MR. PRENTICE: Oh, Venerable Tissa, I was hoping I'd find you here.
VEN. TISSA: Good afternoon, Mr. Prentice.
PRENTICE: You remember my name? I wasn't sure if you would. I've come around the temple every now and then — just out of curiosity, mainly.
VEN. TISSA: Is it curiosity that brings you here now?
PRENTICE: I guess you could say that. Isn't this heat awful!
VEN. TISSA: Sit down, Mr. Prentice. There's plenty of lawn.
PRENTICE: Ah, so there is. Thank you.
He looks around doubtfully then settles in the shade at a respectful distance from the Buddhist monk.
PRENTICE: I'm a bit worn out. It's kind of a long walk from my house. I wonder if you might have time to answer some questions.
VEN. TISSA: I'll try. What's on your mind?
PRENTICE: In a word, Buddhism.
VEN. TISSA: All of it?
PRENTICE: Ha ha. No, it's just that I've been doing some reading — plus hearing an occasional lecture here — and I must say I find Buddhism very attractive, at least in
theory. It's very cool, rational, and scientific in its explanations of reality. I can appreciate that. I like to think I'm a man of science. The Buddhist analysis of mind and matter appears to me almost like a scientific investigation. But the other part, the
religious part, gives me trouble.
VEN. TISSA: You're a great admirer of science, are you, Mr. Prentice?
PRENTICE: Oh yes, no question.
VEN. TISSA: Could it be that you appreciate Buddhism in proportion as it resembles science?
PRENTICE: Um, well, possibly.
VEN. TISSA: If that's so, why not stick to the genuine article? Why bother with Buddhism?
PRENTICE: Well, of course, science lacks a, it lacks...
VEN. TISSA: The religious part?
PRENTICE: Exactly! You see, venerable sir, the problem is this: Much as I like what I know of Buddhism, much as I approve of it intellectually, I find it difficult to actually commit myself to it as a
spiritual discipline. I have too many doubts. I admire the philosophy, but I suppose I just can't take religion seriously.
VEN. TISSA: Seriousness is precisely the difference between philosophy and religion. The philosopher deals in expendable theories; the religious person puts his very life on the line.
PRENTICE: And that's exactly what I'm not prepared to do.
VEN. TISSA: Many feel that way.
PRENTICE: And yet — it's what I'd
like to be able to do. To be serious. To put my life on the line. The trouble is I don't have the motivation.
VEN. TISSA: Hmm, how far is it from your house?
PRENTICE: Oh, ten blocks, I guess.
VEN. TISSA: And you walked ten blocks on a hot afternoon to tell me you don't have motivation?
PRENTICE: Ah, good point.
VEN. TISSA: Buddhist discipline begins and ends with self-examination. Buddhist philosophy or theory, if you will, instructs us how to carry out that examination and the efforts that follow. We can read the philosophy all we want, but if we don't practice it — if we don't take the medicine, so to speak — it won't do anything for us. Now, you tell me that you've been reading Buddhist literature, and you say you have doubts. What specifically is troubling you?
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