Time & Place

We’re fortunate that we have the suttas to get an idea of how the Buddha would apply his teachings. Can you imagine what it be like if we only had lists of Dhamma topics and terms to define? You wouldn’t have any examples of how the Buddha used the teachings. It would be like taking a course of medicine where all you had was the lists of the different medicines that could be used, but you wouldn’t know how to use them.

It’s through the suttas, especially the dialogues where someone comes to see the Buddha, that we can learn how the teachings should be use. The person’s got a problem or a question, and the Buddha responds with a teaching that’s just right for that particular problem, just right for that particular person. Sometimes it’s the problem. Sometimes it’s the person.

It’s unfortunate that we’re not native speakers of Pali, because then we could probably read in the way the person expressed himself what clues were given as to what kind of person he was. We’ve got a few cases. There was one case where a really smart-ass teenager came to see the Buddha. He’s just finished all of his training as a brahman and he asks very pompous questions. You get an idea of what kind of person he is.

Then there’s the case of Pasenadi, the king. He comes and asks questions of the Buddha, and he’s like some presidents we have and have had in the past who can’t quite speak right. He phrases a question and the Buddha says, “What do you mean by that?” Then the king restates it as another question, which is totally unrelated to the first or only tangentially related. His grammar is bad. So, you get an idea of him as a person.

But at the very least we can tell when someone comes with a problem: When the Buddha gives an answer, you get an idea of how particular Dhamma medicines are used. As he pointed out, in all his teachings there are only two that are categorical—in other words, true across the board. One is that skillful actions should be developed; unskillful actions should be abandoned. And here unskillful actions would apply to the precepts: killing, stealing, having illicit sex, lying, taking intoxicants. Those things are unskillful across the board, and they should always be avoided across the board.

The other categorical teaching is, as he said, the four noble truths. The nature of suffering is always the same. The nature of its cause—its origination—is always the same. And the duties that fall to the truths are duties that are always incumbent on us: to comprehend suffering, abandon its cause, realize its cessation, and develop the path that attacks the problem at the cause.

These are the teachings that are true and beneficial across the board.

However, there are other teachings that may be true across the board, but they’re not always beneficial. The categorical teachings are always true, always beneficial. But something, say, like the three characteristics, or more properly the three perceptions of inconstancy, stress, not-self: There are cases in the Canon where people try to apply those teachings, and the Buddha reprimands them that this is not the place to apply that teaching.

One case is of a young monk who is asked by some sectarians, “What does the Buddha teach is the result of action?” The monk replies that the result of action is pain. The sectarians say, “We’ve never heard any other Buddhist monk say it that way. You’d better go back and check.” So the monk goes back, talks to Ven. Ananda, and Ananda takes him to the Buddha. The young monk reports his conversation with the sectarians, and the Buddha says, “That’s the wrong time for that teaching. Where did you ever hear me say that action always results in pain?”

Another monk, Udāyin, happens to be listening in. He says, “Maybe this monk was thinking about the fact that all feelings are painful, all feelings are dukkha. Since actions result in feeling, all actions would result in pain.” The Buddha says, “Here’s another fool. When you’re talking about karma, you talk about the three kinds of feeling: pleasant, painful, neither pleasant nor painful.”

That’s because when you’re talking about karma, the question is what to do: What would be the skillful thing to do? What would be the skillful thing not to do? If the Buddha taught that all actions lead to pain, what impetus would there be to do anything skillful? And strictly speaking, it wouldn’t be true anyhow, because there are those four kinds of action: actions that are bright, those that are dark, and those that are both bright and dark, and those that are neither bright nor dark. The path to the end of suffering is neither bright nor dark. In other words, it doesn’t lead to a good rebirth, doesn’t lead to a bad rebirth—it goes beyond rebirth. That’s why it’s called the kind of action that leads to the end of action.

But it is an action. When you’re following the path, there are things you’ve got to do. It’s only at the very last moment of the path that you drop all action. But up to that point, you have to keep on making the choice: What is skillful and what is not skillful? And the path does lead to something beyond just a feeling of pain. It leads to a pleasure that’s not even a feeling. It doesn’t come under the five aggregates. It’s the bliss of nibbana. Action doesn’t cause it, but actions can take you there—just like the road to the Grand Canyon doesn’t cause the Grand Canyon to be, but if you follow the road, you get there.

So, when you’re thinking about action, you’re thinking about what to do in your life. Always keep that in mind. There are skillful actions and unskillful actions. You want to do everything you can to avoid the unskillful ones across the board and engage in skillful actions. In fact, though, even the Buddha’s definition of skillful action leaves a lot of leeway. There are a lot of areas not covered by the precepts. So, you have lots of choices. As long as you don’t kill, or steal, have illicit sex, lie, or take intoxicants, the range is pretty wide. You have to decide for yourself what would lead to the best results.

This why the Buddha doesn’t just give us the precepts, but he also gives us questions to ask when we’re trying to decide what to do. What do you expect will the results of your actions be? If you expect any harm at all, you don’t do them. You act only on your skillful intentions. Then while you’re acting, if you see any harm coming up unexpectedly, you stop. What that means, of course, was that your original intention was not fully informed. It wasn’t totally skillful.

But if you don’t see any problems, any harm in your actions, then you continue until you’ve finished. Then, when you’re finished, you look at the long-term results. Maybe something didn’t show any harm while you were doing it, but harm came out later. In that case, you make up your mind not to repeat that mistake.

So, the Buddha gives you not only some basic guidelines of what to do and what not to do, but also basic guidelines on how to figure out for yourself what to do and what not to do. You’re moving from simply knowing the medicine he has in stock to knowing how to apply it—the medicine of skillful action, the medicine of the four noble truths. As we follow the path, we’re going to go through stages and layers and layers of skillful actions, and then actions that are more skillful and then that are more skillful. We further fine-tune our understanding of what’s skillful and what’s not.

This is how we develop our right view. We start out with the right view that we hear or read from someone else, and then we think it through. When we’ve thought it through, we put it into practice. That way, our discernment will grow, get more refined and more specific, sharper and sharper.

So, even though you might say that all feelings are painful and actions lead to feelings, you can’t say that all actions lead to pain. So, that’s a case where the three characteristics don’t apply. They may be true—as we chanted just now, they’re true whether there’s a Buddha or not—but they’re not always beneficial. We have to have a sense of time and place as to when to apply them.

There’s a similar incident where the Buddha is talking about how the five aggregates are not-self, and a monk in the assembly says to himself, “Well, if the five aggregates are not-self, then what self is going to be affected by what is done by not-self?” In other words, it’s the old question: “If there’s no self then … dot dot dot.” The Buddha reads the monk’s mind and calls him a fool. The Buddha never said there is no self, never said there was a self. But he teaches not-self as a tool for figuring out what to hold on to and what not to hold on to. And again, it’s going to depend on time and place how you apply that.

As you’re working on the path, you hold on to your precepts, you hold on to your topic of concentration, the frame of reference that you use for mindfulness, and the discernment that develops: You hold on to these things as you use them. The image they give in the Forest Tradition is that you’re using tools to make a piece of furniture. You know which tool to pick up at which time, and which ones to put down. You don’t carry them all around all the time. But you do have to hold on to them tight while you’re using them. Then, when the piece of furniture is done, you can put them all down.

So, as you’re on the path, as the Buddha said, you have to be your own mainstay. As he says, the self is its own mainstay. The self is a governing principle to inspire you to keep on wanting to practice because you’re going to benefit from the practice. And you have your sense of self as being capable of doing this. It’s a kind of conceit. You think of the fact that other people have found true release through the practice. They’re human beings, you’re a human being—if they can do it, why can’t you? Ven. Ananda actually said to encourage that kind of conceit.

So, the teaching on not-self is not to be used all the time. It has to have its right time and right place—when to pick up the hammer, when to pick up the screwdriver, when to pick up the nails, and when to put them down. That requires that you have a clear sense that some things are true across the board and others have to be gauged as to: “Is this the right time and place for that?”

That monk who answered that there was only one result of action, which was pain: He was a young monk, brand new, which is one of the reasons why young monks are not encouraged to teach. They may know the list of medicines, but their talks are like giving medicine for a cold to treat some other disease.

This is why we take a while to learn the Dhamma. You can learn the concepts, you can learn the ideas, in just a couple hours. But to know how to use them is going to take time because it requires trial and error. You look at other people, you learn from their mistakes, you learn from things that they do that are not mistakes. Then your sense of the right time and the right place will grow. This is one of the qualities you try to develop. It’s called kalaññuta: knowing the right time and place for things.

So be prepared to make some mistakes, but ideally you want to learn from them. If you’re going to experiment with the medicines, experiment on yourself with some adult supervision. That’s how you get a sense of the right time and place, how to use this list of medicines, how to recognize exactly what disease you have right now, and which medicine is going to be right for that disease. When you know that, that’s when you’re a master of the Dhamma.

When I was in college, an older monk was invited to come give a talk. After the talk, one of the professors of comparative religion asked him a question about not-self. The question started, “If there is no self, then … dot dot dot”—I can’t remember the details of the question. The monk looked at him and said, “Well, you’re still young and inexperienced. It’ll take a while for you to figure out the answer to that.” At the time I was shocked. I thought about how this was a teacher of mine and he had a PhD. But since, I’ve learned the old monk was right. It’s going to take time.

This is why the Buddha said that the qualifications he was looking for in his students were (1) that you’re honest and (2) you’re observant. In other words, you act, you look at the results, and then you learn. And you keep on acting and looking and learning. That’s how you get to cure your diseases—with the right medicine at the right time and place.