Introduction

by Gregory Kramer

In June 2013, I attended the International Vipassana Teachers’ Gathering at Spirit Rock in California. Among other topics, my colleagues and I explored our role as Dharma teachers to support a wise response to climate change. The result of our investigation is the International Dharma Teachers Statement on Climate Change, describing core Buddhist insights into the root causes of the climate crisis and ways to minimize its potentially tragic consequences.

Since the statement was issued in January 2014, over 400 Dharma teachers and 1000 Sangha members worldwide have endorsed the statement by signing it at the One Earth Sangha website. The complete statement is offered below. If you are moved to take action, I invite you to start by offering your own endorsement at the One Earth Sangha website.

The Earth As Witness:

International Dharma Teachers’ Statement on Climate Change

Shared from One Earth Sangha

Today humanity faces an unprecedented crisis of almost unimaginable magnitude. Escalating climate change is altering the global environment so drastically as to force the Earth into a new geological age. Unprecedented levels of suffering for all life on Earth, including human, will result. Significant reductions in greenhouse gases and other actions will be needed to reduce climate change to manageable levels. But more fundamental changes are also needed, and this is where we can draw guidance from the rich resources of the Buddha’s teachings, the Dharma. This statement briefly describes core Buddhist insights into the root causes of the climate crisis and suggests ways to minimize its potentially tragic consequences.

As a starting point, the Dharma states that to formulate meaningful solutions to any problem we must first acknowledge the truth of our suffering. As shocking and painful as it may be, we must recognize that without swift and dramatic reductions in fossil fuel use and major efforts to increase carbon sequestration, global temperatures will rise close to or beyond 2 degrees C. This increase will lead to injury and death for millions of people worldwide and the extinction of many of the Earth’s species. Millions more will experience severe trauma and stress that threaten their physical, emotional, and psychological wellbeing. These stresses will, in turn, trigger social and political unrest. In a grave injustice, low-income communities, poor nations, and people systematically subjected to oppression and discrimination, who contributed little to climate change, will initially be harmed the most. Even worse, as frightening as it is, if we fail to make fundamental changes in our energy, manufacturing, transportation, forestry, agricultural, and other systems along with our consumption patterns with utmost urgency, in mere decades irreversible climate shifts will occur that undermine the very pillars of human civilization. Only by recognizing these truths can we adopt a meaningful path toward solutions.

The Dharma teaches us the origin of our suffering. The majority of the world’s climate scientists are unequivocal that on the external physical plane climate change is caused by the historic and ongoing use of fossil fuels and the greenhouse gases they generate when burned. Destructive land management practices such as clearing forests also contribute by reducing nature’s capacity to sequester carbon. The Dharma informs us, however, that craving, aversion, and delusion within the human mind are the root causes of vast human suffering. Just as these mental factors have throughout history led to the oppression, abuse, and exploitation of indigenous peoples and others outside the halls of wealth and power, craving, aversion, and delusion are also the root causes of climate change. Climate change is perhaps humanity’s greatest teacher yet about how these mental forces, when unchecked in ourselves and our institutions, cause harm to other people and the living environment. Led by industrialized nations, the desire for evermore material wealth and power has resulted in the reckless destruction of land and water, excessive use of fossil fuels, massive amounts of solid and toxic waste, and other practices that are disrupting the Earth’s climate. However, by acknowledging and addressing these internal mental drivers, we can begin to resolve the external causes of climate change.

The Dharma offers hope by teaching us that it is possible to overcome the detrimental forces of craving, aversion, and delusion. We can use the climate crisis as a catalyst to acknowledge the consequences of our craving for more and more material wealth and the pursuit of power and realize we must change our assumptions, attitudes, and behaviors. We can use the climate crisis as a catalyst to educate ourselves about planetary processes so we understand that the Earth has ecological limits and thresholds that must not be crossed. By learning from our mistaken beliefs and activities, we can create more equitable, compassionate, and mindful societies that generate greater individual and collective wellbeing while reducing climate change to manageable levels.

Finally, the Dharma describes a pathway of principles and practices we can follow to minimize climate change and the suffering it causes. The first principle is wisdom. From this point forward in history we must all acknowledge not only the external causes of climate change, but the internal mental drivers as well, and their horrific consequences. To be wise we must also, individually and as a society, adopt the firm intention to do whatever is necessary, no matter what the cost, to reduce the climate crisis to manageable levels and over time re-stabilize our planet’s climate.

The second Dharma principle is ethical conduct, which is rooted in a compassionate concern for all living beings in the vast web of life. We need to make a firm moral commitment to adopt ways of living that protect the climate and help restore the Earth’s ecosystems and living organisms. In our personal lives, we should recognize the value of contentment and sufficiency and realize that, after a certain modest level, additional consumption, material wealth, and power will not bring happiness. To fulfill our wider moral responsibility, we must join with others, stand up to the vested interests that oppose change, and demand that our economic, social, and political institutions be fundamentally altered so they protect the climate and offer nurturance and support for all of humanity in a just and equitable manner. We must insist that governments and corporations contribute to a stable climate and a healthy environment for all people and cultures worldwide, now and in the future. We must further insist that specific scientifically credible global emission reduction targets be set and means adopted to effectively monitor and enforce them.

The third Dharma training, and the one that makes all of the others possible, is mindfulness. This offers a way to heighten our awareness of, and then to regulate, our desires and emotions and the thoughts and behaviors they generate. By continually enhancing our awareness, we can increasingly notice when we are causing harm to others, the climate, or ourselves, and strengthen our capacity to rapidly shift gears and think and act constructively. Mindfulness increases awareness of our inherent interdependency with other people and the natural environment and of values that enhance human dignity rather than subordinate people, animals, and nature to the craving for more material wealth and power.

As we each awaken to our responsibility to follow the path described in the Dharma to help us protect and restore theplanet and its inhabitants, we may feel awed by the immensity of the challenge. We should take heart, however, in the power of collective action. Buddhists can join with others in their Sanghas, and our Sanghas can join hands and hearts with other religious and spiritual traditions as well as secular movements focused on social change. In this way we will support each other as we make the necessary shifts in perspectives, lifestyles, and economic and institutional systems required to reduce climate change to manageable levels. History shows that with concerted, unified, collective effort, changes that at one time seemed impossible have time and again come to pass.

When we come together to celebrate our love for the natural world and all of the beings that inhabit it, and when we take a stand to counter the forces of craving, aversion, and delusion, we reclaim our own inner stability and strength and live closer to the truth, closer to the Dharma. Together, we can seek to ensure that our descendants and fellow species inherit a livable planet. Individually and collectively, we will be honoring the great legacy of the Dharma and fulfill our heart’s deepest wish to serve and protect all life.

If you would like to endorse the statement, please add your name at the One Earth Sangha site and consider sharing this opportunity with your email, facebook, twitter and other networks.

In the previous post in this series, I discussed how even in the austere and quite sincere environment of the forest monastery, I observed the mind’s constructions related to the maroon robes that were given to me during my time as a monastic. This second story is more somber, and as I write it now, the fragility of this life, and our need for each other’s support, comes alive.

I had landed in Colombo at 10pm on Friday. I was ordained the very next day. The following day, Sunday, this newly minted Revata accompanied Venerables Kalyanatisa and Anuruddha to a home about two miles from the meditation center. The car pulled into the yard, drove towards the rear and through a crowd of people who were mostly wearing white. We got out of the car and walked through a reverently parting crowd and into the modest home. There, in the sitting room, was the bluish, dark-skinned corpse of a 22-year-old man.

This only son had died after a bout with brain cancer. The father greeted us and cried as he related, in Sinhala, his story, his feelings. My eyes were drawn to the mother. Still young, at least by my standards, I saw in her face the numbness of grief. It was, and had been, far too much to absorb. I felt throughout my body, and knew with the mind, that she had withdrawn from the world.

Yet the world surrounded her. Her sisters and brothers, her cousins and parents, her neighbors. And now, these three monks. But even these robed men who had dedicated their lives to the Dhamma, what could they know of this grief?

But I could know something of her grief. I have lost an infant daughter and nearly lost a son at about this young man’s age, also to cancer. So while I could not meet the mother and father as one seasoned by years in robes, I could meet them as one seasoned by life’s actualities as a parent. And I was also present as one in robes, as a symbol of compassion and care. But would they see the single tear that rolled out from my right eye? Was I not the emblem of equanimity, a rock for them in the storm of grief?

It was not a problem. No one noticed this father/monk’s response. And when the boy’s father actually finished with the senior monk, and stood in front of me, I was resting in steady compassion: composed, but fully heartful. The father and I shared a moment, wordlessly, and a short while later, I left with my robed companions. The meaning of Sangha, to me and to the religious Buddhists in their grief, rolled away with me in that car.

All this, and I had only been in robes for three days. Maybe I can share more stories with you in the future. I hope so. Every day was rich with Dhamma, fostered by the outer circumstances or the inner. May the gifts of our practice serve well all who suffer.

Yours in the Dhamma,
Gregory, formerly Venerable Revata

This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License.

I’ve been asked to share with our community some experiences from my time in Sri Lanka as a monastic. What arises now are two very human stories from the first few days. The first story, shared here, begins with the color of the robe. Yes, you read that right: the color.

I had been preparing myself for the ordination for well over a year. I was memorizing Pali chants that I would need for the ordination itself as well as for the many circumstances I’d be in where chants would be offered. I was preparing my mind to yield to all events and circumstances, from my own brokenness and resistance, to cancelled or flubbed or disorganized meetings or events. I was wondering why I was doing this and inclining the mind towards noting and pondering each morsel of meaning—from the slightest natural or social sign to the mind’s deep insights.

So the head was shaved, I wore the white clothing they gave me, including a white scarf to cover my eyebrowless head (yes, the eyebrows, too), entered the hall, and presented myself before a long line of senior monks, even more less senior monks, and more than a hundred laypeople. You see, it was also a dedication ceremony for a new building at this meditation center where, a month later I would be teaching Sri Lanka’s first Insight Dialogue retreat. It was also the day before Uposotha, the Buddhist full moon ceremony.

I repeated the lines that were chanted to me, bowed a lot, and then was given my maroon robes. I left the hall and draped the robes over the body of the person now known as Revata (ray-vah-tuh). I did as I was guided to do, but was surprised to see this little emotion — born of perception and resonating in the sankhara, the mind’s constructions — yield a thought: “Oh, I was expecting to be in saffron robes, like my teachers.” I let it go. I wondered, though, “Balangoda Ananda Maitreya Mahanayaka Thera and Ven. Punnaji Maha Thera wore saffron. They are nearly all wearing saffron. Shouldn’t I be?” And behind this lay the history of all the images of my teachers and the projected images of myself in similar robes.

Finally I asked, a day or two later, sheepishly: “Um, I don’t mean to bother you, and I’m aware that there is some greed, some preference in this, but I was expecting saffron robes.” Before I could say much more, my host—and Ven. Anuruddha’s teacher—Ven. Kalyanatissa, said, “No problem. We have a robe that color. It’s all the same, though. Robes can be any color. Even blue!” I wondered, “Even blue?” “Yes”, he replied. “There are some monks who get a bit showy about this.”

Two days later I headed off with Ven. Anuruddha to Mitirigala, a forest monastery with an esteemed history, and on the way we stopped to purchase (!) my underrobe in this color. Ugh. I was making work for people.

But when we got to the monastery, all the monks were in maroon, or in a variation of maroon based on how faded the robes had become. It seems the dye for these robes was prescribed in the Pali canon and the roots and bark yielded this darker, red-brown color. Such dyes faded with each washing. “Good,” I said to myself. “This maroon robe is okay. I’m covered on that one (as it were). At least I’m not wearing saffron.” Still, looking for something for someone a bit taller, I took up the offer to find a more suitable robe from the storehouse at the monastery.

This led to witnessing a conversation among some of the monks there (only a few of whom spoke English), where I learned that saffron was considered inferior: too showy. It was the wardrobe of the temple monks, and WE’RE forest monks. And the color of a robe I tried on, and ended up using for quite awhile, was associated with Thai monks. Another monastic mind construct. While too short, at least this Thai robe did not brand me as one of those temple monks, not known for their meditation and strict vinaya (rules).

And there it was: the mind of judgment, preferences. My mind was relatively clean here; I didn’t know enough. But even in this austere and quite sincere environment of the forest monastery, the comparing and identifying mind could be observed. About fashion! Well, okay, about color, but you understand what I’m saying. To finish the story, I never ended up wearing that once-craved saffron robe. I ended up with a robe from Nouwena, another forest monastery, that was dyed with roots and such and, thankfully, that fit well and was far more bearable in the humidity and heat. None of these experiences overtook the mind, but it was all revealing and amusing.

Please check back for Part Two in this series, as I share a more somber story about the fragility of this life, and our need for each other’s support.

Yours in the Dhamma,
Gregory, formerly Venerable Revata

This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License.

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