“I find myself comparing my generation of tulkus with this present generation. In my time we went through a lot of hardship, eating nothing but rice and potatoes for up to a year… having to share our study books with 18 other students… But by comparison, our present generation of tulkus is utterly spoiled and has the easiest ride. Yet these young tulkus today have their own share of challenges that are far more difficult than those we faced.
The world is now much smaller and more open, and so, expectations are very much higher. Tulkus with some lineage history behind them are always under the spotlight from all directions. This is especially true for tulkus who are put on thrones at a young age, given titles like “His Holiness,” and for whom trumpets are blown every time they arrive...
One key complication comes from students and disciples not knowing how to balance their pure perception of these young boys… I have seen great practitioners look at their guru’s young incarnation and, without any doubt, clearly see their actual guru… Ideally, this is what individual practitioners are supposed to do...
The reality today is that, even though these kids may be genuine tulkus, many of them have not even learned to wipe their own noses, let alone to manifest intact all the qualities of their previous incarnations such as omniscience. Moving from one life to the next is not like moving from one room to another. There have been tremendous changes over time, which require new forms of training if these tulkus are to manifest their true nature and qualities. Blind student adoration, often arising from cultural preconceptions, conceals from us the need to reexamine the training these young tulkus actually need.
In fact, these tulkus may not be genuine reincarnations at all, but they are given the “tulku” label as a child with the aspiration that it will benefit them and others. Either way, these young tulkus are still just kids who need to be trained, properly raised, and given initiations and teachings—and not just intellectually and academically. We need to make them confident and humble, sublime and human. And above all, we need them to become genuine spiritual practitioners. If they are not true dharma practitioners, what hope is there?
Our pedagogy and way of raising tulkus have not changed with the times. Tibetans, especially in monasteries, are extraordinarily stubborn and resistant to change. There have been superficial changes, if merely because teachers could today go to prison for the way they raised us. There may be no beatings today, and there may even be weekend holidays, plenty of family visits, and lots of toys. But that doesn’t mean the pedagogy has fundamentally changed or adapted to the times.
Tulkus today are put on thrones and surrounded by an entourage that is often more interested in perpetuating the institution than in bringing up the next spiritual and lineage leaders. All the accompanying paraphernalia of processions, carpets, brocades, and jade cups may make the tulku look exotic and special, but they don’t mean that he’s been trained. All this hoopla may seem to work at a young age, because if you wash and shampoo even a street kid and sit him on brocades, he will look impressive at least for a few hours. If a very young tulku even smiles in that kind of lofty atmosphere, devotees will interpret it as some kind of amazing sign.
But this substitution of show for real training becomes a serious problem over time, as it exerts an insidious but strong pressure on the young tulku over time. After all, there is no pressure greater and more severe than the expectations of others. So when hundreds if not thousands of eyes are looking and judging everything these tulkus do, they can end up isolated and imprisoned in one of the loneliest and most alienating zones imaginable.
The world’s growing materialism and affluence have found their way into our monasteries, where many lineage holders now lead a lifestyle so lavish and estranged from ordinary realities that they could almost be emperors! Seeing the highest lamas, whom novices are supposed to emulate, living extravagant nouveau-riche lifestyles complete with gold watches and bracelets, sends seriously wrong signals. This “model” simply does nothing to encourage people to practice the dharma, especially young monks newly enrolled in a monastery, and whose thinking may not be very sophisticated. After all, there is a reason why Sakyamuni Buddha chose to appear barefoot with a begging bowl—because the austerity, renunciation, and simplicity this symbolized has real meaning.
I am not saying that the head lamas today should all suddenly go around with begging bowls. But it is so necessary for them to exude some sort of unpretentious humility and to project an image of simple living. A good example of the change that’s needed is the behavior of many of us lamas at the annual winter prayer gatherings and festivals under the Bodhi tree in Bodh Gaya. I often can’t help but wonder what other Buddhists, like the Theravada practitioners, think of our lamas sitting on thrones that may even be higher than some of the Buddha statues around them. Bodh Gaya would be a good place for our lamas to start practicing simplicity and humility!..
Being an incarnate tulku is really like being put into one of the most unimaginable prisons. You systematically alienate him from developing into a proper human being who can deal with the human world. The real pain will come later when these young tulkus grow up, with their hormones out of control, no idea about worldly realities, and feeling totally useless. They will not even know how to interact with the world in the most basic ways, let alone how to be a leader. How can such a tulku ever be a genuine spiritual guide to students?..
According to the vinaya, it’s not permissible to impose celibacy vows on someone against their free will or as a result of peer or social pressure, as so often happens with young monks these days. It’s worth remembering that Sakyamuni Buddha himself became a renunciant by choice only after he had been married and had a child. Imposing celibacy in the face of today’s intense social pressure and cyber-entertainment turns many of our young tulkus into hypocrites forced to hide their “faults.” A pedagogy that encourages such hypocrisy is hugely misguided and can even produce grossly aberrant behavior.
I also have genuine empathy for the monks, and others responsible for training our young incarnate lamas. They generally mean so well and have such good intentions, but they just don’t know how to raise a child in today’s world and have simply not adapted to current conditions. Our young tulkus need to learn how to queue up for things that need queueing, how to share what should be shared, and other basic elements of human decency and social contract. When they are served and offered everything, many of these tulkus never learn even the simple human knowledge of sharing, and end up ill-equipped to live in the world. They not only need leadership training, but need a basic course in human relationship. Tutors and caretakers must know that, out of frustration, some of these young tulkus have even burned themselves or cut themselves with razors—as other troubled teenagers have also done. Such behavior alerts us to what a dangerous time and precarious age this is.
Just to bring up an ordinary kid and especially a teenager in this day and age is extraordinarily challenging, as all parents know. How much more difficult, then, to raise a child and teenager who is supposed to lead much more than just a family estate or family lineage. Yet our tulku handlers have almost no knowledge and experience in the basic human training required to bring up children in today’s world. A large reason for the situation can be attributed to traditional societies like the Tibetan and Bhutanese, which are a complex mixture of heartfelt devotion and outdated cultural baggage…
In sum, the present Tibetan tradition is training tulkus toward the exact opposite of true leadership. This is not to deny the merits of the traditional system, which in the past has produced a certain elegance alongside real scholarship and discipline. But a closer analysis reveals an unacceptable tradeoff in failing to prepare our tulkus to function in this world, let alone in the totally different world we will be living in 20 years from now.
Our tulku training system remains stuck somewhere in the 1930s or 40s, not preparing our young tulkus for the world of 2026 when they will reach maturity and supposedly assume the mantle of spiritual leadership. What are we doing to prepare our tulkus for a future era in which Apple produces a chip that tulkus can wear to connect to broadband and explore the world of sex, drugs and money?
It’s no wonder that by the time our young tulkus grow up and reach their 20s, they have often become completely strange, knowing nothing about the world, and with their labrangs, staff, and close relatives appearing to dictate every movement of their lives. The problem is worse when these labrang members themselves are corrupt and given to nepotism, as is too often the case. As a result, the scene that newcomers to Tibetan Buddhism encounter can be hugely confusing, with supposedly omniscient lamas unable even to control their closest attendants. Tibetans will excuse such blatantly strange behavior by saying it’s not the lama’s fault—the lama is always great—but his attendant or consort is the problem.
But somehow this doesn’t wash in the face of the bald reality that our tulkus are rarely genuine dharma practitioners, and are largely out of touch and dysfunctional in their own lives, let alone capable of providing true leadership to students and disciples. I can only pray that their odd behavior has some invisible benefit that can’t be conceptualized by ordinary beings like myself…
I’ve also advised my friends, colleagues, and fellow Rinpoches time and again that when they teach non-Tibetans, to not wear Tibetan robes or any sort of Buddhist garb. Seeing a Buddhist practitioner in normal dress sends the message that Buddhism can be practiced by everyone…”
~ Dzongsar Jamyang Khyentse Rinpoche (born 1961), also known as Khyentse Norbu, is a Tibetan lama, filmmaker, and writer. At age 7, he was recognized as the incarnation of Jamyang Khyentse Wangpo (1820—1892), one of the greatest Tibetan lamas of the 19th century. He is the primary custodian of the teachings of Jamyang Khyentse Wangpo. He is the son of Thinley Norbu, grandson of Dudjom Rinpoche, and was a close student of Dilgo Khyentse.
http://khyentse.org/
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