Miss Buddha (82 page)

“Let me ask that again,” said Jones. “All
Buddhist are not the same, are they?”

“No,” said Sunyata Bodhi. “There are
Buddhists and there are Buddhists.”

“Could you elaborate, please.”

“There are two main vehicles, the greater
and the lesser.”

“How many people subscribe to either?”

“That’s a moving target, of course, for it
changes daily, but about 350 million people follow Mahayana
Buddhism, the greater vehicle. About 200 million subscribe to
Theravada Buddhism, mainly in Sri Lanka, Burma, and Thailand. You
find Mahayana Buddhism mainly in India, China, and Japan, where it
is mostly known as Zen.”

“What are the differences? I mean, why do
you refer to Theravada as the ‘lesser’ vehicle?”

“Another name for Theravada is Hinayana,
which literally means the ‘lesser’ or the ‘deficient’ vehicle.”

“Yes, but why?”

“Do you have an hour or two?”

“Yes we do. We have all day.”

“Well then,” said Sunyata Bodhi, apparently
regaining some of his composure—in fact, he had just managed to
convince himself that he had heard no whisper in his head, that no
one was “seeing” him, for how could that have been? “Theravada
Buddhism, which I, as I said, see as the deficient vehicle, is
sometimes also called ‘the way of the elders.’ It is an orthodox,
inflexible form of Buddhism that looks down upon the plight of the
many.

“The path of Theravada requires many years,
some say many lifetimes, of personal struggle based on a
fundamentalist interpretation of the teachings of the Buddha,
which, so they claim, is reflected in their Pali Canon.

“To follow Theravada Buddhism, so they say,
you are required to ‘leave home’ and enter monastic life. You must
live your life as it was lived by the Buddha during his lifetime.
Nothing, they say, can change. And so, they keep out any person
unwilling to follow their draconian rules.

“Draconian?” said Jones. “Really?”

“That’s the only word for it,” said Sunyata
Bodhi. “There are two hundred twenty-seven rules for the monks and
three hundred eleven rules for nuns. All of which have to be
strictly followed, or you risk excommunication.”

“Why are there different rules for men and
women?”

“There are many separate rules for nuns to
avoid any behavior that may be viewed as sexually suggestive. There
are no such rules for monks.”

“I see.”

“But whether monk or nun, the rules are
draconian. It is the correct word.”

“I see,” repeated Jones.

“Some of the rules are so strict,” continued
Sunyata Bodhi, “that there are huge debates about whether Theravada
monks in colder climates should be allowed to wear warmer clothes
than those prescribed by the Buddha, and whether it is permissible
to take cough syrup (because it may have a mildly intoxicating
effect).

“I see,” said Jones, who seemed to have
forgotten the rest of the English language.

“Mahayana Buddhism,” on the other hand, said
his witness, “which is also known as the ‘great vehicle,’ is the
Buddhism of openness and accessibility to all. Nirvana, for the
Mahayana Buddhist, is within reach of all, whether monk, nun, or
lay. As long as you are devoted and depend upon and have faith in
the work and merit of the 
Bodhisattvas
.

“Mahayana Buddhism is called the ‘great
vehicle’ because it gladly invites and will make room for any
pilgrim who seeks enlightenment.

“The Theravada rules may have some merit,
but we Mahayana Buddhists believe that they should not be used to
keep people out.”

“Are they used in such a way? To keep people
out, I mean.”

“Yes.”

“Seems a bit snobbish,” suggested Jones.

“That would be one way of putting it.”

“Still,” said Jones. “You said that there
are two hundred million Theravada Buddhists. That is a lot of
people.”

“There are twice as many Mahayana
Buddhists,” said Sunyata Bodhi, a little defensively.

“So you think Theravada Buddhists are
misguided?”

“Excuse me,” interrupted Judge Moore. “I
don’t see where this is leading, or that it has anything to do with
the issues at hand.”

“I want to demonstrate the witness’
credentials as a Buddhist scholar, your honor. And I also want to
lay the groundwork for the specific questions about the defendant’s
practices.”

Judge Moore frowned. “All right, but do get
to the point.”

“So,” said Jones, turning to his witness
again. “Do you consider that Theravada Buddhists are
misguided?”

“No so much misguided as shortsighted,” said
Sunyata Bodhi. “Followers of Theravada Buddhism are more
conservative, while followers of Mahayana Buddhism are more
liberal.

“Also, Theravada Buddhism is more of a
professional guild, and according to them, the main religious duty
and involvement of lay people is to support the monks.

“Mahayana Buddhists give lay people a lot
more credit and respect, and the laity has a much more important
role in Mahayana Buddhism, where they share responsibility with the
monks and nuns.”

“What do you mean?”

“For example, the laity, as well as monks
and nuns, take part in the many beautiful rituals of Mahayana
Buddhism. Nothing like that would take place in a Theravada
monastery, where lay people are barely allowed.

“Theravada Buddhism is limited to the
starkness of what the Buddha purportedly taught, while Mahayana
Buddhism is all about how the Buddha lived, how he related to
people, how he communicated those teachings.

“Theravada is for the fenced in,
narrow-focused practitioner, whereas Mahayana is for the
people.”

“That said,” said Jones. “The defendant has
on several occasions claimed to be a Theravada Buddhist.”

“I’ve seen those lectures,” said Sunyata
Bodhi. “And I’ve read a few interviews and transcripts as well,
where she does maintain that she subscribes to the Theravada
tradition.”

“Do you agree?” said Jones. “Does she
subscribe to the Theravada tradition?”

“No. I cannot say that I do. I don’t think
she does. While she claims to follow Theravada, she acts, by
addressing and including nothing but lay people, much more like a
Mahayana Buddhist. And based on that, I must conclude that she has
no real idea about the differences between the two branches.”

“Is she in fact a Buddhist at all?”
suggested Jones.

“That is a very good question,” said Sunyata
Bodhi. “While she obviously has studied the Pali Canon—she quotes
from it at will, and all day long—she has little or no
understanding of what Buddhism actually is, whether Theravada or
Mahayana.

“In fact,” he added. “I would go so far as
to say that she’s faking it.”

At that point Sunyata Bodhi froze, and his
eyes flew open again. His apparition seemed to have reappeared.

Not noticing, Jones said, “So you are saying
that perhaps she is not a Buddhist at all?”

To no answer.

“Mister Bodhi?” said Jones after a brief,
casual, then concerned glance at his witness.

To no answer.

“Sir,” said Judge Moore. “Are you all
right?”

To no answer.

“Sir,” said Judge Moore, louder this
time.

This Sunyata Bodhi finally registered. He
looked up at the judge, then at Otto Jones, as if trying to place
them, exactly.

“Are you okay, Mister Bodhi?” said
Jones.

Sunyata Bodhi did not answer. Instead he
slowly turned toward Ruth Marten and with a stare that held fear
and bewilderment in equal measure, seemed to freeze in that
position.

“Mister Bodhi,” Jones repeated, loudly this
time.

Finally, without taking his eyes off of Ruth
Marten, Sunyata Bodhi answered. “Yes,” he said. “Yes, I’m
fine.”

But it was with an unconvincing, vacant
voice.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes,” he said. Still without true
presence.

“So,” said Jones. “Is it your expert opinion
that Miss Marten, the defendant, may not even be a Buddhist, which
she claims to be?”

Sunyata Bodhi tore himself away from Ruth
Marten and looked at Jones as if seeing him for the first time.
“I’m sorry?”

“Perhaps Miss Marten is not a Buddhist, is
that what you’re saying?”

“I guess, yes, that is what I’m saying.”

“Guess?”

“No, not guess. That
is
what I am
saying.”

“Why on earth would she do that? Any
ideas?”

Sunyata Bodhi shook his head. “No, no idea.
Not really.”

“All right,” said Jones with a sigh that
held a touch of disappointment. “No further questions, your
honor.”

“Miss Marten?” said Judge Moore, without any
hope.

“Yes, your honor. I do have a question.”

“You do?”

“Yes.”

“By all means,” said the judge. “Please ask
away.”

Ruth rose, but did not leave her desk.
“Sunyata Bodhi,” she said, both verbally and, even more clearly,
inside his head. “Who, in this life, do you love the most?”

Again, Sunyata Bodhi’s eyes widened and
showed fear.

Jones flew up onto his feet: “Objection.
Relevance.”

“Mister Jones,” said Judge Moore, loudly.
“Throughout the trial so far, the defense has asked two questions.
This is the third. And you have the temerity to object. Sit down,
Mister Jones. Overruled.”

If Sunyata Bodhi was aware of this exchange,
he did not show it. All he seemed capable of was staring at Ruth
Marten.

“Well,” said the judge, after waiting a
while. “What is your answer, Mister Bodhi?”

But Mister Bodhi, knowing well that he loved
no one but himself, and only for uncomplimentary and
self-aggrandizing reasons, was incapable of answering. Was, in
fact, by now, incapable of speech. And so, after prodding him two
more times for a reply, the judge looked over at Ruth who said,
“That’s fine. The poor man does not have to answer.”

Judge Moore then excused the witness—who had
to be helped out of the stand and back to his seat—and asked of
Jones if that was it.

“Yes, your honor. That’s it. The prosecution
rests.”

On a less than impressive note.

:

Which some of the media were quick to point
out, while others limited their opinions and guesses to what
sentence Judge Moore would pass on Ruth Marten—the guilty verdict
now a foregone conclusion.

::
135 :: (Los Angeles Federal Court)

If anybody had expected Ruth Marten to call
any witnesses in her defense, they were disappointed. After the
prosecution’s case, however, not many did.

Ruth Marten only made one request of the
court: that she might take the stand herself and tell her side of
the story.

“Unheard of,” objected Otto Jones.

“Not really,” said Judge Moore.
“Overruled.”

“Can I cross-examine once she’s done?”
wondered Jones, as much to himself as to the judge.

“I don’t see why not,” said Moore. Ruth
Marten nodded her agreement, sure.

“Well, then. Please take the stand,” said
Judge Moore, and Ruth Marten, dressed in a simple, white dress,
made her way to the witness stand.

“Please hold up your right hand,” said the
clerk. Ruth did.

“Do you promise to tell the truth, the whole
truth, and nothing but the truth?” said the clerk.

“I promise,” said Ruth.

Since Ruth remained standing, Judge Moore
said, “Do sit down, please.”

Ruth did.

“Please,” said the judge. “Let’s hear your
side of this story.”

Ruth took a long look at the room. At Otto
Jones and Lara Matthews, who had a quiet exchange, at the jurors,
all twelve seeing nothing but her, at the attendants, then,
finally, at the cameras, first one, then the other. She then looked
over at Melissa and Ananda, drew a deep breath and said:

“The world economy has only one purpose: the
comfort of the body.”

“Objection, your honor. Relevance.” Jones
was on his feet.

“How on earth can you tell?” said the
judge.

To which Jones had no answer.

“Mister Jones,” said Judge Moore, and not
amused. “You are going to listen to what Miss Marten has to say,
and you will not interrupt her again. Ever. Or I will hold you in
contempt.”

“But,” said Jones.

“Tut-tut,” said Judge Moore and waved her
index finger.

Jones, resigned, sat down.

“Please continue,” said the judge. Ruth
did:

“We have no other reason for anything we do
in our secular world. There is only the comfort of the body. The
body is all.

“Too hot, and we feel bad. Too cold, and we
feel bad. Hungry, and we feel bad, uncomfortable. Thirsty, and we
feel bad.

“Warmed by the fire when it’s cold outside,
and we feel good. An air-conditioned room during a heat wave and we
feel good. A nice meal, and we feel good. A cold juice, and we feel
good. We do and forever will seek to feel good.

“Every advertisement, every television
commercial, once you scrape or peel away the noisy or colorful
exterior is nothing but an invitation to feel good. Whether it’s a
new car, or a great house, or some new fast food, or liquor, or
wine, or beer, or lipstick, or clothes, it is all about feeling
good.

“Every product conceived, designed, and
produced is conceived, designed, and produced to make us—or
someone—feel good. Wars are fought with the aim for someone to feel
good, be that a dictator, a congress, a population, a priesthood, a
soldier, a Viking.

“Perhaps this sounds too simplistic to some,
but all great truths are basically simple, and this truth is both
very basic and very simple: the world today, it’s entire economic
structure, is about feeling good about ourselves, whether
physically—which is the most common part of this—emotionally, or
spiritually.”

Otto Jones had the urge to object. It simply
was not part of his makeup to let an opposition witness have the
run of the floor unchallenged, but, truth be told, he had grown too
interested in what Ruth Marten had to say to attempt to stop her.
Instead he leaned back into his chair, cast a brief glance at Lara
Matthews (who was also paying Ruth Marten rapt attention), then
continued to listen.