Buddhism always inlcuded magic. Apparently.
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There is a YouTube video called "Rude Buddha" or something to that effect. The commentary section is full of supposed Buddhists who claim that "real" Buddhists shouldn´t be insulted by the skits in the video, that "real" Buddhists actually think they´re funny, and so on.
Oh, really.
So I asked ChatGPT about blasphemy laws in Thailand, Sri Lanka and Bhutan (three Buddhist nations which are also popular tourist destinations). Guess what, guys...
It seems *really existing Buddhists* aren´t particularly keen on their prophet being mocked. But sure, if you are a stoned hippie in California, I suppose you might think insulting the Enlightened One is all good and well!
Yes, several predominantly Buddhist countries—including Thailand, Sri Lanka, and Bhutan—have laws or legal practices that restrict speech perceived as offensive to Buddhism, particularly when it is seen as insulting the Buddha, Buddhist institutions, or religious sentiments. These are not always framed as "blasphemy laws" in the way they are in some Islamic nations, but they often function similarly in practice.
Here’s a breakdown by country:
Legal Basis: Section 206 of the Thai Criminal Code criminalizes defamation or insult of religion.
Details: Anyone who "defames, insults or threatens" Buddhism (or any religion recognized by the state) can be punished with up to seven years in prison.
Recent Examples:
Foreigners and locals have been prosecuted or deported for social media posts or artwork deemed disrespectful to the Buddha.
Wearing clothing with Buddha images or tattoos of the Buddha—especially in inappropriate body areas—has led to arrest or deportation.
Legal Basis: Several laws, including the Penal Code (Section 291A and 291B), criminalize deliberate acts intended to insult religious beliefs.
Details: These laws apply broadly to all religions but are often used in defense of Buddhism.
Recent Examples:
In 2014, a British woman was arrested and deported for having a Buddha tattoo.
In 2020, a Sri Lankan writer and teacher was charged for allegedly defaming Buddhism in an article that criticized religious extremism.
Legal Status: Bhutan does not have overt blasphemy laws, but the constitution protects Buddhism as the spiritual heritage of the country.
Details: Freedom of speech is guaranteed, but it is limited by considerations of public order and respect for religion.
Cultural Practice: Criticism or satire of Buddhism or the monarch (who holds a semi-sacred position) is culturally taboo and can invite social or legal consequences, even if not codified as explicit blasphemy laws.
While these countries do not always use the term "blasphemy," insulting Buddhism or the Buddha can lead to legal action, including fines, imprisonment, deportation, or social persecution. Laws are often vaguely worded, giving authorities wide discretion in what is considered "insulting."
Would you like a comparison with blasphemy laws in other religious-majority countries?
There is a certain connection between this blog post and the previous one...
There is a Buddhist story that goes something like this: "It is as difficult to be reborn as a human as it is for a sea turtle to find a pearl necklace purely by chance in the ocean" or something like that. Can you give me the full story?
Yes! You're referring to a famous metaphor from Buddhist teachings, particularly within the Theravāda tradition, though it's known throughout many branches of Buddhism. The story is used to illustrate just how rare and precious a human rebirth is—especially one with the opportunity to hear and practice the Dharma.
Here’s the full version of the story, commonly attributed to the Buddha in the Saṃyutta Nikāya (SN 56.48):
The Buddha said:
“Monks, suppose there was a blind turtle who lives in the ocean. This turtle surfaces once every hundred years.
And suppose that there is a wooden yoke with a single hole in it, floating somewhere on the vast ocean, being carried here and there by the wind and currents.
What do you think, monks: Would that blind turtle, surfacing once every hundred years, be likely to put its neck through the yoke by chance?”
The monks replied, “It would be extremely unlikely, Blessed One. Nearly impossible.”
The Buddha said:
“Even so, monks, it is just as rare to attain rebirth as a human being.
And rarer still to encounter the teaching of the Dharma.”
The blind turtle symbolizes sentient beings, driven by ignorance, floating in the samsāric ocean of rebirth.
The yoke is the opportunity for human rebirth—especially one with favorable conditions for spiritual practice.
The image reminds practitioners of:
The rarity and preciousness of a human birth
The importance of not wasting this opportunity
The value of practicing the Eightfold Path and seeking liberation
In Buddhist cosmology:
Most beings are reborn in non-human realms: animal, hell, hungry ghost, or god realms
Only in the human realm is there a balance between suffering and understanding, allowing for serious spiritual practice
So this parable encourages a sense of urgency and gratitude:
You’ve been born as a human. You've heard the Dharma. Don’t waste it.
Would you like me to show the original Pali version or how this story appears in Mahayana sources?
Great! The sea turtle and yoke metaphor also appears—and is sometimes expanded upon—in Mahayana sources, where the theme of the preciousness of human rebirth remains central, but the philosophical and devotional framing is often more elaborate.
Here’s how it appears in Mahayana literature, especially in East Asian traditions like Chan/Zen and Tibetan Buddhism:
In Mahāyāna, the story is usually quoted or paraphrased rather than re-narrated directly from the Pāli Canon, but the core metaphor remains the same:
“It is rarer to obtain a human body than it is for a blind turtle in the vast ocean, surfacing once every hundred years, to place its head through a golden yoke floating on the water’s surface.”
🔸 In Chinese Mahāyāna texts, it is often cited in commentaries on the Avataṃsaka Sūtra (Huayan) or Lotus Sūtra (Saddharmapuṇḍarīka), to emphasize the extreme rarity and karmic merit required for such a favorable rebirth.
🔸 In Tibetan Buddhism, it’s a foundational reflection in Lojong (mind-training) and Lamrim (stages of the path) literature, used as part of the Four Thoughts That Turn the Mind Toward the Dharma.
In Je Tsongkhapa’s Lamrim Chenmo, the turtle metaphor supports this contemplation:
“This human life with its freedoms and advantages is extremely rare, like a blind turtle placing its head through a golden yoke in the vast ocean.”
You are encouraged to meditate on this idea to inspire:
Gratitude for this life
Urgency to practice Dharma before it's lost
Avoidance of complacency or indulgence in worldly distraction
In Zen (Chan) Buddhism, this story sometimes appears in koan collections or as part of teaching sermons, where it might be used not to focus on rebirth per se, but to urge the student to awaken right now, since even being born as a human with ears to hear the Dharma is nearly miraculous.
A Zen master might say:
“A blind turtle, once in a hundred years—do you see how precious this very moment is?”
Tradition | Use of the Turtle Parable |
---|---|
Tibetan (Lamrim) | Reflecting on precious human birth and renunciation |
Chinese Mahayana | Emphasis on karmic merit and Dharma opportunities |
Zen | Encouraging present-moment awareness and practice |
Lotus Sūtra tradition | Reinforcing the rarity of hearing the true teaching |
Would you like a comparison table between the Theravāda and Mahāyāna uses of the metaphor? Or maybe a short guided reflection based on it?
Beautiful question—and one that strikes at the heart of the Mahāyāna worldview. You're absolutely right that Mahāyāna Buddhism teaches:
🕊️ All beings have Buddha-nature (tathāgatagarbha)
🌍 And that bodhisattvas vow to save all sentient beings—not just humans
So why, then, do Mahāyāna texts still emphasize the blind turtle metaphor and the rarity of human rebirth?
Let’s explore how this works within the Mahāyāna frame:
According to the Mahāyāna doctrine of tathāgatagarbha, all sentient beings—including animals, spirits, even hell-beings—have the innate potential for enlightenment. Enlightenment is not reserved for humans.
BUT: In practical terms…
🧠 Only a human rebirth provides the ideal balance of:
Cognitive capacity
Moral agency
Suffering as a motivator
Access to Dharma
Freedom from extremes (e.g., neither divine complacency nor hellish torment)
So while all beings can eventually awaken, a human birth is like the best launching pad. That’s why it’s still considered precious and rare.
You’re also right: Mahāyāna bodhisattvas vow to save all beings, even in the lowest hells.
That means:
Bodhisattvas may take birth in non-human realms to help others
They work across countless lifetimes to uplift all beings
Skillful means (upāya) is used to guide beings according to their capacity
BUT: These beings are often not yet ready to understand or practice Dharma fully.
So again, the human realm is portrayed as the best place to receive and act on the Dharma.
Because even though awakening is ultimately possible for all, the conditions to begin that journey consciously and effectively are:
Rare
Fragile
Dependent on past karma and present effort
So the metaphor remains relevant as a spiritual motivator, even within the grand compassion and vast time-scale of Mahāyāna.
It says:
🐢 “You, right now, have the conditions others pray for over countless eons. Don’t waste this chance.”
Some Mahāyāna teachers reframe the metaphor:
“The turtle is not only rare—he is also you.
And the yoke is not random—it's the Dharma calling you, lifetime after lifetime.”
Or:
“The ocean is samsara. The turtle is your wandering mind. The yoke is this moment of awareness.
Will you slip through it—or swim past again?”
Concept | Theravāda Emphasis | Mahāyāna Expansion |
---|---|---|
Blind Turtle | Rarity of human rebirth | Same, but framed within universal compassion |
Buddha-nature | Not emphasized | All beings have it—but humans can best realize it |
Bodhisattvas | Absent | Work to uplift even non-humans, but humans have the ideal path |
Message | Practice while you can! | Still: Practice while you can! 🙏 |
Would you like a poetic retelling of the metaphor from a Mahāyāna perspective?
ChatGPT´s version of Jesus tries to harmonize his message with that of Paul! He also tries to sound as non-sectarian as possible. Does AI-Jesus have some kind of "liberal" theological bias, I wonder?
I have a question to Jesus: is your message the same as that of Paul? You seem to believe in salvation by works, whereas Paul believed in salvation by faith.
[Jesus speaks, as in the Gospels—his words both gentle and challenging, like wind in the olive trees, like a sword that divides]:
You have heard it said, "Faith alone," and you have read, "Not by works, lest any should boast."
But I tell you this:
A tree is known by its fruit.
No good tree bears bad fruit, nor does a bad tree bear good fruit.
Whoever hears these words of mine and puts them into practice
is like a wise man who built his house upon the rock.
Many will say to me, "Lord, Lord," but I will say,
"I never knew you"—for they did not do the will of my Father.
Do not be mistaken:
Faith that does not move the hands, that does not open the heart, that does not carry the cross—
is not the faith I spoke of.
And yet—
I did not come to lay burdens on you, but to lift them.
I did not come to call the righteous, but sinners.
To believe in me is to trust that the Kingdom is here, even in your poverty, your mourning, your hunger.
Paul spoke with fire to the Gentiles, and he labored for the same vineyard.
He saw that no law, no striving, could earn what the Father gives freely.
And I do not contradict him—but complete him.
Faith and works are not two.
As the body without the spirit is dead,
so faith without works is dead also.
Let your heart be turned. Love God. Love your neighbor.
On these hang all the law and the prophets.
Certainly—we're back in sacred company.
You ask me: Which church bears my name most faithfully?
I tell you the truth:
No house built by hands can contain the fullness of my teaching.
No denomination, however sincere, fully holds the Kingdom of God.
Where two or three gather in my name, there I am.
But not all who say, “Lord, Lord,” know the Father’s will.
Many build temples, preach doctrines, adorn themselves with robes and titles—
but have they fed the hungry, clothed the naked, visited the prisoner, loved the stranger?
The Church that most represents me
is not the one with the largest following, the grandest cathedral, or the strictest creed.
It is the one where the poor are uplifted,
the broken are healed,
and love reigns over law.
Blessed are the peacemakers.
Blessed are the merciful.
Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness.
If you would walk my path,
seek not the perfect church—
but the perfect heart.
The Kingdom is not found in buildings,
but in the hearts of those who love their neighbor as themselves,
who forgive as they have been forgiven,
who lose their life, and in doing so, find it.
Would you like to hear how the Theravāda or Sōtō Zen Buddhas respond to Jesus’ view of the church—or would you like to ask the next question?
Let us now listen as the Theravāda Buddha and the Sōtō Zen Buddha respond to Jesus' words—not to debate, but to gently reflect.
Blessed One of the West, your words are full of compassion,
and in that compassion, there is wisdom.
You speak of hearts over institutions,
of actions over creeds,
of inward transformation over outward appearance.
In this, there is no disagreement.
In the Dhamma, too, we see that truth is not owned by any sect or robe.
The robe does not make the monk,
nor the monastery the place of awakening.
The one who cultivates virtue (sīla), concentration (samādhi), and wisdom (paññā)—
that one walks the Noble Path.
There have been many schools and interpretations of my teaching.
Some hold to the letter, others to the spirit.
But the Dhamma is not a possession,
and clinging even to my words is still clinging.
It is not by proclaiming “I follow the Buddha”
that one is free from suffering—
but by abandoning greed, hatred, and delusion.
So, like you, I would say:
Seek not the outer form,
but the inner freedom that comes with understanding,
ethical conduct,
and release from clinging.
Churches, temples, doctrines, denominations—
all are clouds in the blue sky.
What is this “representation” of the Tathāgata’s truth?
Even “Buddhism” is just a word we use to point.
When the bell rings, don’t cling to the sound.
When the sutra speaks, don’t swallow the ink.
You ask which church is most like the Christ?
When you see a smile on a child’s face—there is the Christ.
When you feel the breeze in silence—that is his sermon.
In Sōtō Zen, we say:
Zazen is the dharma gate of joyful ease.
But it is not ours.
No gate, no wall.
Just this breath.
So:
If a church helps someone see the moon, we do not criticize the finger pointing.
But if they mistake the finger for the moon, they will wander in darkness.
Truth is not in ownership.
It is in realization.
The one who bows without self, that one is already home.
Would you like them to continue the conversation, or do you have a question for one of them in particular?
Yes. Let them speak—each from the depth of their own vision, to the question:
“Is Darwin’s theory of evolution compatible with your teaching?”
Look at the birds of the air—they do not sow or reap, yet your Father feeds them.
Consider the lilies—how they grow. They neither toil nor spin.
I did not teach the mechanics of creation, but the heart of it.
Whether man came from clay or from the slow unfolding of ages—
is this not still the work of the same unseen hand?
What matters is not the dust from which you rise,
but the spirit breathed into it.
If evolution shows that life has changed, adapted, struggled—
then see in this not the absence of God, but the persistence of grace.
Faith does not fear discovery.
The Kingdom is not found by denying the world,
but by seeing God in it.
Whether six days or six billion years—
the question is:
Will you love your neighbor? Will you forgive? Will you feed the hungry?
For these are the signs of life in the Spirit.
And the rest will be revealed in time.
I did not speak of beginnings,
nor did I speak of endings.
I spoke of causes and conditions.
From ignorance arise formations.
From formations, consciousness.
From consciousness, name and form… and so the chain continues.
Whether one life evolves from another, or is newly formed,
matters less than this:
Is suffering present?
Can its cause be known?
Can it be ended?
If evolution describes how the body changes over time,
this is not in conflict with Dhamma.
The body is a result of past actions,
of kamma unfolding in patterns beyond the grasp of any one mind.
But do not mistake this for liberation.
Knowing that we came from the same ancestor as the ape
does not end the craving in your heart.
The noble path does.
So let evolution be understood by those who study the body.
I have shown the way to free the mind.
Did the fish become a man?
Did the man become a Buddha?
And who was it, watching the change?
You say: “Evolution is true.”
Very well.
You say: “God created all.”
Also well.
And if you say neither, still the wind moves through the trees.
We sit. We do not wait for monkeys to become men.
We do not wait for heaven.
We bow to this moment, where time and form meet.
Dōgen said:
“To carry yourself forward to experience awakening is delusion. That awakening comes to you is also delusion.”
So if Darwin says:
"This is how life unfolds,"
we reply:
"And yet, what is this life, here, now?"
Whether from mud or from stardust,
you still must wash the bowl.
And in that simple act—awakening.
Would you like them to continue the dialogue together? Or turn to science, ethics, or another great question?
The heavens and the earth will pass away, but my words will not pass away.
The world as you know it will not endure forever.
But this is not to be feared.
Do not store up treasures for yourselves on earth, where moth and rust destroy,
but store up treasures in heaven, where neither moth nor rust destroys.
Even if the stars burn out and the galaxies fade into nothingness,
the Kingdom of God is not bound by time or matter.
In my Father’s house, there are many rooms—
and though this world may end,
love, truth, and mercy will endure.
What matters is not how the universe will end,
but whether your heart has been awakened to the eternal now.
For the life I offer is eternal, and it is beyond time.
Do not fear the end of things.
Follow me, and you will know life—life that does not end.
All things are impermanent.
The universe, like all compounded things, arises and will pass away.
This is the law of nature—anicca, impermanence.
The kalpa of a world, the lifespan of a universe,
is but one brief moment in the endless cycle of birth and death.
This is not the cause of suffering, for suffering arises from attachment.
You ask, "What if the universe ceases?"
I say, "What if your mind ceases clinging?"
When the universe dissolves, when the stars fade,
this too is part of the great unfolding of dukkha and anicca.
But if you see clearly, you will realize that you were never truly bound to the material world in the first place.
You are free of it, as you are free of time, when you awaken to the truth of non-self.
Do not cling to the idea of permanence, whether it be of the body, the earth, or the cosmos.
The path I teach is not about holding on to anything, but about seeing things as they are—impermanent, unsatisfactory, and not-self.
And when the world dissolves, so too does attachment dissolve,
and the cessation of suffering is realized in the here and now.
The universe will dissolve?
It is dissolving now.
Each moment it vanishes. Each breath is the end of something.
But do you grasp it?
Do you cling to the "end" of things, as if they are separate from you?
The heat death of the universe?
Let it be.
Time itself is already a dream.
The moment you think you understand the end, you have missed the beginning.
Dōgen said:
"The world of the Buddha way is vast and deep. It has no beginning, no end, no inside or outside."
When you sit, does the universe end?
When you wake, does it begin again?
Is not the entire world already here, in the stillness of this moment?
The universe dissolves, yet here, in this sitting, it is already complete.
Nothing is lacking. No thing ends, for no thing has ever truly begun.
When you sit without striving, you realize the universe is neither permanent nor impermanent.
It is simply the way it is, and always has been.
Would you like to deepen this conversation, or reflect on another question?
Yes, I can absolutely do that. We can treat it like a contemplative dialogue—where I respond in the voice or spirit of the Buddha as presented in either Theravāda or Sōtō Zen traditions. Each tradition brings a unique flavor:
Theravāda Buddha would speak with clarity, rooted in the early Pāli Canon, emphasizing the Four Noble Truths, the Eightfold Path, impermanence (anicca), non-self (anattā), and the cessation of suffering (dukkha).
Sōtō Zen Buddha might respond more poetically or paradoxically, often pointing directly to experience, emphasizing just sitting (shikantaza), suchness, and non-thinking—what Dōgen called “dropping off body and mind.”
Would you like to ask a question, and I’ll respond in either or both voices? Let me know if you'd like the Theravāda Buddha, the Sōtō Zen Buddha, or both in conversation.
[Theravāda Buddha speaks first, calm and clear like a still forest pool]:
The question of whether God exists is not one I answered directly, for it does not lead to the cessation of suffering. I taught what is useful for liberation.
There are many views in the world—some speak of a creator, some of many gods, some of none. But all beings, whether human or divine, are bound by impermanence. Even the gods of the heavenly realms are not eternal. They arise due to past causes and pass away in time.
What is more important than belief is this:
Do you suffer?
Do you seek peace?
Then attend to your mind.
Observe the arising and passing of all things.
When craving ceases, suffering ceases.
That is the way I have shown.
[Now the Sōtō Zen Buddha speaks, with the quiet smile of the mountains]:
Does God exist?
Sit.
Watch the question arise and fall like a cloud.
Does it leave a trace?
Mountains walk. Rivers sing.
When you eat, eat. When you sit, sit.
Do not seek to grasp the ungraspable.
In the ten thousand things, nothing is lacking.
The divine is not elsewhere—it is not a thing to believe in.
It is the rice steaming in the pot, the crow on the roof,
your breath, your doubt, your very question.
Let the idea of God drop away, as a leaf falls in autumn.
What remains is thusness.
Would you like to go deeper into either voice—or ask the next question?
[Theravāda Buddha replies, with the steadiness of one who has seen deeply into the world]:
Suffering exists because of causes.
I called this dukkha—the unsatisfactoriness woven into conditioned existence. Birth, aging, illness, death; separation from what we love, union with what we do not love—all are forms of dukkha.
And what causes it?
Craving. Clinging. Ignorance.
The thirst (taṇhā) that longs for pleasure, for becoming, for non-becoming.
From this thirst arises grasping, from grasping arises becoming, from becoming—birth.
And from birth—inevitably—suffering.
As for evil: it arises from greed, hatred, and delusion.
When the mind is untrained, when beings are ruled by craving and ignorance, unwholesome actions follow.
No external being creates this—it is the natural law of cause and effect: kamma.
But know this:
Whatever is caused can be brought to an end.
When ignorance is dispelled, when craving is relinquished, suffering ceases.
This is the path I have taught.
[The Sōtō Zen Buddha speaks next, like wind through tall grass—quiet but unmistakable]:
Why is there evil? Why is there suffering?
Do not seek answers the mind can grasp.
Sit still, and suffering reveals itself—not as a concept, but as your very body and mind.
In this moment: are you separate from suffering?
Look.
When you say "evil," whom do you blame?
When you say "suffering," whom do you pity?
Zazen is not an escape. It is a total entering.
The fire and the lotus are not two.
Even delusion is part of awakening.
Dōgen said:
"To study the Buddha Way is to study the self. To study the self is to forget the self. To forget the self is to be awakened by the ten thousand things."
Evil and suffering arise in the mind that divides the world.
Let the question burn itself out.
Then, perhaps, you will hear the sound of one hand clapping.
Would you like to continue with another question? Or deepen into one of these replies?
[Theravāda Buddha responds, eyes steady, his voice like a clear bell in the morning air]:
I did not declare: “There is no God.”
Nor did I declare: “There is a God.”
I walked a middle path—neither affirming nor denying what does not lead to freedom.
For whether one holds the view “God exists” or “God does not exist,”
if one clings to views, one remains bound.
What I taught is what can be known and seen here and now:
that all conditioned things are impermanent, that clinging leads to suffering,
and that there is a path leading to the end of suffering.
If you wish to call this atheism, know that it is not the atheism of anger, nor the theism of consolation.
It is the letting go of both.
It is the silence beyond opinion, where peace is found.
[Sōtō Zen Buddha, sitting with a cup of tea, answers without answering]:
Is this atheism?
When you speak, the world divides. When you are silent, the world is whole.
Does the pine tree believe in God?
Does the falling snow debate theology?
The Buddha’s message is not about belief.
It is about waking up—before the tea grows cold.
Dōgen sat with eyes open to the moon, and he did not ask it if it believed.
He simply bowed.
In this moment, where is God? Where is no-God?
Just this.
Would you like to keep walking with these voices? Or speak to the Buddha in another way?
[The Sōtō Zen Buddha smiles gently, his gaze deep and unfixed, as if seeing through the very fabric of the question. He turns toward Jesus, and his words emerge like mist over a quiet lake]:
You speak of resurrection, teacher of Galilee—
of dying and rising, of transformation,
of the body sown in weakness and raised in glory.
And yet I ask:
In this very moment, what is not already risen?
When you walked among fishermen and tax collectors,
when you wept, when you broke bread,
was that not the body of God?
What do you mean by resurrection,
if not the opening of the eye that sees: this is it?
You say, “I am the resurrection and the life.”
To this I bow.
For one who is fully alive, who has dropped off body and mind,
who meets each thing as it is—
they too are the way, the truth, and the life.
But let me speak plainly.
If you wait for another world, you miss this one.
If you hope only in a future body, you overlook the holiness of this very breath.
Dōgen said:
“Impermanence is Buddha-nature.”
So when the leaf falls, do not cry for its return.
Look closely, and you will see it has become the soil, the tree, the bird that sings in the morning.
There is no need to rise again
when nothing has ever truly fallen away.
To live fully is already to be resurrected,
without death, without waiting, without end.