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The Impact of Lying - Gil Fronsdal

The following talk was given by Gil Fronsdal at Insight Meditation Center in Redwood City, CA on October 08, 2023. Please visit the website www.audiodharma.org for more information.

The Impact of Lying

Introduction

Thinking about what to talk about today, it seemed right, maybe for my own sake, to just say something that touches on my heart's ache around the war between Israel and Hamas that started yesterday. I was not going to talk about it directly—I was going to talk about something else that I associate with a response to it—but it is sitting on my heart. This is not least because I have distant relatives who live in Israel, and I have friends who have relatives in Palestine. This idea that it affects people in all directions is a big thing. The way that these conflicts ripple out into the world and into generations to come makes it very painful to consider the consequences of these kinds of fights and wars.

There are so many wars in the world. They have been going on for a very long time, but right now we have big ones in Ukraine, Syria, and Myanmar. We also have major armed conflicts like the drug wars in Colombia and Mexico, where many, many people are dying every year. The way such conflicts trigger rage and anger in people just perpetuates the very thing they might be trying to stop. It perpetuates conflict and the justification of violence.

In Buddhism, we talk about the middle way, which we often interpret as the space between extremes. In terms of conflict, a very impactful example of a middle way happened many years ago at IMC when we used to be in Palo Alto. There was a horrific murder of a young girl, and the murderer was sentenced to death in California. We had an open discussion about the death penalty, and there were different sides. Near the end of the discussion, a person stood up and said, "Well, I find myself on both sides because both my parents were murdered, and it was by one of my close relatives." For that person, being in favor of the death penalty meant death for his relative, so he was stuck in the middle. For me, that kind of middle way is holding both sides in one person, along with the pain of that. How do we find a middle way? How do we find a way that doesn't continue divisions, a way that creates peace more than more war?

The Buddha and Rāhula

It starts, I think, in simple ways. One of the ways it starts is by living a life where we don't lie. This is one of the first spiritual teachings that the Buddha taught to his son, Rāhula¹. I was thinking about this teaching last night and this morning, so I thought I would share it with you.

Many people don't know that the Buddha had a son. By the time his son was about six or seven years old, he apparently was mostly under the care of his father. We don't usually think of the Buddha as a father. We think of him as a monastic who was quite removed from parental responsibilities, and we don't know much about how he was as a father. But his son became what was called a novice monk and lived that life until he grew up. Around twenty years old, you are allowed to ordain as a full monk, so he was a novice for about thirteen or fifteen years.

At some point in the son's youth, while he was still pretty young, it seems that Rāhula told a deliberate lie. That is the only way this story makes sense. The Buddha and his son had finished going out that morning with their bowls to collect alms for their food. They were close to finishing their meal, and they had washed their bowls—each monk is supposed to clean their own bowl. They were sitting there, and the Buddha said, "Do you see how little water is left in this bowl here?" Rāhula said yes. The Buddha said, "The monastic life of someone who deliberately lies is worth as much as this little bit of water."

I can imagine his son gulped, realizing he had been busted. But the Buddha didn't stop at that. He turned the bowl, threw the little bit of water out, and said, "The monastic life of someone who deliberately lies and has no shame about it is tossed away just like this." Then he turned the bowl upside down so the last little drops fell out, and said, "The monastic life of someone who deliberately lies but has no shame about it is upside down." Finally, he picked up the bowl, showed that it was completely empty, and said, "The monastic life of someone who deliberately lies but has no shame about it is hollow and void, just like this bowl." I imagine that was three big gulps from his son.

In my reading of this text, the Buddha didn't say this in a harsh or angry way, but he also didn't let it go unnoticed that his son had lied. He addressed this directly, perhaps in a parental way.

Healthy Remorse vs. Shame

One of the things that is important here is this word for shame². In modern English, at least in California, "shame" is a difficult, heavily loaded word. Many people struggle with it, carrying a tremendous amount of pain, suffering, and self-criticism around this word, much of which is very unnecessary. There are some people who feel shame just because they breathe—they never do anything wrong, but somehow feel they were born wrong, so they carry shame with them all the time.

But there is a place for a certain kind of healthy remorse—having a bad conscience about what you've done. Without that, we're not going to correct ourselves. We're not going to get the message that, "Boy, I really blew it. I really made a mistake." We need some feeling that something is off. I looked at dictionaries yesterday wondering if there's another word besides shame that we could use. Would "disgrace" work better? Some dictionaries translate the Pali³ and Sanskrit word lajjā⁴ as "bashful" or "embarrassed," but that doesn't seem quite right either. That misses the ethical feeling that something unethical has happened.

The emphasis wasn't just that he deliberately lied, but that he felt no regret or remorse. He didn't recognize he had done something off. If you recognize that you've told a deliberate lie and have some kind of remorse or shame, then there is a possibility of doing something about it and making a correction.

The Impact of Lying and the Elephant Analogy

For a monastic, the Dharma is a way of living. It's not just a philosophy. It is most represented by the monastic life because monks and nuns are giving themselves over entirely to living a Dharma life. It might look like monastics don't do much, but they are actually busy all day long: meditating, being honest, not being greedy, being of service, and processing their challenges. It's a way of being immersed in the Dharma life all day long. In monastic life, you are constantly reminded to stay close to the truth and to the heart of what the Dharma is about: non-harming. It is a dedication to not causing any harm in the world around us, or to ourselves.

This is part of the reason why the Four Noble Truths, which address suffering and the end of suffering, are so central. Suffering is just another word for harm. The ending of suffering is the ending of whatever psychological processes we have that contribute to our harm. We discover how not to even harm ourselves, and understand that there's an intimate connection between not harming ourselves and not harming others. You can't really do one without the other.

Lying causes a tremendous amount of harm. It is harmful to the person who lies, and harmful to the community that has to live with those lies. It creates divisions, hurt, and mistrust. From the Buddhist point of view, the impact lying has on the liar is huge. Think of a time you had a meditation where you felt particularly calm, centered, peaceful, and in touch with yourself. You are unlikely to open your eyes, turn to the person next to you, and just lie about something. If you did, you would feel awful inside. Something in your heart that had settled would be squashed or closed off. Tension builds up. Someone once said it's better to be honest because then you have less to remember. A person who chronically lies is chronically tense and agitated, fighting with everything in their life. They are so agitated they don't even see the impact it has.

To illustrate this, the Buddha used an analogy of war elephants. In ancient India, big elephants were trained as tanks. They were trained to stay tame and calm enough to go into the middle of battles so people sitting on top could fight. The elephants themselves were also fighters, using their tusks and legs.

The Buddha described an elephant that was so well-trained it would go into any situation and do whatever was needed to fight, non-stop, up until the point it got killed. We probably see people like this in our lives who don't stop for anything. Then the Buddha said: for someone who tells a deliberate lie with no shame, there is no evil they are not capable of doing. The war elephant holds nothing back in battle; similarly, a shameless liar has no limits. I imagine Rāhula was thinking twice about what he did after hearing that.

The Mirror of the Dharma

Then the Buddha switched gears and gave Rāhula some teachings. First, he asked, "What is the purpose of a mirror?" Rāhula replied, "The purpose of a mirror is reflection." The Buddha said, "In the same way, the Dharma is a mirror. You should reflect on your actions to see if any physical act, word, or thought causes harm to yourself or others."

That is a tall order—to go around with that question all the time. Part of the purpose of mindfulness in the Buddha's teachings is to monitor ourselves enough to see if what we're doing in body, speech, and mind is afflictive or not. Some people might be quite uninterested in this aspect of Buddhism because it's much more exciting to talk about great states of meditative absorption and bliss. But the Buddha suggests that while wonderful states of meditation can be attained, the point is to have the ability to truly track ourselves and live a life of harmlessness. The reward for that is a tremendous inner peace.

Reflecting Before, During, and After Action

The Buddha gave his son specific instructions on how to reflect: before, during, and after an action.

Before you do something in body, speech, or mind, reflect: "Is this going to cause harm to myself or others? Is what I am going to do wholesome, with good consequences, or unwholesome, with detrimental consequences?" "Wholesome" means asking if it is nourishing and healthy for my psychophysical system, and beneficial for the people around us in the long term. For example, recent studies show that parents who frequently yell at their children impact them similarly to physical abuse. Using mean words is not wholesome for the person speaking or for society.

I've told the story of using what I called my "strong voice" with my older son. It was deliberately considered, not just sudden screaming. I would say "No" in a very stern voice, and it was effective—until I heard my older son using exactly the same voice on his younger brother. I thought, "Oh no, what have I done?" I never used that strong voice that way again. We have to consider the long-term consequences.

The Buddha then said, while you are doing or saying something, you should track yourself in the moment. Is this causing harm right now? Sometimes we only know the impact of our words once we start talking. Because we don't know everyone's background, something innocuous to us might cause a lot of pain for someone else. We must pay attention in the moment. If you find that an action is unhealthy and afflictive, the Buddha said you should stop. Just stop what you're doing.

Finally, after you've done something, reflect again. If you discover that your action hurt someone and had deleterious consequences, you should go find a wise person you respect and tell them what you did. Some Western translations use the word "confession," but the Pali word does not carry the heavy associations of that word. It means to "lay it open." You lay it open to your teacher or your wise companions, and then you undertake restraint in the future.

We do make mistakes. We do cause harm in intentional and unintentional ways. Laying it open makes a big difference because you aren't squirming around it, pretending it's not there, or holding it all by yourself. When we carry guilt privately, it tends to build unnecessarily. To lay it open to a wise friend who will receive it well, without belittling you or making you feel shame, is deeply healthy. You become accountable, and if you commit to not doing it again, you know your wise friend is there to support you with honesty and respect.

The Gift of Harmlessness

Some of you might think it's a headache to go around monitoring your actions all the time. But just like learning to ride a bicycle, it becomes second nature. At first it's hard, but eventually, you can ride with no hands while talking on the phone. This monitoring of ourselves becomes a treasure, a gift we carry with us all the time.

Being able to monitor yourself in an ethical way and not cause harm makes you a gift to society. Our society needs a lot more examples of people who live a harmless life. Living a harmless life does not mean being silent when there are problems in the world. The Buddha was not silent when his son lied; he didn't just sit there meditating, pretending nothing happened. He addressed it directly, reflecting before, during, and after he spoke to ensure his words were healthy and beneficial.

Rāhula stayed in the monastic life, became enlightened himself around the age of twenty, and continued living that life to the end of his days.

This importance of ethics and a life of non-harming is a good thing to remember when we see so many examples of people causing harm. The cycles of harm and violence—like the Palestinian and Israeli cycles that have been going on for so long—can make it hard to know who is responsible or where it began. From a distance, it looks so unnecessary. While it's hard to say what kind of self-reflection is needed there, this idea of the middle way that cares for everyone involved, has compassion for everyone, and looks for what's most beneficial and healthy for everyone involved—that is the way forward. Without that, there's not much hope; we'll just continue the cycles on and on forever.

Reflections

Thank you. We have about five minutes before we normally stop, and then we'll have tea. You are invited to stay and hang out. It's a wonderful time to meet people and build community. But in these last five minutes, maybe turn toward a couple of people next to you and introduce yourself. If you are new here for the first time, it's nice to be welcomed. The way it works here at IMC, even if you're new here for the first time, at least for today, you belong here. You can welcome the people who have been here for years on an equal footing. If you want to share something about this talk that struck you, you're welcome to talk a little bit, and then at some point we'll go have our tea. Please, thank you.