Approaching Death
RLG206: Journal Entry #3
Rebecca Vinci
March 16th, 2015
Life has been excellent since Losar, indeed we have been reaping the benefits of what our good merit has brought us, and have not taken a single moment for granted. Strangely enough, however, upon our routine visit to the temple for worship this week, we learned of some auspicious gossip that has been on the lips of everyone in the village — the body of an old hermit was found in a cave just outside of the village. He had been dead for a couple of days, and the cause and exact time of his death are still unknown. This is not unheard of living in this region of Tibet, where the life of a hermit is seen as very conducive in the attainment of enlightenment. Living in isolation, these hermits bask in their solitude and are able to more fully contemplate the dharma — contact with other humans simply takes away from time they could be spending in contemplation. It is such a shame that his isolation, which became to define him, could very well have been a factor in his death — maybe he was injured and was no longer able to fend for himself or to gather supplies, and if someone had been there maybe he could have gotten help. Furthermore, the presence of a lama at the time of death is very beneficial, because in the process of dying, when the consciousness of an individual is being transferred to another state, the consciousness is very responsive to touch, and if the lama is to touch the crown of the head it can draw the consciousness upward toward the crown chakra, and in turn towards the higher realms of rebirth.
Not much was known of this man, as he was rumored to have lived in those caves for roughly ten years with little to no contact with the outside world — and his existence there is left up to the imagination. I overheard some of the elders in the village saying a long time ago he was a tantric practitioner, known as the “crazy uncle” — but had not heard anything from him in over ten years. All other accounts of who the hermit was, are either unreliable, inconsistent or too far fetched to be believed, so now the hole village, myself included, is in disarray over who this man was; and furthermore, what should be done with his body. Traditionally, it is up to the person’s family and loved ones to decide how the body is handled after death, as they know best what he would have wanted — however, in becoming a hermit, he renounced ‘who he was’ and any ties he had to a personal identity or family. For all we know he could be from another country with completely different burial practices; thus, any evaluation of his death based on who he was, his cultural background or his family has been rendered mute — and now the main concern on everyone’s mind is how to give him the proper burial rites he was entitled to. In my opinion, because he was found outside our city, he must have been accustomed to our traditions and his death should be honored in terms of our tradition.
Death in our culture is nothing to be feared, because it is not the ultimate cessation of life, but is merely the transition from one’s existence in their present bodily form to the commencement of one’s next existence. In this way the rituals and ceremonies performed during funerals are meant to ease this transition from one life to the next — helping to guide the person into their next incarnation. Upon death, one’s consciousness enters the hazardous intermediary realm, the bardo, where it spends forty-nine days. The duration of these forty-nine days in the intermediary state between death and rebirth is crucial in its influence on the form of rebirth one takes, and in ensuring the proper prayer and remembrance rituals take place during this time that allude to a better rebirth. Furthermore, for the ordinary person, who has sinned in there life and not perfectly practiced the dharma, the presence of a lama at the time of death, is beneficial if he is properly trained in the ways of p’howa, a process which ensures and guides the transference of an individual’s consciousness into rebirth in the higher realms, or the realm of Dewachen, Ambitabha’s realm of Great Bliss. P’howa is almost like a short cut to Buddhahood that overrides, the effect of karmic forces, acting as a way to attain Buddhahood without meditation. However, p’howa can only be performed in a short window of time, once the five sense faculties and four elements begin to dissolve when the death of the body is taking place and the consciousness enters the intermediate state or bardo. Only individuals who have trained, practiced and mastered p’howa during their lives can successfully overcome the dissolutions of the mind, allowing them to achieve Buddhahood without the assistance of a lama, and since his body was found too late this is impossible — so we must proceed with proper funeral discourse to ensure his prosperity in the next life.
The first seven days are the most important — during which the funeral ceremony takes place, prayers are continuously chanted, and loved ones gather to revere the body before it is cremated. General prayer ceremonies are held every ten days, and in some cases an optional ceremony is held after one hundred days. However, the amount of these ceremonies and the extent of their lavishness depends on the financial circumstances of the deceased’s family — and in this case the lamas of the village have asked for generosity in donations to fund the hermit’s funeral, that will bring merit to those who have donated, and to sacrifice time to come to the funeral in support of the dead. In doing our part, my wife and I will attend the funeral and donate eight gold coins, all that we can spare; furthermore, we have helped set up a wailing wall at the center of the village to express sorrow for the hermit’s death and to notify anyone who does not know about it to come out and show support.
The monks or lamas of the village have a prominent presence throughout death ceremonies and play a significant role as a support system for the family of the deceased. They bring comfort in prayers, when the person is dying, repeating the name of the Buddha, “Phra Arahant”, to remind the person to focus on the Buddhist scripture. Often if the person is too far gone and not lucid enough for concentration, to ensure the fruits of that person’s meritorious acts will bring good fortune to their new existence, the monks will either whisper the prayers directly into the person’s ear; or, will write, on a piece of paper, the four syllables that are the heart of the Arbhidharma, “Ci, ce, ru, ri” (heart, mental concepts, form, and Nibbana), and put it in the mouth of the dying man. Furthermore, the monks read from the special text Bardo Todel, or the Tibetan Book of Death, during the forty-nine days where the consciousness is in the intermediary state. After death, the monks continue their chants, which are intended to release the good energies from the fading personality, and remain with the family until the funeral, where they then accompany them. The monks also function to provide ease to those upset by the nature of death in providing teachings on impermanence — where existence is suffering, and death is inevitable but is nothing to fear — reminding us of the dharma, and our purpose in this life.
In terms of dealing with the dead, however, Tibetan culture does not reply on the monks solely to chant sutras that benefit the deceased — but also to perform and conduct all the funeral rites, memorial services, and process of cremation entailed in the funeral. After death, there is a bathing ceremony, where the body is purified and cleaned by water being poured over it, usually by loved ones. Then the body is placed in a coffin surrounded by wreaths, candles, incense sticks, and sometimes a picture of the deceased — and put on display where people can come to mourn it. The monks hold the bhusa yong, a broad ribbon, which is attached to the coffin and acts as an extension of them allowing the dead contact with the holy sutra. Within days, the social nature of funeral proceedings is brought to light, when neighbors gather nightly to feast, visit, play games of cards or dominoes and attend the services. Family and friends gather to give food and candles as gifts to the monks, creating good merit that can help the lingering spirit of the deceased. The food offered to the monks in the name of the dead is called Matakabhatta, from the word Mataka, “one who is dying”, and entails a specific way in which the food is to be presented.
The final day of the funeral is marked by the cremation of the body — a tradition passed down by the early Buddhists who adopted the Indian custom of burning the body at death — which is usually delayed for the week out of honor, allowing more time for distant relatives to make the journey to attend. On the day of the funeral, in efforts to banish sorrow, loneliness and fear of the spirits an orchestra plays music to try and lift spirits. The monks start a chant before the service begins, which they continue to sing as they walk down the steps leading to the coffin, which are usually carpeted in banana leaves. Once the coffin is gathered and mounted into the funeral car, the procession to the cremation grounds in the temple begins, where eight to ten monks carry white banners and hold the broad ribbon as they walk ahead of the coffin, and elderly men carrying flowers in silver bowls, follow behind the coffin. Once at the crematory, the service begins and the monks chant as they face the coffin. Once the prayers are concluded, the coffin is placed on a pyre, where people throw torches, candles, or incense and fragrant wood beneath the coffin to set it ablaze. As long as the body is present, the spirit can benefit by gifts given, sermons presented and chants uttered; thus, upon cremation the body is officially cut off from the world. In this way it is crucial that the ceremony has been performed properly to ensure that the individual can benefit from the religious services in order to improve his status in the next life — this is a process that should not be rushed.
