Death deserves our full respect
Play
I don't remember all the details, but that scene from a very old movie goes more or less like this: A father and young son, on a boat, discuss where people go after they die. The man takes a glass and fills it with water. "This is life," he tells the boy,
Even now, I still doubt many people can explain it better. With all our current knowledge about the matter, that is. All the recent fuss about a Thai monk who planned to “abandon his body” in a coffin made the scene come flashing back.
How unceremonious it was for the water in the glass to join the river. And how much of a fanfare it has been for a monk to “detach” himself from his physical presence.
I’m not sure if the glass demonstration is Buddhism, but it’s pretty certain that proclaiming you were set to “leave your body” but then changed your mind because “angels” told you not to is anything but. The monk now claims he will live another 15 years, meaning he will see and hear first-hand the debate on whether his actions were religious fraud.
Thai Buddhism has come a long way (backwards or otherwise), so singling out the monk might not be totally fair. There are amulets that can supposedly protect you from bullets and are insanely priced. There are countless sex scandals. A famous temple teaches that heaven is like a condominium and you have to out-donate others if you want to reserve a penthouse suite after you die. Monks drink the night away. Monks give lottery predictions. Monks perform blessings for your brand-new Mercedes.
Correct me if I’m wrong, but Buddhism teaches that you own nothing, not even your body. So why go to great lengths seeking an amulet that can protect something you don’t even own from bullets, accidents or diseases? (Before you frown at me, wearing amulets to remind yourselves of the true Buddhist principles is perfectly understandable.) Why do you have to seek religious protection for your car? The lottery serves our human greed and lust, and to put a positive spin on it, keeps our hopes alive, but we’d better leave monks out of it.
Thai Buddhism, wrote a respected monk, has become practised in creating superhero monks, who are associated with all kinds of miracles, and their “nirvana-bound” counterparts. Both kinds of monks attract large followings, which means a lot of money. True Buddhism prescribes humility, selflessness and compassion, but that’s not a profit-generating doctrine – unless, of course, a monk uses it as a stepping stone to popularity that can eventually be commercialised.
“Money will pour into that Chaiyaphum temple,” the respected monk wrote, “because what has taken place over there is all about money.” With the negative publicity surrounding the “leave the body” stunt, some donors may be having second thoughts. News reports, however, have mentioned a great number of followers who still sincerely believe everything Luang Pu Phim told them.
We don’t actually know what to call Luang Pu Phim’s act. Was he trying to commit suicide? Did he honestly believe his time was coming, so that his vow to meditate himself to death was genuine, albeit misled? Was he trying to dupe his followers? Is he a conman, or a fanatic, or simply a not-so-smart person?
The most relevant question, though, should be: Would a true Buddhist do anything like this? In other words, does lying down in a coffin and waiting for your end espouse humility, selflessness and compassion? If such acts do portray detachment, are the possible motives consistent with Buddhism?
Death is a fascinating subject because none of us knows what lies beyond. Some believe there is a better or worse place, others look forward to meeting or being reunited with a supreme being. Buddhism’s ultimate goal is “to die” and become, well, nothing. (To call it a “goal” smacks subtly of selfishness, but we have no better word at the moment.)
It’s up to future generations to discover who put the water into the glass and what exactly the “river” is. So far, we know this much: Death makes life precious and meaningful and the fragility death creates makes love and compassion possible. We are still unsure about the real purpose of detachment, or the reunion, or the crossing over into something new, but we feel the process should be natural and should never be exploited. After all, we should give death the respect it deserves.
