— Establishing a Correct Worldview through Hearing, Reflection, and Practice
To give rise to genuine renunciation, we must first understand Buddhism’s three core views: a worldview, a view of life, and a system of values. So how do we come to understand these three views? There is no way around hearing and reflection.
Long-term hearing and reflection are the true foundation for establishing renunciation. It is not enough to casually read through topics like “the preciousness of human rebirth,” “impermanence and death,” “the sufferings of saṃsāra,” or “the infallibility of cause and effect.” Nor is it enough to have a superficial grasp of a few concepts, or to be able to recite the names of hells—such as the Black Rope Hell, the Avīci Hell, or the Great Wailing Hell—and assume that renunciation will naturally arise. To be honest, because we lack direct perception (pratyakṣa), even people who study Buddhism do not necessarily truly believe in the existence of hell.
When these ideas briefly pass through our minds, we may feel a moment of fear—but three minutes later, we forget them. Three minutes may be an exaggeration, but after three days, they are certainly gone. If you don’t believe me, ask yourself: can you still remember the names of the eighteen hells? Of course not—you’ve forgotten them all. Deep down, we do not truly believe in the sufferings of saṃsāra. If we’ve already forgotten them, how could we possibly believe in them? All that remains is a vague notion: “Oh, there is such a thing as hell,” as if hell were very far away from us.But that is not the case at all. After death, hell can appear immediately—hell is actually very close to us! The problem is that we have never deeply contemplated these ideas. We have not allowed them to become the guiding force of our mind, the standard by which we think, or the compass by which we act.
So what should we do, then? We must engage in hearing and reflection on Madhyamaka and Yogācāra. This is precisely why I have been communicating with everyone about Madhyamaka and Yogācāra for so many years. Long-term hearing and reflection will naturally accumulate into a critical mass. If you insist on calling this “brainwashing,” then fine—let’s call it “brainwashing”! But this is the right kind of “brainwashing.” Why? Because no one is forbidden from studying other ideas or viewpoints, no one is ordered to blindly believe in some groundless, irrational doctrine. You are free to study science, philosophy, other Buddhist traditions, and even non-Buddhist or heterodox systems of thought. Only in this way can there be a basis for genuine debate; otherwise, there is no way to discern what is true.
What is most frightening in Buddhist study are people who understand things only halfway, who don’t really know what they’re talking about yet insist on making judgments—that is truly disastrous. It’s like a computer expert encountering a complete layperson who says, “Hey, what’s the point of your computer? It shouldn’t have a keyboard; it should use handwriting input instead,” and then proceeds to offer a pile of random suggestions, talking nonsense from start to finish. The computer expert can’t even explain anything, because the other person understands nothing about computers at all. Professionals are most afraid of non-professionals who insist on acting like experts!
Buddhism is the same—it fears most those who understand things only halfway. They immediately ask, “Is there liberation? Why haven’t I seen it?” or “Is there rebirth? I haven’t seen it, so I don’t believe it!” If someone studies extensively and broadly, things are actually much easier. With sufficient knowledge and intellectual grounding, they have a basis for accepting Buddhist principles and can give rise to genuine faith. Therefore, Buddhism is not afraid of intelligent people who ask questions and raise doubts; it is afraid of those who are half-informed yet inexplicably self-confident.
Some people might think, “Does that mean we all have to be highly intelligent and extremely learned in order to study Buddhism?” No, that’s not the case. Everyone possesses basic common sense and the ability to reason—for example, knowing that food goes into the mouth, not the ears. As long as one has this minimal capacity and persists in hearing and reflection, even someone who considers themselves slow will eventually understand. This is because the Dharma can be taught not only through profound academic language, but also in simple, accessible ways—plain and straightforward, just like common sense.
That is why we say, “The Dharma is like a vast ocean: elephants and mice drink according to their capacity, and both can be fully satisfied.” If you are an elephant, you drink more; if you are a mouse, you drink less—but in the end, both quench their thirst. Yet whether elephant or mouse, you still have to drink the water to be satisfied. In the same way, only through hearing and reflection can understanding arise. With long-term hearing and reflection, we gradually form a clear and accurate worldview, view of life, and system of values. Only then do we genuinely believe in the infallibility of karma. Put simply, this comes down to studying Yogācāra (Vijñānavāda): only then does the notion of rebirth across the three times—past, present, and future—truly take root. We come to know that generosity really does bring wealth, that keeping precepts truly brings blessings, that forbearance genuinely purifies karma. Only then do we understand why sayings like “good people don’t live long, while villains linger on for ages” seem to occur. All kinds of doubts naturally dissolve into thin air.
In short, to give rise to genuine renunciation, one must rely on long-term hearing, reflection, and practice to cultivate three correct core views. By studying Madhyamaka and Yogācāra (Vijñānavāda), we establish a sound worldview and view of life; then, by studying texts on bodhicitta—such as The Way of the Bodhisattva (Bodhicaryāvatāra, by Śāntideva)—we establish a Mahāyāna system of values and clearly understand the standards for discernment and choice.
For practitioners of the Śrāvakayāna (often called the “Theravad”), there is no need to study Madhyamaka or Yogācāra. It is sufficient to genuinely believe that there exists self-grasping (ātma-grāha), and that this self-grasping can be eliminated. That alone is enough. But if one is truly a Mahāyāna Buddhist, then long-term hearing and reflection on Madhyamaka and Yogācāra are indispensable. One cannot just study them a little, then forget about them. Only by thoroughly thinking things through—by understanding the principles clearly and deeply—can genuine renunciation arise.
When the three views are correct and pure, the Four Common Preliminary Practices—precious human birth, impermanence of life, the sufferings of saṃsāra, and the infallibility of karma—can truly penetrate our mental continuum. Only then do we give rise to the firm resolve: “I cannot continue revolving in saṃsāra like this anymore.” From that resolve comes the willingness to abandon all objects of attachment and genuinely devote ourselves to practice.
— Excerpted and compiled from The Seven-Point Mind Training, Lesson 02
This article is a preliminary translation draft and has not yet been reviewed or proofread by the speaker.
