The Brahmaviharas Aren’t Enough

There’s an idea that gained currency a while back—and it still pops up again every now and then tody—that the brahmavihāras are a complete path to nibbāna. If you develop one or four of them, that’s all you have to do to gain total release. The idea came from a scholar who was reading a sutta in the Canon where some brahmans come to see the Buddha. They ask him, “What is the path to union with Brahmā?” The Buddha teaches the brahmavihāras: unlimited goodwill, unlimited compassion, unlimited empathetic joy, unlimited equanimity. The scholar said the Buddha wouldn’t have taken them to an inferior goal. So when he talks about union with Brahmā, he must mean nibbāna. In that case, all you have to do to get to nibbāna would be to develop any of the four brahmavihāras. This is a secret, he said, that has been kept hidden by those horrible monks who’ve been memorizing and passing the Pali Canon down to us over the centuries.

But there’s so much in the Canon that goes against what the scholar is claiming. There’s that famous story where Ven. Sāriputta is visiting one of his old students. The student had wandered away from him, both physically and spiritually, but eventually came back. As the student is approaching death, he asks for Sāriputta to come and see him. Sāriputta comes and reflects on the fact that this student is a brahman, and brahmans aim at union with Brahmā, so he teaches him the brahmavihāras. The student follows along in his mind and, after he dies, is reborn in one of the Brahmā realms. Sāriputta goes back to report to the Buddha, and the Buddha chided him: “Why did you leave him with an inferior goal when there was more to be done?”

The way they’re depicted in the Pali Canon, Brahmās are not always a desirable group to be united with. There’s the Great Brahmā in Dīgha Nikāya 1, who after, the universe begins to evolve again after having been destroyed, is the first to come down from the formless realms into the new universe because his merit runs out—not because of any great merit on his part, but because his merit has worn out. He finds himself in an empty palace and he gets lonely. He thinks, “Wouldn’t it be nice if other beings came?” Just then, other beings from the formless realms run out of their merit and they come down into the palace. He thinks he’s created them; they think he’s created them. That’s how monotheism gets started. So there’s a lot of delusion in the Brahmā worlds.

Then there’s the hypocritical Brahmā in the Dīgha 11, the one who—when a monk asks him, “How far do the four great elements go?”—responds, “I am the Great Brahmā, knower of all, seer of all, father of all, creator of all that has been and will be.” The monk says, “That’s not what I asked you. I asked you: ‘Where do the four elements end?’” The Great Brahmā repeats his proclamation two more times, and finally takes the monk by the arm, pulls him aside, and says, “Look, I don’t know, but my adoring retinue here thinks I know everything. It would be very discouraging for them to find out that I couldn’t answer this question.” So he sends the monk back to the Buddha.

Then there’s the Brahmā in Majjhima 49 who has obviously been duped by Māra—who hides out in his retinue—into thinking that he’s eternal.

So Brahmās aren’t the sort of people you’d want to go into union with.

The question, then, is, when you do practice the brahmavihāras, what’s still lacking? What makes them an incomplete path? After all, the Buddha does talk about developing the brahmavihāras as a theme of concentration. He talks about how if you pass away while developing the brahmavihāras, you can be reborn in a Brahmā realm, depending on which brahmavihāra you emphasize. There’s one passage that seems to indicate that focusing on unlimited goodwill would correspond to the first jhāna in terms of which Brahmā world it takes you to. Focusing on compassion would correspond to the second. Focusing on unlimited empathetic joy would correspond to the third. Focusing on equanimity would correspond to the fourth.

But there’s another passage where the Buddha talks about developing each of the brahmavihāras with directed thought and evaluation; with no directed thought and a modicum of evaluation; with no directed thought and no evaluation; with rapture; without rapture; with enjoyment; with equanimity. That’s taking you to the fourth jhāna with any of the four—but concentration is as far as they go.

So the question is: What’s still missing? A few passages in the suttas give an indication. One is the passage where the Buddha is giving advice to his lay cousin, Mahānāma. Mahānāma has been near the Saṅgha for the rains retreat. Now the Buddha is going to be going off on a walking tour, so Mahānāma comes and asks him, “If a wise noble disciple is on his deathbed, how do I counsel him in your absence?” The Buddha recommends that he first ask the dying person if he’s worried about his wife and children, his parents, or anyone else in the family. If so, you tell that person, “Okay, you’re dying now. You can’t be responsible for these people anymore. Focus your mind on dying well.” Then the next question is, “Are you worried about abandoning human sensual pleasures?” If the person says Yes, you remind him that there are higher sensual pleasures in the higher heavens. The Buddha talks about the pleasures going up through the various levels of heaven, and finally he gets to the Brahmā worlds.

But then he doesn’t stop there. He says the inhabitants of the Brahmā worlds still have self-identity—where you identify with any of the khandhas—so there’s still passion, there’s still ignorance in those worlds. So Mahānāma is to advise the dying person to let go of the sense of self-identity. If the person can do that, his release is equal to that of a monk whose mind is released.

So that’s one of the things that Brahmās still have that they need to let go of: self-identity. You don’t let go of self-identity simply by doing the brahmavihāras. You have to contemplate the aggregates that make up your sense of self and understand them in line with the four noble truths, because it is possible to hold build a self-identity even around equanimity. As the Buddha said, it’s one of the highest objects of clinging, but it’s still clinging.

There’s another passage where the Buddha talks about a previous lifetime when he was King Makhādeva. Makhādeva ruled righteously, and then when he saw his first white hair on his head, he renounced his kingdom, gave it over to his son, and went out into the forest to practice the brahmavihāras. As the Buddha said, the brahmavihāras took him only to the Brahmā worlds. They didn’t take him to dispassion. They didn’t take him to disenchantment. They didn’t take him to release. They led only as far as the Brahmā worlds.

So again, the brahmavihāras on their own don’t induce dispassion—the desire to let go of all fabrications, all attachments. There are still things that you cling to with passion: your sense of yourself as the meditator, your sense of yourself as a Brahmā. So there’s more work to be done.

So the brahmavihāras are a good focus for concentration. Some people find them more congenial than the breath. And if you’re one of those people, go ahead: Develop thoughts of goodwill, compassion, empathetic joy, and equanimity in all directions for all beings. But remember: Those practices can take you only so far. There comes a point where you have to start analyzing what’s going on in the mind.

This is the message in another sutta where a man comes to see Ven. Ānanda and asks him, “What is the door to the deathless?” Ānanda gives him eleven doors, saying that you can focus on any the four jhānas, the four brahmavihāras, or the first three of the formless realms. As you get your mind into concentration with any of these topics, you reflect on the fact that this concentration is fabricated. Whatever is fabricated, you perceive in line with the three perceptions of being inconstant, stressful, and not-self, or in line with variations on those perceptions: a disease, a dart, alien, empty. In other words, look at the state of concentration itself in terms of the five aggregates, in terms of whatever other fabrications you might use as a framework, and see that it’s not worth holding on to. That’s when you let go. That’s when you gain the dispassion that leads to full release.

So when you practice the brahmavihāras on their own, they can’t take you all the way. You need further contemplations to help you let go of passion in general, and self-identity in particular.

Now, the question comes up, what about another practice that is said to take you all the way, which is following the breath. Well, again, the breath can take you into concentration, but the way the Buddha describes the steps of breath meditation will take you further. There’s that passage where Ariṭṭha says to the Buddha, “I, too, practice breath meditation.” The Buddha asks him, “What kind of breath meditation do you practice?” because Ariṭṭha didn’t have a very good reputation in the early Saṅgha.

Ariṭṭha says, “I let go of thoughts of the past, I don’t hanker after thoughts of the future, and I’m equanimous about whatever arises here in the present as I breathe in, as I breathe out.”

The Buddha says, “Well, there is that kind of breath meditation, but that’s not the type that will yield great fruit.”

So what does yield great fruit? The sixteen steps, which culminate in contemplating inconstancy, contemplating dispassion, cessation, and release. That contemplation is built into the way that the practice is described, which is what makes it a complete practice. As Ajaan Fuang said, the breath can take you all the way to nibbāna. Now, on its own, the breath can’t do that. But if you practice mindfulness of breathing in the way the Buddha recommends—developing the breath, analyzing the breath—it can.

So try to recognize which practices are complete and which ones are not complete. As for the ones that are not complete, it’s not that they’re bad, it’s just that there’s more to be done. When you keep that in mind, then you don’t get deluded. You can enjoy the concentration and realize it’s there for a purpose—not to be enjoyed on its own. You enjoy it for the purpose of going further.

So do your best to go all the way.