Most contemporary Buddhists know that Prince Siddhartha,
the Buddha to-be, left his family in search of
liberation on the day his son, Rahula, was born. Many
have been perplexed, sometimes outraged, at such a
seemingly irresponsible act. What is less well-known,
though, is that after his awakening, the Buddha became
his son’s primary parent for most of the boy’s
childhood. From the time Rahula was seven, he was under
the care of his father, who proved to be a remarkably
effective parent: Rahula had reached full awakening by
the time he reached adulthood. So we can ask, what kind
of parent was the Buddha? What kind of parenting
techniques did he use? How did an enlightened teacher
convey his spiritual message to his own child?
The scriptures do not offer much detail about the
relationship between the Buddha and Rahula, but various
hints provide a very interesting picture of how the
teacher guided his son’s maturation. While an earlier
story describes how Rahula came to practise under his
father, most of these hints are contained in three
discourses, which, when read together, follow the
pattern of the three successive training forming the
path to awakening: when Rahula was seven, the Buddha
taught him about virtue; when he was a teen, the Buddha
instructed him in meditation; and when he was twenty,
the Buddha taught him liberating wisdom, Rahula’s
gradual maturation to adulthood thus paralleled his
progress along his father’s path to awakening.
When my older son turned seven, I began to wonder what
kind of spiritual guidance I could offer him and his
younger brother. At a minimum, I wanted them to learn
enough about the practices and teachings of Buddhism so
that as adults they could turn to these resources if
they desired or needed to. I also thought it would be
wonderful if they could feel at home in Buddhism so that
no matter where they went in life, this home would
always be available as a refuge. And finally, because
the greatest wealth I know is the well-being, peace and
compassion. I have found through my Buddhist practice,
I’ve often wondered how I can pass along these riches
more broadly to the next generation as a kind of
spiritual inheritance.
Remembering that Rahula had entered his father’s care
when he was seven, I searched through the Pali
discourses to learn what I could about how the Buddha
taught his son.
I found the question of how to leave a “spiritual
legacy” beautifully addressed in the story about the way
Rahula came to practise under his father. Six years
after he left his family, and one year after his
awakening, the Buddha returned to his hometown.
Seven-year-old Rahula, on the urging of his mother, went
to meet his father to ask for his inheritance. If
Siddhartha had remained at home, Rahula would have been
in line to inherit the throne. But as a renunciate
living a life of poverty, what could the Buddha pass on?
In response to Rahula’s request, the Buddha said to
Sariputta, his right-hand monk, “Ordain him”.
Rather than receiving the throne, Rahula inherited his
father’s way of life, a life dedicated to liberation.
While it is unlikely that my son, will shave his head
and take robes anytime soon, I would still like to
expose him to the basic Buddhist principles that have so
deeply informed my own life.
When I came across the three discourses where the Buddha
teaches Rahula, I was surprised that the teachings
seemed not only still fresh but also relevant to raising
a child in modern America. In fact, these discourses
have now become a guide for me as a parent.
Virtue
The first story illustrates how Rahula was taught to
live a life of integrity. When he was eight, Rahula told
a deliberate lie. The sutta called The Discourse of
Advice Given to Rahula at Mango Stone (Middle Length
Discourse 61) tells how the Buddha dealt with this.
Having first meditated, the Buddha went to his son.
Rahula prepared a seat for him and, as was the custom,
put out a bowl of water so the Buddha could rinse his
feet. After his father cleaned his feet, a little water
was left in the bowl. The Buddha asked, “Rahula, do you
see the small quantity of water left in the bowl?”
“Yes”, replied Rahula.
“As little as this”, the Buddha said, “is the spiritual
life of someone who is not ashamed at telling a
deliberate lie”.
I imagine Rahula taking a deep gulp upon hearing this.
The Buddha then threw out the remaining water and said,
“Thrown away like this is the spiritual life of someone
who is not ashamed at telling a deliberate lie”.
The Buddha then turned the bowl upside down and said,
“Turned upside down like this is the spiritual life of
someone who is not ashamed at telling a deliberate lie”.
And to drive the point home, the Buddha then turned the
bowl back upright and said, “As empty as this bowl is
the spiritual life of someone who is not ashamed at
telling a deliberate lie”.
He then taught his son, “When someone is not ashamed to
tell a deliberate lie, there is no evil that he or she
would not do. Therefore, Rahula, train yourself to not
utter a falsehood even as a joke”.
This part of the story reminds me that there is force
but no inner strength behind angry castigation of
children. Calmly, when he thought the time was right,
the Buddha made his point without punishment or anger.
In our efforts to understand Prince Siddhartha’s
decision, it becomes clear from the suttas that the
Buddha regards one’s obligation to one’s highest
spiritual destiny, that is, to win release from the
bonds of samsara, as more compelling than one’s
obligation to one’s mundane parental and marital
commitments when pursuing such a goal does not cause
one’s family members harm. Nevertheless, it is very rare
in Asian Buddhist countries today to find a young man
who would leave his wife and children to become a monk.
The general ordinance, implicitly accepted by just about
everyone, is that a family man must wait until his
children have grown up and become independent before he
can leave the home life to become a monk. The same, of
course, applies to a mother who wishes to become a nun.
පසෙලාස්වක
අව
අටවක
අමාවක
පුර
අටවක