Precepts Revisited

Recently Arne Schaefer JDPSN and I officiated a precepts ceremony in Helsinki, Finland. Two wonderful people—Julia and Harri—took the five precepts. They prepared a beautiful environment, invited friends, and offered delicious food. The ceremony was very important to them. It was a great honor for them to take the precepts, and it was a great honor for Arne PSN and me to officiate. The five precepts ceremony can be considered one of the most important and relevant ceremonies in committing to living your life as a true human being. So, I looked forward to their ceremony.

In preparation I reread the traditional text we always use to guide the ceremony. I especially looked at the five precepts and was struck by the wording, which made me wonder once again about the impact of the wording on those taking precepts.

I considered the wording used in the traditional precepts and thought it would be interesting to look deeper. As I did so, I expanded the possible ways that each precept pointed to. The first precept in our traditional text is: 

I vow to abstain from taking life. Killing roots out our seeds of love and mercy. To kill another is to feast on one's friends and relatives. Some day we shall be in one of the three painful realms in payment for our killing, for it is by bestowing life that we receive human life in return.

In other words, perceiving that dukkha arises from taking life, I vow to revere, protect, respect, and cherish all beings, sentient and insentient, woven together across all time and space.

I wondered about the word killing. We do not have to limit the definition of killing to mean killing another human being. What about killing our soil through overuse of pesticides, or killing the rainforests to use the land for monocultures, or growing soy to feed cows, which then are killed to feed human beings? What about abusing our oceans and using them as giant garbage dumps, thereby killing them?

I remember when I was a very new student I visited the Zen Center in Los Angeles to meet Zen Master Seung Sahn. While there, one of the monks asked me if I would be willing to cook spaghetti for the dinner that night. I filled the pots and started heating the water. At that point, the monk returned and told me that Zen Master Seung Sahn wanted all of us to go a restaurant for dinner. I asked him what I should do with the water. He replied with a smile: “Don’t kill it.” This impacted me greatly. So, I took the water and poured it on the grass outside.

The traditional text mentions the three painful realms in which we will be someday as payment for our killing. These painful realms are part of the cycle of samsara. The first realm is the realm of hell, where one experiences intense suffering and torment. The second is the hungry ghost realm, where one suffers from insatiable hunger and thirst. Those who are there are very thin yet have huge stomachs, symbolizing unfulfilled desires. The third realm is the animal realm, where one exists in ignorance and is steered by instinctual behavior leading to suffering. Those in this realm lack higher consciousness and live in fear of being hunted and eaten.

Knowing all of this about the first precept, the suffering we face from causing death is clear. In this way we understand the teaching of samsara as taught in the early days of Buddhism. How can we apply these words to our time in 2025?

With our try mind, we strive to revere, protect, respect, and cherish the existence of all beings, both sentient and insentient (minerals, water, earth, even time and space). The traditional words used in precepts ceremonies may seem harsh, but they are better understood as powerful guardians linking actions to the harsh consequences of those times rather than as punishment. In that way such wording links us to centuries-old traditions in Korea, which were useful in the days that they were written for. As our practice grows, so grows our wisdom. As we allow this precept to be consistently followed, our minds focus on the deep implications of taking life and of killing. Our practice gives strength to the perception of our actions, and following the precept in turn guides our life choices.

The second precept:

I vow to abstain from taking things not given. The taking of things not given cuts off the roots of virtue and wisdom; attaining ease, we shall lose this ease. By but desiring anything of another, we are brought in the future face to face with animal rebirth.

The second precept can also be expressed in this way:  Perceiving that dukkha arises from desire, I vow not to take things not freely given. I vow to generously share my life and possessions, so that all sentient beings might have food, medicine, and comfort. I vow to help and be compassionate toward all beings—sentient and insentient.

The traditional way of wording the second precept raises the question, What are the consequences of being reborn as an animal? It is thought that being an animal means existing in ignorance and being steered by instinctual behavior and experiencing great fear, being predated upon and lacking higher consciousness. We don’t even have to wait to be reborn to have the feeling that we are steered by instinctual behavior or lack of higher consciousness. In a sense we are already in the animal realm when we take things not given. Our practice allows our clear mind to immediately notice when we move away from this precept. We directly perceive the suffering we cause ourselves when we live as if we are sleepwalking, living in fear and shame that we might be discovered as having taken or stolen something.

We can use this precept as strong guidance to be generous, striving to make sure that all sentient beings have enough food, medical care and a safe place to live. Additionally, this precept guides us toward humility in how we talk, act, and care for others. Rather than profiling ourselves endlessly, we can be generous with our time and begin to listen deeply to others.

The third precept:

I vow to abstain from misconduct done in lust. Unchastity cuts off the seed of purity. Impurity is ultimately of the pure dharmakaya. Look rather at the cauldron, for therein are all those who in future years break this precept.

In other words, perceiving that dukkha arises from lustful misconduct, I will cherish, love, and respect all beings. I will act to reveal the buddha nature of all sentient and insentient beings.

In the traditional text the word lust is used. Lust implies intense longing or craving. It can also imply enthusiasm or eagerness. It can also mean intense or unbridled sexual desire. In extreme cases lust can trigger and sustain addiction.

The traditional text brings in two additional concepts:  unchastity and purity. To be chaste points to purity in thought and actions; to be pure means to be clean and spotless. It can also point to relinquishing sexual relations as some monastics and clergy vow to do. Our minds continually entertain concepts. Chastity, purity and misconduct can mean entirely different things to different people, as they rely on concepts of who we are and what boundaries we have. Meditation opens the door to wisdom when it sensitizes us to the boundaries involved in the concepts we hold on to.

But we would be restricting the third precept by pointing only to misconduct done in lust. We can become addicted to and overindulge in any sensual pleasures—gambling, food, drugs, material things, fame, power, money. We spend our lives intensely suffering because of addiction or because we desire things we do not have.

The fourth precept:

I vow to abstain from lying. Lying cuts off the seed of the truth; heaven does not allow the cheating of the saints, nor lying against the holy ones. Should liars avoid the hell where their tongues are ripped out, then they will be reborn as birds, in recompense for their evil.

Or in other words: Perceiving that dukkha arises from deceit, I vow to abstain from lying. Understanding that deceit undercuts the bonds of trust, I vow to speak words that nurture and heal. I vow to support the roots of empathy and truth, and to use speech to promote harmony, unity, and peace.

The harsh tone of such traditional wording connects to the severe consequences that existed for lying when this precept was originally written. Tongues being ripped out sounds horrible and reason enough never to lie again. Lying is not OK in today’s time, but back then it was considered downright evil. Being reborn as a bird might not sound totally detrimental in today’s times—it might be interesting to be reborn as a regal eagle or maybe a nightingale—but in the time when this precept was so worded, being reborn as a bird was seen as exile from the world of humans.

When is it a lie? I remember taking the five precepts with Zen Master Su Bong in Berlin in 1993. I remember speaking this vow loudly but thinking that “I don’t lie anyway, so this one is easy.” However, I immediately noticed the day after the ceremony that sometimes I “adjusted” what I said ever so slightly to look better, or perhaps I was embarrassed to tell the truth as it was. This was not easy to admit it to myself, and it’s one of the reasons why it can be hard to keep the precepts in the beginning. But soon I began to quickly notice the exact moment when I was about to give excuses or adjust the truth as I saw it. Through this hard practice of paying attention, I gained courage and strength. Now when I catch myself wanting to fudge a bit, I remember the ceremony in Berlin and the vow I spoke there. I am grateful for that ceremony.

The fifth precept:

I vow to abstain from intoxicants, taken to induce heedlessness. Liquor cuts off the roots of wisdom; generation after generation we remain in a stupor, as one drunk. The Buddha teaches that one who does not keep these five precepts shall in a future life lose their human stature.

We can also look at this precept in this manner: Perceiving that dukkha arises from heedlessness, I vow to abstain from intoxicants taken with the intent to obscure the clarity and empathy needed to help others. I vow to abstain from activity that blinds me to the results of thoughts, speech, and action.

I remember asking Zen Master Wu Bong many years ago about a student who wanted to take precepts but first asked if it was OK to occasionally drink more than a few glasses of wine because in her country this was tradition. Wu Bong SSN simply said, “No problem. She can take precepts that include drinking wine.” I had been so sure he would say no. At first, I was disturbed, because I remember my sweet uncle who drank alcohol day after day until he died. But through the years I have come to understand that our precepts require all our intelligence, diligence, and honesty. We must stay vigilant and know when we can break the precepts and when we should keep them. If we are not sure what to do, then keep the precepts. But sometimes it is life-affirming to break a precept.

Alcohol and other drugs are not the only substances we can abuse or which can cause heedlessness. Many people harm themselves and those around them by eating huge amounts of food or smoking cigarettes. Others spend vast amounts of energy and money amassing useless things, and many glue themselves to social media. Heedlessness is like thick dark clouds that obscure the light of our bodhisattva mind and cause us to lose the clarity needed to assist, help, and be present in the moment.

If we include monastic precepts, at least hundreds of them exist, but there is one precept that summarizes all the other possible precepts. This is the vow to help all sentient beings and our planet. All precepts are included in this one great direction. The precepts become our lifeline. They help us navigate our lifeboats correctly even when the ocean of our lives is stormy.

It is a serious dedication and commitment to take the precepts, and the decision to do so is based deeply in our hearts. The vow to help, assist, and cultivate loving-kindness is the fundamental direction of our practice. This dedication does not depend on words. It depends on our clarity as we engage in each moment of our daily lives. Guided by precepts, and following a sincere practice, wisdom can arise.