Crossing the Realm of Death
Ven. Bhikkhu Bodhi
The Dhammapada is one of the most popular works of Buddhist literature, capturing the essential teachings of Early Buddhism in 423 verses distributed into twenty-six chapters. Verses 85 and 86 of the Dhammapada read as follows:
Among human beings, those people are few
who go across to the far shore.
The vast majority of people
just run up and down along this shore.
But those who, in this well-expounded Dhamma,
practice in accordance with the Dhamma –
these people go to the far shore
of the realm of Death so very hard to cross.
In South Asia during the monsoon season, the rains pour down mightily and heavily. As the rains descend day after day, the rivers swell up and expand, and their current becomes tumultuous, uprooting vegetation and dragging along everything in its path.Seemingly out of nowhere, streams previously non-existent sweep down over the mountains and hills, filling up the creeks and brooks until they too become small rivers. Yet, despite the arrival of the rains, people still travel to deal with their business or family affairs, and to reachtheir destinations they often have to cross these rivers.
For this reason, the metaphor of crossing a river or fording a stream plays a prominent role in Indian spirituality. River imagery is also pervasive in the texts of Early Buddhism. The Pāli word used to signifythe act of salvation is tarati, which literally means “to cross.” The Buddha’s activity of “saving sentient beings” is “bringing [them] across” (nittharaṇa), and he teaches the Dhamma to lead beings across (so bhagavā taraṇāya dhammaṃ deseti). Those who have attained liberation are said to have “gone across and reached the far shore, so that they stand on high ground” (tiṇṇo pāraṅgato thale tiṭṭhati).
These images of crossing a river imply the existence of two shores, the near shore and the far shore. “The near shore” represents saṃsāra, the round of rebirths, which is without discernible temporal beginning. According to the Buddha’s teaching, unenlightened sentient beings, cloaked in ignorance and driven by craving, have forever been roaming and wandering through this round of rebirths. Thus, when the verse cited above speaks about the great mass of people who just “run up and down this shore,” it is referring to those who wander blindly through saṃsāra, utterly unaware of the dangers, completely blind to the need for liberation.
Saṃsāra is divided into five major realms. Three of these – the hells, the animal realm, and the sphere of tormented spirits – are called the bad destinations (duggati); they make up the plane of misery. The other two realms are the good destinations (sugati), the fortunate planes of existence: the human realm and the heavens, which rise up in multiple tiers. The living beings who run up and down “this shore” are those who move from one realm of existence to another within the round of rebirths, never seeking any route of escape. At times they go from a lower realm to a higher realm, at other times from a higher realm to a lower realm.But, whether they go up or down, they are like rats in a cage, running in circles without getting anywhere.
Some modern interpreters of Buddhism say that the teaching of rebirth is part of the ancient Indian mythology that the Buddha blithely accepted as part of the cultural legacy he inherited from earlier traditions. Such proponents of Buddhist modernism argue that if we are to make the Dhamma meaningful for people of the present age, we have to strip away these ancient cultural accretions and offer a version of Buddhism that applies exclusively to life here and now. In my view, this contention is a direct challenge to the Buddha’s enlightenment. The Buddha didn’t say that his teachings on karma and rebirth should be accepted because they had the weight of the Indian spiritual heritage behind them; he says, rather, that he has realized and seen these things for himself. To remove these teachings from Buddhism would dilute the world-transcending aspect of the Dhamma and leave us with a version of Buddhism that is little more than a sophisticated ancient psychotherapy. To take such an approach might be compared to buying a car and thinking, “Why should I keep the tires on the car? The car would look much better without them.” If we remove the tires and then get in and turn on the ignition, the car won’t be able to move an inch.
In the Buddhist worldview, this shore is saṃsāra, the cycle of rebirth driven by ignorance, craving, and karma, and the far shore is nibbāna (Skt nirvāṇa). Whereas saṃsāra is the realm of birth and death, nibbāna is the birthless and deathless. Whereas saṃsāra is the realm of suffering and turmoil, nibbāna is the state of supreme bliss and peace. The task the Buddha lays down for us is to move from the near shore of saṃsāra to the far shore of nibbāna. In the discourse titled “The Simile of the Vipers” (Saṃyutta Nikāya 35:237), the Buddha describes the “near shore” of saṃsāra as infested with four vicious vipers, representing the four material elements. It is beset with five murderous enemies, representing the five aggregates; with a sixth murderer, representing desire and lust; and with six bandits, representing the six sense objects. A man seeking to protect his life must cross from the near shore to the far shore. To this end, he constructs a raft to take him across, the raft representing the noble eightfold path. When he reaches the far shore, he can finally stand on firm ground, safe and secure from all dangers. Such a man represents the arahant, who has fully realized nibbāna.
In the first verse cited above, the Buddha declares that few people reach the far shore. The great masses of people don’t even get to hear the liberating Dhamma. If they learn of it, most have no interest in practicing it and therefore they remain trapped in saṃsāra. In the Anguttara Nikāya (1:343–344), the Buddha said: “Few are those who are inspired by things that are truly inspiring, and of those who are so inspired, few diligently strive to realize the goal.”
In the second verse, the Buddha speaks of “those who, in this well-expounded Dhamma, practice in accordance with the Dhamma.” I translate this following the original syntax of the Pāli to bring out the key points in due order. The expression “well-expounded Dhamma” underscores the excellence of the Buddha’s teaching. It is said in the suttas (for instance, in MN 27) that the Dhamma is “good in the beginning, good in the middle, and good in the end” (ādikalyāṇaṃ, majjhekalyāṇaṃ, pariyosānakalyāṇaṃ). The same stock passage continues by saying that the spiritual life (brahmacariya) is utterly perfect and pure (kevalaparipunnam parisuddham). It is utterly perfect because there is nothing to be added to make it more perfect, and it is utterly pure because it contains nothing defective that has to be removed.
If we examine the Buddha’s discourses, we will see that they are completely clear. Although their meaning might be deep, so deep that we can’t easily understand them, we will recognize that the ideas they convey are razor sharp, never vague or muddled. The teachings are consistent, holding together tightly, bound togetherinto one piece.Ethically, they are impeccable, without fault.They do not call for animal sacrifices, encourage the use of intoxicants, or endorse any actions that violate ethical principles. The Dhamma is realistic in that it describes things as they really are, never leading us down a garden path into fantastic realms of the imagination. The teaching is experiential,in that the practice brings beneficial results visible here and now. On this basis, we can be confident that if we practice diligently we will eventually reap the ultimate fruit – liberation from suffering.
However, to gain liberation from suffering, “to cross the realm of death,” it’s not enough just to place confidence in the well-expounded teaching. Above all, it is of cardinal importance to practice it. That’s why the Buddha speaks here of “those who practice in accordance with the Dhamma.” To practice correctly one has to know the right way to engage with the practice. To reach the far shore, one shouldn’t jump into a turbulent river. If one jumps into the river, one risks being swept off by the current and may even drown. To cross the river, one has to make use of a boat or a raft. To cross the stream of birth and death, one has to follow the training in sequence.
The Buddha lays down a sequential training, and we have to follow the prescribed steps. First, he says, we should associate with kalyānamitta – with wise spiritual friends, people who have learned the Dhamma thoroughly and practiced well and who can give us appropriate guidance in following the path. By associating with wise people, we get to learn the teaching. In the Buddha’s time, when there were no printed books, one would have to learn the Dhamma by approaching a teacher and listening to expositions of the teaching. Today, we can learn the Dhamma from printed books and online discourses, but even such resources, though useful, are no substitute for direct instruction by a personal teacher.
After we have learned the teaching, we should engage in yoniso manasikāra, “wise and thorough reflection.” By reflecting carefully on the Dhamma, one gains deeper confidence in the Buddha and the teaching, and this trust qualifies one to enter the practice in earnest. The practice unfolds systematically, stage by stage. We begin by undertaking the precepts central to the moral life, regulating our conduct in harmony with the precepts. When one observes the precepts, one avoids doing anything harmful to others. At the same time, following the precepts helps one to gradually transform one’s character so that one becomes a person of moral integrity, worthy of respect and admiration. The precepts ensure that our behavior conforms to the ideal standards set by the noble ones.
On the basis of ethical conduct, we next have to purify our minds. We purify the mind by cultivating concentration or samādhi. Through training in samādhi, we learn how tofocus the mind, to make the mind calm and inwardly composed. When the mind is concentrated, we can proceed to the next stage of practice, the development of wisdom (paññā). In Buddhist practice, wisdom is the insight that arises from direct contemplation of phenomena. Wisdom discerns and recognizes the true nature of things, their true characteristics, which are threefold. The first is the impermanence of all conditioned phenomena. The second is their inherent unsatisfactoriness, the fact that all conditioned phenomena are defective, inadequate, unable to satisfy our yearning for perfect security. The third is the selfless nature of all phenomena, the fact that all phenomena are devoid of any substantial self or intrinsic essence.
Of these three characteristics, the deepest and most difficult to discern is selflessness, yet, if we are to cut off the bonds that hold us to the round of birth and death, it is just this mark of non-self that must be seen and thoroughly penetrated with wisdom. In the texts of Mahāyāna Buddhism, the characteristic of non-self is expressed by the word śūnyatā, emptiness. The use of this word, however, was not an innovation of the Mahāyāna, for we find the word śūnyatā (Skt) or suññatā (Pāli) in the earliest stratum of Buddhist texts.The Buddha says that “the world is empty” (suñño loko) because all the constituents of experience – the sense faculties, their objects, and the consciousness that cognizes them – lack an indwelling self.
The last chapter of the Suttanipāta, a collection of the Buddha’s discourses, is titled the Pārāyana. The word pārāyana means the “way to the beyond” or “the way to the far shore.” This ties up with the two verses of the Dhammapada that we have been discussing, which speak of people going to the far shore (ye janā pāragāmino, te janā pāramessanti). In thePārāyana, sixteen brahmin ascetics come to the Buddha from a distant part of India, wishing to ask himquestions that have been troubling their minds. All the questions are concerned with this one task of passing from the near shore to the far shore.
Each brahmin in turn gets a chance to ask his questions. One brahmin, named Mogharāja, asks the Buddha: “How should I look upon the world so that the King of Death does not see me?” In other words, how can I escape the round of birth and death? This is a crucial question, because the aspiration of all human beings everywhere has always been to escape death. Of course, everyone has to die, but for the spiritual seeker, the aim is to reach a state where one becomes immune to the terrors of death, a state that confers liberation from the round of repeated birth and death.
The Buddha answers Mogharāga with this verse:
Being always mindful, O Mogharāja,
see the world as empty (suññato);
uproot the subtle view of a self:
thus you will cross the realm of Death.
The King of Death will never see
one who thus perceives the world.
This corresponds closely with the last two lines of the second verse that we are considering here:
Those people go to the far shore
of the realm of Death so very hard to cross.
To cross the realm of death, we must eradicate the defilements that keep us tied to the round of birth and death.The Buddhist texts offer different classifications of these defilements. One of the most important is a set of four bonds (yoga). The grossest and coarsest bond is wrong views, wrong ideas about the nature of reality. The second is craving for sensual pleasures. The third is the craving for continued existence, the urge to continue in the round of rebirths. And the fourth, the deepest and most primordial bond, is ignorance, the failure to understand things as they really are. Thus, to win deliverance from the round of birth and death, to arrive at the far shore, we have to break the bonds of wrong views, craving, and ignorance.
To eliminate ignorance and craving, we begin with right view as the correct conceptual understanding of the nature of things. On the basis of right view, we develop the three stages of the practice – moral conduct, concentration, and wisdom. As our wisdom matures, it cuts through ever subtler layers of defilements. With the first cut, wrong views fall away. With the next cut, the craving for sensual pleasures falls away. With the third cut, the craving for continued existence falls away. And with the next cut, the subtlest residue of ignorance falls away. With this, we have crossed the stream and won the final goal, nibbāna. In accordance with Dhammapada verse 86, wethereby “go to the far shore of the realm of Death so very hard to cross.”
