Choice

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Though it’s difficult to know exactly what the historical Buddha really taught and what is merely attributed to him, the teachings of the Buddha recorded in the Pali Canon make unmistakable reference to rebirth and past lives. This creates an awkwardness for contemporary students of Buddhism and has given rise to numerous apologists for the theory. The most common defense is to acknowledge the understandable skepticism of the student and to ask the student to withhold judgment until he has experienced his own past lives for himself. I suppose this would be all right if it weren’t for two obstacles to the skeptic’s suspension of disbelief. The first obstacle is that on its face the theory is ridiculously arbitrary and unverifiable, making it untenable that anyone could successfully talk himself into an attitude of neutrality somewhere between belief and disbelief. The second obstacle for the skeptic is his understanding of the power of suggestion. In any “past life retreat,” of which there have been numerous offerings, every participant “discovers” his or her past life. Thirty participants will net you thirty past lives; it’s all very democratic. And the lives typically discovered are those of preferred stature, saints and leaders and notable people of all kinds. Those few who discover past lives as animals are invariably dolphins or eagles or lions. No one ever discovers a past life as a cockroach or warthog. Whether the Buddha gave credence to the notion of karmic rebirth or not, it’s nonetheless a mischievous and silly theory.

What isn’t silly is the acknowledgment of consequence and the realization that what I choose to do matters. I don’t have to look to past or future lives to observe the consequence of my actions or to feel their effects. It’s easily discoverable among those living in my very own household. Here I can witness the immediate effects of my choices and the transmission of my behavior to future generations. And I don’t have to wait for the pay off. If I bother to notice, I’ll discover that my suffering or reward commences in the very instant of wrongdoing or good. If I reduce the harm I cause others, I will reduce the harm to myself. The effect of how I live my life will be my legacy to those who come after. If I’ve been self-seeking and greedy I will perpetuate that behavior. If I’ve been selfless and generous I will bequeath that to unknown heirs in some future time.

The inherent ethical wisdom of the Buddhist “law of karma” lies in its teaching on the consequence of actions. As a moral law, karma has to do with volitional actions, that is, actions intentionally chosen and acted upon. This moral aspect points to the rather obvious observation that an individual is held accountable for what he chooses to do. An additional aspect of the traditional ethics of the law of karma states that actions perpetuate their own kind. Literally, greed leads to more greed, hate to more hate, kindness to kindness, love to love, and so forth. I can’t argue with the likelihood of an action initiating its own kind, but it’s important to never forget that the moral implication of action resides in the exercise of choice and that one can choose not to perpetuate a particular action. If you treat me unkindly, I can choose not to respond in kind and thereby turn the karmic wheel back toward a more harmonious result. If I couldn’t do so, then the whole rationale upon which the moral aspect of karma rests would no longer apply. If I’m to be held responsible for the consequences of my actions, I must be free to choose between alternatives.

On the whole, the great significance of the teachings of karma is to remind me that if I crank at the checkout clerk at S & S Produce, she’s more likely to crank at someone else than she would had I treated her with consideration and respect. Karma as a simple law of consequence alerts me to the effect of my actions upon others. It also urges attention to the effect of my actions upon myself. If I indulge minor irritations, I perpetuate my own irritability and feel much worse than need be. But when my worry over the likelihood of my own actions rebounding on myself is brought to bear more or less exclusively on the effort to accumulate merit toward a favorable rebirth, the whole procedure becomes a selfish activity. And if it’s true that actions perpetuate their own kind, then the consequence of my quest for personal reward will result in little more than the perpetuation of self-interest.

If there is such a thing as a Law of Karma its execution rests not on relative merit and potential reward but rather on the willingness to notice, here and now, my effect upon others. It’s a matter of simple kindness and consideration. I can only try to choose well.


Lin Jensen teaches Buddhist ethics and practices at Chico State University. He is the founding and senior teacher of the Chico Zen Sangha, in Chico, California, where he lives with his wife. He is the author of Pavement: Reflections on Mercy, Activism, and Doing "Nothing" for Peace, published by Wisdom Publications in Spring 2007. His next book will be Under One Roof: Taking Up Residence in the Buddha's Household, to be published by Wisdom Publications in Fall 2008.