A Mindful Marriage

Former Buddhist monk Kittisaro was born Harry Randolph Weinberg in Chattanooga, Tennessee, the son of a New York City Jew and a Southern Baptist. Former Buddhist nun Thanissara was born Linda Mary Peacock in London, England, the daughter of an Irish Catholic father and a Protestant mother. Both Kittisaro and Thanissara grew up in households that bridged religious and cultural differences. Both discovered Buddhism as young adults and spent more than a decade in monastic life. And both relinquished their monastic vows to make another cross-cultural commitment: to each other, as husband and wife.

Correspondence

I found Leslee Goodman’s interview with Buddhist former monks Kittisaro and Thanissara delightful [“A Mindful Marriage,” January 2009], but I want to argue with the interviewees’ statement on witnessing suffering.

Kittisaro says, about a rhetorical cow that’s stuck in a bog, “Even if you’re not able to get the cow out of the mud, to stay present to her suffering is itself a powerful and compassionate act.”

To me this statement attempts to glorify failure. I don’t think a struggling, suffering cow would be helped simply by my presence, no matter how compassionate I might feel. Is Kittisaro suggesting that human consciousness is benevolent simply by its existence? That merely by paying attention to other creatures, we help them?

Sure, it might be compassionate for me to “stay present to [the cow’s] suffering,” but compassion is cheap. And there’s nothing “powerful” about my standing there watching her suffer. Who, in that situation, is empowered? I don’t think I’d gain any power from standing there feeling bad for the animal, and neither would she be empowered by my sympathy. I’d say the powerful, compassionate thing for me to do would be to go get help, fast.

Gillian Kendall Victoria
Australia

Kittisaro responds:

Gillian Kendall makes some valid points. My image of the cow stuck in the mud wasn’t a good example. It is certainly not my intention to glorify failure (though failure can be a powerful teacher). The primary goal of compassion is to alleviate suffering. Were I really to witness a cow floundering, I would do everything possible to help free the animal, including running for help if I couldn’t extricate her myself.

Living in rural South Africa, I am confronted on a daily basis with dire situations that I am unable to “fix.” This culture has, over its brutal history, been expert in its denial both of the horrors of apartheid and of the devastation of the AIDS pandemic. Consequently it’s not easy to shift the deep patterns that perpetuate suffering here. But just because I can’t repair the situation doesn’t mean that my attention to its nature is wasted or fruitless. Countless times I have experienced transformation (both inner and outer) by receiving into my heart the anguish of a painful circumstance. Even if I can’t immediately help, when I’m open and attentive to the situation, an appropriate response will usually emerge.

There is so much suffering in this world that has never really been heard. When we are feeling stuck in despair, a compassionate listener can dramatically change our relationship to our circumstance. We might still be sick or in pain, but we don’t feel alone. Perhaps then we can glimpse the underlying truth that suffering is a passing phenomenon and not the whole of who we are.

To truly feel and know suffering, in my view, is not easy to do. When we can’t fix the realities of sickness, death, and the consequences of ignorance, it is a challenging practice to let them be.

I do believe consciousness, when it is not distorted by greed, aversion, and confusion, is benevolent and healing. Even a contemplative hermit, cognizant of a unitive consciousness that knows no ultimate separation, is responding to suffering in an authentic way, just as the rain forest in the Amazon significantly purifies the air for the whole world. Admittedly there is the danger of splitting off from the suffering of the world and justifying our detachment with an inflated conceit about the great gift of our wise and compassionate presence. Nevertheless, effective compassionate action is rooted in profound listening.

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January 2009