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Skill in Questions: How the Buddha Taught

Tác giả: Thanissaro Bhikkhu (Geoffrey DeGraff)
Thông tin: Nguồn: Tủ sách Không Hoa

Skill in Questions

HOW THE BUDDHA TAUGHT

≥h›nissaro Bhikkhu

(Geoffrey DeGraff)

“That’s the purpose of discussion, that’s the purpose of counsel, that’s the purpose of drawing near, that’s the purpose of lending ear: i.e., the liberation of the mind through no clinging.” — AN 3:68 “Just as if a man with good eyesight standing on the shore of a body of water were to see a large fish rise. The thought would occur to him, ‘From the rise of this fish, from the break of its ripples, from its speed, it is a large fish, not a small one.’ In the same way, one individual, in discussion with another, knows this: ‘From the way this person rises to an issue, from the way he applies [his reasoning], from the way he addresses a question, he is discerning, not dull.’” — AN 4:192

Contents

FOREWORD

INTRODUCTION

CHAPTER ONE: THE KAMMA OF TEACHING

READINGS

Skill in Questions

Skill in Answers

The Buddha’s Rhetoric

CHAPTER TWO: THE BODHISATTA’S QUEST

READINGS

CHAPTER THREE: CATEGORICAL ANSWERS

READINGS

Categorical Teachings

Appropriate Attention

Skillful & Unskillful Actions

The Four Noble Truths

Dependent Co-arising

Foreword

This is a book about discernment in action, centered on the Buddha’s strategic use of discernment in framing and responding to questions.

The idea for this book was born more than a decade ago from reading three of the Buddha’s discourses. The first was SN 44:10, in which he refused to answer the question of whether there is or is not a self. This discourse called attention to the fact that the Buddha had clear ideas about which questions his teachings were meant to answer, and which ones they weren’t. I realized that if I wanted to understand and get the best use out of his teaching on not-self, I had to find the questions to which this teaching was a response and not take it out of context. I also realized that the same principle would apply to the Buddha’s other teachings as well.

The second discourse was MN 2, which defined appropriate attention—one of the most important qualities of mind in leading to awakening—as the ability to know which questions were worth attending to, and which ones were not.

Among the questions listed as not worth attending to were, “Am I?” “Am I not?” “What am I?” This discourse reinforced the lessons of SN 44:10, proving that they were not limited to the circumstances described in that discourse, at the same time showing that the ability to focus one’s questions on the issue of suffering and stress was central to the path.

The third discourse was AN 4:42, in which the Buddha classified questions into four types depending on the response-strategy they deserved: a categorical answer, an analytical answer, cross-questioning, and being put aside. Although the discourse didn’t define these types of questions or illustrate them with examples, it did suggest that the Buddha had reflected carefully on the general issue of how to approach questions. Because so many of his teachings were in response to questions, the thought occurred to me that it would be instructive to look through the discourses to see if and how he used this typology in practice, and how it affected the way he approached particular topics in his teaching. And more than instructive: Given the importance of appropriate attention in the practice of the path, a study of this sort would provide a valuable practical tool, giving

guidance

in how to

keep the

practice

on course

attention to the questions that motivated it and gave it shape.

That’s how the idea for this book was born.

For

many

years

Iwas

unable

pursue

this

project

responsibilities, but I did keep a growing file of passages from the Canon that seemed relevant to this project as I encountered them in the course of other pursuits. These passages showed that the Buddha actually employed his fourfold typology in approaching questions, and that it was a useful tool in focusing attention on issues of genuine importance and avoiding distractions. I began applying the typology in my own practice, and found that it clarified many issues by

paying

careful

because

other

that had previously

been unclear. Also, I began referring

the

Buddha’s

response-strategies in my writings, for instance in the articles, “No Self or Notself?” “Questions of Skill,” “De-perception,” and “Perennial Issues,” along with the discussions of appropriate attention in The Wings to Awakening, “Food for Awakening,” and “Untangling the Present.” Some of the other projects I worked on in this period—in particular, the books, The Paradox of Becoming and The Shape of Suffering—broadened and sharpened my understanding of the issues involved in the Buddha’s choice of response-strategies.

At the same time, I began noticing discussions on the topic of questions in non-Buddhist

sources

well. Two

passages

particular

underlined

its

importance. One was a story told by a man born in New York whose parents had been immigrants from Eastern Europe. They had placed great importance on his education, and his mother would ask him every day after school, not what he had learned that day, but what questions he had asked. The mother was wise, understanding the importance of an inquisitive mind in the ability to learn what is of true value in a subject. The second passage was a quote from a famous author to the effect that if they can get you to ask the wrong questions, it doesn’t matter what answers you come up with. This quote underlines the fact that we often pick up our questions from other people without considering whether they actually help us or not, and that people can often use their influence in this way to

keep others distracted from

what’s

their

true

best

interest

know.

Reflecting on this quote, I appreciated even more the Buddha’s typology and the way he taught it in practice. He didn’t rest content with teaching others the right answers to questions; by his example, he provided them with the tools to foster their own discernment: to choose their questions wisely, to find the answers for themselves, and to gauge whether their answers really helped them. This was a rare and important gift.

For the past year and a half I have been working on this project, and I have found that the more time and energy I have put into this issue, the more fruitful the results have been in my teaching and practice. As the manuscript took shape, I benefitted from sharing it with others and gaining their insights in how to improve it. In addition to the monks here at the monastery, these people include:

Ven. Varadhammo Bhikkhu, Michael Barber, Gerald Eule, Bok-Lim Kim, Emer O’Hagan, Addie

Onsanit, Nathaniel

Osgood, Xiao-Quan

Osgood, Narciso

Polanco, Dale

Schultz, Mary

Talbot, Sebastian

Wong, Jane

Yudelman, and

Michael

Zoll. Ruby

Grad

and

Jonathan

Tarbox

generously

gave

their

professional skills, compiling the indexes and proofreading the text, respectively.

The generosity of these people in providing their time and expertise has greatly improved the book. I, of course, am responsible for any errors that remain.

I would like to dedicate this book, in gratitude, to the memory of Phra Rajvinayasobhana (Boontham

Puññamayo)

Wat

Makut Kasatriyaram,

Bangkok, a monk I have known for many years as Luang Lung, or Venerable Uncle. Beginning with the day of my ordination, he provided much help and encouragement in my practice of the life gone forth. When he passed away last March, it was as if I had lost a protector. I hope that the merit of this book will help speed him on his way to Nibb›na.

And I hope it will help you, the reader, in the quest for discernment on the path.

≥h›nissaro Bhikkhu

(Geoffrey DeGraff)

METTA FOREST MONASTERY

VAL L E Y CE NT E R, CA 9 2 0 8 2 -1409 USA

OCTOBER, 2010

INTRODUCTION

Skill in Questions

When we read the account of the Buddha’s last night, it’s easy to sense the importance of his final teaching before entering total nibb›na: “Now, then, monks, I

exhort

you: All

fabrications

are

subject

decay. Bring

about

completion by being heedful.” These words call attention to themselves because they were the last he ever said.

That may be why it’s so easy to overlook the importance of what the Buddha did right before saying them. In a gesture extremely gracious—given that he had been walking all day, had fallen severely ill along the way, and now was about to die—he offered one last opportunity for his followers to question him. He even made the offer four times to show that it wasn’t just a gesture. He seriously wanted to clear up any remaining doubts in their minds before closing his mouth for good.

Then the Blessed One addressed the monks, “If even a single monk has any doubt or indecision concerning the Buddha, Dhamma, or Saºgha, the path or the practice, ask. Don’t later regret that ‘The Teacher was faceto-face with us, but we didn’t bring ourselves to cross-question him in his presence.’”

When this was said, the monks were silent.

A second time… A third time, the Blessed One said, “If even a; single monk has any doubt or indecision concerning the Buddha, Dhamma, or Saºgha, the path or the practice, ask. Don’t later regret that ‘The Teacher was face-to-face with us, but we didn’t bring ourselves to cross-question him in his presence.’”

A third time, the monks were silent.

Then the Blessed One addressed the monks, “Now, if it’s out of respect for the Teacher that you don’t ask, let a friend inform a friend.”

When this was said, the monks were silent.

Then Ven. finanda said to the Blessed One, “It’s amazing, lord. It’s astounding. I’m confident that in this community of monks there isn’t even a single monk who has any doubt or indecision concerning the Buddha, Dhamma, or Saºgha, the path or the practice.”

“You, finanda, speak out of confidence, while there is knowledge in the Tath›gata that in this community of monks there isn’t even a single monk who has any doubt or indecision concerning the Buddha, Dhamma, or Saºgha, the path or the practice. Of these 500 monks, the most backward is a stream-winner, not destined for the planes of deprivation, headed to self-awakening for sure.” — DN 16

It’s possible to read this passage simply as a rhetorical flourish, indicating how special the assembly was that had gathered to witness the Buddha’s passing:

Only those who had had their first taste of the deathless were privileged enough to be present. But the passage goes deeper than that, showing how the Buddha had

brought

them

that

taste. Instead

enforcing

unquestioning

acceptance of his teachings, he had resolved his students’ doubts by being open to their questions. The fact that this incident is placed right before the last teaching is a measure of how central this method was to his teaching, and how important it was to his followers who assembled the Canon.

Other discourses emphasize this point as well. AN 2:46 [§73], for instance, notes that the Buddha trained his followers in cross-questioning, with the result that, “when they have mastered the Dhamma, they cross-question one another about it and dissect it: ‘How is this? What is the meaning of this?’ They make open what isn’t open, make plain what isn’t plain, dispel doubt on its various doubtful points.”

The central role of questioning in the Buddha’s teaching may be connected to the fact that his teaching starts not with a first principle but with a self-evident problem: how to put an end to suffering. And instead of trying to argue from this problem back to first principles, he stays focused on the immediate question of

how

solve

it. As

noted, suffering

gives

rise

two

responses—

bewilderment and a searching question: “Who knows a way or two to stop this pain?” To help put an end to that bewilderment, the Buddha presented his teachings

responses

the

many

questions

deriving

from

that

primal,

searching question. Thus questions formed the primary mode for organizing what he taught.

But even though the Buddha ordered his teachings around questions rather than first principles, he did not set out to answer every controversial question that came his way. He focused solely on questions related strategically to the end of suffering, i.e., questions that would actually help in attaining that goal. For this reason, he classified questions—as they related to this focus—according to the response-strategy

they

deserved, and

arrived

four

sorts: those

that

deserved a categorical answer, those that deserved an analytical answer, those that deserved to be cross-questioned before being answered, and those that deserved to be put aside. This fourfold classification is the theme of this book, for it provides important insights into both how and what the Buddha taught about the way to end suffering.

To understand the importance of this classification, and why the Buddha formulated it in those terms, it might be useful first to reflect in general terms on what it means to ask and answer a question based on a desire to attain a goal. A helpful way to begin that reflection is with a question that, in Western thought, is first stated in Plato’s Meno:

When you’re looking for something but don’t know quite what it is, how do you know when you’ve found it?

In the

Meno, Socrates uses this question as the departure point for his doctrine of memory from past lives: You know what you want because you knew it in a previous lifetime. But from a Buddhist point of view, a more fruitful approach to this question is to look at the psychology of how people go about setting up a problem and solving it in the here and now: You know when you’ve found the knowledge you were seeking because the desire that sparked your search had already given it a function and a shape. You wanted knowledge that would perform a desired function, and you wanted it to make sense, to fit in with what had worked with similar

problems in the

past. When you’ve

encountered

something that, when put to the test, meets both specifications—the function and the fit—you know that that’s what you wanted. (Ironically, even Socrates himself would set up a problem and test the proposed solutions in precisely this way.) The questions aimed at determining the fit and function of your answers operate on three levels. The first level aims at giving your ignorance a shape, to define your felt need and why the need makes sense. The second and third levels determine if the answer actually functions as you want it to, with the second level establishing tests for checking the actual performance of whatever potential answer seems to fit that shape, and the third setting standards for measuring whether an answer has actually passed the tests.

In formulating a question on the first level, you create the frame of a sentence and leave part of the frame blank. The important feature of the blank is that it’s not an amorphous hole. It’s more like the shape of a missing piece of a puzzle.

Only a piece that matches the shape and the pattern of the puzzle will fit. If you ask, “Why am I suffering?” and are told, “42,” you won’t be satisfied with the answer, for it’s not just a wrong piece from the right puzzle. It’s from the wrong puzzle entirely.

The reason we need questions to give shape to our ignorance is that the shape helps to narrow down the range of potential answers we will need to test to see if they fulfill the function we want. It’s a way of saving energy and time so that our second and third levels of questions can be applied immediately to the most promising candidates. If it turns out that none of the possibilities suggested by the shape of the first-level questions pass the second- or third-, we can then turn around and question the puzzle with which we started: Maybe the shape it suggested was mistaken, and we have to find a new puzzle or a new way of putting the pieces together. Then we experiment with a new shape, and apply the second- and third-level questions again. This way, through trial and error, we have a chance of finding the answer we want. When our questions on all three levels are well formulated, they help us to recognize the solution to our problem even though we originally had only a vague notion of what it might be.

But if the questions are wrongly formulated, they can easily lead us astray.

The original narrowing-down might narrow down on the wrong spot, focusing our attention away from the actual answer. The tests we set for our answers, and our standards for judging the results of those tests, might be misguided or aim too low.

This means that when you try to find an answer to a question of this sort, you have to do more than simply provide a piece that fits into the puzzle you’ve formulated. You have to question the question, remembering that your answer will have an impact, in terms either of what the questioner—you or your listener—will do with it, or of what it will do to the questioner. And this means that the puzzle analogy, which is essentially static, has to be replaced with a more dynamic one: The questioner is assembling a complex tool or instrument, such as a piano or a machine, and—seeing that you have practical experience with what he wants to assemble—has asked you for a missing part and advice on how to use the completed instrument. In this case, the first-level questions would cover the structure of the instrument; the second-level questions, the way it should be played or used; and the third-level questions, standards for determining whether it’s being played or used well. If you want to give responsible answers in a situation like this, you can’t simply supply the missing part. You first have to ascertain the desire behind the request: Does the questioner really want the part, or is he trying to make you look like a fool? Or does he want to use the part to assemble something more sinister? Even if his desire for the part is sincere, you want to make sure he’s planning to use the instrument for a beneficial purpose, that the instrument is the correct one for the purpose he has in mind, and that he knows how to use the instrument in a way that doesn’t cause inadvertent harm.

For

instance, suppose

that

you’re

a construction

engineer, and a close

friend—a would-be do-it-yourselfer totally inexperienced in construction—has come to you for advice. He’s discovered that a concrete barrier in his backyard is acting as a dam after heavy rain, preventing drainage, and keeping his yard and cellar flooded. He has what he thinks is a jackhammer for chipping away the concrete and has asked you for a missing part. Your first duty is to make sure that he really intends to use the jackhammer to attack the barrier, and that he’s not actually going to dig into a sewer main instead. Then you check to see that the concrete is actually causing harm, and that its removal will be beneficial: The water, when allowed to flow, won’t cause worse damage somewhere else. And you want to make sure that your friend isn’t assembling a cement mixer to make more cement by mistake.

When you’re sure that his purpose is skillful and that he actually has a jackhammer, you then check to see that the parts he’s already assembled have been put together correctly. Otherwise, even the best possible part you might give him wouldn’t fit, and the jackhammer wouldn’t work. And even then, when you supply the missing part, you might have to quiz him to make sure that he knows where to put it and how to use the jackhammer once it’s fully assembled so that he doesn’t end up injuring himself. And ideally you should give him the opportunity to ask you questions, for otherwise you can’t be sure that he’s understood what you’ve said. If you’re really responsible, you’ll give him a checklist of questions that will teach him how to judge whether he’s using his jackhammer appropriately and with skill.

What this means is that when you take into consideration the impact of the knowledge you’re providing, simply being truthful is not enough. You also have to ensure that your answer will be beneficial. If it’s challenging to your listener, you have to take care in presenting it with words that are timely: appropriate to the situation and the listener’s level of skill and understanding.

This was the Buddha’s approach to the responsibilities he took on when answering

questions. His primary

purpose

teaching

was to

provide

his

listeners with something they were looking for—a total end to suffering and stress—yet he knew that they might have only vague or downright wrong ideas of what that end might be or how to attain it. He had learned from experience that the act of framing skillful questions played an essential role in directing his own search for release, so his first step in helping his listeners overcome their ignorance was to show them how to give it the proper shape: how to frame the questions they addressed to him so that they would recognize the truth and utility of his solutions when they heard them. However, he had also learned from personal experience the importance of self cross-examination in testing the original frames he had formulated, and the answers he had come up with, in the course of his quest. Thus he also wanted to teach his listeners how to frame the questions they addressed to themselves, so that they could become independent in the Dhamma and learn to overcome their ignorance on their own.

In other words, he wasn’t content simply to provide answers to people’s questions. He

also

wanted to

show them

how unskillful questions can be

recognized through testing, and how skillful questions—conducive to the end of suffering—can be framed and tested in their place.

The Buddha was one of those rare teachers who understood how the content of his teaching gave insight into the act of teaching, so that how he taught was shaped by what he taught. In this case, the how was shaped by what he had learned on the night of his awakening. In the second watch of the night, he had seen that people’s experience of pleasure and pain is shaped by their actions (kamma), that their actions are shaped by their views, and that their views are shaped by their attitude of respect or disrespect for those who have realized and taught the truth.

This insight showed him that, as a teacher, he would be responsible for more than simply providing his listeners with right views. To be effective, he would also have to provide them with good reasons for respecting him and accepting those views, along with the right framework for putting them to proper use and testing the results they received. In other words, his approach would have to be strategic. He saw that words are not only descriptive but also performative: The act of speaking is a type of kamma, and as with all kamma it has an effect. The speaker’s responsibility is to make that effect as beneficial and timely as possible.

Thus, when

answering

questions, he

kept

the

kamma of

teaching

and

learning in mind. He saw that teaching and learning, to be most effective, have to be cooperative efforts. This meant, as a basic ground rule, that he’d be open to questions about his teachings, showing that he was responsive both to his listeners’ desire to find an end to suffering and to their desire to learn and understand his teachings. At the same time, however, he’d be careful to answer questions only when he felt the questioner was truthful and sincerely wanted to put an end to suffering and stress. Then he’d make sure that the person’s way of framing questions was appropriate to that task. If it was, he’d respond to the questions with answers that were categorical—absolute and without exceptions.

If it wasn’t, he had a choice. Either he’d reframe the questions, giving what he called

analytical answers,

the

questions

were

relevant

the ending

suffering and the frame could be adjusted to bring it in line with the path—the jackhammer wrongly assembled—or else he’d put the questions aside if he found them irrelevant and the frame totally inappropriate: the cement mixer when a jackhammer was the better tool. If he saw that his listeners might have trouble understanding the way he framed his answers, he’d cross-question them to

help

them

remember

and

apply

their

knowledge

other

skills

understanding and utilizing the skills he was teaching. When he was being especially thorough, he’d continue the cross-questioning by providing them with a checklist of points to ask themselves so that they could put his answers to the best use and gauge for themselves how well they were succeeding.

These are apparently the considerations that lay behind the Buddha’s decision to classify questions as to whether they deserved categorical answers, analytical answers, cross-questioning, or to be put aside. These four categories form the framework for his skill in questions—pañha-kosalla—which was not simply a matter of providing deft answers to difficult questions, but also an ability always to keep in mind how an individual question fits into the larger quest for freedom from

suffering. This is why

the

Buddha said that

a person’s wisdom

and

discernment can be gauged by the way he or she responds to questions, for wisdom is not content simply with correct answers. It’s strategic, pragmatic. It wants those answers to have as beneficial an effect as possible.

Because of this intimate connection between what the Buddha taught and how he taught, the how is not just an offshoot of the what. The what is also shaped by the how. In particular, there’s a great deal to be learned about the content of the Buddha’s teachings by examining where those teachings fit into the four response-strategies, for the questions provide the framework in which the terms and strategies of the teachings find their meaning. This is particularly important in a teaching like the Buddha’s, which—as we have noted—neither starts nor ends with first principles, but stays focused on a question that seeks a solution to a problem. This is why the Buddha viewed questions as the primary means by which the mind creates contexts for its concepts. If we want to understand and use his teachings for their intended purpose, we have to view them in terms of the questions they were and were not meant to answer. So there’s a great deal to be learned by looking at his skill in choosing which questions to answer as they were, which to reframe, which to cross-question, and which to put aside.

This is the motivation behind this book. Although the Buddha lists the four types of questions three times in the discourses (DN 33, AN 3:68 [§118], and AN 4:42 [§1]), he doesn’t illustrate the lists with examples of the different types.

However, there are many situations in which he calls attention to the fact that a particular

question

deserves

a particular

response-strategy, which

then

provides. Thus it’s possible to collate these examples from the discourses to show these various response-strategies in action, along with the distinctive patterns that emerge when the material is organized in this way.

For this reason—after Chapters One and Two provide a theoretical and narrative background for the Buddha’s approach to responding to questions— Chapters

Three

through

Eight

provide

readings

that

consist

primarily

passages in which a particular response-strategy is used. I say primarily because the Buddha tended to use particular response-strategies with particular topics, and so I have augmented the passages in some of the chapters with additional passages that help to flesh out these topics. I have done this with two aims in mind: to help give a more coherent account of the Dhamma lessons contained in the Buddha’s responses, and to help clarify the rationale behind the responsestrategies he has chosen.

Also, each chapter is prefaced by a discussion calling attention to some of the salient lessons to be learned when similar response-strategies are viewed side by side. Although some of these discussions are fairly long, they are not meant to be

exhaustive. They

simply

provide

a few

beginning

insights

for

anyone

interested in pursuing the material further. Because the Buddha, in responding to questions, is often operating on many levels, I felt it would be most useful to limit my observations to the essentials, and to give extensive quotations from the texts so that the reader can observe the Buddha’s skill in questions in action for him or herself.

However, because it’s easy to get lost in the large number of passages provided in these chapters, I would recommend reading the discussion sections for all the chapters before delving into the readings in any one of the chapters. That way you can start with a clear overview of the main points, which will then allow you to pursue the particulars of whatever you find interesting without losing your bearings.

You will notice—especially in the discussions in Chapters Three, Five, and Eight—that I have frequently compared the Buddha’s approach to asking and responding to questions with Socrates’ approach as recorded in the Platonic dialogues. I have done this for four reasons.

The first is that some modern commentators have asserted that the Buddha employed the Socratic method in his teaching, and I felt that a close examination of the Buddha’s approach to the four types of questions would offer a good opportunity to test exactly how far this assertion is true.

The second reason, related to the first, is that some have noted that the Buddha and Socrates were near contemporaries in the so-called Axial Age, and that as seminal figures representing the spirit of inquiry in that age they shared a common agenda. A comparative study of how they handled questions is a good way to test this assertion as well.

Third, to the extent that Socrates and Plato set the agenda for Western intellectual life, I thought that comparing the Buddha’s approach to dialogue with Socrates’ would be a useful starting point for comparing the Buddha’s thought with

Western

thought

a way

not

limited

superficial

invidious

generalities—to see precisely where his approach to wisdom differs from the assumptions about wisdom that Westerners have absorbed, often unthinkingly, from the history of their culture.

Fourth, I found that the comparisons between the Buddha’s approach and Socrates’ help highlight what is truly distinctive and important in the Buddha’s manner of teaching. To make clear what he was doing in his teaching strategy, it’s useful to have a clear point of comparison to show what he wasn’t. The compilers

the

Pali Canon

use

this

approach

introduce

the

Buddha’s

teachings in the discourses they place at the beginning of both the Dıgha Nik›ya and the Majjhima Nik›ya (DN 1 & 2, MN 1 & 2), and it’s especially helpful here in clarifying the Buddha’s reasons for dividing questions into four types.

There are many advantages to viewing the Buddha’s teachings from the standpoint of these four types of questions, but one of the most important is that it allows us to see those teachings in a framework that the Buddha himself regarded as having utmost importance. For example, when we compare the questions to which the Buddha gave categorical answers to those whose answers were more specific to the context, we can see which of his teachings, in his eyes, had the most categorical, universal significance, and which had a more limited, specific range. When we note the topics he taught using analytical or crossquestioning strategies—which are primarily methods of clarification—we can see which of his teachings his contemporaries found hardest to understand. This, in turn, helps us to see which of his teachings were most original to his thought and newest to them. And when we examine the questions he put aside, we can learn important lessons about how his teachings are best understood and used, in that they were clearly meant to function in the context of some questions but not others.

This way of organizing the Buddha’s teachings also draws attention to the central fact that all of his teachings have the strategic purpose of helping people to change their minds. As we watch the Buddha respond to questions, we are watching discernment in action, for that’s how he understood discernment: as an action, as a compassionate

strategy

for

bringing

about release. To

see

his

teachings in this light helps to correct the common tendency to regard Buddhist wisdom as sage aphorisms devoid of context. It also helps to correct the more academic tendency—dating back to the Abhidhamma—of teaching Buddhist wisdom as a vocabulary lesson, believing that if we can define the terms, we can fully understand what he’s saying. Admittedly, the terms are important, and clear definitions useful, but they find their true meaning only when applied in the context of the Buddha’s overall strategy of questions and answers in teaching the path to release.

Although our main focus will be on how the Buddha used the four responsestrategies when dealing with the questions of his time, the import of the book is not entirely historical. As we will see in Chapter Two, the Buddha’s own path of practice to awakening was directed by the questions he asked himself. The more skillful he became in asking and answering the right questions, the closer he came to release. For this reason, in Chapters Five and Six we will find that he encouraged his students to ask questions of him—and themselves—in just the same way. Thus, for anyone interested in practicing the Buddha’s teachings, an important dimension in reading this book will lie in learning how to apply its lessons in formulating the questions you ask yourself in the course of your practice.

At the same time, Chapters Four, Five, and Eight show the many ways in which the Buddha’s listeners misinterpreted his teachings by trying to force those

teachings to

answer

questions shaped by

the

listeners’ preconceived

notions—an important object lesson for those of us at present who may not share the preconceived notions of the Buddha’s time, but still bring preconceived notions to the Dhamma nonetheless. When we see the advantages that the Buddha’s listeners gained as he reworked their questions, we can be more inclined to accept the idea that our questions may require some reworking as well.

So by watching the Buddha in action as he responds to a wide range of questions that people in his time brought to their practice, we can gain lessons in how to be more skillful and discerning in the questions we bring to our own.

CHAPTER ONE

The Kamma of Teaching

The Buddha as a teacher was known for his skill in giving apt and effective answers to difficult people asking difficult questions. When a fierce and powerful spirit threatened him, saying, “I will ask you a question, contemplative. If you can’t answer me, I will possess your mind or rip open your heart or, grabbing you by the feet, hurl you across the Ganges,” the Buddha remained unfazed and gave such satisfactory answers that he converted the spirit into becoming one of his followers (Sn 1:10). When approached by Sakka, the king of the devas—who had

never

received

satisfactory

answers

his

questions

from

any

other

teacher—he answered those questions in such a way that Sakka gained the highest happiness he had ever experienced: his first taste of awakening [§4].

When a famous brahmanical teacher sent sixteen of his students to test his knowledge of advanced stages of meditation, the Buddha’s answers to their questions not only converted all sixteen, but also brought all but one of them to total release (Sn 5).

The discourses in the Pali Canon—our earliest extant record of the Buddha’s teachings—show that the Buddha’s skill in dealing with questions went beyond simply

providing

good

answers. Whereas

other

teachers

the

time

had

formulaic doctrines that they repeated regardless of the questions they were asked, the Buddha tailored his answers not only to the question but also to the questioner’s needs [§5, §99]. He could often detect the assumptions or beliefs lying behind a question [§66], and could tell when two questions—though widely different in their wording—were actually equivalent [§167].

The Buddha was also able to pass some of this mastery on to his students.

When Ven. Assaji, one of the Buddha’s first students, was approached by the wanderer Upatissa—later Ven. S›riputta—his brief answer to Upatissa’s question gave Upatissa a first glimpse of awakening. When Upatissa later reported this answer to his friend, Kolita—later Ven. Mah›Moggall›na—Kolita gained his first glimpse of awakening as well [§3].

From

the

early

years of the

memorized and celebrated these

dialogues recorded in the fourth and fifth chapters of the Sutta Nip›ta, we are told, were memorized during the Buddha’s lifetime not only by monks but also by lay followers (Ud 5:6; AN 7:50). When the Pali Canon was compiled, two chapters in the Saªyutta Nik›ya were devoted to the Buddha’s answers to questions posed by devas; another chapter, to the answers that his nun disciples gave to questions posed by M›ra. When King Asoka, in one of his edicts, compiled a list of texts for monks and nuns to chant frequently, he included Ven.

Assaji’s answer to Upatissa’s question in the list. Amulets distributed to pilgrims to the Buddhist holy spots in the early centuries of the Common Era were inscribed with the first line of Ven. Assaji’s answer on the reverse side.

Buddhist tradition, the

Buddha’s followers

skillful answers. The

question-and-answer

Part of the reason for the early tradition’s focus on these question-andanswer dialogues was their effectiveness as teaching tools: They spoke directly to the questions that many people brought to the early Buddhists about their teachings. But another part is that the Buddha explicitly cited the skill with which one addresses a question as a measure of one’s wisdom and discernment. The early Buddhists, in focusing on this aspect of the Buddha’s teachings, wanted to show clearly that their teacher was wise.

“There is the case where one individual, through discussion with another, knows this: ‘From the way this person rises to an issue, from the way he applies [his reasoning], from the way he addresses a question, he is discerning, not dull. Why is that? He makes statements that are deep, peaceful, refined, beyond the scope of conjecture, subtle, to-beexperienced by the wise. He can declare the meaning, teach it, describe it, set it forth, reveal it, explain it, & make it plain. He is discerning, not dull.’ Just as if a man with good eyesight standing on the shore of a body of water were to see a large fish rise. The thought would occur to him, ‘From the rise of this fish, from the break of its ripples, from its speed, it is a large fish, not a small one.’ In the same way, one individual, in discussion with another, knows this: ‘From the way this person rises to an issue, from the way he applies [his reasoning], from the way he addresses a question… he is discerning, not dull.’” — AN 4:192 [emphasis added] Thus, given the tradition’s appreciation of the Buddha’s skill in answering questions, it is somewhat ironic that in the centuries following the compilation of the Pali Canon a misunderstanding developed around one of the most important features of that skill. The Canon contains a list of the Buddha’s analysis of questions into four categories based on the response they deserved, but the meaning of those categories was apparently forgotten at a later date.

“There are these four ways of answering questions. Which four? There are questions that should be answered categorically. There are questions that should be answered analytically. There are questions that should be answered with cross-questioning. There are questions that should be put aside. These are the four ways of answering questions.” — AN 4:42 In the three discourses where the Buddha lists these four categories of questions, he gives no examples or definitions for any of the categories, nor does he explain why a particular question would fall into one category rather than another. This may be why his intended definitions of the categories were lost by the tradition and—by the time of Buddhaghosa, the primary commentator of the Theravada tradition—replaced by definitions that dealt with issues in formal logic and had nothing to do with questions the Buddha actually encountered (see Appendix One).

Fortunately, however, even

though

the

Buddha didn’t

explain

the

four

categories in the discourses where he listed them, he did leave clues in other discourses that provide a clear indication of what these categories meant. In some

cases, he

would

state

outright

that

was

employing

a particular

response-strategy. For instance, he might preface an analytical answer by saying, “Prince, there is no categorical answer to that,” or “Here… I am one who speaks analytically, not one who speaks categorically”; a session of cross-questioning by saying, “Very well then … I will cross-question you on this matter. Answer as you see fit”; or the fact that the question deserved to be put aside by saying, “Not a valid question,” “Don’t say that,” or “Enough…. Put that aside. Don’t ask me that.”

In other cases, he would correct his students if they asked a question in the wrong way: “Your question should not be phrased in this way… instead, it should be phrased like this.” Or he would chastise them for employing the wrong

response-strategy

a question: “His

question, which

deserved an

analytical answer, has been given a categorical answer by this worthless man.”

Or he would commend them for using the right response. Once [§62], when he asked Ven. finanda, “finanda, every habit & practice, every life, every holy life that is followed as of essential worth: Is every one of them fruitful?” Ven.

finanda responded, “Lord, that is not [to

answered] with a categorical

answer.”

“Very well then, finanda, give an analytical answer.”

finanda then gave an answer, got up, and left, after which the Buddha said to the monks who had listened in, “Monks, finanda is still in training, but it would not be easy to find his equal in discernment”—showing both that Ven. finanda’s answer qualified as analytical and that his ability to use this strategy aptly in responding to the question was a clear sign of his discernment.

In addition to flagging instances where one of the more strategic approaches to answering questions should be used, the Buddha also made a habit of framing his formal talks as responses to questions he would pose at the beginning of the talks, to show the proper framework for understanding his statements, at the same time demonstrating which questions are worth answering in a categorical way.

So even though he did not spell out a clear system for classifying the four sorts of questions into these four categories, he did teach his four responsestrategies by example. This means that it’s possible to draw examples from the discourses to see what the Buddha meant by these four categories and how they are best put to use. That is the approach taken in this book. Instead of trying to approach the four categories of questions with predetermined definitions, I have culled the discourses for passages in which the Buddha calls attention to the way he is using a particular response-strategy in answering a question. Having gathered these passages and organized them by strategy, I tried to discover the patterns underlying each strategy, and then added other passages that fall in line with those patterns. In adopting this approach, I have done my best to follow the method for learning these strategies that the Buddha himself seems to have intended. He

apparently

wanted his students to

use

their

own powers of

observation to gain a sense of how he used these categories in action, so that they could employ them in action themselves.

When we collect the instances of the various response-strategies as flagged by the Buddha, we find that the primary criterion for sorting out the four categories is a consideration highlighted in the Buddha’s own statement of his purpose in engaging in conversation:

“That’s the purpose of discussion, that’s the purpose of counsel, that’s the purpose of drawing near, that’s the purpose of lending ear: i.e., the liberation of the mind through no clinging.” — AN 3:68 In every case, the Buddha responds to questions in line with how effective a particular response to those questions would be in leading the listener to follow the path of practice leading to liberation. He starts not with a logical first principle, but by holding in mind a solution to a problem, an intended final goal.

Then he has to gauge how the act of asking and answering a question would relate to that goal. This, in turn, requires that he focus on three issues: the way the question is framed, the topic of the question, and the mental state of the listener.

To gain a fuller appreciation of how the Buddha uses these considerations in gauging the proper response-strategy for a particular question, we need to look at his larger analysis of what is involved in the act of teaching—and learning— the way to liberation. And the best way to do this is to consider these issues in light of the two teachings he said were categorical: skillful and unskillful kamma (action) on the one hand, and the four noble truths on the other [§§21-22].

Of these two teachings, the one on kamma is the more basic. In the second watch of the night of his awakening, the Buddha gained insight into how beings pass away and are reborn in line with their actions [§18]. This insight was the source both of the content and of the method of his teachings on skillful and unskillful kamma. He saw that beings fared well on the basis of skillful kamma, and poorly on the basis of unskillful kamma. Their choice of skillful or unskillful kamma, in turn, was influenced by their views and by their level of respect for noble ones. This last factor indicated that skillful and unskillful kamma were not inspired solely by internal factors. If beings could be induced to develop respect for the noble ones, they could learn from those noble ones to develop right view and skillful kamma. This meant that they could be taught.

Soon after his awakening, though, the Buddha despaired at the idea of trying to teach others what he had found.

“The thought occurred to me, ‘This Dhamma I have attained is deep, hard to see, hard to realize, peaceful, refined, beyond the scope of conjecture, subtle, to-be-experienced by the wise. But this generation delights in attachment [›laya], is excited by attachment, enjoys attachment.

For a generation delighting in attachment, excited by attachment, enjoying attachment, this/that conditionality [idappaccayat›] [§40] & dependent co-arising [pa˛icca samupp›da] [§41] are hard to see. This state too is hard to see: the resolution of all fabrications, the relinquishment of all acquisitions, the ending of craving; dispassion; cessation; unbinding (nibb›na). And if I were to teach the Dhamma and others would not understand me, that would be tiresome for me, troublesome for me.‘ “Just then these verses, unspoken in the past, unheard before, occurred to me,

‘Enough now with teaching

what

only with difficulty

I reached.

This Dhamma is not easily realized

by those overcome

with aversion & passion.

What is abstruse, subtle,

deep,

hard to see,

going against the flow—

those delighting in passion,

cloaked in the mass of darkness,

won’t see.’

“As I reflected thus, my mind inclined to dwelling at ease, not to teaching the Dhamma.” — MN 26

However, the Brahm› Sahampati—on reading the Buddha’s thoughts, came down from his heaven and, on bended knee, pleaded with the Buddha to teach, saying that there would be those who would understand the Dhamma and benefit from it. The Buddha then confirmed this fact with his own knowledge, and so resolved to teach.

On a later occasion, the brahman Lohicca challenged the Buddha on whether it was fitting to teach the Dhamma, arguing, “Suppose that a contemplative or brahman were to arrive at a skillful doctrine. Having arrived at a skillful doctrine, he should not declare it to anyone else, for what can one person do for another? It would be just the same as if, having cut through an old bond, one were to make another new bond. I say that such a thing is an evil, greedy deed, for what can one person do for another?” — DN 12

The Buddha responded that this position would create obstacles for those who desire freedom, thus implying that it is both possible and beneficial to teach others. He did note, however, that a teacher could escape censure only if he had attained the goal of the contemplative life and was able to teach his disciples in a way that convinced them to lend ear, apply his instructions, and attain that goal for themselves. Thus a teacher’s duty was both to have true knowledge and attainment on the one hand, and to be able to interest others in trying to follow the way to that attainment on the other.

Now, even a skilled teacher could not expect that everyone would reach the goal after listening to his teachings. The listener’s past and present kamma could form insurmountable obstacles. For example:

“Endowed with these six qualities, a person is incapable of alighting on the lawfulness, the rightness of skillful qualities even when listening to the true Dhamma. Which six?

“He is endowed with a [present] kamma obstruction, a defilement obstruction, a result-of-[past]-kamma obstruction; he lacks conviction, has no desire [to listen], and has dull discernment.” — AN 6:86 “Endowed with these six qualities, a person is incapable of alighting on the lawfulness, the rightness of skillful qualities even when listening to the true Dhamma. Which six?

“He has killed his mother; he has killed his father; he has killed an arahant; he has, with corrupt intent, caused the blood of a Tath›gata to flow; he has caused a split in the Saºgha; or he is a person of dull discernment, slow & dull-witted.” — AN 6:87

In addition to having no control over the past and present kamma of his listeners, a teacher has no control over their future kamma. Thus he has no control over what they will do with his words. Given these limitations posed by the workings of kamma, a teacher can at most only point the way to others and persuade them that it’s worth following. His words, on their own, cannot spark an experience of liberation without his listeners’ kammic cooperation. Their proper response while listening is to develop appropriate attention—i.e., to focus on questions that would lead to the end of suffering and stress [§25]—and then to practice the Dhamma in line with the Dhamma (SN 55:5), i.e. to practice in a way that leads to disenchantment with stress and suffering, and on to release [§37]. But whether they would do so is up to them [§94].

I have taught you this path

having known

—for your knowing—

the extraction of arrows.

It’s for you to strive

ardently.

Tath›gatas simply

point out the way.

Those who practice,

absorbed in jh›na:

from M›ra’s bonds

they’ll be freed. — Dhp 275-276

Because his primary task was to inspire in his listeners the will to follow the path, the Buddha adopted an approach as a teacher that was more rhetorical than logically dialectical. In other words, instead of presenting his teaching as a body of knowledge derived logically from a foundation of first principles, he focused on the impact his words would have on his listeners: getting them not only to acquiesce to his teachings but also to act on them. This meant that he, like any rhetorician, had to tailor his instructions to his audience, sensitive to their level of understanding and to the mixture of skillful and unskillful qualities in their minds. Instead of starting all his discourses with the same principles, he had to start each one at a point accessible to where his listeners already were.

However, his purpose in speaking was not to leave them there. It was to induce them to act in the direction of the desired goal. In fact, this is precisely the difference between a dialectical or foundational approach and a rhetorical one: In dialectics, everything lies in the foundational principles, and the duty of logic is to draw out their implications to wherever they will lead. In rhetoric, words are not merely descriptive. They are also performative, having an impact on the listener and leading the listener to react in various ways. The duty of the rhetorician is to use this performative aspect of words skillfully to induce his or her audience to move from where they already are toward a specific desired result.

In the common practice of rhetoric, the desired results are often ad hoc and subject to the mood of the moment, but it is possible to develop a coherent rhetorical system where intermediate results are all directed toward a single overarching end. This was the rhetorical approach the Buddha adopted. But it is important to understand what “coherent” means in the context of a system of this sort. In a logical or dialectical system, coherence is foundational, lying in the logical consistency

principles.

teleological, lying in the consistency with which intermediate ends assist in reaching a common final goal. This point is important to keep in mind as we evaluate the coherence of the Buddha’s teachings.

The word “rhetoric” has acquired some unfortunate connotations in our culture—as in the phrases, “empty rhetoric” and “rhetorical tricks”—but we have to remember that when combined with compassionate and responsible motives, rhetorical tools can have a powerful effect for the good. Because the Buddha aimed his teachings at leading his listeners to the end of suffering, we can characterize his teaching style as the rhetoric of compassion. And because he was concerned with the long-term beneficial impact of his teachings—he wasn’t the sort of person who simply wanted to gain their approval or get them to feel good in the present moment—we could add that the compassion of his rhetoric was also responsible.

a responsible

and

compassionate

rhetorician, he

faced

a particular

difficulty in that the goal he taught was non-verbal. The deathless is said to be “touched with the body” (AN 6:46) or “plunged into” (Khp 6), indicating that it is an all-encompassing experience unmediated by the verbal processing of the mind. However, this did not mean that the path to that goal couldn’t be taught by verbal means. In the same way that the kamma of the noble eightfold path can be used to bring an end to kamma [§31], words can be used to induce a listener to practice in line with the Dhamma so as to experience something that lies beyond words. They do this by engendering right view within the listener, so that the listener will then be inclined to exert the proper effort to follow the remainder of the path. The Buddha would sometimes use his psychic powers to remainder of the path. The Buddha would sometimes use his psychic powers to 21], but these non-verbal methods served simply to induce his listeners to feel proper respect for his words. This respect was what then caused them to act on those words and follow the path to release.

with

which

secondary

principles

systematic

rhetorical

approach,

are

derived

from

first

however,

coherence

“Monks, there are these two conditions for the arising of right view.

Which two? The voice of another and appropriate attention. These are the two conditions for the arising of right view.” — AN 2:124 “In a knowledgeable person, immersed in clear knowing, right view arises. In one of right view, right resolve arises. In one of right resolve, right speech…. In one of right speech, right action…. In one of right action, right livelihood…. In one of right livelihood, right effort…. In one of right effort, right mindfulness…. In one of right mindfulness, right concentration arises.” — SN 45:1

Because right view plays an instrumental role in the path leading to release, the words that inspire it—and the truths they contain—are instrumental as well, an important part of the kamma leading to the end of kamma.

This is why the Buddha never taught a truth simply because it was true. As a compassionate and responsible rhetorician, he also chose his words for their beneficial and timely effect.

“In the case of words that the Tath›gata knows to be unfactual, untrue, unbeneficial [or: not connected with the goal], unendearing & displeasing to others, he doesn’t say them.

“In the case of words that the Tath›gata knows to be factual, true, unbeneficial, unendearing & displeasing to others, he doesn’t say them.

“In the case of words that the Tath›gata knows to be factual, true, beneficial, but unendearing & displeasing to others, he has a sense of the proper time for saying them.

“In the case of words that the Tath›gata knows to be unfactual, untrue, unbeneficial, but endearing & pleasing to others, he doesn’t say them.

“In the case of words that the Tath›gata knows to be factual, true, unbeneficial, but endearing & pleasing to others, he doesn’t say them.

“In the case of words that the Tath›gata knows to be factual, true, beneficial, and endearing & pleasing to others, he has a sense of the proper time for saying them. Why is that? Because the Tath›gata has sympathy for living beings.” — MN 58

These three attributes of his words—true, beneficial, and timely in being pleasing or displeasing—provide a useful framework for understanding the ways in which the Buddha responded to questions from his listeners.

A primary point to note in the above passage is that the Buddha, while listing the possibility that true words might be unbeneficial, never entertains the idea that untrue words could ever be of benefit. There is no such thing as a “useful fiction” in his teaching. Thus the first consideration in choosing one’s words is always whether they are true, for only in the realm of truth can anything beneficial be found.

As AN 2:124 [§7] suggests, a teacher hoping to focus a listener’s attention on what is true and beneficial should encourage the listener to develop appropriate attention, for this is the primary internal quality leading to awakening.

“With regard to internal factors, I don’t envision any other single factor like appropriate attention as doing so much for a monk in training, who has not attained the heart’s goal but remains intent on the unsurpassed safety from bondage. A monk who attends appropriately abandons what is unskillful and develops what is skillful.” — Iti 16 This is because appropriate attention frames issues in terms of skillful and unskillful actions. Not only that, it also frames issues in terms of the four noble truths.

“The well-instructed disciple of the noble ones… discerns what ideas are fit for attention, and what ideas are unfit for attention. This being so, he doesn’t attend to ideas unfit for attention, and attends [instead] to ideas fit for attention…. And which are the ideas fit for attention that he attends to? Whichever ideas such that, when he attends to them, the unarisen fermentation [›sava] of sensuality doesn’t arise, and the arisen fermentation of sensuality is abandoned; the unarisen fermentation of becoming… the unarisen fermentation of ignorance doesn’t arise, and the arisen fermentation of ignorance is abandoned…. He attends appropriately, This is stress… This is the origination of stress… This is the cessation of stress… This is the way leading to the cessation of stress. As he attends appropriately in this way, three fetters are abandoned in him: selfidentity view, doubt, and grasping at habits & practices.”— MN 2 On one occasion the Blessed One was staying at Kosambı in the siªsap› forest. Then, picking up a few siªsap› leaves with his hand, he asked the monks, “What do you think, monks? Which are more numerous, the few siªsap› leaves in my hand or those overhead in the siªsap› forest?”

“The leaves in the hand of the Blessed One are few in number, lord.

Those overhead in the forest are far more numerous.”

“In the same way, monks, those things that I have known with direct knowledge but have not taught are far more numerous [than those I have taught]. And why haven’t I taught them? Because they are not connected with the goal, do not relate to the rudiments of the holy life, and do not lead to disenchantment, to dispassion, to cessation, to calm, to direct knowledge, to self-awakening, to unbinding. That is why I have not taught them.

“And what have I taught? ‘This is stress… This is the origination of stress… This is the cessation of stress… This is the path of practice leading to the cessation of stress’: This is what I have taught. And why have I taught these things? Because they are connected with the goal, relate to the rudiments of the holy life, and lead to disenchantment, to dispassion, to cessation, to calm, to direct knowledge, to self-awakening, to unbinding. This is why I have taught them.” — SN 56:31

On the night of his awakening, the Buddha had found that the most beneficial truths to teach as means to liberation were those focusing on stress and the way to its cessation. In fact, he often declared that these two issues formed the framework for his entire teaching.

“Both formerly & now, it is only stress that I describe, and the cessation of stress.” — SN 22:86

In this way, his teaching can be seen as a response to the bewilderment and search that come from the gut-level experience of stress—the first level of questions to which his teaching responds.

“And what is the result of stress? There are some cases in which a person overcome with stress, his mind exhausted, grieves, mourns, laments, beats his breast, & becomes bewildered. Or one overcome with stress, his mind exhausted, comes to search outside, ‘Who knows a way or two to stop this stress?’ I tell you, monks, that stress results either in bewilderment or in search.” — AN 6:63

The teachings on skillful and unskillful kamma relate to the teachings on stress and its ending in two ways. The first is that they provide a preliminary framework for understanding how actions lead either to pleasure or pain. Thus they act as a preliminary level of right view that can be developed into right view on the transcendent level.

“And which is the right view with fermentations, siding with merit, resulting in acquisitions? ‘There is what is given, what is offered, what is sacrificed. There are fruits & results of good & bad actions. There is this world & the next world. There is mother & father. There are spontaneously reborn beings; there are contemplatives & brahmans who, faring rightly & practicing rightly, proclaim this world & the next after having directly known & realized it for themselves.’ This is the right view with fermentations, siding with merit, resulting in acquisitions.” — MN 117

Taking skillful action and pleasant results as one pair, and unskillful actions and unpleasant results as another, we have the framework for the four noble truths.

“And which is right view? Knowledge in terms of stress, knowledge in terms of the origination of stress, knowledge in terms of the cessation of stress, knowledge in terms of the way of practice leading to the cessation of stress: This is called right view.” — SN 45:8 The other way in which the principle of skillful and unskillful kamma relates to the four noble truths is that, for a person who desires the end of stress, each of the truths implies a duty that must be developed as a skill.

“Vision arose, insight arose, discernment arose, knowledge arose, illumination arose within me with regard to things never heard before: ….

‘This noble truth of stress is to be comprehended’…. ‘This noble truth of the origination of stress is to be abandoned’…. ‘This noble truth of the cessation of stress is to be directly realized’…. ‘This noble truth of the way of practice leading to the cessation of stress is to be developed.’” — SN 56:11

Thus the role of appropriate attention is not only to see things in terms of the four noble truths, but also to attend to things in such a way as to develop the skills appropriate to each: developing factors of the path, abandoning the causes of stress, and comprehending the factors of stress in such a way as to realize dispassion for them [§§23-24].

In addition, the role of appropriate attention is to dismantle and reject any form of questioning that would interfere with developing these skills [§25]. In particular, it rejects the categories of papañca, a type of thinking whose categories begin with the thought, “I am the thinker” [§52] and proliferate from there. We will consider

this

topic further

our

continued discussion

appropriate

attention in Chapters Three and Eight. Suffice it to say here that papañca is a primary example of dialectic or foundational thinking—with “I am the thinker”

the underlying first principle—and thus the antithesis of the Buddha’s rhetorical approach.

So, in

providing

a framework

for

understanding

stress

a way

that

encourages one to develop the skills actually leading to its cessation, appropriate attention provides the Buddha’s standards for determining whether a teaching is true and beneficial.

As for whether the teaching is timely in being pleasing or displeasing, the Buddha’s teaching methods show that he kept in mind at least five major dimensions in what pleasing and displeasing might mean.

First was the issue of whether the teacher knew what he/she was talking about, and acted in line with his/her words. We have already noted, in the discussion

12, that

a person

qualified

teach

the

goal

the

contemplative life only if he/she has had direct experience of that goal. This accords with a principle set forth in the Dhammapada [§§11-13], that words are fragrant only when carried out, and sweet only when spoken from direct

knowledge of what they say. In this sense, the Buddha’s words were always pleasing.

The second consideration the Buddha used in judging the timeliness of a teaching

was

that

clarity. There

are

occasional

instances

which

deliberately spoke in a cryptic way—either to humble the pride of his listener [§47; also SN 1:1; SN 1:20], to rebuff a listener looking for a debate [§123], or to spark the curiosity of the monks (MN 131, MN 138)—but for the most part he made every effort to be clear. He would invite his listeners to question him about any of his teachings they did not understand [§75] and often would tailor his similes and metaphors to the personal background of the person he was teaching. In line with the pragmatic thrust of his teaching, he held that two of the duties of a Dhamma teacher were to speak step by step and to explain the sequence of cause and effect [§8]. In this way he took to heart the duty of a discerning teacher, which is to take subtle and profound matters, and to “reveal them, explain them, & make them plain” [§55]. This is an area where the issue of timely speech overlaps with that of beneficial speech, for unclear words are hard to put into practice. Clear words are effective tools on the path.

Third, the Buddha had a strong sense of who was and wasn’t fit to engage in discussion. Although he was willing

teach all people regardless of their

kammic background (AN 3:22, below), he would engage specific individuals in discussion only if he respected their ability to conduct a fair discussion. As Ven.

S›riputta commented, some

questioners

are

sincere, whereas

others

ask

questions with evil or contemptuous motives [§2]. Thus only when a listener was truthful and sincere in his or her search for truth would the Buddha be willing to join in a discussion. This means that even when he was aggressive and cutting in arguing with his listeners, it was not a sign of disrespect [§§125-126]. The fact that he was willing to speak with them in the first place showed that he respected their intentions and compassionately wanted to help them understand the error of their views.

Fourth, the Buddha was sensitive to the social background of his speakers, understanding how best to address the members of the different social castes of his time in a way appropriate to their status [§10]. For instance, he could use urbane language with brahmans, although there are also many discourses in which he derides them for their ill-founded caste pride [§125]. However, there are no recorded cases in which he insulted lepers or members of lower castes for their social status. In many cases he showed them high respect (Thag 12:2; Ud 5:3).

Finally, the Buddha was sensitive to the need for a teacher not to hurt himself or others with his teaching [§8]. According to the Commentary, this means that the teacher must not exalt himself or disparage others. Again, the Buddha had a sense of time and place when employing this principle, making critical remarks about other contemporary teachers by name only to his monk disciples (AN 3:138, Chapter Seven), and criticizing a person’s occupation or mode of practice to his face only when the person showed that he sincerely wanted the Buddha to comment on the kammic results of his way of life [§§145-147].

In making sure that his words conformed to these standards for being timely as well as beneficial, the Buddha showed the pragmatic thrust of his teaching. He didn’t expound truths just for the sake of saying what’s true. He wanted his words to work so that the kamma of teaching would bear fruit.

To put it another way, he wanted that kamma to be skillful. Anyone familiar with the factors of the noble eightfold path will recognize that the Buddha’s standards for his speech—true, beneficial, and timely—fall under the path factor of right speech. Even though the Buddha had followed the path to its end, he still applied its standards to the problem of how to speak to others so that they would follow the path to awakening. This is an important point. As we will see in later chapters, the Buddha would recommend some ways of thinking as skillful at certain stages of the path and not at others. But the path factors of right speech, right action, and right livelihood he saw as standards of behavior that applied all along the path, and even after the path had issued in awakening.

“I don’t say, brahman, that everything that has been seen should be spoken about. Nor do I say that everything that has been seen should not be spoken about. I do not say that everything that has been heard…

everything that has been sensed… everything that has been cognized should be spoken about. Nor do I say that everything that has been cognized should not be spoken about.

“When, for one who speaks of what has been seen, unskillful qualities increase and skillful qualities decrease, then that sort of thing should not be spoken about. But when, for one who speaks of what has been seen, unskillful qualities decrease and skillful qualities increase, then that sort of thing should be spoken about.

“When, for one who speaks of what has been heard… what has been sensed… what has been cognized, unskillful qualities increase and skillful qualities decrease, then that sort of thing should not be spoken about. But when, for one who speaks of what has been cognized, unskillful qualities decrease and skillful qualities increase, then that sort of thing should be spoken about.” — AN 4:183

“There is the case where a certain person, abandoning false speech, abstains from false speech…. He doesn’t consciously tell a lie for his own sake, for the sake of another, or for the sake of any reward…. He speaks the truth, holds to the truth, is firm, reliable, no deceiver of the world.

“Abandoning divisive speech, he abstains from divisive speech. What he has heard here he doesn’t tell there to break those people apart from these people here. What he has heard there he doesn’t tell here to break these people apart from those people there. Thus reconciling those who have broken apart or cementing those who are united, he loves concord, delights in concord, enjoys concord, speaks things that create concord.

“Abandoning coarse speech, he abstains from coarse speech. He speaks words that are soothing to the ear, that are affectionate, that go to the heart, that are polite, appealing, & pleasing to people at large.

“Abandoning idle chatter, he abstains from idle chatter. He speaks in season, speaks what is factual, what is in accordance with the goal, the Dhamma, & the Vinaya. He speaks words worth treasuring, seasonable, reasonable, circumscribed, connected with the goal.” — AN 10:165 Thus in ensuring that his speech is beneficial, clear (“circumscribed”), and timely, the Buddha is following the principle of abstaining from idle chatter. In knowing when it is appropriate and inappropriate to criticize contemporary teachers, he is abstaining from divisive speech. In knowing how to frame the answers to his questions, he is following the principle of speaking truths that do not foster the unskillful mental quality of delusion.

Underlying all of these considerations is a personal quality that SN 16:3 calls compassion (k›ruñña); MN 58 [§69], sympathy (anukamp›); and AN 5:159 [§8], kindliness (anuday›). The Buddha, as a teacher, saw himself as a doctor, treating the fevers and illnesses of the world.

“I have heard that on one occasion, the Blessed One was staying at Uruvel› on the bank of the Nerañjar› River at the root of the Bodhi tree— the tree of awakening—newly awakened. And on that occasion he sat at the root of the Bodhi tree for seven days in one session, sensitive to the bliss of release. At the end of seven days, after emerging from that concentration, he surveyed the world with the eye of an Awakened One.

As he did so, he saw living beings burning with the many fevers and aflame with the many fires born of passion, aversion, & delusion.” — Ud 3:10

“There are these three types of sick people to be found existing in the world. Which three?

“There is the case of the sick person who—regardless of whether he does or doesn’t receive amenable food, regardless of whether he does or doesn’t receive amenable medicine, regardless of whether he does or doesn’t receive proper nursing—will not recover from that illness. There is the case of the sick person who—regardless of whether he does or doesn’t receive amenable food, regardless of whether he does or doesn’t receive amenable medicine, regardless of whether he does or doesn’t receive proper nursing—will recover from that illness. There is the case of the sick person who will recover from that illness if he receives amenable food, amenable medicine, & proper nursing, but not if he doesn’t.

“Now, it is because of the sick person who will recover from that illness if he receives amenable food, amenable medicine, & proper nursing—but not if he doesn’t—that food for the sick has been allowed, medicine for the sick has been allowed, nursing for the sick has been allowed. And it is because there is this sort of sick person that the other sorts of sick persons are to be nursed as well [on the chance that they may actually turn out to need and benefit from such nursing].

“These are the three types of sick people to be found existing in the world.

“In the same way, these three types of people, like the three types of sick people, are to be found existing in the world. Which three?

“There is the case of the person who—regardless of whether he does or doesn’t get to see the Tath›gata, regardless of whether he does or doesn’t get to hear the Dhamma & Vinaya proclaimed by the Tath›gata— will not alight on the lawfulness, the rightness of skillful qualities. There is the case of the person who—regardless of whether he does or doesn’t get to see the Tath›gata, regardless of whether he does or doesn’t get to hear the Dhamma & Vinaya proclaimed by the Tath›gata—will alight on the lawfulness, the rightness of skillful qualities. There is the case of the person who will alight on the lawfulness, the rightness of skillful qualities if he gets to see the Tath›gata and gets to hear the Dhamma & Vinaya proclaimed by the Tath›gata, but not if he doesn’t.

“Now, it is because of the person who will alight on the lawfulness, the rightness of skillful qualities if he gets to see the Tath›gata and gets to hear the Dhamma & Vinaya proclaimed by the Tath›gata—but not if he doesn’t—that the teaching of the Dhamma has been allowed. And it is because there is this sort of person that the other sorts of persons are to be taught the Dhamma as well [in case they may actually turn out to need and benefit from the teaching, or will benefit from it at a later time].

“These are the three types of people, like the three types of sick people, to be found existing in the world.”— AN 3:22 Thus a teacher, like a doctor, should always hold the well-being of his suffering listeners in mind, aiming his remarks at their immediate or eventual liberation. However, for this compassion to be pure, one should not teach for the sake of material gain [§8]. And even though one should aim at gaining the respect of the listener, one should hope that the respect is aimed not at oneself but at the Dhamma, so that the listener will understand it and feel inspired to practice it.

“Any monk who teaches the Dhamma to others with this sort of thought in mind, ‘O, may they listen to the Dhamma from me! And having listened, may they gain confidence in the Dhamma! Confident, may they show an expression of confidence in me!’—the Dhamma teaching of this sort of monk is impure.

“But any monk who teaches the Dhamma to others with this sort of thought in mind, ‘“The Dhamma is well-expounded by the Blessed One, to be seen here & now, timeless, inviting verification, pertinent, to be realized by the observant for themselves.” O, may they listen to the Dhamma from me! And having listened, may they understand it!

Understanding it, may they practice for the sake of what’s authentic!’ He teaches the Dhamma to others inspired by the true rightness of the Dhamma, inspired by compassion, inspired by kindliness, inspired by sympathy—the Dhamma teaching of this sort of monk is pure.” — SN 16:3

Compassion should also be balanced with mindful alertness so that one isn’t emotionally dependent on whether one’s listeners show an interest in one’s instructions.

“‘There are three establishings of mindfulness that a noble one cultivates, cultivating which he is a teacher fit to instruct a group.’ Thus it was said. And in reference to what was it said?

“There is the case where the Teacher—out of sympathy, seeking their benefit—teaches the Dhamma to his disciples: ‘This is for your benefit, this is for your happiness.’ His disciples do not listen or lend ear or apply their minds to gnosis. Turning aside, they stray from the Teacher’s message. In this case the Tath›gata is not satisfied nor is he sensitive to satisfaction, yet he remains untroubled, mindful, & alert. This is the first establishing of mindfulness….

“Furthermore, there is the case where the Teacher—out of sympathy, seeking their benefit—teaches the Dhamma to his disciples: ‘This is for your benefit, this is for your happiness.’ Some of his disciples do not listen or lend ear or apply their minds to gnosis. Turning aside, they stray from the Teacher’s message. But some of his disciples listen, lend ear, & apply their minds to gnosis. They do not turn aside or stray from the Teacher’s message. In this case the Tath›gata is not satisfied nor is he sensitive to satisfaction; at the same time he is not dissatisfied nor is he sensitive to dissatisfaction. Free from both satisfaction & dissatisfaction, he remains equanimous, mindful, & alert. This is the second establishing of mindfulness….

“‘There are three establishings of mindfulness that a noble one cultivates, cultivating which he is a teacher fit to instruct a group.’ Thus it was said. And in reference to this was it said.” — MN 137 These, then, appear to be the considerations that shaped the rhetoric of the Buddha’s teaching. He began with the realization that the end of suffering and stress can be attained through human effort and with his compassionate desire to

help

others

reach

that

attainment. Thus

his

teaching

strategic

and

teleological, i.e., all his words are aimed at this goal. This means that his words have to be not only true, but also beneficial for the listener in not creating distractions or obstacles to that end.

The Buddha’s strategies to attain that end are further shaped by the principle of kamma, or action. There are people whose kammic background—past or present—is such that they will respond to the Dhamma teaching the path to the end of suffering and stress. Within the context of this background, the act of teaching and learning is a collaborative effort. On the one hand, the act of teaching is a type of kamma, which means that the teacher has to maintain a pure intention

while

teaching, to

ensure

that

teaching

from

kind

and

compassionate motives. He must also keep in mind the performative nature of his words—what they do to the listener or incite the listener to do—and that they must follow the principles of right speech. On the other hand, the act of learning is also a type of kamma, in that the listener must respond sincerely to the teacher’s words in order to benefit from them. This means that the purity of the listener’s intention plays an important role as well. The Buddha cannot take his listeners to awakening simply by acting on his own.

Because

the

act

instruction

a collaborative

effort, the

listener’s

contribution is not fully under the teacher’s control. For this reason, the teacher’s words have to be not only true and beneficial, but also timely so as to persuade the listener to act in an appropriate way. Here the primary consideration, as noted in the Buddha’s second knowledge, is that the listener develop an attitude of respect. This in turn requires that the teacher be sensitive to the listener’s background and motivation in listening. In cases where the Buddha sensed that the listener was not ready to develop the proper attitude, he gave only a cursory teaching or none at all [§95]. If, however, the listener was ready, the Buddha would adjust his teaching strategies, paying attention to the listener’s state of mind and social status, sensing when to be clear and when cryptic, when to be pleasing and when not, so as to persuade the listener to take up the practice and reap its benefits in the most effective way.

As we will see throughout this book, these considerations also underlay the Buddha’s responses to questions posed by those he was trying to teach. If we keep these considerations in mind, we can more fully appreciate his four major response-strategies for dealing with these questions. The details of how these considerations shaped his responses will become apparent in the following chapters, but here we can make the following general observations:

1) Questions deserving a categorical answer are those framed in terms of appropriate attention.

2) Questions deserving an analytical answer are those touching on topics of legitimate concern for the pursuit of liberation, but are wrongly framed.

The purpose of the analytical answer is to reframe the question—either by adding an extra variable or two, or by changing the variables entirely—so that it can be answered in a categorical way.

3) Cross-questioning is a strategy used in nine types of situations, only four of which involve cross-questioning in response to a question. However, all nine

uses

this

strategy

are

concerned with

clarification, and two

common threads among them are important to note: A person should take responsibility for his or her actions or statements; and truth is to be found and

clarified

a mutual

willingness

cross-question

and

crossquestioned. Thus we will list all nine situations here. They are:

a) A monk is accused of an offense that he denies committing. His fellow monks cross-question him to see if he can give a coherent and believable account of his behavior.

b) A monk, even after being reproved by his fellow monks, maintains a position in the Buddha’s presence that is clearly pernicious. After the Buddha ascertains that the monk will not abandon the pernicious view, he rebukes the monk and then turns to the other monks to cross-question them as to the relevant right view. This is to ensure that none of them pick up the first monk’s errant position.

c) The Buddha or one of his disciples makes a statement that a listener finds unclear. The listener asks him to explain what the statement means and how it fits in with his other statements.

d) A person asks a question unclear in its wording or underlying motive. The Buddha cross-questions him to clarify the original question.

e) A person asks for a definition of a term without realizing that he has enough knowledge to provide at least part of the definition himself. The Buddha responds by cross-questioning the person in such a way that the person ends up contributing to the answer of his own question.

f) A person asks a question in a way indicating that he may not understand the response the Buddha will give—either the content of the response or the strategy with which it is given. The Buddha then draws an example, usually an activity, familiar to the person and questions him on it. From the person’s replies, the Buddha shows how the proper response to the original question can be understood in the same frame as the person’s understanding of the familiar activity. For the most part, this sort of response is pleasing to the listener.

g) A person presents an argument against the Buddha’s teaching. The Buddha cites an example that disproves the person’s position and then questions him on it. From the person’s answers, the Buddha shows how the person has contradicted himself and so disproven his own argument.

This strategy usually displeases the listener initially, but it can nevertheless lead to his conversion to the Buddha’s way.

h) The Buddha encourages his listeners to cross-question themselves about their actions or traits present in their minds. This process can lead directly to awakening.

i) The Buddha cross-questions his listeners as to phenomena they are experiencing in the present moment. Often this strategy causes them to abandon any clinging to what they are being asked to examine, so that they too achieve awakening.

4) Questions deserving to be put aside are those that are so wrongly framed—springing from ways of thought antithetical to the categories of appropriate attention, and dealing with topics that distract attention from the path—that they cannot be properly reframed in a way that would lead to liberation. Thus they are put aside.

The Buddha also uses the last three response-strategies—analytical, crossquestioning, and putting aside—to avoid giving a categorical answer in situations where a categorical answer would lead him to harm himself or others, in the sense explained above.

Notice

that

these

Commentary

defines

considerations. They address not only the form of the question, but also—more importantly—its purpose and the mental receptivity of the person asking it. This means that to better understand the Buddha’s skill in using these strategies, we have to watch him in action, to see how he applied them in response to specific questions asked by specific individuals. Thus, beginning with Chapter Three, we will treat each of these strategies in turn, collating passages by the strategy used, and prefacing them with more specific observations about some of the lessons to be drawn from these examples.

But before we watch the Buddha in action as a teacher, we will watch him in an

earlier

phase

his life, when—as a bodhisatta, a “being

awakening”—he acted on the questions that he posed to himself and that

four

response-strategies—contrary

the

way

the

them—are

not

determined

simply

formal

directed his search. The Buddha’s own accounts of this period and of these questions shed light on how he may have arrived at his fourfold strategy for answering questions to begin with. Apparently, he became skilled at answering others’ questions by first learning how skillfully to answer his own.

Nguồn: Sách Phật học — budsas.net (Bình Anson) · tamtangpaliviet.net (Tỳ khưu Indacanda) · chuaduocsu.org (Chùa Dược Sư Lâm Đồng — Hải Triều Âm Toàn Tập) · Toàn tập Tâm Như – Trí Thủ, Ban Sưu tập tu viện Quảng Hương Già Lam (NXB Tổng Hợp TP.HCM 2002; tái bản NXB Phương Đông 2011) · sách phổ biến miễn phí từ kho Kindle và kho ổ ngoài của Không Hoa; ghi công theo tác giả/dịch giả từng cuốn (cột nguồn) · sách Đợt 12 (9/2026) thầy thêm từ thư mục riêng, ghi công theo tác giả/dịch giả từng cuốn · sách Phật học phổ biến miễn phí trên mạng (9/2026), ghi công theo tác giả/dịch giả từng cuốn · thư mục sách Tuệ Sỹ (9/2026) thầy đưa vào, ghi công theo từng cuốn. · sách ebook của Pháp Thí Hội (phapthihoi.org, 10/2026), ghi công theo tác giả/dịch giả từng cuốn.