Watch your language

Eschew technical, pietistic, abstract, or pretentious language.
– O. C.Edwards

It’s ever so difficult to refrain from trying to make something of ourselves once we get up in front of other people to speak.  What a golden opportunity to display the depth of our understanding so that the sangha can see what fine practitioners we truly are.  And if we’re worried about our image, what a fine chance to augment it a little by constructing an impressive verbal facade.

A dharma speaker’s idiolect–her vocabulary and unique way of using language–can be a charming and compelling element of her talk, or a barrier between her and the sangha.  Put a trusted person in the audience for your next dharma talk and ask him or her listen for the following four kinds of language.  If and when they appear, how do they make the listener feel?

Technical:  Some of the words we use related to practice are not mainstream English.  They may come from a language like Pali or Japanese, and even some of the English words we use have taken on a particular meaning within the context of the sangha (i.e, emptiness, mind).  We don’t need to completely avoid this kind of specialized language as long as we define it for the audience and put it in some kind of context within the talk.  If you’re discussing the meaning and derivation of particular non-English characters in a term or phrase, you may wish to have a marker board on which to draw them so that everyone can follow along as you make your point.  This can be a very worthwhile element of your talk, as there is often additional subtle meaning in the characters themselves that cannot be directly translated in the text.

Religion itself also has a technical vocabulary.  Audiences may not be familiar with the vocabulary of apologetics, hermeneutics, theology, and other areas.  By all means use these fields of study to deepen your practice and your teaching, but make sure you’re explaining your conclusions in ways the sangha members can understand and apply to their own lives.  Likewise, if your original field of study is psychology, sociology, or some other science and you have a particular reason to bring this area into your talk, be careful not to assume that the sangha shares your understanding.  Jargon works very well within its field, but outside of it, it quickly puts distance between a speaker and the audience.

Needless to say, simply loading up the talk with technical vocabulary to impress the listeners will completely defeat your purpose.

Pietistic: Leading by example is a wonderful thing.  If you’ve been asked to give a talk, or a sangha has formed around you, somebody somewhere already believes that your practice and your current level of understanding is helpful to others.  There’s no need to enhance your image by using excessively flowery devotional language.  Simple, everyday speech is what’s called for here, and what practitioners can make best use of in their everyday lives. 

That’s not to say that as a dharma speaker one shouldn’t strive to inspire the sangha.  For those on the journey of harmony most of all, inspiration is the most important part of the talk.  But pietistic language can come across as shaming or judging, making listeners feel that if their practice doesn’t measure up to your level of devotion, it’s not valid or worthwhile.  Worse yet is the impression of insincerity if the behavior the sangha observes in your life doesn’t match your pious words.

Abstract:  Previous pieces have pointed out that if the purpose of the dharma talk is to help people practice in their daily lives, general principles and theories must be brought down to concrete application.  A concept without specifics is hard to work with.  It doesn’t provide any means for practitioners to grab hold of it, wrestle with it, see how they feel about it, and translate it into effective action.  Delivering nothing but vague ideas can result in an audience’s emotional detachment and disengagement.  If your trusted feedback person notices a lack of specifics in your talk, try to determine why.  Would better exegesis have turned up more interesting and concrete things to say about your topic?  Did you assume that your audience already shared your viewpoint and base of knowledge, such that you didn’t think detailed explanation was necessary?  Were you speaking the language of your own temperament when the sangha was largely of another?

Pretentious:  Authenticity is one of the most important characteristics of any good speaker.  Simply be who you are.  Anything else is not necessary.

The root of “pretend” means “to extend in front.”  Pretentious language is an attempt to build a larger and larger empire, to control more and more territory in defense of the self that, deep down, we’re sure is just not good enough to be in front of the sangha discussing the dharma. 

If you’ve ever encountered someone who came across as self-important, you know that that person was not operating from a position of strength.  She was so terrified that you would think she was not worthy of your esteem or respect that she behaved in such a way as to ensure that you saw right through her ostentatious display, all the way to the frightened little being cowering in the back corner.  The big, boastful words did nothing to impress you, and in fact likely caused you to stop listening and extricate yourself as quickly as possible. 

As dharma speakers, we are not special.  We are neither more nor less important than anyone else.  We are simply taking our dharma position, which will change in the next moment, and doing what we are called upon to do with sincerity and wholeheartedness for the benefit of the sangha.

Choose a topic on which you are qualified to speak.  Do thorough exegesis.  Practice your talk before you give it.  Pay attention to the sangha.  Carefully consider the feedback you receive.  Then there will be no need to pretend to be someone you’re not.

Fitting the topic to the time

 Limit yourself to an idea that can be treated in the available time.
– O. C. Edwards

In addition to being a novice, I work in the public affairs department of a government agency.  I spend much of my time working with presenters — training folks in platform skills, helping them shape their messages, and creating or formatting electronic visuals.  One of the first things I ask them when they come to me for visuals is how much time they’ve been given on the meeting agenda.  If the answer is “15 minutes,” and they’re asking for 40 slides, they’re in trouble.  It takes between one and two minutes minimum to present the information on one slide at a pace and rate that the audience can take in.  It takes at least 30 seconds for a person to even see and register what’s on the slide, let alone to process the information the speaker is providing.  You just can’t usefully present 40 slides in 15 minutes.  It’s time to start cutting content.

As dharma speakers, we too need to have a pretty good idea how much material we can get through in the allotted time.  That includes an introduction to frame the theme and message, and a conclusion that brings everyone to satisfying closure.  Looking at your watch while speaking, noticing that your time is up, and bailing out on the rest of your remarks leaves the audience hanging and makes you look unprepared.

When confronted with the mismatch between the amount of speaking time they have and the number of visuals they want, my slide-heavy colleagues sometimes respond by saying that well, they’ll just move through them all more quickly.  Going faster is not the answer.  The audience is likely to get less out of a rushed and rapid presentation than it is from a presentation that moves at a comprehensible pace and aims to cover less ground. 

Become familiar with your own speaking rate and pace.  Pay attention to how many pages of outline or how many notecards you cover in an average talk, and prepare that amount of content and no more.  Time yourself while you practice giving it  (you are practicing your talks before you give them, aren’t you?) to make sure it fits, and edit accordingly if it doesn’t.  You might indicate in your notes which sections could be dropped if time is somehow running short that day, or which could be added if you have extra time.

If the topic is comprehensive, break it down into a logical series of talks to be given over several weeks, so that you can go into enough detail about each aspect to be useful.  As dharma speakers, we have to provide the specifics about how to apply what we’re saying to daily practice; first-time visitors might be well-served by a broad topic survey, but chances are the audience for a weekly talk is looking for something more immediate. 

Your sangha may be pretty forgiving if you run over time a little, or there may be no formal time limit.  Nonetheless, you don’t have a license to talk for as long as you please.  The average human being can listen for 90 minutes with understanding, but only 20 minutes with retention.  That means that after 20 minutes or so, people are going to start forgetting what you’re saying.  They’re going to begin wondering what movie to see that night and whether anyone let the dog out and how much longer until teatime.  They’ll check back in after a few moments and pick up the thread of your talk again, but if you’re not compelling, they’ll wander in and out until you’re done.  Put some of your most interesting material in the back half of your talk — a good story or example, or a surprising statement — and make it clear that you’re moving steadily toward the satisfying conclusion you set up in your introduction.

The so-what factor

Remember that a homily is not just about a thought, but about a thought that makes a difference.
– O. C. Edwards

Look at the main idea of the talk you’re preparing, and ask yourself — so what?

Is it interesting?  Is it significant?  It’s not enough to have a useful topic area but to say the same old thing about it.  Maybe you’ve been to talks after which the sangha members say to each other, “No matter what the title is, she always gives the same talk.”  Time is precious, and the dharma is vast.  There’s no shortage of teachings to share with practitioners.  We owe it to the sangha to provide a worthwhile experience that makes good use of time.

Of course, we all have weeks where we just don’t feel like we have anything new to say about a text.  That’s a good time to think about how to intersect that text with something else in order to throw new light on it. 

• What if the narrative in this text was happening here today?  Would it play out any differently?
• Which of the basic human needs is at play in this text?  How is it being threatened or met?  What if the characters had met it in some other way?
• Where else in the life of the sangha do the theme or elements of this text show up — liturgy, a current movie, a sangha event, something going on in the community?
• Has someone outside the Buddhist world used the theme illustrated by this text to motivate athletes or volunteers?  Create a metaphor that explains a scientific concept?  Organize people and resources into a project for the common good?

It’s also no use having a unique take on a subject no one finds compelling.  As Canadian journalist Barbara Frum says, ”Tell me something new about something I care about.”  This is where knowing your audience comes in.  Some sanghas are academically minded, while other are more interested in human connections or the search for meaning.  Framing your topic in vague, emotional terms won’t work in an academic sangha, just as approaching it from a logical and detailed point of view may cause an idealist sangha to disengage.  Make sure there’s a relevant gateway to your topic for people on each of the four journeys.

Cousin to the so-what factor is the now-what factor.  Once practitioners have heard your message, what are they going to do with it?  How will they be transformed by it?  What’s the next step?

That unsettled feeling

Look for a sense of discrepancy or ambiguity in the gospel, a feeling that something is unresolved — a “bind.”
– O. C. Edwards

All good stories have conflict.   Without something to resolve, the narrative isn’t compelling and doesn’t keep the listener’s interest.  Conflict provides creative tension and shows how the protagonist builds and develops character.   The need to resolve the tension propels us forward into the story, and into our practice and our lives.

The Buddha knew how to tell a good story, and how to use internal conflict as a means of engaging listeners with the dharma.  Buddhist teachings are full of paradox and apparent discrepency, and include many stories of practitioners struggling with themselves or with others.  Showing how these conflicts are resolved provides practical instruction as well as inspiration.  Conflict keeps the talk from being either an academic lecture or a vague ramble, and shows the humanity of our practice.  It also indicates where and how listeners may be stuck and need help, and allows for specific application of the teachings.

There are several kinds of conflict we as speakers can look for in the exegetical phase of our preparation, and use in developing the main themes of the talk.  Underlying each of these is one or more basic human need, the threatening of which is the source of the distress.

Intrapersonal conflict:  The tension comes from conflict between a person and himself.  The protagonist may be battling internal demons, or feel forced into taking action that violates a deeply held value.  Maybe his senses are telling him one thing, but his intellect seems to be telling him the opposite.  Listeners can identify with this character, and may see in him elements of their own internal struggles.  The intrapersonal conflict may not be the only tension in the text; it may come about as a result of other conflicts in the situation.

Interpersonal conflict: We’ve all been in the middle of some conflict with another person, whether at home, at work, in school, on a sports team, or some other venue.  How does a bodhisattva manage the discrepency between one person’s values and another’s, when there is no clear “right” and “wrong?”  What’s the difference between true compassion and “idiot compassion?” 

Conflict with authorities: Most of us have had a run-in with a boss, parent, coach, professor or government official.  There are plenty of instances of a teacher doing or saying something in a text that is at odds with the protagonist’s values or understanding.  Authority is about the use of power, and it’s fertile ground for exploring and applying the teachings. 

International conflict: We can read this as tension between any groups whose systems of governance or ideology are in conflict with each other.  Often, these are stories of power on a massive scale.  How do we manage our reactions to injustice, terrorism or warfare inflicted on our fellow human beings around the world?  Is it ever OK to inflict harm in self defense?  What about conflict between groups concerned with the environment and large employers perceived to be threatening it?  Conflict between groups who have an abundance of resources and those with few?  Even a political election can be seen as a conflict (orderly though it usually is) between groups with differing ideologies.  What can we learn from this that would help us in our practice?

Conflict with nature:  One of the most difficult things about conflict with nature is that it is impersonal and non-negotiable.  In fact, that’s what makes practicing in rustic places a great opportunity.  When the sun goes down, it’s dark — no matter that you’re the doan and you can’t see the sutra book during the service.  During the rainy season, freshly-washed clothing mildews before it ever dries, and there’s nothing to be done about it.  When winter comes, there is snow to be shoveled if you want to get to the dharma hall.  Should I shovel out the path and be late for zazen, or concentrate on getting to the cushion on time and think about the shoveling later?  Nature doesn’t care what we think — it is what it has to be.  That being the case, conflict with nature can become intrapersonal conflict, where we deal with our own ideas about how things ought to be.

Addressing the deep memory

Seek out the issues that concern the deep memory rather than the surface memory.
– O. C. Edwards

Just as there are two truths, there are two kinds of memory.  There are things we remember as individuals, like what we ate for breakfast and the names of our childhood pets.  Then there are memories we share with others of our culture, race, nationality and species.  Memory and karma are deeply connected in the living system that is the sangha.

Some deep memory is painful; my African American friends are still influenced by the trauma of their ancestors.  Some is a recollection of satisfying, meaningful times; most people are drawn to a campfire that harkens back to our beginnings as nomadic tribes.  Regardless of the tone, this deep memory is where we really live.  It is this with which dharma speakers must connect if they are to have an impact on people’s lives.

Regardless of what else your audience analysis reveals about your listeners, they all have the same set of basic psychological needs.  To the extent that we tie the dharma message to one or more of these needs, we create a meaningful experience for the sangha.  We may or may not be explicit about this connection in the talk itself, but as dharma speakers we can care for the sangha by being aware of the needs in its deep memory.

Security or safety: Humans need to believe we and those we love will be free from harm, both physical and psychological, and that we will be able to satisfy our body’s needs for food and shelter.  Our earliest memories of feeling safe may have been with our parents or family.  Teachings about taking refuge can appeal to this most basic of needs. 

Effectiveness and control: We need to know that not only will we be safe, we are able to protect ourselves.  While our practice is about giving up a certain amount of control over our environment by loosening our grip on our own ideas, we do want to know that we can control ourselves and our behavior toward others.  Practice allows us to develop focus and discipline and to adhere to the precepts so that we can be effective in the world.  Even babies learn now to take control of certain aspects of their lives; when they cry, their caregivers come over.  An older child learns to that a certain amount of self-control is necessary in the classroom, and that selfishness must be reined in if one is to make and keep friends.

Positive identity and self-esteem:  How can we address this need when so much of Buddha’s teaching tells us to give up egotism and self-clinging?  First we have to let go of our ideas about our own inferiority before we can see who we really are.   This is not easy.  Some sangha members may be struggling with self-doubts, poor self-image and lack of confidence in themselves.  They may have long individual and family histories of dysfunctional relationships.  We can have compassion for this without encouraging practitioners to build identity around it or consider themselves “special.”  Each practitioner is no better than anyone else, but no worse, either.  We all have the capacity to wake up.

Positive connection and esteem for and trust in others: Even the most introverted and solitary practitioner has a human need for contact and connection with other people.  Although she may deny this need because of past negative experiences, it’s an unavoidable part of the human condition.

 There’s a reason that the sangha is one of the Three Treasures.  It provides an ideal place to learn and practice interacting with others in a harmonious way consistent with the dharma.  The world outside the sangha doesn’t necessarily operate on the same principles, sometimes making it harder to fulfill our need for close friendships, family ties, and effective communities.

At the same time, practice can help us manage our expectations for our relationships.  It can help us give up the need to look outside ourselves for satisfaction or the removal of our suffering.  When our perception of others is not colored by what we think we need from them, we’ve in a much better position to accept them as they are and see their particular gifts.

Autonomy and self-trust:  Autonomy is another of those needs that the Buddha seems to be telling us we can leave behind.  Attachment to our own ideas and opinions and ways of doing things can keep us from seeing things as they really are.  One of the things I struggled with most often in Japan was my tendency to look for a better, more “efficient” way to do something — not withstanding that whatever it was had been done this way for probably 800 years, and my attempt at applying ingenuity to change it was simply a means of avoiding my own inability to do the job as it was supposed to be done.  In fact, one of the aims of our practice there was to be virtually interchangeable with everyone else – no one sticking out or being noticible, no gap between people, action and situation.  We simply did what the schedule and the circumstances required in each moment, without the need to add our own direction.

 As rugged invidualists, Americans can have a hard time just doing what the sangha is doing, following the schedule, taking direction from a senior practitioner or teacher.  When I was an ino (practice coordinator), sesshin (retreat) participants often seemed to assume that it was fine to do whatever they wanted, even when it was different from what was going on in the rest of the sangha.  One wanted a key to the building so that he could go out for a walk rather than going to sleep at the end of the day like everyone else.  Another informed me that she planned to go home during work period, when everyone else would be doing building maintenance, to walk the family dog.  People regularly had issues with various foods on the menu and expected special dishes.  Folks assumed that everything was negotiable, when in fact it is the non-negotiability that makes the sesshin a worthwhile practice experience.

Beginning practitioners  sometimes worry that they are being asked to become robots or to surrender an unhealthy amount of control to others.  Of course, this isn’t what practice is about.

In fact, the autonomy we gain from our practice is not freedom from being told what to do.  It’s freedom from hindrances and delusion, the freedom to act based on our real, true nature, not on momentary desires, thwarted cravings or the perceived need to defend the self.  Real autonomy is about not being under the control of the three poisonous minds, but being our authentic selves as we live seamlessly and harmoniously with those around us.

Comprehension of reality or world view: Our need to understand the world is what brings us to practice in the first place, and keeps us there.  What is the true nature of ourselves, the objects we encounter, the ideas in our heads, the human orgazations within which we function?  Why do things happen the way they do?  Is any of it predictable or within our control? 

The comprehension of reality allows us to create meaning in our lives, and to know what our place is in the scheme of things.  Based on this understanding, we can decide how we want to live and what we value.

Spirituality, including transcendence of the self:  Somehow, we get the feeling that there is something beyond the small self, and we begin to practice in order to realize it.  Being part of a sangha, or immersing ourselves in nature, or serving as bodhisattvas in the world that devote ourselves to the welfare of all beings, we meet this need to transcend our individual selves and embody the interconnectedness that is present, whether we realize it or not.

Making the text relevant to the audience

[In applying the text to the audience, d]ecide which area of application — personal, liturgical, parochial, theological, ethical, social, or political — is most urgent.
– O. C. Edwards

Once you’ve chosen the text on which your talk will concentrate, you have a number of interesting options in making it relevant to the daily life of the sangha.  It may well apply to several areas, but in order to stay focused it’s probably best to stick to one, or maybe two if you can show a very close tie.  Which of the listener’s questions does the text best answer?

Personal:  What does the message of this teaching mean for my daily life and practice as an individual?

Liturgical: What’s the connection to the forms, rituals, services and ceremonies in which I participate?

Parochial:  While we don’t have parishes, we do belong to a concentric circle of practice: local sangha; other sanghas that share a founder; practice groups of all denominations in the neighborhood or city; national denomination; lineage; international denomination.  Is this text relevant to the circimstances of a particular group of which I am a part?

Theological: How does this text specifically help me understand the important teachings and ideas of Buddhism or of my particular sect or school?

Ethical: How can I use this text to help me make moral decisions and conduct myself appropriately in the world?

Social: How can this text guide me in living and practicing with other people?  Does it give some insight about the way human beings are organized, and the way they behave and interact?

Political: Can this text help me understand the uses and misuses of power?  Does it offer some advice about the nature of control, influence, or authority in relationships, organizations, or society?

Analyze your audience

Analyze your audience.
– O. C. Edwards

When we see the same folks week after week at the dharma talk, it would seem unnecessary to analyze the audience.  We know who they are and we know why they’re here.  And after all, this isn’t some marketing presentation to a group of potential clients.  This is a dharma talk.

We may indeed know a lot about our sangha members.  But are we applying that information in order to consider them as listeners? 

The intent of the talk is more than the conveyance of information — we’re asking practitioners to take action in their daily lives.  That makes the talk a piece of  persuasive communication.  We might not think of it as a marketing presentation, but in a way we are making a case for the Buddha Way every week.  What will it take for the sangha to accept what we’re saying and act on it? 

Consider for a moment the demographics of the sangha: education, job or profession, age, gender, ethnic background, cultural differences.  Don’t forget temperament.  How are these different from yours?  What kind of language and approach will work best for this particular group, and will you have to adapt your natural style to communicate effectively?

In order to be persuasive, we have to understand what the sangha is bringing to the event.  What do listeners think about your topic, and about you?  What biases, fears and concerns will you need to overcome?  Of course, you can’t completely deal with them all in one talk, but you can begin a longer-term dialogue and build trust by showing that you’re sensitive to their attitudes and areas of uncertainty.  It might make sense to start by briefly revisiting the teachings they’re comfortable with and moving gently and logically to areas of discomfort.

What motivates your sangha members?  It’s not enough for them to passively take in your talk and do nothing more with it.  What will get them to act on what they’ve heard?  What will keep them from acting?

Maybe the audience is made up largely of newer practitioners, who need basic information in order to establish and maintain a practice.  If your audience is new, talking over their heads to establish your own expertise won’t help anyone.  Or maybe they’re largely experienced practitioners, who are working with the subtleties of the path.  They’ll quickly tune out if your talk merely repeats generalities that they’ve heard many times before.  Of course, many sanghas will have both kinds of listeners.  Taking into account how much they already know will help you include both enough background for newcomers to follow along and enough challenge and insight to interest and encourage longtime members. 

Make sure your topic is directly relevant to the audience.  Is there something your sangha is particularly interested in at the moment?  We saw here the importance of taking a topic that arises from the life of the sangha.  Given the economy, is it time to talk about the Buddha’s views on money?  Does it makes sense to speak on a topic related to a larger concurrent sangha event, like a practice period or special ceremony?  What are practitioners talking about on the front porch before they come in to sit?

Even if the sangha’s connection to the topic is clear to you, be sure to make it clear to the audience.  Give your talk a name related to its key message that invites curiousity.  How about “Asleep at the Wheel” for a talk about waking up to our transmigration through the six realms of samsara?  “Buddha’s Cure for Heart Trouble” about working with the suffering we see in the world?  “The Burned-Out Buddhist” about making time for practice in our busy and demanding lives?  Choosing an intriguing title early in your weekly prep allows you to post it in the building, on your website, or in your newsletter or bulletin.  Not only will the sangha begin thinking and talking about the topic before your talk, but it will know that you cared enough about your time together to begin preparing well ahead of time.

The American dharma talk

This week I had an interesting discussion with a dharma teacher who practiced in Japan for several decades, and it reminded me that American dharma talks are in some ways a significant departure from the tradition.  I asked about his experience of dharma talks in the training temple in which he worked and practiced.  It took him a moment to categorize or describe them, because when a community lives and practices together 24 hours a day, the teacher may take any number of opportunities to address the sangha.  There may be occasionally be formal lectures, especially during sesshin, where there would be a talk every other day.  But he or she may also say something after dinner, or after a service or ceremony if some issue needs to be addressed.

Yes, I realized, that was consistent with my ango experience of last summer.  We did occasionally have formal lectures in the evening, before which we did sampai (three full bows) and chanted  the Eihei Koso Hotsuganmon, punctuated by the inkin.  But more often there were a few remarks made after a meal, or after liturgy.  There was sometimes a brief talk during chosan (formal morning tea), after the reading of the daily passage from Shobogenzo Zuimonki. 

In short, there was nothing like the weekly American dharma talk, where sangha members, largely laity, who may see each other at no other time, come together to listen to 30 or 45 minutes of teaching and the latest announcements and then have teatime. 

The teacher with whom I was speaking had been surprised by the talks he encountered in the U.S., and he wondered aloud whether it was really necessary to hold a dharma talk every week.  It seemed like a lot of work. 

It seemed like church.

Well, I said, Christian ministers had a method whereby they started sermon prep on Monday or Tuesday, and managed themselves and their work such that they could deliver a talk every Sunday; that was a major expectation of that role.  In American dharma centers, the weekly “public day” was perhaps the only opportunity for the sangha to build relationships.  People may drive some distance to participate on weekends, when they have a little more time.  The dharma speaker could reach more people on that one day than at any other time during the week.  Maybe it wasn’t surprising that the dharma talk had become such a central feature of the practice.

It was useful to be reminded, as a result of our conversation, that like much of American Buddhist practice, the dharma talk is a hybrid of traditional and nontraditional, Asian and Western elements.  What we’re doing here is actually puzzling to practitioners who trained elsewhere in monastic environments.  Interestingly, a significant number of practitioners come to us having become disillusioned with western churches, yet we’re recreating some church elements in our practice, adding aspects that may not exist elsewhere in the Buddhist tradition.  That being the case, we have an opportunity to ask ourselves what sangha needs are being demonstrated here.  What entices practitioners to get together once a week, regardless of faith tradition?  In what ways does the church serve as a useful model for us as religious practitioners in the West?

People, places and things

Look up the persons, places, objects, and institutions mentioned in the passage.
– O. C. Edwards

Setting the scene is important for the high-sensing members of the sangha, and the people, places and things that appear in the text also provide important additional layers of meaning.  We don’t need to go through all of these details in the dharma talk itself, but we do need to sift through them to discover what they add to our interpretation.

Who is specifically mentioned in the text as speaking, listening, or acting?  What else can we find out the lives of historical figures?  What qualities or characteristics are represented by deities, bodhisattvas, demons or non-human entities?

Where does the passage take place?  How do the characters move through the space?  What structures are present?  What’s going on in historical places at the time of the narrative?  If the location is not an earthly place, where is it and what does it represent? 

What things appear prominently in the passage, and how are they used?  What do they look like?  How and from what are they made?  Who owns them, and what do they say about their owners?  What can we learn about objects that are unfamiliar to us in this time and culture?

Finally, what institutions are in place with which the characters of the passage interact, or within which they function?  What school, sect or branch are the Buddhist institutions?  What other religions appear?  What secular instutions affect or are affected by the events of the passage?

We can take this passage from the Platform Sutra as an example.

One day the Patriarch wanted to wash the robe which he had inherited, but could find no good stream for the purpose. Thereupon he walked to a place about five miles from the rear of the monastery, where he noticed that plants and trees grew profusely and the environment gave an air of good omen. He shook his staff (which makes a tinkling noise, as rings are attached to the top of it) and stuck it in the ground. Immediately water spurted out and before long a pool was formed. While he was kneeling down on a rock to wash the robe, a bhikkhu suddenly appeared before him and tendered him homage.  “My name is Fang Pien,” said he, “and I am a native of Szechuan. When I was in South India I met Patriarch Bodhidharma, who instructed me to return to China.

‘The Womb of the Orthodox Dharma,’ said he, ‘together with the robe which I inherited from Mahakasyapa have now been transmitted to the Sixth Patriarch, who is now in Ts’ao Ch’i of Shao Chou. Go there to have a look at them and to pay your respect to the Patriarch.’ After a long voyage, I have arrived. May I see the robe and begging bowl you inherited?” Having shown him the two relics, the Patriarch asked him what line of work he was taking up. “I am pretty good at sculptural work,” replied he. “Let me see some of your work then,” demanded the Patriarch. Fang Pien was confounded at the time, but after a few days he was able to complete a life-like statue of the Patriarch, about seven inches high, a masterpiece of sculpture. (Upon seeing the statue), the Patriarch laughed and said to Fang Pien, “You know something about the nature of sculptural work, but you do not seem to know the nature of Buddha.” He then put his hand on Fang Pien’s head (the Buddhist way of blessing) and declared, “You shall forever be a ‘field of merit’ for human and celestial beings.” In addition, the Patriarch rewarded his service with a robe, which Fang Pien divided into three parts, one for dressing the statue, one for himself, and one for burying in the ground after covering it up with palm leaves. (When the burial took place) he took a vow to the effect that by the time the robe was exhumed he would be reincarnated as the abbot of the monastery, and also that he would undertake to renovate the shrine and the building.

- Who are all the people mentioned in this passage: the Sixth Patriarch, Fang Pien, Bodhidharma? 

- Where in China is Ts’ao Ch’i of Shao Chou?  What is it like?  Do the lush surroundings of the area five miles behind the monastery mean anything in the narrative?  What could the trip from China to south India and back to China have been like for Fang Pien?  How about the Sixth Patriarch’s walk?

- What do the robes, bowl, staff and sculpture say about their owners?  How are they used?  Why did Fang Pien use palm leaves to cover the robe?

- What Buddhist institutions existed at the time this passage was written?  What was Bodhidharma teaching, and why would he recommend that Fang Pien come to visit the Sixth Patriarch?  What was the role of the abbot with regard to monks and the monastery buildings?

Yes, this is a lot of work to undertake to complete a close reading of this passage.  But as dharma speakers, we have agreed to take on a leadership responsibility.  We’re undertaking this study so that we can return to our sanghas and share what we’ve learned.  Over time, as we become familiar with the characters, locations, artifacts and institions that populate our texts, the surroundings of the narratives will come to life for us more and more easily.

Comparing the parallels

Compare today’s pericope [passage] with its parallels in other gospels.
– O. C. Edwards

Let’s say our topic is right speech.  In the Sammaditthi Sutra,  Shariputra explains that as one of the elements of the Eightfold Path, right speech (refraining from abusive speech) is one of the keys to developing right view, which leads to liberation.  We could just read this passage and stop there, developing a talk that encouages the sangha not to lie, tell divisive tales or engage in idle chatter.  That’s a useful message.

But if we look further, we see that in the Nibbedhika Sutra, the Buddha shows how right speech and the other elements of the path contribute to the cessation of sensuality, feeling, perception, fermentations, karma, and suffering.  Also, the Bhumija Sutra explains that it’s not possible to achieve liberation if we are engaging in wrong speech and the opposite of all the other elements.  These two sources shore up our initial message by putting it in context.  In each of these sutras, the Buddha shows step-by-step how correctly engaging each of the elements of the Eightfold Path leads to the removal of obstacles to our awakening, while indulging in their opposites actively puts obstacles in our way.  We practice right speech for the benefit of both self and others; while it protects our daily relationships, it also leads to our own liberation by slowly dissolving the hindrances that hold us back in our own delusion.

Putting our message in context helps sangha members connect the teachings they hear over time in dharma talks, readings or discussions.  The Buddha taught a comprehensive system for waking up; the ideas we’re explaining are interconnected.  We needn’t present them as disconnected bits.

There are several bases for comparison of passages.  We can look for parallel situations, a recurring symbol, patterns in the Buddha’s teaching method, or the kind of audience listening to the speaker.  The similarities and contrasts that emerge might be worth exploring further.  Is there any relationship between the unruly horses in the Khalunga Sutra, the excellent horses in the Patoda Sutra, and the tamable horses in the Kesi Sutra?  Does the Buddha teach the same or different things to the young layman in the Sigalovada Sutra/The Layperson’s Code of Discipline as he does to the monks in the Samaññaphala Sutra/Fruits of the Contemplative Life?

The Buddha used a number of skillful means in his teaching, altering the method and the message depending on the situation.  Although the construction may appear parallel, his teaching about the relative truth in one circumstance may contradict his teaching about the absolute truth in another.  As Piya Tan explains in Teaching Methods of the Buddha,

The complexity of the Dharma is increased by the fact that the Buddha’s teaching was “unbounded” or immeasurable” (aparimāna), which points to its uniqueness: as the Buddha set it forth, it was the supreme, unbounded truth with its own inherent structure and logic. To comprehend the Dharma, an interpreter must penetrate this logic and grasp the spirit and the letter, the meaning and phrasing, of the Dharma properly. For, incorrectly interpreting the meaning and phrasing of the Dharma leads to the break-up and destruction of the Dharma.  

This too is part of the context of the passage, and it’s important to help the sangha practice with the apparent contradictions.