Theravada, Mahayana, and Vajrayana Buddhism

Due to changing life and sangha circumstances, it is not uncommon that folks who have practiced in one Buddhist tradition find themselves practicing in a different tradition. Perhaps they move or their home sangha falls apart or their teacher moves away, and to continue practicing, they join a different group and tradition. Or perhaps you are considering practicing, have options, and are not sure which tradition to practice. While nothing can replace simply visiting a sangha to see whether the community seems healthy, it may be helpful to understand some basic similarities and differences in the three primary traditions. In this post I offer rough sketches of Theravada, Mahayana (specifically my tradition of Zen), and Vajrayana Buddhism.

Theravada Buddhism, which most closely adheres to the earliest Buddhist sutras, emphasizes the model of the arhat who attains enlightenment by following the 8 fold path. Meditation, the precepts, and the six paramitas are the vital practices. The ideal is monastic practice, but this tradition is also available to lay people often through classes and extended retreats.

Mahayana Buddhism is the second "turning of the wheel of Dharma" and, among adherents, is considered a natural development of the Buddha's original teachings. For example, the concept of nonself evolves into the teachings of dependent origination and the emptiness (lack of intrinsic essence) of all phenomena. Given interconnectedness, the bodhisattva practices to save not a separate self but all beings. This aspiration is modeled after Buddha, who taught for the remainder of his life after awakening.

Photo by Sandra Raponi

Vajrayana is a form of Buddhism that developed in India and neighboring countries, perhaps most notably Tibet. Considered the third turning of the wheel of Dharma, Vajrayana offers tantric practices that emulate Buddha's enlightenment, particularly the identity of wisdom and compassion.

Broadly speaking, the first "stage" of practice in all three traditions is taking refuge in Buddha, Dharma and Sangha, vowing to honor the precepts, and practicing concentration or calm abiding.

Still, adventitious suffering based on a lack of alignment with our true nature persists; we project enduring selfhood where there is none (this is our ignorance) and thus experience intensified grasping and aversion (which are the primary forms of suffering). These 3 poisons of ignorance, grasping, and aversion block our innate compassion.

In the Theravada tradition, one progresses further down the path by cultivating loving kindness, compassion, sympathetic joy, and equanimity through meditative exercises, such as sending feelings of compassion to oneself and others. One might think during meditation, “May you be free of pain and sorrow. May you be well and happy.” Practitioners begins by sending compassion to friends and family. Then one sends compassion to people whom one might not be inclined to wish well, such as people who may have hurt us. Gradually, one learns to extend compassion to all beings. Practitioners also cultivate insight into the lack of an innate, unchanging self. In Vipassana meditation, one labels sensations and mental formations and notices their impermanence. This practice breaks our identification with such states, alleviating ignorance, grasping, and aversion.

In Zen, the teaching is that we are already Buddhas sitting on the bodhi seat. We just do not necessarily realize this. Hakuin’s Song of Zazen says, “All beings by nature are Buddha, as ice by nature is water.... This very body is the Buddha." In the Soto Zen tradition, we practice zazen (meditation) with this "great faith" that whatever arises is buddha-nature manifesting. We give up looking outside of our experience for enlightenment, and we deepen our appreciation of things exactly as they are, regardless of the content of our minds. We don’t do zazen to become Buddhas; zazen is Buddha’s practice. We have faith that “Nirvana is right here, before our eyes," and "this very place is the Lotus Land" (Hakuin).

In addition to practicing with great faith, Zen encourages "great doubt.” Believing concepts and senses of self have fixed referents is the fundamental delusion inspiring painful grasping and aversion. In zazen, we practice "opening the hand of thought." We do not need to make this happen; awareness is its own action. Delusions are self-releasing. Our task is simply to sit still, be quiet, and pay attention. In this practice, we recognize concepts and senses of self (even notions of emptiness and Buddhahood) as concepts and senses of self. In practice, we see that all mental formations come and go. Indeed, all phenomena are like a rainbow -- without any enduring substance and dependent on changing causes and conditions. Recognizing this alleviates ignorance, grasping, and aversion. There is no “thing” to reject or hold onto.

But even great faith and great doubt might be described as just ideas. Beyond "is" and "is not," beyond affirmation and negation, this dream-life shape-shifts like clouds in the sky. Inspired by a deep feeling of interconnection as we open beyond self-concern, compassion moves us to respond to the cries of the world. Bodhisattvas dedicate themselves to actual people and everyday problems (including but not only our own) rather than any abstract notion of compassion. Awakening does not make us infallible gods. On the contrary, we see just how deluded and fallible we are. We make many mistakes in this life of vow, and we atone and start over again and again. We just do our best, moment after moment, to alleviate suffering, though there are no separate beings to save.

Some Zen traditions also offer koans to help us awaken to the dance of life. It is essential to study with a trained teacher in practicing koans -- one who has completed a koan curriculum themselves. We do not need to "work on" the koan but to allow the koan to express itself through us. Time and again, we move into the dark of no knowing, then trust what arises. In this practice, we come to see see through the eyes of the ancestral teachers. Our eyebrows are entangled. We embody and express the wisdom and compassion of the ancient masters. Thus the Dharma is transmitted.

The second stage in Vajrayana practice is "deity identification" or "guru devotion." In tantric practice (which requires a skillful teacher), practitioners identify with their deity's or guru's realization rather than with their small sense of self, "purifying" afflictive states into awareness itself. In the beginning of this practice, the deity or guru may seem external to oneself and may even take the form of a wrathful deity; through practice, one realizes the awakened aspects of one's own mind. We might think of this as a development of the Mahayana teaching that we are already Buddhas; this tantric practice essentially offers a skillful means of realizing this, as koan practice does in the Zen tradition.

And stage three in Vajrayana practice might be described as "energy work" that cultivates insight into the emptiness of the deity or guru. Any identification with enlightenment is extra and must be left behind. This is reminiscent of the ancient teaching that when we cross the river samsara, we do not bring the raft with us on the "other shore." It also reminds us of the Zen teaching, "If you meet the Buddha, kill the Buddha." Of course this is not literal; it means that the Dharma is medicine for particular forms of suffering, and once we are free, we should no longer be attached to that medicine. That would become a burden for us.

While there are parallels between the three turnings of the wheel of Dharma, there are also differences in terms of content, emphases, techniques, aesthetics, and in how the Dharma is presented. For example, in Zen, though we have our ox herding pictures describing developmental stages, we also explicitly acknowledge from day one that even the conceptual maps of the Dharma must be held lightly. A student once asked the Korean nun and teacher, Manseong Sunim, "How do I cultivate the Way of the Buddha?" "No cultivation," answered Manseong. "What about obtaining release from the cycle of birth and death?" the student persisted. "Who chains your birth and death?" Manseong replied. As Grace Schireson explains, "While there is awakening, we cannot self-consciously follow a map or a list of the right steps. The to-do list tends to pervert our practice into an idea of gain" and "chains us to desire" (Schireson, Zen Women, p. 134). From the perspective of great doubt, there’s no path, nowhere to go, nothing to attain, and nothing we can hold onto. Put affirmatively from the perspective of great faith, when we sit zazen, enlightenment is already present, and all the precepts are fulfilled. Practice is realization. Still, we must not imagine that this means we do not need to practice. That's just another idea. Practice requires great effort. It's just that the entire path is contained in this very moment of practice-enlightenment.

Though the technologies and descriptions of Theravada, Mahayana, and Vajrayana vary, the Lotus Sutra suggests there really is only "one vehicle," and any differences are merely matters of expedient (skillful) means. Why is there only one vehicle? Because practice does not take us anywhere other than where we are. We are already at the end of the path. And, we need to realize this deeply for ourselves, so we practice. 

On the surface, practices do appear different, but ultimately I think they are different yet often overlapping means to similar ends. For example, in tantric practice, one may invoke wrathful deities, which are, at least in part, "the very embodiment of the negative karmas or emotions they help us confront" (Lee Kane). The practice of facing these wrathful deities helps practitioners integrate with them and see the emptiness of what initially appear to be obstacles (such as fear and anger). In this way, these obstacles can be realized as dharma gates. Though beautifully personified in tantric practices, all Buddhist traditions invite us to face our demons to realize wisdom and compassion. Tantric practice may appear different from the practice of shikantaza (Zen's practice of just sitting still and paying attention to whatever arises), but shikantaza inevitably includes meeting our "inner demons" in the same way Buddha met the demon Mara on the evening of his enlightenment. When Buddha faced Mara, he stayed still and simply said, "I see you Mara," and Mara's arrows turned into flower petals of emptiness. In Zen, we say "awareness is its own action." Compassionately bearing witness is enough to realize the emptiness of phenomena, even scary demons, and this is precisely what we do in shikantaza.

Rest assured, all three traditions will challenge what we often hold most dear -- our often unconscious attachments to concepts and senses of self that undergird suffering. All three traditions will encouage us to face what we otherwise might avoid (and thus be unconsciously controlled by). Many aspects of our traditions resonate with each other, and they fundamentally align in that we practice to actualize awakening in the world.

So why choose one tradition over the next? Perhaps it is simply a matter of trying them to see where we feel the deepest affinity with the Dharma, the teacher(s), and the sangha. Having said this, I do think it is important that once we choose a tradition, we follow through over the long haul if possible. While we can't control all circumstances and may need to find another teacher and sangha at some point, repeatedly bouncing from one tradition and teacher to another might be a way to avoid those practices and teachings that we find the most challenging, and that are also the most liberating.