How a quizzical Buddhist holiday can quicken your heart and practice
Today is the Tibetan Buddhist holiday of lha bab du chen, the Great Festival of the Descent from the Heavens by the Buddha Shakyamuni, following his teaching of the Abhidharma to his mother and other devas in a celestial realm. His return was heralded by the gods Brahma and Indra, surrounded by celestial beings, all of whom accompanied the Buddha down a bejeweled staircase that appeared when he was ready to return.
As he descended, the Buddha illuminated space in all directions, such that the massive crowds who rejoiced in welcoming him, and all beings everywhere saw the Buddha in resplendent glory. They also saw each other with pristine clarity. All yearned fervently to attain buddhahood. Artwork of ancient times and of today depict the scene, and commentators throughout Buddhist heritages describe its importance.
But let’s face it. This sounds fantastical to contemporary ears. Mythical. Extra-canonical. Or just plain credulous. What are we to make of it?
Holdings of the Victoria & Albert Museum. Descent of Buddha from Trayastrimsa Heaven. Panel, Pakistan, 2nd century-3rd Century
Well, we might begin by recognizing that, as with anything else, we can, and do, make of this what we will. That simple recognition can open us to curiosity and interest in discovering a perspective not yet familiar.
Here’s what I (Yeshe) have made lha bab du chen mean in my spiritual life, to get you started in your explorations.
First, mothers matter. The prominence that lha bab du chen places on Mayadevi, the woman who died a week after giving birth to the Prince Siddhartha, communicates that the being who gave us life is worth honoring for that very act alone. Certainly this does not encourage ignoring or denying later events, which may be hurtful, even traumatic—or, as the prince’s case, nearly nonexistent. Even if my relationship with my mother is not what I would wish it to be, I can recognize her as the first being in this life to exemplify my radical interconnection with all that lives. If nothing else, her body nourished and sheltered mine until I took my first breath. If even this much is painful, or if things went awry soon afterwards, we can stop there. This alone means a great deal. As our circumstances allow, we may build on this, finding new approaches to relating to our mothers, literal and metaphorical. This can help us acknowledge how beings mother us in countless ways.
Second, connecting with the Buddha matters. The rampant joy of Shakyamuni’s followers upon his return is so touching to me. He was gone for a relatively brief time. Yet, his presence was so monumental that all rejoiced exuberantly to welcome him back. Their response reminds me of times when I have felt the loss of a living spark in my practice, my engagement with the teachings, or my aspirations to live in accord with dharma. They awaken in me the exhilaration of reconnecting, when that time comes. My own joy then inspires me to take into my practice anything and everything that strengthens my interconnection with the Buddha, his teachings, and the fellowship of practitioners along the path of realizing it. In these moments of encountering the Buddha anew, I experience the rightness, not of self-blame, but celebration.
Third, all beings matter. One retelling of what happened when the Buddha descended from the heavens, by Buddhaghosa, the great Theravada master, is especially moving to me. He says that “”. I place myself in the radiance of the Buddha, imagining what it is to see each other, visually—confusion, perhaps fear, and surely wonder in our gazes—for a moment acknowledging each other’s presence, usually not within the scope of our sensory experience. I experience the bittersweet solidarity of this endless community of beings wishing to be happy and free of suffering. And I feel what it is to see, and be seen, by all existence—each and every one of us understood, valued, and held in caring, just as we are. How easily the fervent yearning to attain buddhahood arises in my own heart, here and now!
Fourth, holy days matter. None of these insights require the story of the Buddha’s Descent from the Heavens to come to life. Nor do they need a special day set aside in the course of the year to shine the light of my awareness upon them. And yet, the steady rhythm of this and the other three duchen, or great moments, of the Tibetan Buddhist calendar instill a cadence to my spiritual life that invites me to participate in the synchronicity of aligning myself with the life of the Buddha. They awaken me to the myriad ways in which the Buddha is the northstar of my life and the living path I travel in his wake, right out of the blood, sweat, and tears of my experience.
May your days, and those of all beings, be suffused with the honor, celebration, inspiration, and fruition of living in alignment with buddhanature.
