Seeing Perfection: Not Speaking of Others
Photo by Chan
The ethical teachings of Buddhism emerge from the realization that we are not separate. There is no one and no thing that is not you. But what does that mean? And what does a life lived from this realization look like?
This talk continues the Ocean Mind Sangha’s study of the Buddhist precepts, focusing on the sixth of the Ten Grave Precepts (seeing the perfection in others) and manifesting this in our day to day lives. Zuisei draws on the teachings of Nancy Mujo Baker Roshi’s Opening to Oneness, as well as Zen Master Dogen.
This talk was given by Zuisei Goddard. See below for transcript.
Transcript
This transcript is based on Zuisei's talk notes and may differ slightly from the final talk.
Welcome to the Ocean Mind Sangha and our study on the Buddhist precepts (the moral and ethical teachings of Zen). We’re discussing Chapter 6 of Opening to Oneness. This is the precept on “Non-talking About Others’ Errors and Faults.” If you haven’t read the book, don’t worry. I think this is a precept that we can all relate to, and I hope that our conversation will give you more than one entry point into what it means to live a life clearly and kindly with wisdom and compassion. In our lineage, this precept is worded as “I will see the perfection—I will not speak of others’ errors and faults.”
Before we go any further, I’d like to draw our attention to this fact: the wording of the dharma, as my friend and fellow teacher Yeshe Chödrön calls it, because how we use words matter, and in Buddhism words tend to be used very carefully, very precisely, with the understanding that words shape and reflect our experience of the world.
Here we have this precept, and it says “I will see the perfection; I will not speak of others’ errors and faults.” This precept is saying I will begin by seeing my and others’ perfection. My not speaking of their faults doesn’t come from an idea that it’s good to not criticize or gossip, it comes from the realization that I’m perfect, and they’re perfect, therefore, there’s no need for me to criticize them. It’s not my business, what others do or don’t do. My business is how I act, how I speak, how I use my mind. That’s the real work: to refrain from harm, practice good, and master the mind, as the Buddha said in the Dhammapada.
This should answer the question that begs to be asked: but how about when someone does something harmful? Shouldn’t we speak up then? Of course! Of course we should. But that’s not pointing out another’s errors and faults; that’s stopping harm. You see the difference? It’s not about criticizing something or someone we don’t like. It’s about aligning ourselves with our inherent perfection, with our wholeness, and from there seeing what needs our attention. What needs our love? What needs our care? In that case, we also choose our words carefully. We speak about the harm done, not the person harming.
We hurt others because we get caught in our greed, anger, and ignorance. We harm others because we don’t see clearly or aren’t able to act according to what we see. That happens to all of us, so we work on it. We continue to practice and clarify and integrate so we’ll be better able to manifest our perfection. That’s why Shunryu Suzuki Roshi said, “We’re perfect and complete just as we are, and we could use a little work.” Realization, enlightenment, is that perfection. Practice is the work needed to see it and live it. Both are true, both are needed, both are what we’re here to clarify.
Now, another detail about wording. Mujo Roshi, the author of this book we’re studying, prefaces all the precepts with the prefix non—non-killing, non-stealing, non-lying, etc. Someone asked, "How is that different from not killing, not stealing?" It seems like a minor detail, but it isn’t. Not killing is exactly what it says, to refrain from killing, to not take life. Non-killing, in the context of Zen practice, is to realize the place where killing isn’t possible, the place where killer, and killing, and the one being killed all merge into one. In this place, it’s impossible to even give rise to the thought of killing. Why? Because there’s no separation, and in no separation, one cannot harm another because there’s no one and no other. Mujo Roshi says, “Not only is the dharma faultless or ‘flawless’ but nothing can be excluded. There is no ‘outside.’” This is the great realization. This is the contribution of Buddhism to a life based on ethics and morality. It’s not based on right and wrong; it’s based on unity.
And if this sounds abstract, it’s because what I’m saying doesn’t even get close to the actual experience. My words cannot describe the moment when you realize that taking another’s life is like taking your own and so you don’t. Of course, in the world, someone is taking life every day so it’s not that it’s factually impossible; it is impossible from the point of view of heart, of mind. In order to take life, you have to be separate from the one you’re killing, and the more distant, the easier it is to kill (think of warfare now). And yet, it doesn’t affect us any less. Drone pilots also suffer from PTSD.
The reason we do zazen, the reason we do so many long hours of sitting, is to realize the place of non-killing, non-speaking of faults, or anything else. Then, we bring it into the world and we put it to work because if it’s not working there, it’s not working. It has to work in our relationships, in our jobs, in those moments when we meet something difficult and we’re not sure how to act. That’s when we want to use the precepts; that’s when it counts.
So, in this precept, to non-speak of others’ errors and faults means to first realize there are no others. Master Dogen, in his commentary, says: “In the midst of the buddhadharma, we are the same Way, the same dharma, the same realization, and the same practice. Do not speak of others’ errors and faults. Do not destroy the Way.” That’s quite a statement! Do not destroy the Way by speaking of others’ errors and faults. Do not sow separation; do not try to break what can’t be broken, what’s always whole. I think of that koan by Master Caoshan: “The love between parent and child cannot be split apart, even when hit with an ax.” Well, you can’t split wholeness either but you can harm it, you can destroy it in your or another’s mind.
This is why this precept is so important. You can kill someone with your words. Tell them often enough that they’re not worthy, they’re not lovable, they’re not smart, and they’ll believe it. Then their lives will bear it out. Our words matter, and also how we use them. We know this teaching but when speaking, we consider, Is it true, is it kind, is it necessary? And we can add, Is it timely, and is it beneficial? If it isn’t any one of these things, do we really need to say it? Speaking of others is lazy, it’s a convenient distraction, a bit of entertainment. To speak up and tell the truth is hard and necessary, and we can do it in a way that is kind and beneficial.
I also want to speak a little bit again about the approach of this book because sometimes these precepts are described in a way that seems a bit harsh. Last time someone brought up the example of Mujo Roshi saying that calling a friend when you’re lonely is a form of clouding the mind. I disagree. Given that the Buddha said that the whole of the holy life are spiritual friends, calling someone when you need to may in fact be a way of proceeding clearly. We have to use our own discernment. We have to be clear about our own intention, that’s all. Watching three hours of Netflix most likely will cloud our mind but if you’re in the throes of grief, that may be what you need for a while. No one else can tell us what will help us stay awake and what will put us back to sleep. No one else can say how much is too much to take in, at any given moment. There are no “shoulds” in the precepts. There really aren’t. There’s only what helps and what harms, and with patience and practice, we can get clearer about that, and adjust our actions accordingly.
Is this clear? I really want to make sure that we’re approaching these precepts wisely and kindly. It’s good to not deceive ourselves, but we don’t have to police ourselves either. One good way to proceed clearly is to ask, What do I want? What am I after here, really? If our motivation is less than bright, well, we accept that too. We can be honest and kind with ourselves at the same time. We can be perfectly imperfect. Then we never run out of things to practice, we’ll never run out of things to do. How wonderful!
Explore further
01 : Opening to Oneness: A Practical and Philosophical Guide to the Zen Precepts by Nancy Mujo Baker
02 : Kyojukaimon, Instructions on the Precepts by Eihei Dogen Zenji
03 : The Love bewteen a Parent and Child with Vanessa Zusei Goddard