When it comes to religious practice, maybe we’re all missing the point. While it’s easy to mock the outdated beliefs and rituals of religion—and I’m certainly not innocent of this—the reason many people practice religion is to simply become better people. The reason, for example, that many Buddhists practice zazen, or seated meditation, is not to “break the cycle of reincarnation,” but simply to reflect on the nature of reality and the mind and in the process gain clarity on virtuous living.
Of course, you can become a good person without religion (I would argue that it’s easier without it), but if it helps you to clarify your values, then so be it. It is only when religion is used as a pretext for intolerance and exploitation by bad faith actors that religion becomes problematic. The sincerely religious—when not carried away by dogmatism—do often embody admirable character traits.
This certainly seems to be the case for Tom Wright. Born and raised in Wisconsin, Wright spent 40 years in Japan, becoming ordained as a Zen Buddhist priest and then, over the course of an illustrious career, teaching, writing, and translating several Buddhist works. In his latest book, The Roots of Goodness, Wright has translated the teachings of thirteenth-century Zen master Eihei Dōgen on the “eight qualities of a good person”—which are, purportedly, cultivated and developed through Buddhist practice.
The transmission of the “qualities of a good person,” according to Wright, is what Buddhist practice is all about. As Wright wrote:
“For me, the transmission of the qualities of a great person means that exactly those qualities the Buddha practiced are what the Buddha passed on to others who, in turn, continued to pass them on to Dōgen Zenji, Sawaki Rōshi, Uchiyama Rōshi, Takamine Rōshi, and to me.”
Buddhism, then, is about the cultivation of character, which the book compares to the maturation of a child into an adult:
“We may all be adults physically, but our spirit, our attitude, remains childish and immature….Just like little kids in kindergarten, we run around whining, ‘I want this,’ or ‘I want that.’ The only thing that changes is that as we get older, instead of toys and candy, we want more money and prestige.”
To break out of this cycle of endless desires—through the process of meditation—requires the development of certain “qualities” that make you not only virtuous but also tranquil and happy.
These eight qualities are:
Having few desires
Knowing one has enough
Appreciating serenity/quietude
Making diligent effort
Never losing sight of the Dharma
Practicing Zazen (meditation)
Practicing wisdom (liberation from one’s attachments)
Not engaging in useless arguments
These are not bad qualities, on the surface, but they do betray some of the limitations of Buddhism in particular and religion in general.
First, you may notice that the “eight qualities” can be rather redundant. For example, “having few desires” and “knowing one has enough” are virtually synonymous, as are “practicing Zazen” and “making diligent effort.” The same kinds of things are being repeated using different language.
Second, there is also—as with many other religions—an element of vagueness that borders on the useless. Some good examples are “never losing sight of the Dharma” and “not engaging in useless arguments.” The reader will wonder what counts as a “useless argument” and who gets to decide, and will never really get a straight answer. But “useless arguments” seem to refer to any challenges to the general Buddhist imperative to fully retreat from the world.
This is all very solipsistic; the “eight qualities” seem to encourage a kind of passive resignation, and if the price of complete tranquility is total disengagement, then perhaps tranquility should not be held up as the highest ideal. What about the qualities of charity or philanthropy, or of helping others, or of intelligence, or of kindness?
Or maybe I’m just engaging in “useless arguments.”
As an alternative model, one may propose what we might call the “four great qualities” of Stoicism—wisdom, courage, justice, and temperance—which have the advantage of at least encouraging actual interaction with the world. And instead of avoiding what is determined to be, ahead of time, “useless arguments,” perhaps we should adopt a bit more intellectual humility, following Socrates’s contention that the unexamined life is not worth living.
Overall, then, what can we say about the book?
Well, it has good intentions. The core message that practicing religion is about cultivating a virtuous character is a good reminder, but for the more skeptical among us, the book’s circular reasoning will be blatantly obvious: If you want to become a good person, practice Buddhism. And what’s a good person? A Buddhist.