When some religious traditions identify a fundamental problem endemic to the human condition and then declare that the only solution is to renounce normal social and familial life, undertake heroic ascetic practices, and attain knowledge and wisdom far beyond the usual limits of human knowing, then they effectively set the solution out of reach of the majority of humanity. This does not necessarily lead to problems.
Daoism presents us with many tales of hermits who turned their backs on society and went into the wilderness, where they foraged for whatever they needed and had no further intentional interactions with anyone (though sometimes a traveler might happen across them).
The renunciant traditions in India that became philosophical Hinduism, Jainism, and Buddhism, on the other hand, did remain visible to ordinary people because they begged for their daily food and other necessities. The regular appearance of religious beggars and the return to villages and towns of those who have abandoned their austerities lead to conversation, and in these interchanges ordinary householders have a chance to learn in detail the religious worldview of the renunciants.
In the Indian case, this means they hear that all beings are trapped in the endless cycle of birth-death-rebirth, that this is a realm permeated by inescapable suffering and dissatisfaction, and that there exists a way that leads to final escape. What is it?
Renunciation of everything and everyone and a life of impossibly difficult learning and practice. It is a path that almost no householder could consider a live option. The renouncers might say that they should do the best they can and continue their almsgiving, since the merit accrued in this way might put them in a better position to follow the path in a future life.
This is risky. Few people remember past lives, and they have no reason to think that they will remember the deeds and intentions of the present life after they have passed once again through the disruption of rebirth.
A demand for a path to liberation that does not require complete renunciation would serve them better and more reliably, and odds are very good that at some point creative religious thinkers will devise a suitable program for the ordinary householder.
In Hinduism, one could express devotion and make offerings to a deity such as Vishnu who had the power to lift one out of samsara, nullifying the need for personal heroics.
In Buddhism, Pure Land met this demand. While many will hail such an innovation as a source of hope for those who could never follow the solitary path, others will inevitably interpret it as a debasement of the teachings unworthy of consideration.
So it went in China, and to a certain extent in Japan. The reconfiguration of Buddhist teaching and practice that allowed for the liberation of individuals who had done little or nothing to earn it stirred up a backlash against which Pure Land defended itself with a steady stream of apologetic literature. In the end, the chance for salvation that Pure Land proffered was more than enough to counterbalance all the arguments that detractors marshaled against it.
The assurance one had that the simple practice of nianfo/nenbutsu would summon Amitābha to take one from one’s deathbed to the Pure Land, and from there unstoppably to buddhahood, is so appealing that Pure Land permeates all aspects of East Asian Buddhist life.
Rosaries are everywhere as signals of Buddhist identity. Shaolin monks teaching martial arts to non-Buddhist Westerners have them repeat the name of Amitābha prior to lessons. Buddhist-based new religious movements, like Korean Won Buddhism, incorporate recitation of Amitābha’s name into their services even as they reinterpret its purpose and meaning.
If one wishes to understand Buddhist life in East Asia, one must learn about Pure Land.
The West encountered Pure Land Buddhism under a different set of circumstances. Buddhism first attracted the attention of Europeans and Americans in a significant way when the 1893 World’s Parliament of Religions in Chicago brought many Asian Buddhist masters across the ocean. Some stayed or sent representatives back to the West as missionaries after this event, and their success depended upon finding support among people of means. This required familiarizing themselves with the concerns of potential sponsors.
While some hankered after mystical experiences such as those offered by the Spiritualist movement, others rejected the perceived dogmatism, ritualism, and superstition of Christianity and were looking for something more rational and compatible with science. The missionaries delivered.
For the rationalists, popular books and even textbooks such as Walpola Rahula’s What the Buddha Taught scrubbed away anything that looked otherworldly or superstitious and presented a thoroughly modernized Buddhism.
For the mystics, Zen played on the paradigm of the solitary quest, the figure of the Holy Fool, and the idea of “crazy wisdom.”
Western Buddhists by and large remained unaware of Pure Land, and if it did attract their attention, they dismissed it as a diminution of a great tradition.
As the famous early Western Buddhist Christmas Humphreys put it, it removed three-quarters of the Buddha’s teaching and was but “Buddhism and water.” Some questioned whether it even counted as Buddhism at all, since it strayed so far from “what the Buddha taught.”
Since the West is still in the early stages of incorporating Buddhism into its religious life, Pure Land has still not made much headway. Most Westerners, even those who admire Buddhism, have never even heard of it or know far less about it than they do about Zen.
I often give lectures at the Smithsonian Institution in Washington, DC. I have had no trouble filling a classroom for an all-day conference on Zen, but when I scheduled a short lecture on Pure Land, it had to be canceled for lack of public interest.
The main institutional presence of Pure Land in the United States is the Buddhist Churches of America, a group that formed mainly to minister to Japanese immigrant workers throughout Hawaii and the West Coast. While it has some Western members, it is still a very small denomination with fewer than twenty thousand members nationwide.
Pure Land even attracts some hostility from those who see Buddhism as an alternative to Western religions—notably Christianity with its emphasis on salvation by a savior-god—and who regard Buddhism as a quest for enlightenment that one undertakes for oneself.
But we might profit from looking at the lives of some East Asian Buddhists such as Tianru Weize (1286?–1354) and Jixing Chewu (1741–1810). Both began as Chan (Zen) masters and achieved enlightenment. As they grew older, however, it seems that each began to wonder what their enlightenment experience had really gained them. Zen said they had buddha-nature and were already buddhas, but they found that the realities of bodily decline, problems of temple administration, and mortality weighed on their minds more and more. Eventually, each decided that it was all right to ask for help, and they moved through a stage of “dual practice” of Zen and Pure Land, but ultimately settled for Pure Land alone.
It may be that as Buddhism matures in the West, its adherents will find that the hero’s journey is an appropriate occupation for the young, but as life goes on and they become more cognizant of the inevitability of decline and mortality, the trophy of enlightenment that they won in youth will no longer suffice, and they will likewise feel free to ask for help.
I hope this book (Pure Land: History, Tradition, and Practice) has allowed the reader to move beyond the overly simplified caricature of Pure Land as the easy practice of calling Amitābha’s name so that he will take you to live in a paradise after you die.
It is a complex and highly ramified tradition that makes full use of Buddhist reflection and philosophy to set forth its case.
As a mode of Mahayana Buddhist practice, it assures one that the universe is filled with compassionate buddhas and bodhisattvas that have many powerful ways of aiding suffering beings. Very standard teachings about karma lead naturally to the idea that once a buddha has achieved complete purification of mind, then purification of his environment follows. The concept of merit transference establishes that these beings can endow others with the benefit of their practices and attainments.
Finally, far from being a paradise to which one goes for final rest and reward, the Pure Land is an immersive training ground where one has the perfect opportunity and ideal surroundings to take up the arduous course of study and application needed to achieve buddhahood.
The tradition arose from keen insight into the human condition and deep reflection on the buddha-dharma, and it has produced a mode of authentic Buddhist practice that bridges all levels of religious aspiration and striving.
Source: Jones, Charles B. Pure Land: History, Tradition, and Practice. Boulder, Colorado: Shambhala Publications, 2021.
The above text is excerpted from Chapter 17 (“Conclusion”) of the book.
Finally, far from being a paradise to which one goes for final rest and reward, the Pure Land is an immersive training ground where one has the perfect opportunity and ideal surroundings to take up the arduous course of study and application needed to achieve buddhahood.
The tradition arose from keen insight into the human condition and deep reflection on the buddha-dharma, and it has produced a mode of authentic Buddhist practice that bridges all levels of religious aspiration and striving.
(Charles B. Jones, Pure Land: History, Tradition, and Practice)