sit, walk, and bow together. Somehow, almost magically, when we practice with others, our awareness is magnified and our own meditation deepens. Like mirrors, we reflect and hold one another in our practices, and this is deeply nourishing. We can feel held in sangha. One sangha member described sitting together like floating in warm water, and we entrust the ice cubes of our suffering to this larger body, where they slowly melt away.
Waking up is not easy. It is counter-cultural in a rather materialistic society. And life is sometimes hard. We all can use a little help. One definition of refuge is "assistance in distress." Taking refuge in sangha means giving ourselves a safe haven to be vulnerable rather than needing to protect and defend ourselves all the time and rather than habitually acting on or trying to escape our pain. That which we run from controls us.
In sangha, we see that our pain can be held by something bigger. As Thich Nhat Hanh said, when we add a tablespoon of salt to a small glass of water, the whole glass tastes bad. When we add a tablespoon of salt to a river, the water still tastes pure. In joining a sangha, we are no longer alone. In our practice, we all support each other by showing up and holding one another in our hearts.
From the broader compassionate view, our sangha also includes the entire world. Like Avolokiteshvara, we hear the cries of the world and respond with a thousand hands. The world is very much with us, and we are very much with the world. We might notice of the way the earth holds us when we sit and the way the air sustains us when we breathe. We might notice the way our life is sustained by all beings moment after moment, and thus, the world is our refuge.
And nondualistically, there is no separate world at all. There is no self, no other. What language can possibly describe the way all beings reside in our hearts just as we reside in the world?
The Three Pure Precepts and the Ten Grave Precepts
For me, it is not helpful to think of evil as some metaphysical entity or devil, though such associations may arise. Rather, evil points to the many things human beings do that cause suffering in the world, and in that sense, evil does exist.
The ten grave precepts which follow the three pure precepts offer more specific advice on what we should try to avoid in order to cease from evil: killing, stealing, misusing sex, lying, taking intoxicants, slander, praising oneself at others' expense, sparing the dharma assets, harboring ill will, and abusing the three treasures (Buddha, Dharma, and sangha).
Of course, we have to break precepts all the time, so we can't take them too rigidly. For example, the first grave precept states, "I vow to take up the way of not killing" ("Shorter Precepts Recitation," LiVZ Liturgy). But at a minimum, we kill plant life to eat. We must at least harvest grains, fruits and vegetables to live. So how do we practice with the precept of not killing when we must kill to survive?
For me, first comes the practice of awareness. This is the nondualistic practice of simply being awake to what we are doing. We enter into the suchness of eating where there is no gap between the killer and the killed. Second comes the arising of the precept in my mind. With the awareness that I kill to eat comes the humbling realization that I cannot always uphold the precepts. I know that I have participated in killing, and I know what it tastes like. Unfortunately, I also live in a world where nations goes to war, and my tax dollars are used by my elected government to produce and sell weapons that are used to kill. With acknowledgments of my shared responsibility, remnants of spiritual superiority deflate. I see clearly that I am not above breaking precepts, and when I point my finger in accusation at others, three fingers point back at myself.
This deflation of superiority softens my heart. I see that I am complicit in causing suffering, and I feel compassion for the lives I take. I also feel compassion for all living beings who must kill to survive and for all the living beings who are killed. We are in this together.
This is how the precepts open our hearts to the entire universe that gives and takes life. Out of our practice of awareness of breaking precepts, compassion arises, inspiring us to try to find more skillful ways of behaving to help reduce suffering in the world. For example, I might reduce how much meat I eat or stop eating meat altogether, both of which which would reduce suffering among sentient beings (and help fight global warming).
While we literally try to minimize the killing of beings and the suffering it causes, we can also view these precepts figuratively. Do we subtly kill others' ideas and enthusiasm for life? Do we kill time when we could be appreciating our lives? In what other figurative ways might we interpret each of the precepts? This allows us to work with each of the precepts in all realms of our lives.
So we can hold the precepts not as rigid rules but as reminders to pay attention to our actions. We hold the precepts as literal and figurative compass points that help us wake up to what direction we are actually going. When we see the way we cause harm, this naturally gives rise to a compassionate response and sometimes a course correction. And, we have compassion for ourselves and for all beings in our failures, for we have been humbled. We all cause suffering sometimes. So we atone and start again, our vows renewed. "All evil karma ever created by me since of old, on account of my beginningless greed, anger, and ignorance born of my body, mouth, and thought, now I atone for it all" ("Gatha of Atonement," LiVZ Liturgy).
While the first pure precept is cautionary regarding causing harm, the second pure precept encourages positive action. The second pure precept reads, "I vow to practice good." Once again we can be guided by the ten grave precepts, which, like the second pure precept, can be re-articulated as positive aspirations. I vow to: support life; be generous; engage in mutually respectful intimacy; tell the truth; nourish my mind and body; speak kindly; appreciate others; share the dharma; be compassionate; and support the three treasures.
The second pure precept sharpens our awareness, deepens our reverence for all life, and encourages beneficial responses and harmony. This precept encourages us to be active rather than passive. We not only cease from causing harm but actively practice benefitting all beings.
This brings us to a deep, synthesizing vow, the third pure precept: I vow to save all beings. Of course upholding all of our vows is impossible. We cannot free or save all beings from suffering. But that is okay. As a high school teacher, I know I can't always engage every student, but I vow to try, and this probably makes me a slightly better teacher for my students. We just vow and do our best.
So in the literal sense, we make the vow to save all beings. In the compassionate sense, we know we will fail, we forgive ourselves, and we keep trying because we feel for all beings who suffer. Why? Because we too have suffered. And in the nondualistic sense, there are no separate beings anywhere to save. Each of us is inseparable from the infinite universe and is already saved.
Given our flaws and pains, it can be hard to believe the teaching that we are "saved." But as we practice and keep turning toward whatever arises, this teaching penetrates us and we come to see that yes, even our flaws and pains are buddhanature -- perfectly manifesting suchness. We might call this practice-realization. Everything is exactly thus.
You may wonder why this nondualistic realization is important. In one sense, realization has no value outside itself. And, without it, we may find ourselves constantly overwhelmed by our striving and failing. We may burn out. We may find no possibility of salvation. It is salvific for us to feel deep in the marrow of our bones that while there is suffering in the world, there is also no suffering. When we look deeply into suffering, we find only non-suffering elements, just as when we look into the self, we find only non-self elements. We find the universe itself. So we say that samsara is exactly nirvana. Put differently, there is neither form nor emptiness, neither samsara nor nirvana. Just this.
And, though all beings are already saved and perfectly manifest universal enlightenment, still we should save all beings because we all suffer sometimes. Thus we make our bodhisattva vow and honor the precepts.
Opening Beyond Self-Concern
It is pretty easy to get preoccupied with taking care of what we think of as ourselves, and it is important to do so. But we are also one with all beings throughout space and time. Opening beyond self-concern, compassion inspires us to take action to reduce suffering and protect all life. This vow opens us beyond dualistic notions of self and other and includes even those whose actions we consider evil. With deepening compassion, we see that just like ourselves, all beings are manifestations of infinite causes and conditions. "There but for the grace of karma go I." Those who act in cruel ways are suffering from greed, anger, and ignorance and also deserve our compassion, even as we work to prevent them from causing further harm. All beings truly reside in our boundless hearts. The vow to save all beings is a manifestation of our inherent interconnectedness.
Being interdependent, we cannot live in a just society if we participate in unjust systems that result in massive inequities and deplete our environment for future generations. We save all beings by doing what we can to be of benefit. We won't all agree on what should be done, but that is okay. We discern as best we can, and do something. In joining with others with similar goals, we can make an even greater impact.
Being interdependent, we cannot live in a just society if we participate in unjust systems that result in massive inequities and deplete our environment for future generations. We save all beings by doing what we can to be of benefit. We won't all agree on what should be done, but that is okay. We discern as best we can, and do something. In joining with others with similar goals, we can make an even greater impact.
According to Robert Aitken, "When the members of the Zen Buddhist center act together as bodhisattvas, they generate great power for social change — this is the sangha as the Buddha intended it to be." This is one reason why Morning Star Zen Sangha includes bodhisattva practice. Acting in the context of sangha supports our commitment to saving all beings and heightens our impact.
Fundamentally, the Sixteen Bodhisattva Precepts help us avoid self-centered, harmful actions and encourage beneficial actions in the service of all beings. They are the ethical commitments that open us beyond self-interested goals and expand our motivation to practice. For example, we don't practice mindfulness only for our own stress reduction but to help us alleviate suffering for everyone in our lives. The precepts invite heightened awareness and offer us means to alleviate suffering, moment after moment.
Zazen and the Precepts
Our formal practice of sitting on the cushion and paying attention helps us wake up when we are tempted to cause harm due to greed, aversion, and ignorance -- our impulses to act in self-centered ways while neglecting to pay attention to how others may feel. Sitting still rather than taking action while possessed by any of these "three poisons" is like pressing a pause button, interrupting our habitual tendencies to cause harm when we are caught up in delusive certainty. As Dogen says, "When we sit zazen, what precept is not observed?" Instead, we simply bear witness to our greed, aversion, and ignorance. We learn to tolerate these uncomfortable feelings. We come to realize that we do not have to act on strong impulses and reactions. These painful feelings do not need to be "fixed" outwardly. We can just let them be, and they eventually pass. Then we can respond more calmly, taking a wider view of the situation than our initial reactions suggest.
For me, this pause is the key to breaking the cycle of reactivity and harmful actions. This is why we call sitting "practice" and how we practice freedom. We find our freedom in our forms of sitting still, being quiet, and simply paying attention. These forms may feel at first like we are restricted in our behavior, but they are teaching us a deeper kind of freedom. We learn how to watch self-centered impulses without being their slaves.
The precepts inspire our sitting, which cultivates a deep realization of the emptiness of mental formations and of all phenomena. And so we can see why Hakuin wrote in his Song of Zazen that "Devotion, repentance, training, the many paramitas, all have their source in zazen." The Paramitas are the six perfections, and one of the paramitas can be translated as "morality." The practice of morality is cultivated on the cushion, then brought forth into our lives.
Consciously Practicing the Precepts
You can find two recitations of the sixteen Bodhisattva Precepts in LiVZ's Liturgy Book. You may find it helpful to practice with each of the precepts for a week (or more) each. This would be a 16-week process minimum if you hold one in your heart for a week at a time.
Here are 3 questions you might explore to deepen your practice with the precepts. If planning to work with each precept for a week, you could hold each question in your mind for 2 days. (Or you could double or triple the time -- up to you.) Let the question percolate like a koan as you live you life.
*1) First, how do you interpret the precept?
Take some time brainstorming what each precept means to you literally and figuratively. For example, what does taking refuge mean to you? Who or what is this "Buddha" in whom you take refuge? What situations in your life are illuminated by the precept? It may be that every moment of our life can be illuminated by each precept.
2) In what ways do you honor and break the precept?
Just let the question arise like a koan as you live out your day. For example, do you take refuge in Buddha while chopping vegetables or while stuck in traffic? Or you might notice the way precepts related to right speech illuminate each word you type in your emails or each word you speak at the checkout counter. And what is it like when you fail to uphold a precept? Please remember, breaking precepts is inevitable. We can be gentle here and just notice without judging ourselves, or if judging does arise, just notice that too. Can you bring meditative awareness to the moment when you break a precept? How does it feel in your body? What is arising in your thoughts?
3) Finally, how does your awareness of breaking precepts affect you?
When practicing with nonjudgmental, open-ended questions, we may learn something that naturally leads us to honor the precepts. Pay close attention to what it feels like to overindulge alcohol, and we may find that the pleasant feelings pass pretty quickly, and the hangover hurts. Pay attention to what it feels like to spread gossip about someone, and we may find that our relationships feel shallow. If you observe that breaking the precept increases unpleasant feelings, what do you suppose drives you to continue to break the precept? Is there some underlying feeling you are hoping to avoid? What happens when you take no action at all or try behaving differently? How does it feel? Can upholding the precept also be a dharma gate for meditative practice?
Of course, some situations may be complicated. We will make mistakes or even be unable to discern in gray areas whether our actions were harmful, beneficial, or both. We may realize we broke one precept to honor another. The precepts are not intended to be hard and fast rules, but being mindful can help inform decisions that alleviate suffering for ourselves and others.
After six days of practicing with each precept, on the seventh day you might speak with a friend or dharma teacher about your experience and what you learned. Remember, the goal is not to come to a judgment about yourself but to describe your experience.
Afterward, consider composing a sentence or two that you could write in response to the precept -- something that distills what the precept means to you, at least in that moment.
When you have finished practicing with all of the precepts in this way, you might try consolidating them into a guiding ethic and living with that pointer for a period of time. As mentioned above, for me, the precept to save all beings has a way of expressing them all. How about for you? Might you consolidate them in some way and try living according to that vow? This can be a deep process of integration of all of your effort thus far.
Formally Receiving the Precepts in a Jukai Ceremony
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| Jukai Ceremony, Living Vow Zen |
Receiving the precepts in Jukai can be a transformative event. When I received the precepts, I cried without knowing why, as if the ceremony were operating on a level below my conscious mind and releasing and fulfilling all kinds of ancient karma. It is different for everyone, but receiving the precepts in a formal ceremony makes our personal vows public in a way that reverberates throughout space and time.
*For another look at practicing the precepts, check out this dharma talk that I offered on 2/8/23: "The Precepts: A Clear View of Muddy Water."
**For further readings, in the following order, check out Diane Rizzetto's Waking Up to What You Do, Robert Aitken's Mind of Clover; Reb Anderson's Being Upright; and John Daido Loori's The Heart of Being.