Chapter 17. The Mystics’ View of Morality

The reason the Buddha made keeping the Precepts so important was not so much for ethical reasons as for its bearing on mind development and its goal of the attainment of highest cognition and enlightenment. One cannot progress towards this goal if he is living a wicked or self-indulgent life.

— Dwight Goddard (Buddhist)

One of the reasons both jnanis and bhaktas experience dark nights when they start practicing detachment has to do with motivation. We are so conditioned to base our behavior on getting what we want and avoiding what we don’t want that it’s hard to imagine any other way of functioning in the world. Without the incentive of self-interest, why do anything at all? The problem is we have not yet discovered another, spiritually more mature motive for acting—one that transcends self-interest. So what is this more mature motive?

Actually, we all already know what it is, because it occurs naturally in our lives. We are talking, of course, about love and compassion. Whenever we are moved by love or compassion for another being, we are quite capable of setting aside our own interests in order to serve theirs. And the more we act out of this selfless impulse, the more we manifest that Love and Compassion inherent in Consciousness Itself. This is why all traditions regard cultivating love and compassion as indispensable to walking a spiritual path. Indeed, as Bokar Rinpoche says,

Without love and compassion, every other practice, no matter how deep it may appear, is not a path to awakening. 280

Now, the way to actively cultivate more love and compassion in your life is to start by interrupting your self-centered conditioning. And the way to do this is to begin keeping moral precepts. Unfortunately, this is a discipline many modern seekers neglect. No doubt this is due in part to a misunderstanding of what moral precepts are really all about—at least from a mystic’s perspective. So before we delve into the specifics of how to practice keeping precepts, let us look at some of the most common misconceptions people have.

Three Views of Morality

In Western society today there are two dominant views of morality—1) the traditional, exoteric religious view, and 2) the more modern secular humanist view. Neither of these, however, represents the mystics’ view.

The secular humanists’ view of morality is based on a materialist paradigm that does not recognize any spiritual dimension to reality at all. Everything that exists, including human beings, is reducible to and can be explained by the interaction of matter and energy. For secular humanists, then, moral laws are not objective laws built into the structure of the cosmos. Rather, they are purely subjective inventions of our own brains. Similarly, judgments of right and wrong, good and bad are not absolute. All are relative, determined solely by cultural conventions, religious biases, and/or personal preference. As a result, the arguments which secular humanists make for adhering to moral precepts or ethical standards (as they prefer to call them) are not cosmological but sociological. If, they contend, everyone lived according to mutually agreed upon ethical standards, then as members of an ethical society we would all experience more happiness and less suffering.

Of course, when secular humanists make this argument they are not referring to any kind of spiritual happiness. Being materialists, in their view we are our bodies and nothing more. Consequently, the only real meaning happiness can have is to achieve the maximum satisfaction of bodily desires for material things like food, clothing, shelter, etc. Even the satisfaction of our higher needs for things like love, respect, creativity, and self-fulfillment ultimately depends on material conditions such as physical health and an affluent environment. This is why secular humanists usually present their ethics as part and parcel of a larger social and political program whose goal is the creation of a utopian society (or at least an approximation thereof) in which everyone’s material requirements will be met to the fullest extent possible.

Now the problem mystics have with this humanist view of morality is that it does not address the fundamental causes of suffering and happiness, which, as we have seen, are only secondarily linked to the material conditions of our existence. The real source of our suffering is ignorance of our true nature caused by the delusion that we are separate selves, doomed to sickness, death and decay. This does not mean, however, that mystics are not interested in social and political problems, or concerned about issues such as poverty, peace, and justice. On the contrary, some of the world’s greatest mystics have also been its greatest activists and reformers. What’s more, this continues to be the case in our own time as exemplified by people like Gandhi, Simone Weil, and Thich Nhat Hanh—all of whom were and are socially engaged (to use a modern Buddhist term.) Still, mystics do not have any illusions that society can be perfected in a materialist sense or that, even if it could, this would make us all happy. Suffering, they insist, is not ultimately a material problem, but a spiritual one. For mystics, then, the improvement of society is not the main reason to practice morality. Mystics would practice morality even if there was no chance of improving society—in fact, even if there was no society at all! Even if they were stuck on a desert island with nothing but insects and reptiles, mystics would still keep precepts, practice virtues, and cultivate selfless love and compassion in order to interrupt their self-centered conditioning, dismantle the delusion of I, and attain Gnosis.

Unlike secular humanists, exoteric religionists do consider moral laws to be absolute, because, in their worldview, these laws reflect an Absolute Spiritual Reality. In this sense, moral laws are every bit as objective as any of the laws of physics. True, we are free to obey or disobey moral laws, but, in the end, we cannot escape the consequences of our actions. Good actions lead to happiness, bad ones to suffering. Of course, these consequences may not manifest within our limited life-spans here on earth. Like everyone else, exoteric religionists recognize that wicked people can survive to a ripe old age surrounded by their ill-gotten gains, while virtuous people often die young and in pitiful circumstances. But for exoteric religionists, physical death is by no means the end. In their view, we are in essence spiritual beings, rooted in a Spiritual Dimension of the Cosmos. So, even though our physical bodies may perish, something of us survives to experience the results of our actions—for better or worse.

Exactly how these results manifest is, of course, explained differently in different traditions. Generally speaking, Judaism, Christianity, and Islam maintain that, depending on the kind of life you have lived here on earth, you will go either to heaven or to hell when you die. According to Hindu and Buddhist cosmologies, on the other hand, you will continue to reincarnate in this realm of samsara until complete liberation is attained. In the meantime, whether you will be reborn into more or less favorable circumstances in your next life depends on how you behave in this one. And yet, despite these differences in the particulars of their belief systems, all exoteric religionists agree that As you sow, so shall you reap. Consequently, the exoteric religionists’ motives for practicing morality are more personal than social. They hope to avoid future suffering and attain future happiness, whether this be in some postmortem state or a future incarnation.

In many respects, the mystics’ view of morality is closer to the exoteric religionists’ than to the secular humanists’ view. Mystics certainly agree that moral laws are not just human inventions, but reflect fundamental cosmic principles. Exoteric religionists, however, tend to regard the precepts of their own moral codes as being absolute in themselves. When confronted with contradictions between their code and those of other traditions, they usually respond by declaring that those whose codes differ from theirs are either woefully misguided or downright demonic. Now, it must be admitted that some mystics, isolated in their own traditions, have held such views as well. But other mystics—especially ones who have lived in close proximity to people of different traditions—have seen things quite differently.

To give but one example, Ibn al-‘Arabi was a faithful Muslim, who followed the moral laws revealed to the prophet Muhammad in the Qur’an. But growing up in the multi-cultural milieu of fourteenth-century Spain, he also learned to respect Christians and Jews, even though they followed different laws given by different prophets. For Ibn al-‘Arabi, however, such discrepancies posed no problem:

The knowledge with which they [the prophets] have been sent is according to the needs of their communities, no more nor less, since communities vary, some needing more than others. …

Thus, what is forbidden in one Law is permitted in another, from the formal standpoint. This does not mean that it is always permitted, since the divine Command [i.e., God’s continuing self-disclosure] is [always] a new creation that is never repeated: so be alert. 281

In other words, moral codes are to a certain extent relative. They can change over time with new revelations fashioned to meet new circumstances. But this does not mean that mystics like Ibn al-‘Arabi hold that moral codes are completely relative. Whatever differences exist in their formulations, all derive from and reflect an Absolute Truth which, as we have already seen, is the Truth of Selflessness.

Selflessness, then, constitutes a universal moral Meta-Principle according to which actions can be judged right or wrong, good or bad. Selfish actions are bad and wrong because they perpetuate the delusion of self that causes suffering. Selfless actions are good and right because they breakdown this delusion, making possible a Realization of our true nature and the Abiding Happiness that comes with it.

Notice that this is not a matter of individual, subjective opinion, as secular humanists claim. Obeying or disobeying the Law of Selflessness has definite consequences, whether an individual is aware of this fact or not. Thus, mystics concur with exoteric religionists, that in this sense the moral law is every bit as objective as the laws of physics. And yet at the same time, the actual moral codes which embody and articulate this Moral Meta-Principle are, as Ibn al-‘Arabi recognized, relative and flexible. Why? Because an action that is selfless for one person, in one culture, at one time, may be selfish for another person, in another culture, at another time. So despite the fact that specific precepts do, indeed, vary from tradition to tradition, the Law of Selflessness is the common thread on which they all are strung.

For mystics, then, the essence of morality does not lie in outward conformity to all the details of a given code. The essence of morality is to be found in the purity of our inner intentions. From a mystic’s point of view, moral precepts are designed to guide us toward selfless actions, and most of the time they do. But when we encounter situations where they do not, we must allow the Meta-Principle of Selflessness to override the particular precept so that we obey the spirit of the law rather than its letter.

Mystics also agree with exoteric religionists that there is some aspect of our being which does not perish with the body and will suffer the moral consequences of our deeds in this life and beyond. Unlike exoteric religionists, however, mystics do not practice morality because they aspire to a better rebirth or the pleasures of some celestial paradise. This kind of motivation might get you started on a spiritual path, but in the long run it will prove ineffective, for as St. Catherine of Siena writes,

Fleeing sin for fear of punishment is not enough to give eternal life, nor is it enough to embrace virtue for one’s own profit. 282

In fact, if you continue practicing morality just so you can get into heaven and avoid hell, this self-centered grasping will itself become an obstacle. Thus, Rabi’a declares,

I carry a torch in one hand
And a bucket of water in the other:
With these things I am going to set fire to Heaven
And put out the flames of Hell
So that the voyagers to God can rip the veils
And see the real goal. 283

Now, as we just said, the real goal for mystics is to attain Realization, and the reason they practice morality is to undo the self-centered conditioning which prevents this Realization from occurring. This is why the eleventh-century Sufi sage Al-Ghazzali writes,

The aim of moral discipline is to purify the heart from the rust of passion and resentment, till, like a clear mirror, it reflects the light of God. 284

Similarly, Longchen-pa says,

[training in morality] purifies the habits of samsāra and dispels the stains from the essential nature, and causes enlightenment to be fully attained. 285

So, too, Theophan the Recluse insists,

The heart alone, despite all purification—if purification is possible without grace—will not give us wisdom; but the spirit of wisdom will not come to us unless we have prepared a pure heart to be its dwelling-place. 286

How Precepts Function

So, how exactly do precepts purify our hearts? The first thing a precept does is to focus attention on everyday situations in which we are most likely to be acting out of self-interest. For instance, if you undertake to keep a precept not to deceive others and really try to practice it, you will start to become more mindful of those situations in which you do in fact deceive others. Just becoming aware that you are acting deceptively, however, does not mean you will able to stop—at least not immediately. In most cases, your self-centered conditioning is much too strong to be interrupted by a simple act of will. Like all spiritual practices, then, keeping precepts requires a real commitment.

This is an important point to emphasize, because it is easy for practitioners to get discouraged when they find they cannot alter their behavior overnight. Often they become self-judgmental. They think there must be something wrong with them—that they are weak-willed or just plain no good. Not only is this kind of attitude counterproductive, it misses the whole point of the practice. Precepts are teaching tools designed to teach you about yourself—or rather about your delusion of self. In order to learn their lessons you must apply the virtues of courage, patience, and humility to your practice.

If you are able to do this, then as times goes by, you’ll find you can view your own behavior with increasing impartiality, much like a zoologist watching animals in the wild. This, in turn, allows you to begin to see precisely what motivates your actions in the very moment they are unfolding. For example, when you catch yourself telling a lie, you might notice it is being prompted by some kind of grasping or attachment. If you are lying to someone you love, perhaps it’s because you have become attached to them and want to retain their affection. If you are at work, you might be lying because you are attached to your job and are afraid of being fired for some mistake that you’re covering up.

In any case, the more you can see that your behavior is based on an attachment, the more you have an opportunity to let that attachment go. This happens not because you have formed some psychological theory about what is causing your behavior, but because you directly see how grasping and attachment condition it. Suddenly you realize, “It’s this grasping and attachment that is causing my fear and my suffering!”—and so you drop it right there in the very moment it arises.

Keeping precepts purifies your heart and mind, because it allows you to have just these kinds of direct insights into exactly how grasping and attachment create your conditioning. And the more insights you have, the more freedom you gain. Real freedom means to be free where it counts, in all the ordinary activities of your life—on the job, in relationships, doing the dishes, shopping—because that is where real suffering is generated, both for yourself and for others.