Lobsang Rapgay's Articles on Lions Roar

Pema Khandro Rinpoche, Lama Rod Owens, Lama Rigzin Drolma (Anne C. Klein), and Lobsang Rapgay discuss the guru model in the Tibetan tradition, in which the teacher is central to the path. From the Winter 2018 issue of Buddhadharma. A year ago, it would have been hard to imagine publishing an article with this headline. But a lot happened in a year: the #MeToo movement hit the world by storm, and shocking revelations of abuse by Buddhist teachers in high-profile communities, including Shambhala and Rigpa, became mainstream news. While communities are still grappling with these allegations and legal issues remain to be resolved, these allegations have given rise to many questions and concerns regarding the role of the teacher in Buddhism. In light of the most recent upheavals, we’ve chosen in this discussion to focus on the guru model in the Tibetan tradition, in which the teacher is central to the path; our panelists are deeply involved in guru practice and offer, from the inside, insights into how that teacher–student model may or may not be workable going forward. However, the conversation is relevant to any Buddhist traditions in which the teacher—whether a lama, roshi, or ajahn—holds great power. –Editors Buddhadharma: The question at the heart of this forum is, “Is the guru model broken?” We’ll explore an actual answer to that, but first, how do you feel when you hear the question? Lama Rigzin Drolma (Anne Klein): I’m not sure I want to tell you this, but when I heard the question, my first reaction was alarm. Like, no, it can’t be broken! Because if it’s broken, then the whole tradition is broken. Relationship is crucial to one’s practice at every level of the path, and definitely key to progress in tantra and Dzogchen. Lobsang Rapgay: My initial reaction, too, was to say, no, it’s not broken. But I also think there’s a contextual element to it in the culture. In Tibet, the teachings are passed down from one guru to another, making the guru indispensable. However, given the vast cultural, social, and political differences between Tibet and the West, it is critical to examine whether that model is also feasible and sustainable here. Pema Khandro Rinpoche: I feel a sense of curiosity about what the question means, because there are a lot of different models for teacher–student relationships in Tibetan Buddhism. Some are more authoritarian, some are more parental. Sometimes it’s more intellectual and teacherly. Other times, it can be more like a coach or even a spiritual friend. I’ve certainly met lots of Vajrayana practitioners who believe there is one model and one right way for this relationship to be, but in my experience, it’s tremendously diverse. Lama Rod Owens: When I hear the word guru, I feel this heaviness in my guts—I did even before I came onto the Buddhist path. We’re transplanting a certain kind of relationship that was prevalent in another culture onto this Western paradigm, and I think we are still doing the work to unlock what the guru means for us as Westerners. I don’t know if that model is broken. The guru means different things to different people. My personal relationship with the guru is something I’ve had to come to terms with through really intense negotiations with my own projections, my own hang-ups, my own lack of understanding of what authentic relationship with another human being looked like. Maybe it’s the guru model that’s broken, or maybe it’s my own efforts that are not quite refined enough to enter into this very profound relationship. Buddhadharma: We’ve all heard stories, especially recently, of how this model can sometimes lead to harm. What does the guru model look like when it’s not working well? How does it break down? Lobsang Rapgay: What we see in these recent cases, in addition to issues associated with the psychological development of the teacher, is a lack of rigorous traditional training and education, as well as the absence of ethics as the foundation of their teachings. Rigorous traditional training not only provides extensive education in the theories and practices of the teachings, but also a structure and discipline for trainees to conduct themselves ethically in body, speech, and mind. All traditions repeatedly stress ethics as the foundation for all practices. When someone without formal training assumes the role of teacher, especially in the case of esoteric teachings, the potential for abuse is enormous. At first, the teacher might personalize and simplify the teachings, making them more accessible and appealing to draw in students. But from there, the teacher is no longer beholden to the tradition; they are free to interpret and introduce the teachings in their own way, without any constraints. Such teachers rarely emphasize the centrality of ethics or subject themselves to the ethical guidelines of a Vajra master. This lack of grounding leads to a form of personalized Buddhism of which the teacher is the sole authority. From there, you begin to see very subtle subjugations or, in extreme cases, I’ve seen people use the word “enslavement.” People are threatened; other teachers or teachings are not encouraged. Over time, you begin to see the threats, then abuse increases. Often it’s sexual, but it’s not limited to that; it’s also emotional, physical, and financial. There’s always secrecy and silence. It does not take long to create an organization entirely centered around the teacher and his or her interpretation of the teachings. The teacher has complete power and authority, and others support the teacher while maintaining secrecy and silence. Pema Khandro Rinpoche: I feel Buddhism is taking a positive step forward. I was ashamed when people asked me how the #MeToo movement was affecting Buddhism and I couldn’t give any examples. Then, all of a sudden, people were speaking up and speaking out, and I was so proud of the communities that spoke out and of the brave people who told their stories under great duress. It’s important for us to go through this stage so that we can go beyond a naïve view of Buddhism based on fantasies of Shangri-La, where Tibetans are all perfect and teachers are all flawless, and all you have to do is turn off your intelligence and do what they tell you. That’s a natural stage when someone converts to a new religion. We know from the research that at first, people take things too literally; they can be fundamentalist. But gradually, they become more adept at interpreting the tradition themselves and looking into these complex issues and ambiguities, and they go beyond that black-and-white thinking. Culturally, as American Buddhists, I think that’s where we’re at: we’re growing up, we’re maturing. And I’m so relieved. I feel this will benefit all of our practice and Buddhism as a whole. It’s a painful stage, talking about these horrible abuses that have happened, but that’s a very important stage to be in. Lama Rigzin Drolma: It may be different when you grow up in a Buddhist culture, but in our culture, partly because Buddhism is so new, there are many fantasies about Buddhism. People carry these into a relationship with the teacher. This often involves much self-deception and projection. Also, it’s often said that whereas Tibetan culture really values loyalty, Western culture values independence, including the idea that I should be able to do whatever I want. So a person might find it difficult to listen to or respect a teacher who isn't inclined to encourage them to do exactly what they want; they might not understand that part of the path means, in fact, getting over that notion of freedom. Buddhadharma: What are the solutions? How do we make it work? Pema Khandro Rinpoche: Well, it’s true, we’re not in a Buddhist culture. So it’s even more important that our education as Buddhists has to include multiple sources of authority. Students need to be well versed in various texts; they need to see other teachers and teachings; they need to know about Buddhist philosophy and vows. And teachers need to teach students the controversies within Buddhism rather than just giving a direct teaching from their own lineage. They need to show the students that there are opposing views—that enhances a student’s sense that it’s okay to have doubts and interrogate these really great big questions that Buddhism posits for us. If they know that Buddhism has a long history of debate and vigorous discourse about everything that matters, then that will help students to go beyond fundamentalism and see a situation from multiple points of view. Also, in my sangha, it’s a rule that if you’re my student, you have to have something else in your life besides Buddhism. You need to have family connections, or a hobby, or something else; otherwise, what’s going to happen if that relationship with the teacher breaks down? I often train students of other lamas, and I don’t know who they’re going to end up with. It may be with a Sogyal Lakar, so I want to know that student has had practice in raising doubts, asking questions, and disagreeing with me. I love Buddhism so much, but if there’s something misogynous, I call it out and I say, “I don’t feel comfortable with this. I don’t know about this. Where do you think this is coming from?” It’s something we practice, so when they go out and train with other teachers, they know how to respectfully dialogue. Culturally, I think that capacity for respectful disagreement is something we lack. The steep hierarchy isn't always the same. The teacher also has teachers, and in those relationships, the teacher isn't the guru—the teacher is a student. So the teacher is not a state of being but a role one plays in a particular context. —Pema Khandro Rinpoche. Lama Rigzin Drolma: Without that agency, we find a kind of blind trust in the kindness of the teacher. Trust is absolutely crucial, but sometimes the idealization gets so strong that the students aren't even concerned with whether they're actually being seen or...

¿Está roto el modelo del gurú?

Is the Guru Model Broken?

TEACHINGS

LIFE

EXPLORE BUDDHISM

NEWS