Want Nirvana? Nevermind
By David Tizzard
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One day, a man fell down in the snow. He lay there cold and afraid. He cried out: “Help me up. Please, someone help me up!” A Buddhist monk passed by, heard the poor man's cries, and lay down in the snow next to him. The injured man got up and walked away.
The most prominent form of Buddhism on the Korean Peninsula is Mahayana (Great Vehicle), though over time, like much else here, it has transformed into its own unique form of Korean Buddhism ― K-Buddhism, perhaps, for those involved in internet debates concerning that particular prefix. Defined by its use of bodhisattvas, Sangha and resolution in facing and overcoming obstacles, it has suffused itself onto the Korean character.
It is also found in China, Japan, Tibet and parts of Mongolia. It stands separate from the other main strand of Buddhism, Theravada (Small Vehicle), which sees its path originating in India and then taking it through Sri Lanka, Thailand, Burma, Laos and Cambodia. A simple story illustrates where these two religious paths diverge.
A group of people walk through the desert. After some time, they come across a ladder leaning against a wall. Eventually, the Theravadan decides to ascend the ladder and see what is on the other side. On reaching the top, he sees Nirvana. Paradise. Thinking nothing of the people that he has left behind in the desert, the Teravandan leaps over the wall and into the heavenly land that he has found. Liberation from the shackles of life has been achieved. Theravada is the Small Vehicle of Buddhism because the journey to paradise is taken by one person.
The Mahayanan then climbs the ladder. On reaching the top, he too sees the idyll beyond. However, as he belongs to the Great Vehicle, he descends back down the ladder to tell the people below of what he has discovered. He then encourages them to journey with him and become part of the congregation that he leads. This becomes his duty and the role of the Bodhisattva is elevated.
The Buddhism in Korea is thus more based on the collective ― it is not so much about sitting in the hills, smoking a pipe and letting your beard run white as you try to decipher the various k?ans presented to you. Instead, it encourages collective action: Study, singing, eating.
Importantly, it encourages people to show kindness and grace to all. It does not forbid its adherents from attending any other types of religious services nor does it demand that the people in its temples refrain from singing in a church or a mosque. It has no problem with people bowing to their ancestors during traditions such as jesa or charye. There are indeed few things that Buddhists here actually take umbrage with.
National holidays are cherished events here as they allow people some respite from the daily grind, the office and the school desk. It is important, however, that we not forget where they come from. Park Chung-hee ruled South Korea from 1962 to 1979 and during that time he frequently acted in ways that were sympathetic to Buddhism as well as financially supportive.
Shortly after becoming president he enacted the Management of Buddhist Property Law. Thirteen years later, in 1975, he declared Buddha's birthday a national holiday for the people of the nation. All those enjoying themselves in the parks, department stores and coastal resorts on the public holiday last Tuesday would no doubt have thought little of these actions taken by that man 43 years ago.
Choi Kyu-hah's term as Korean president was short-lived as he was quickly ousted in a coup by another military figure, Chun Doo-hwan. Unlike his companion Park, Chun was a devout Christian and thus had a great distrust of Buddhist practices and the various organizations in the country. Support that had been there previously soon began fading and that decline has continued over the decades.
Today, Buddhism is seen by many as the chance to embark on a revitalizing temple stay in the mountains, or perhaps something to spark a conversation about the origins of the swastika, or a trip with a loved one to the Cheonggyecheon to see the lantern and lotus displays.
What should not be forgotten, however, is just how embracing, pragmatic and utilitarian Buddhism is. It can still play a role for this country and its inhabitants. Not through proselytization or late-night television shows, but, instead, by reminding people that it's possible, nay necessary, to learn to get along with each other despite the various differences that may arise. After all, should they be very closely examined, the variances and imbalances will likely soon reveal themselves to be nothing of the sort.
As the political sphere becomes ever more divided by debates on how to respond to North Korea, as social chasms widen between men and women in the light of a whole host of movements, and as the generations of families become more and more alienated from each other thanks to the exponential growth of technology, there needs to be something to provide a little unity.
Let me close with one last example from the Buddhist tradition on how such seemingly impossibilities can be achieved. Two men were observing a flag fluttering in the wind on a faraway tower. The first man declared, “It is the flag that moves.” The second man immediately countered him, “No, it is the wind that moves.” The two argued back and forth, each championing their own position. A passing monk heard the commotion and when asked for his own opinion, he replied: “It is neither the flag nor the wind. It is the mind that moves.”
David Tizzard (datizzard@swu.ac.kr) is an assistant professor at Seoul Women's University and host of TBS eFM's cultural radio show "A Little of a Lot." The show can be heard every Sunday from 4 p.m.-6 p.m. on 101.3 FM or downloaded via online platforms such as iTunes and Podbang.?