Note: This piece was originally published in the Journal of South Texas English Studies
This article is the Part Three of a four-part essay series by Dr. Erec Smith on The Lotus Sutra as a Rhetorical Doctrine
How do sages let us know they are sages?…The Buddha actually gives an explanation in one of his last “sermons.” Part of this talk presents itself as a kind of treatise on rhetoric and its benefits. This sermon, given the context of the sage’s specific religion, is actually known as a sutra, The Lotus Sutra.
In The Lotus Sutra, the Buddha’s second-to-last teaching, the sage laments the fact that he has never been able to convey his knowledge outright, for, in that method of delivery, it could only be understood by other Buddhas. The Buddha, then, is in the world to guide those to enter a path toward Buddhahood, but not to express it outright, for to express it outright would be to speak in a way foreign and incomprehensible to mortals. Perhaps all that we can do is guide our listeners and readers toward the thing we realize. Perhaps, through rhetorical practices, all the aforementioned one-eyed man can do is push the blind toward what he sees; it is up to them, once there, to grasp it.
Actual words from the Lotus Sutra may explain this more, and the second and third chapters, as well as significant sections throughout the book, are all about this. While speaking directly to one of his best disciples, Shariputra, the Buddha tells of the necessary rhetorical strategies, what he calls “expedient means,” he expounds to relay his teachings. Since the Buddha must preach to people who cannot understand Buddhahood, he must gauge his audience and act accordingly (something Mendel, for example, didn’t seem to do).
The Buddha says of himself and other apparent Buddhas of the distant past,
Shariputra, the Buddhas teach the law with accordance with what is appropriate, but the meaning is difficult to understand. Why is this? Because we employ countless expedient means, discussing causes and conditions using words of simile and parable to expound the teachings. The Law is not something that can be understood through pondering and analysis. Only those who are Buddhas can understand it.
“Pondering and analysis” are not enough to understand the Buddha way of being. So, if the application of our deepest cognitive abilities isn’t enough, why does the Buddha even spend time explaining it, even through his aforementioned rhetorical strategies? The same page provides the answer: “Why is this? Because the Buddhas, the World Honored Ones, appear in the world for one great reason alone. … They wish to induce human beings to enter the path of Buddha wisdom, and therefore they appear in the world”
So, it would seem that the Buddha, a being more enlightened than anyone on Earth at the time of this speech, cannot succeed at fully explaining himself—what it is to acquire enlightenment to the point of Buddhahood. All he can do is guide us along the path so that we can, on our own, become enlightened. What’s more, the only way to do this is not through “direct” language, but through “expedient means”: rhetorical practices appropriate to a specific audience, “in each [particular] case, to see the various means of persuasion”
This rhetoric of darkness (taking metaphorical “blindness” into consideration when speaking) is key to the acquisition of oratorical prowess because it reminds us to think of all the things that may have never been present in the worlds of our audiences. When it comes to the wisdom of a “supreme enlightened being,” there are no “available means of persuasion.” If people say they’ve been persuaded, it is merely because of their own intellectual resonations synthesizing with something said or shown.
Francis Bacon went as far as to say that the rhetorical canon of invention is actually one of remembrance, and that “the use of this invention is no other but out of the knowledge whereof our mind is already possessed, to draw forth or call before us that which may be pertinent to the purpose which we take into our consideration. So as, to speak truly, it is no Invention, but a Remembrance and Suggestion, with an application” In other words, people are already convinced, they just haven’t acquired the awareness or language to recognize and articulate it: a speaker’s rhetoric is the mirror needed for people to see themselves. When this happens, they each say, “I have been persuaded.”
Knowing this, the Buddha used his rhetorical skills to benefit humankind. Shariputra, his beloved disciple and audience in this sutra, admits his inability to understand the Buddha as well as the Buddha’s need to use “expedient means” to help the figuratively blind understand what he could clearly see. However, when he asks for further explanation, the Buddha reminds him of the inevitability of using rhetorical strategies to teach:
Did I not tell you earlier that the Buddhas, the World Honored Ones, cite various causes and conditions and use similes, parables and other expressions, employing expedient means to preach the Law, it is all for the sake of anuttarasamyaksambodhi (supreme perfect enlightenment)? . . . Moreover, Shariputra, I too will now make use of similes and parables to further clarify this doctrine. For through similes and parables those who are wise may obtain understanding.
What the Buddha says next is the very definition of rhetoric, particularly rhetoric of an enlightened being trying to explain his enlightenment to the mentally and spiritually blind. This rhetoric of darkness is meant to enlighten, as controversial as it may seem. The strong implication that such rhetorical strategies are, by association, divine should not be lost on the reader. When dealing with the imperfect words of the mundane, one can only use such rhetorical tools to communicate with and move one’s listener. With this in mind, the Buddha gives the first of many parables in the Lotus Sutra. This parable, however, explicitly explains the very need for parables and rhetorical strategies, in general. Below is a paraphrased version of the parable.
There was once a rich man with many possessions and many servants who lived in a house that was in bad shape, decaying and significantly giving way to gravity. The house also had one gate. One night, the house burst into flames. The rich man could have easily escaped through the one gate, but his many sons were still in a room in the middle of the house, playing with their toys, unaware—and therefore content—that the house was burning down on all sides. He thought of carrying them out himself, but realized this would be too difficult given their numbers and the house’s already doomed condition. The father tried to be straight with the sons and clearly called out impeccable directions to get to the gate and to safety, but his sons were too engrossed in their toys and games to pay sufficient attention to him.
At this point in the story, the Buddha gives an aside: “At that time the rich man had his thought: The house is already in flames from this huge fire. If I and my sons do not get out at once, we are certain to be burned. I must now invent some expedient means that will make it possible for the children to escape harm”
At this point, the father used his specific knowledge of each son and called out to each that he would get a favorite toy—an oxcart, goatcart, etc—if he left the house immediately. This worked. Each child went running through the gate and, when the father got to them, immediately began to ask for the toys promised them. The father proceeded to give them each a large carriage adorned with precious jewels and pulled by white oxen. The sons were quite pleased at having gotten something greater than they expected or ever imagined.
At this point in the story, the Buddha asks Shariputra, “Shariputra, what do you think of this? When this rich man impartially handed out to his sons these big carriages adorned with rare jewels, was he guilty of falsehood or not?” Shariputra responds expectedly, telling the Buddha that the rich man was not being deceptive but pragmatic (he goes as far as to say the rich man preserved each son’s life, which is a kind of play thing). The Buddha affirms Shariputra’s answer and then explains that the parable of the rich man and the burning house, itself, is an expedient means to express his need to constantly use expedient means to help humans attain enlightenment.
The point of referencing the Buddha’s justification of rhetorical strategy is to say that, regarding language, we are all Bodhisattvas: those followers of the Buddha who “aspire to achieve supreme enlightenment themselves, [but] at the same time they are determined that all other human beings, too, should reach the same understanding (Ikeda 121). That is, we can never fully get our audiences to “see” where we are coming from (especially the “blind” ones); we are each individuals with our own unique perceptions of the world. The best we can do is use language that we know will guide our audiences into the general vicinity of our thoughts and ideologies. We must also believe that, once they get there, the benefit will be more than they imagined.