At stake here, I think, is whether or not “complete cessation” is a realistic goal for anyone, including full-time meditators (be they monastics or lay people).

I think there is also a question as to whether or not a belief in “complete cessation” (again, aside from death or a coma) betrays a secular (or naturalistic) interpretation of the dharma (given how closely connected or interwoven secularism, naturalism, and scientific skepticism are in practice).

BTW, notwithstanding the “doubting thomas” role that I’m playing right now, even I claim some degree of assent to the Four Noble Truths, only with the disclaimer that I reserve the right to apply a heaping dose of creative, metaphorical reinterpretation to them.

I think it’s quite arguable that we have moments in our everyday lives that are without dukkha. If that claim doesn’t quite measure up to your favorite Buddhist doctrine, then at least we have moments in meditation that seem to be without dukkha. So it’s not as though we are getting to some unknown or unknowable place. The only question is whether that short-term experience might ramify. Were it to, I admit that it would be personally extraordinary, and certainly the sort of thing that might warrant scientific investigation. Though as I say, I suspect the path that lead to complete cessation might be sufficiently arduous that most people would not consider it worth their while to pursue to its end. For the rest of us it’s enough to use the techniques to get ourselves partway there.

Aside from death or a coma?

I agree that this “full cessation of dukkha” claim is “possible” in a speculative-theoretical sense, but do you not recognize it as being particularly extraordinary and thereby begs for extraordinary evidence (as Carl Sagan might say)?

Actually, I said just what I meant, which is that I really don’t know if full cessation of dukkha is possible. I have had moments of feeling complete (or nearly complete? I am not sure) peace during meditation. It is at least conceivable that such a state could persist for a longer period of time. Now, as I’ve discussed before, if that were to persist permanently, it seems it would have to do so partly on account of good luck, since various forms of mental illness would it seems disrupt it.

You see a number of questions and caveats inherent in my thinking on the matter: is apparent peace really complete freedom from dukkha? Is it true that certain ordinary forms of mental illness or senility would disrupt such a state? To know these things in a scientific fashion would necessitate our coming up with a testing regime and a statistically valid sample of people who could somehow objectively be determined to have reached the endpoint.

Since I think such a perfected state must be difficult to achieve, and even more difficult to determine if it has been achieved, such testing would itself be difficult. But this on its own does not mean the achievement is impossible. It simply means that if we’re going to make scientifically or skeptically careful statements about them, they should be hedged.

I believe that the practice helps mitigate dukkha in an overall sense, even if it heightens it occasionally as well. Whether that can lead to any sort of perfection, especially in a householder with limited time to spend on the practice, is something about which I am honestly agnostic. (If dubious about the householder bit).

The term ‘dukkha’ in the first words of that sutta is used as a metonymy. One can see that is so by the later usage: “association with the unbeloved is dukkha; separation from the loved is dukkha; not getting what is wanted is dukkha”. Due to the frame-of-mind we bring to the world, it seems as though everything we encounter is dukkha. This is because we cling to everything, where “clinging” is understood as once again metonymic for clinging-or-aversion.

Or to put it another way, the only way we could ever escape dukkha (Third Noble Truth) is if the dukkha had to do with our reactions rather than with the things themselves. And so it is, as we see in the Second Noble Truth: dukkha is due to clinging.

Come on, Doug, you’re not usually so shy about saying what you think. Why not at least share what you reckon the odds are of that claim’s literal truth? (I know what I’d say, more or less, and it’s contrary to Buddhist doctrine.)

But it does seem that if one is going to work towards that end, it is essential to begin by seeing the problem clearly. So I sit.

Me, too, and reading this post reminded me of why: It’s so as to confront my dukkha head on, so as to learn to live with it, or rather to learn to not react to it in ways that only aggravate the situation, creating even more dukkha.

Thanks for that reminder!

I see your point, but as far as “no true Scotman” fallacies go, the claim still strikes me as awfully personal (i.e. “ad hominem”).

Perhaps there’s room for overlap here, in which case we ought to be mindful of another logical fallacy – namely, the false dilemma.

1. Doug is right regarding ‘what we can know’… There is an analogous issue in ancient Western philosophy and yet scholars are still quite confident and capable of dealing with the material without resorting to a ‘we just can’t know’ sort of skepticism/defeatism. Gombrich, I believe, covers this quite well in his book, “What the Buddha Thought.”

2. Mark’s assertion that “No educated, intellectually honest person can accept rebirth” is not an ad hominem, as some have suggested, but rather seems to approach the “no true Scotsman” fallacy; i.e. that people like Bhikkhu Bodhi or Robert Thurman are not “truly” intellectually honest people because they accept rebirth.

I used to have this argument with Christians regarding God, but it became clear enough that many of my interlocutors were both educated and intellectually honest (and believed in God), so I dropped such claims. Obviously people of great education and honesty can believe some things we do not.

In any case, I appreciate the discussion. Debates like this are not likely to be resolved any time soon, but the thoughtfulness and vigor with which they are undertaken suggests a vitality in the religion (or non-religion, if you swing that way) that might not be found elsewhere.

I, too, live in a small rural town, although its location in the Hudson Valley might make it somewhat more cosmopolitan than average (e.g. we can still make day trips to NYC or Boston, and we’re far from the only ex-urbanites who settled here). It’s stereotypical enough, however, that my family has encountered some shocking examples of small-mindedness, analogous to what you described.

Re: vegetarianism & veganism: You might already be aware that I’ve criticized certain arguments that have been presented on this site in favor of these views. While I stand by those criticisms, I still support those individuals, like yourself (and a younger version of myself), who decide to go that route, and I disapprove of the insensitive behavior of your colleagues.

Just felt obliged to add that.