Taking Refuge

We hear the word “refugee” a lot.  In dictionary.com we learn that “a refugee is a person who flees for refuge or safety, especially to a foreign country, as in time of political upheaval, war, etc.” The word is used to describe those who are suffering from a Sudanese famine, who are fleeing the Iraqi genocide in Kurdistan, or who are fleeing personal persecution by their government, be that the old USSR, Myanmar, or North Korea.

But the root of the word “refugee” is “refuge”, so a refugee is really just one who takes refuge.  I believe that when we take the refuges we become refugees, and I’d like to look at what it means to think of us in these terms.

A refugee takes refuge from personal danger: what is it that we take refuge from as Buddhists?

We are trying to leave Samsara, to find a new home led by a system or a person who will give us comfort and security away from the suffering that is our world.  And if we look close enough—which as a society we condition ourselves not to—we will see we are also taking refuge from death.  As Shantideva says in The Way of the Bodhisattva:

Don't you see how, one by one,

Death has come for all your kind? 

And yet you slumber on so soundly,

Like a Buffalo beside its butcher.

And:

And when the heralds of the deadly king have gripped me,

What help to me will be my friends and kin?

For then life's virtue is my one defense,

And this, alas, is what I shrugged away.

In the same way that a political refugee looks for a government and society that can save him from a life that he finds unsatisfactory, we, too, are looking to be saved from the horror of suffering.  We have tuned into the basic human desire for happiness.  We have realized that the forms of escapism into which we can so easily fall ultimately cannot work, that salvation requires not more artificial joy, but something completely different. We have realized, in a manner analogous to that of the political refugee, that the structure of the society in which we are living is somehow not conducive to the life of happiness we seek.

We are also all refugees from other religious traditions, mostly Christianity, which we fled because the particular savior we found there did not work for us.  We did not find the Christ a satisfactory solution to our need to be saved from suffering, our need for joy.

Many Buddhists find salvation in the Pure Land, a place physically separate from this world where we might go and live with all the Buddhas and Bodhisattvas, free from suffering.  This is similar in my conception of it to the freedom promised by Christ in the next life.  This might seem superficially completely antithetical to what we are seeking, which is release now, but I believe that the distinction is not what it appears to be, and I’ll return to the point later.

For now, though, I’ll turn to Zen Buddhism, the tradition and practice of meditation which we all came to, the practice where we all experienced a glimpse of a better life, the possibility of release from suffering.  The practice to which we return, the practice where we sit and take the refuges.

                                                                                   

The Uttaratantra Shastra, which I’ve talked about before, is a wonderful Tibetan text that expounds on the Three Treasures and the act of taking refuge in them as of paramount importance.  It talks of the refuges as being on three levels, with Buddha being the Big One, the highest refuge that trumps the others.  I’d encourage you to read this text, since it really does emphasize the power of the refuges.  In Tibetan Buddhism the act of taking refuge is the point at which one formally becomes a Buddhist, and I’d suggest you look closely at your own practice, for I am pretty sure that whether or not you take the formal recitation of the refuges seriously, you are sincerely taking refuge in Buddha, Dharma, and Sangha in your life as your path to release from suffering, to finding joy, to salvation.

So looking at the refuges in the Shastra’s reverse order, I’ll begin with Sangha:

We all take refuge in Sangha when we come and sit together on Tuesdays and Sundays.  But more than that, by knowing that our sangha is sitting on those days, it is there for us to take refuge in whether we show up or not.  The sangha is always a phone call, an email, a lunch date, or even just a thought away, and we all stay in regular contact.  Taking refuge in sangha is all about connections and relationships and the quality of them.  True sangha relationships are loving and caring and generous.  Whether monastic or lay, they are comfortable and intimate, places of safety.  In our community we have focused much of our practice intentionally on creating an environment in which those relationships can flourish as a resource to us all.  These relationships require cultivation and nurturing if they are to offer benefit to self and other, and we are intentionally working on that together.  In sangha we find real community, real connection, real compassion both given and received.

What does it mean to take refuge in Dharma?  It means to recognize the teachings as something in which we can find safety and release.  It means to study Buddhist texts and through them find a deepening of our understanding that will allow us to see cut through our suffering by identifying its causes and seeing more clearly what is really going on.  There are risks in all practice, and the refuges are no exception.  One of the greatest I see is when we take refuge in dharma, for it is here that there is a tendency to become attached to a teacher.  I recognize the enormous value of a teacher in helping us to penetrate the dharma, but I am troubled by our human tendency to identify with a teacher, to place on a teacher a responsibility for helping us, and perhaps ultimately to turn our teacher into our savior.  This will ultimately fail both teacher and student.  It is critically important that we remember the Buddha’s teaching on this: each of us is responsible for our own salvation.  We cannot look to others, not even to the Buddha, to deliver us from samsara.

So from this standpoint, what can it mean to take refuge in Buddha, the highest of the refuges?

In the first instance we are taking refuge in the Buddha’s teachings and in the second we are taking refuge in his example, which is another form of teaching.  But this is all taking refuge in the Dharma, which we have already discussed.

Taking refuge in the Buddha is about taking refuge in Buddha nature, seeing clearly the reality of the world as it is and taking refuge in this reality.  In many of the texts we read the Hinayana Buddhists are disparaged for running away from this world, for seeking release from suffering without caring for others, and I think this not only as failing to recognize the cultural context within which the teachings occurred, but also a failure to recognize the Buddha’s teachings and the reality of the world in which we live.

Buddha taught that there are two truths: the first is the truth of Indra’s net, that we are all composed of the same stuff, that we come from and return to the same place like drops of rain, and the second that although we are just drops of rain, nonetheless we exist as such in relationship with other drops of rain and with the ground on which we fall.  This is not something we get to choose, it is just the way things are.  We can no more avoid our separateness and our interbeing with other life than we can intentionally avoid breathing.  It just is.  So distinguishing between those who return to save all beings and those who seek to escape is to me rather silly: we cannot avoid being here and ultimately other beings.  The Bodhisattva Vow is not so much a commitment as a statement of reality. 

If we are to follow the teachings of the Buddha, I believe that compassion, love for other, and intimate connection with the world is unavoidable, for what else can we do when we see Buddha nature, see ourselves in the eyes of another?  More, I believe that it is not only unavoidable, but it is precisely in this activity that we have the opportunity to really take refuge in Buddha and truly find our own salvation.  It is not in cultivating silent wisdom away from the world that salvation is to be found, but in engaging with the world in love and care and compassion.  Returning to the salvation of the Pure Land and Christianity, I believe they are also pointing in this direction by creating an environment in which the practitioner is able to transcend the suffering of the world of samsara, and to live a good life for the benefit of others—whether motivated by purifying karma to attain a high rebirth or in the Imitation of Christ.  These traditions point at practices which embody what the Buddha taught: they admonish us to see and experience our connectedness with all of creation and to act with deep empathy and compassion.

There is a perceived risk in opening up to the level of intimacy that comes with Guan Yin taking on the suffering of the world, but like so many risks it is misunderstood and actually we construe it backwards.  It is in opening up and giving ourselves to others that we find ourselves.  Anyone who has children knows this in their bones without even thinking.  But this selfless giving offers possibilities way beyond family, and it gives back to us 100-fold in the joy we can feel.  Compassion is the best cure for us, and it is here that we can find our deepest joy.

Many refugees recognize the wonder of their new life and become the very best of citizens, committing themselves to the political and social processes of their new nation, working hard and contributing more than their fair share: it is no accident that they are also among the most grateful and the happiest of citizens.  As refugees, I would suggest that we, too, should look at our new nation and see the opportunity through giving freely of ourselves in compassion, love, and gratitude to truly find ourselves and to find joy.  And we can remind ourselves of this by taking the refuges.

[Originally delivered to Red Clay Sangha on April 22, 2012]