In the Buddha's Words - Bhikkhu Bodhi [169]
The Buddha says nothing at all, however, in terms either of existence or nonexistence, about the condition of the arahant after death. It might seem logical to suppose that since the five aggregates that constitute experience completely cease with the attainment of the Nibbāna element without residue, this element must itself be a state of complete nonexistence, a state of nothingness. Yet no text in the Nikāyas ever states this. To the contrary, the Nikāyas consistently refer to Nibbāna by terms that refer to actualities. It is an element (dhātu), a base (āyatana), a reality (dhamma), a state (pada), and so on. However, though so designated, it is qualified in ways that indicate this state ultimately lies beyond all familiar categories and concepts.
In Text IX,5(6), the wanderer Vacchagotta asks the Buddha whether the Tathāgata—here signifying one who has attained the supreme goal—is reborn (upapajjati) or not after death. The Buddha refuses to concede any of the four alternatives. To say that the Tathāgata is reborn, is not reborn, both is and is not reborn, neither is nor is not reborn—none of these is acceptable, for all accept the term Tathāgata as indicative of a real being, while from an internal point of view a Tathāgata has given up all clinging to notions of a real being. The Buddha illustrates this point with the simile of an extinguished fire. Just as a fire that has been extinguished cannot be said to have gone anywhere but must simply be said to have “gone out,” so with the breakup of the body the Tathāgata does not go anywhere but has simply “gone out.” The past participle nibbuta, used to describe a fire that has been extinguished, is related to the noun nibbāna, which literally means “extinguishing.”6
Yet, if this simile suggests a Buddhist version of the “annihilationist” view of the arahant’s fate after his demise, this impression would rest on a misunderstanding, on a wrong perception of the arahant as a “self” or “person” that is annihilated. Our problem in understanding the state of the Tathāgata after death is compounded by our difficulty in understanding the state of the Tathāgata even while alive. The simile of the great ocean underscores this difficulty. Since the Tathāgata no longer identifies with the five aggregates that constitute individual identity, he cannot be reckoned in terms of them, whether individually or collectively. Freed from reckoning in terms of the five aggregates, the Tathāgata transcends our understanding. Like the great ocean, he is “deep, immeasurable, [and] hard to fathom.”7
IX. SHINING THE LIGHT OF WISDOM
1. IMAGES OF WISDOM
(1) Wisdom as a Light
“There are, O monks, these four lights. What four? The light of the moon, the light of the sun, the light of fire, and the light of wisdom. Of these four lights, the light of wisdom is supreme.”
(AN 4:143; II 139)
(2) Wisdom as a Knife
11. “Sisters, suppose a skilled butcher or his apprentice were to kill a cow and carve it up with a sharp butcher’s knife. Without damaging the inner mass of flesh and without damaging the outer hide, he would cut, sever, and carve away the inner tendons, sinews, and ligaments with the sharp butcher’s knife. Then having cut, severed, and carved all this away, he would remove the outer hide and cover the cow again with that same hide. Would he be speaking rightly