José Ignacio Cabezón's Articles on Lions Roar

When it comes to sex, Western Buddhists tend to be fairly liberal. But as scholar José Cabezón explains, Buddhist tradition takes a much more conservative approach, prohibiting, among other things, oral or anal sex, male homosexuality, and even sex during daylight hours. He challenges us not to dismiss traditional Buddhist views on sexuality but rather to critically examine them, beginning with the study of sexual ethics in Buddhist texts. I love texts. Of all the wonderful gifts my Tibetan teachers have bestowed on me, none is more dear than the training I have received in reading texts. I don’t mean simply the ability to read the great texts of Indian and Tibetan Buddhism in their original languages, though this is no small thing, but the ability to think through them: to think about what they mean, and what the world means in light of them, to come to an understanding of the world—what we are, what our responsibilities are, and what constitutes a meaningful life. This, I learned from my teachers, does not mean simply understanding the literal meaning, but also engaging the classic tradition critically: questioning it, using reasoning to determine whether it is valid and, if so, how, and being willing to wrestle with the great thinkers of the past in a spirit of free inquiry. The texts are not the endpoint of reflection, but rather the beginning of it, and the great masters of old are not irrelevant “dead brown men,” but living conversation partners whose thought, as reflected in their writings, can help us reconstruct our lives so that they lead to the flourishing of self, of others, and of the communities in which we live. I want to make a case for the importance of this enterprise through a specific lens—one focusing on sexuality and sexual ethics. It is particularly useful lens because of the issues it forces us as Buddhists to grapple with. And now, in the words of Salt-N-Pepa, “Let’s talk about sex!” On a warm June day in 1997 I walked into the Fairmont Hotel in San Francisco for a meeting with His Holiness the Dalai Lama. A group of gay and lesbian Buddhists had requested the audience with His Holiness to discuss his views on homosexuality and to ask for clarifications about statements he had made, statements that the organizers saw as disconcerting. The Dalai Lama began the hour-long meeting by reiterating his opposition to discrimination on the basis of sexual orientation and his commitment to “full human rights” for gay, lesbian, bisexual, and transgender people. But then the discussion turned from the general to the specific—from what is acceptable in society at large to what is acceptable in Buddhist tradition. Relying on a detailed text from the fifteenth-century Tibetan scholar Tsongkhapa, His Holiness explained what the work has to say about “sexual misconduct”—the type of sex that, as one of the ten nonvirtues, is considered a moral evil. Among other things, Tsongkhapa’s formulation prohibits sex between men, solitary masturbation, oral or anal intercourse, and even sex during daylight. On the other hand, it does not prohibit sex between women, or men employing the services of prostitutes, and it permits heterosexual men up to five orgasms per night. Lest it be thought that this delineation of the boundaries between permissible and illicit sex is idiosyncratic to Tsongkhapa, I should point out that similar formulations are found in important Tibetan texts written before and after him, including works by Gampopa and Dza Patrul. More important, every element in Tsongkhapa’s formulation has a basis in the Indian Buddhist sources. Understanding what the texts have to say about sexuality is only half the battle. Having explained Tsongkhapa’s text, His Holiness went on to speak about “the possibility of understanding these precepts in the context of time, culture, and society... If homosexuality is part of accepted norms [today], it is possible that it may be acceptable ... However, no single person or teacher can redefine precepts. I do not have the authority to redefine these precepts since no one can make a unilateral decision or issue a decree... Such a redefinition can only come out of sangha discussions within the various Buddhist traditions. It is not unprecedented in the history of Buddhism to redefine [moral] issues, but it has to be done on the collective level.” His Holiness called for further research and dialogue on the topic, and concluded by reiterating that, however sexual misconduct comes to be defined, it can never be used to justify discrimination based on sexual orientation. In the years following this meeting with the Dalai Lama I have taken up His Holiness’s call for more scholarly research on the issue of sexuality, and am close to completing a monograph on the subject. During the course of my research I came to realize that the Tibetan position on what constitutes sexual misconduct could be understood only by first understanding what Tibetan scholars took for granted—their views of the human body, sex, and sexual desire in general. That broader treatment, I further realized, would require examining what Indian and Tibetan texts say about such things as the differentiation of the sexes in the Buddhist cosmological narratives, the nature of the body and of the sexual act, the psychology of sexual arousal, the classical interventions for dealing with sexual desire, and the doctrinal construction of sexual “deviance,” or, we might say, of “queerness.” In this way, what began as a fairly narrow study of the historical evolution of one specific doctrine—that of sexual misconduct—has evolved into a much broader book on sexuality in the Indo-Tibetan Buddhist tradition. Now as important as the issue of sexuality is to the Buddhist tradition, there is no single classical work that deals with sexuality in its entirety. While there are compilations or compendia, called samgraha, on a variety of topics in the Indian and Tibetan literature, there is nothing like a maithunasamgraha (a compendium on sex). My first task was to collect material from texts from different periods and genres. This was the fodder for my study. But understanding what the texts have to say about sexuality is only half the battle. The other half, of course, is to assess this material: to subject it to critical scrutiny. More on what I mean by that in a moment. As I was beginning to put together the pieces of the sexual puzzle in Buddhist texts, it occurred to me that contemporary Western Buddhists must already have come to some conclusions about these issues, and so I turned to that font of all knowledge, the internet, to see what people were saying about Buddhism and sexuality. Here are three examples that illustrate what I found. One commentator writes: “So where is Buddhism’s list of naughty sexual practices? The answer is short and sweet. Buddhism doesn’t (for once!) have a list.” Another tells us, “Where Buddhism differs noticeably from other religions, is in its lack of a list of forbidden sexual practices. Unlike other religions that forbid homosexuality, contracepted sex, cross-dressing, etc., Buddhism does not list forbidden sexual practices.” Each of these writers is clearly unaware of the extensive Buddhist scholastic literature on sexual misconduct—a literature that “lists” inappropriate partners, organs, times and places, and then goes into exquisite detail about when, where, how, and with whom Buddhists may and may not have sex. In still other sources we find long lists of men and women who are to be denied Buddhist ordination on the basis of their sexual preferences, gender identity, or sexual anatomy. So, contrary to what these bloggers think, lists there are aplenty. In the third example, the writer is aware of the detailed treatment of sexual misconduct found in the scholastic sources because, in fact, it is a review of the translation of Tsongkhapa’s Lamrim Chenmo on Amazon.com. The writer states of Tsongkhapa’s instructions: I felt that they were not the true teachings that I have come to learn about Buddhism. For example, in the teaching about sexuality... I’m not sure how true to the tradition of Tibetan Buddhism [Tsongkhapa’s work] is. When confronted with the reality of the scholastic treatment of sexual ethics, this writer’s response is to dismiss it. “Surely this can’t be what Tibetan Buddhism is about.” How ironic then that almost six hundred years after Tsongkhapa wrote his famous text, arguably the most prominent representative of Tibetan Buddhism, the Dalai Lama, should be opening this very volume when he is about to engage Western Buddhists in discussions of sexuality. Obviously, one representative of the Tibetan tradition still thinks that the Lamrim Chenmo is “true to the tradition.” Overall, what I found in my peregrinations through the Web was that Western Buddhists were either unaware of what the classical Indian and Tibetan tradition had to say about sexuality, or, when not unaware, were ready to dismiss it because it did not jibe with their preconceptions of what the Buddhist tradition is all about. As my research evolved and as I began to share my findings with audiences of nonspecialists (for example, lay Western Buddhists in dharma centers), I discovered a similar pattern playing itself out. I found, first, that many people were uninformed about—or simply uninterested in—what the great texts say about sexuality. Having been written in a place and time far removed from us, many Western Buddhists, I came to realize, simply see these texts as having little relevance to our sexual lives in the here and now. I have often asked myself why my co-religionists are so willing, and indeed keen, to adopt the minute meditation instructions of the classical masters, and so quick to slough off the advice of these same masters when it comes to matters of sex. Be that as it may, I have come to see a fundamental disconnect between what the classical Buddhist tradition has to say about...

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