I was delighted to see Justin Whitaker responding to my post on the Sigālovāda Sutta – both in a comment and in a separate post of his own. Justin and I first found each other long ago over our shared interest in Pali Buddhist ethics, and he was one of my more frequent interlocutors in the early days of Love of All Wisdom, so it’s great to see him back around. I recall Justin citing the Sigālovāda favourably several times in earlier conversations, so perhaps it’s not surprising that my broadside against it is what brought him out of the woodwork!
Justin’s post says, “For Lele, the text is problematic precisely because it does not push the reader to monasticism and a singular focus on ending suffering.” I think this is a bit misleading as a description of my position. After all, as I think Justin knows, I’m against a singular focus on ending suffering. I don’t necessarily see monasticism as the ideal human life; I’ve now taken two major steps that might make me ineligible for monkhood, and I don’t regret either of them.
So the problem I see with the Sigālovāda is not that it doesn’t push the reader to monasticism. Rather, it’s that for people who aren’t monks, the advice it offers is terrible! It portrays a sad and dreary life that offers precious few advantages over monkhood. I think monkhood is a valuable and wonderful life choice; I admire a life aimed entirely at the cultivation of virtue, and the perspective that those who pursue it can bring to those who don’t. But If we’re not going to be monks, I submit, then we should be out going to the theatre, singing, dancing – and waking up well after sunrise as a consequence of having done these things the night before. If we don’t trust worldly pleasures, we should be monks; but if we do trust those pleasures, then by all means we should embrace them.
Justin adds in his comment,
For a person like Sigala, and surely many of us today, progress could be best accomplished by reducing (or foregoing) certain of life’s little pleasures. Perhaps no longer “frequenting theatrical performances” could mean going a bit less often, using the new free time to study or practice or help friends. Seeing the benefit of those over the theatre, perhaps Sigala would give it up altogether in much the same way some of us today give up certain social media platforms or their television sets.
I could read this interpretation of Justin’s in two ways. One, we gradually come to see that worldly pleasures are less valuable than activities that cultivate virtue, such as studying, practising, helping friends. We start to engage in worldly pleasures less, as a sort of training wheels to not engaging in them at all. The latter is the real goal – at which point, again, we might as well be monks! If we really want to give up those things that are not studying, practising and helping, then we’ll want to take up the vocation that allows us to engage in these latter activities full-time.
Alternately, the interpretation could be saying that the real point of the Sigālovāda’s discouragements is just to encourage us to moderate our involvement in worldly pleasures, taming our desires for them and doing them a little bit less in favour of other pursuits of self-cultivation. On this second approach, our moderation might lead us to give a few of those pleasures up altogether, but it wouldn’t necessarily lead us there, and it’s totally fine if it doesn’t.
I could see taking an approach like this second one as a reinterpretation of the Sigālovāda to make it fit with our other commitments – as we might reinterpret karma without the supernatural. But it is a reinterpretation, for it’s not what the Sigālovāda actually says. The sutta says that the noble disciple just does not pursue “frequenting theatrical shows”, period – along with drinking or “sauntering in streets at unseemly hours” (both pastimes I rather enjoy). Moderation isn’t the issue; you’re not supposed to do these things at all. So the text in its own terms seems to require the first interpretation – in which case, again, you might as well be a monk.
Now I don’t mean to disparage that reinterpretation. For I think we Buddhists need reinterpretations of problematic passages in our scriptures. When we see passages that encourage the subordination of women or queer people, or that say the sun and the moon revolve around Mount Meru, we should not take them literally, but we also don’t want to simply throw them out. Thus I noted that the vinaya passages subordinating women and prohibiting queer people were there to maintain the social reputation of the saṅgha, and that in the modern era that goal would be better served through equality and inclusion.
My point, though, is that the Sigālovāda is one of those problematic pieces that requires reinterpretation. (From our perspective, we should consider it entirely neyyattha, not nītattha!) It’s worth trying to revise its message in a modern way, just as we would with passages about the cosmology about Mount Meru. The issue is that as it stands, without reinterpretation, the sutta is bad advice to follow. And so we shouldn’t make it the centrepiece of Buddhist lay ethics.
Hi Amod,
Apologies for the very slow response. This is certainly a fascinating topic and you have raised many valid points.
Yes, the Sigālovāda is neyyatha, as are, perhaps *all* discourses that give specific advice on how one should conduct themselves. Even the Vinaya, which most traditions tend to *try* to keep to the letter, gets reinterpreted when needed (e.g. traveling monks/nuns needing to have some money on hand). So when reading the advice to Sigala, I think it’s only natural to follow some of the interpretive advice I suggested in my piece and bridge the gap between his particular circumstances and our own very different lives.
That said, I’d be interested in your reading of the Sigālovāda with that in mind – not holding too literally to it (as nītattha), but actually reading deeply into it as neyyatha.
It was this seeming dichotomy that I was sensing in your first article and you made more explicit above:
“If we don’t trust worldly pleasures, we should be monks; but if we do trust those pleasures, then by all means we should embrace them.”
To my understanding, Buddhist teachings to the laity explicitly reject what seems to be an “all or nothing” approach to the path. Instead, my interpretation is that we should recognize the very human struggle of desire for and attachment too worldly pleasures while gradually detaching ourselves from them.
Perhaps now, in your life, drinking and staying out late are trustworthy bringers of joy. The Sigālovāda sutta doesn’t seem to be unique among Buddhist teachings in suggesting this won’t last, or that other pursuits would be better uses of your time, should you wish to be a noble disciple.
With something like alcohol, I’d agree that moderation isn’t the goal. But, as many Buddhists have interpreted it (and I’d agree), moderation is an excellent step for many people (a step in the direction of elimination).
Jumping to becoming a monastic would be too drastic a step for the vast majority of us (and many who jump into too quickly disrobe). So I would never advise someone who has lost trust in worldly pleasures to jump into that. There is so much more nuance in individual lives – perhaps, for instance, they are deeply depressed and that is why they do not get pleasure from worldly things. This would be no reason to become a monk.
On the other hand, if we *recognize* the fleeting pleasures gained by worldly goods and perhaps *experience* lasting or deeper sukha in following teachings of the Buddha, we can continue to follow them (even if imperfectly with a drink here or there), to even greater sukha.
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