Considering Mumon's comment on last Thursday's post, I think that I did not make myself clear. I don't consider Zen or Tibetan or any other form of Buddhism to be any "better" or "worse" than any other form. I see differences in the forms of practice, and I wanted to watch the movie "Unmistaken Child" in order to observe the way and demeanor of the central monk character to become more comfortable and familiar with forms of practice I do not now fully understand.

Zen Master Dogen, the founder of the Soto School of Zen Buddhism, did not even believe that there were separate sects of Buddhism, including a "Zen sect," much less a "Soto school of the Zen sect." In Butsudo, he points out that from the Buddha onward, there was simply a transmission of the buddha-way, without school or affiliation. When the Buddha held up a flower and Mahakasyapa smiled, the Buddha did not say, "I pass Zen Buddhism on to you," or "I pass Tibetan Buddhism on to you," or for that matter, even utter the term "Buddhism." All Buddhist teachers around the world trace their lineage back to the original transmission. Dogen asserted that those who say there are separate sects do not understand Buddhism and are not themselves successors to the Buddha.

But as I said the other day, Buddhism has assimilated the various cultures it has encountered (some might say various cultures have assimilated Buddhism upon encountering it), and forms of practice in Japan are different from forms of practice in Tibet, and both of these are different from forms of practice in southeast Asia. The challenge to us modern-day, information-age practioners is to separate the buddha-dharma from the culture that preserved it, even while embracing and accepting the traditions and rituals of that culture.

The Dalai Lama is the head of the so-called Gelugpa school of Tibetan Buddhism. I see in Wikipedia that the Gelugpa, also known as the Yellow Hat sect, is a school of Buddhism founded by Tsongkhapa (1357–1419), a philosopher and Tibetan religious leader. Tsongkhapa taught that compassion and insight into wisdom, two key aspects of the spiritual path, must be rooted in a wholehearted wish for liberation and impelled by a genuine sense of renunciation.

By the end of 16th century, following strife among the sects of Tibetan Buddhism, the Gelug school emerged dominant. From the 17th century until the Chinese takeover in 1949, the Dalai Lamas held political control over central Tibet. In the course of this reign, other schools were forcibly converted to the Gelug tradition, along with many monasteries. Internal power struggles were also not uncommon and there are stories of one lama poisoning or imprisoning another.

In addition to the Dalai Lama, among the many other lineage holders of the Gelug are the successive incarnations of the Panchen Lama, the Chagkya Dorje Chang, Ngachen Könchok Gyaltsen, Kyishö Tulku Tenzin Thrinly, Jamyang Shepa, Phurchok Jampa Rinpoche, Jamyang Dewe Dorje, Takphu Rinpoche, Khachen Yeshe Gyaltsen, and many others (spell-check had a field day with that paragraph!).

As I said last week, I am most perplexed by this emphasis on reincarnation. My Zen teacher encourages me to keep an open mind on this issue and not cling to my own viewpoint, and asks if there were no reincarnation, how else can accumulated karma be worked out? I understand that the Dalai Lama is considered as the reincarnation of the bodhisattva Chenrezig, who chose to remain on earth to help people achieve enlightenment. If a bodhisattva vows to forego entering nirvana until all other sentient beings do so first, how else but through reincarnation can the vow be kept when death inevitably occurs?

For centuries, the selection of the reincarnation of the Dalai Lama has been steeped in Tibetan mysticism. After the death of the 13th Dalai Lama in 1933, senior lamas journeyed on horseback to the sacred lake of Lhamo Lhatso, not far from Lhasa, the Tibetan capital. There, they said, they received a vision that pointed to eastern Tibet as the site where the reincarnation would be found. Earlier, a medium of the Nechung Oracle, the mountain god that serves as the state fortuneteller, was said to have turned eastward in a trance. Three search parties were dispatched; one identified a boy in a farming village as the reincarnation. The boy, Lhamo Dhondrub, had to prove his worth by, among other things, picking out objects belonging to the 13th Dalai Lama, including spectacles, rosary beads and a walking stick. He was enthroned as the Dalai Lama in 1940.

According to an article in today's New York Times (where I got much of the information above), all that is about to change as the 14th Dalai Lama and his followers in exile in India compete with the Chinese government for control of how the 15th Dalai Lama will be chosen. The issue is urgent for Tibetans because the current Dalai Lama, the spiritual leader of all Tibetans and the charismatic face of the exile movement, has had recent bouts of ill health. He turns 74 in July.

Both the Chinese and the Tibetan exiles are bracing for an almost inevitable outcome: the emergence into the world of dueling Dalai Lamas — one chosen by the exiles, perhaps by the 14th Dalai Lama himself, and the other by Chinese officials.

In an interview late last month with the Times, the Dalai Lama said that all options for choosing his reincarnation were open, including ones that break from tradition. That could mean that the next Dalai Lama could be found outside of Tibet, might be a woman, or even be named while the 14th Dalai Lama was still alive. Meanwhile, the Chinese government has already enacted a law in 2007 that says all reincarnations of senior lamas must be approved by the government.

The politics, the intrigue, the mysticism, divination, and astrology are all part of Tibetan culture. Zen comes with its own baggage (oriyoki, anybody?). But the buddha-dharma exists separate from this cultural milieu, although all cultures that have served as vehicles to keep the buddha-dharma alive should be themselves cherished and respected. This umbrella is very large.