The Center of the Sunlit Sky: Madhyamaka in the Kagyu Tradition, by Karl Brunnhölzl; Snow Lion Publications, 2004.

The Centrist, or Madhyamaka, school of Tibetan Buddhism has been notorious for its myriad of scholastic translations for Western audiences, often making no explicit link to Buddhist meditation and contemplation. These translations and expositions leave the Western Buddhist practitioner intimidated or clueless about emptiness, the two truths and the true nature of phenomena from the perspective of the Madhyamaka school.

Karl Brunnhölzl’s new book is a remarkable contribution to Madhyamaka studies in the West. The most exciting aspect of the book is that, while it is thick (982 pages) and full of scholastic references (1,857 endnotes), it is accessible for the well-read Western practitioner and intriguing for the scholar, and includes the experiential aspect of emptiness along with the analytic. Brunnhölzl understands the role of Madhyamaka view in the practice traditions of Mahamudra meditation in the Kagyu lineage. His presentation often draws out this importance explicitly, contrasting the methods of Madhyamaka and Mahamudra, but emphasizing that in both “one must gradually let go of conceptual understanding, reification, and hanging on to any reference point at all.” (p. 66)

This, of course, is the hallmark of the Kagyu approach to Madhyamaka, a refreshing new angle in Western translations. Probably ninety percent of existing published work in English on Madhyamaka in Tibet comes from the Gelukpa lineage of interpretation, based upon the monumental work of Tsongkhapa (1357­­­­–1419), the late fourteenth century innovator. In response to what he perceived as ethical laxity and a tendency toward unhealthy nihilism in Tibetan presentations of Centrism, Tsongkhapa emphasized karma, cause and effect, validating relative appearance in order to stabilize the efficacy of vows. As a result, Tsongkhapa’s interpretation of Centrism contained elements considered “novelties that are not found in any Indian sources,” according to his critics, and this was seen “as a major flaw.” (p. 555)

One hundred years later, the Eighth Karmapa Mikyo Dorje (1507–1554), served as one of his most articulate critics, and Brunnhölzl highlights his challenge to Tsongkhapa. Mikyo Dorje was concerned that, in an effort to validate phenomenal appearance and avoid nihilism, Tsongkhapa had misconceived emptiness as a real entity (pp. 556–7; 576–84), in contradiction of the Buddha’s sutra teachings. Of course, followers of Tsongkhapa would emphatically deny such a charge, but his efforts to avoid nihilism in fact produced a tilt towards eternalism according to Mikyo Dorje. Additional peculiarities of Tsongkhapa’s approach were his unique presentation of the two truths, his presentation of methods of analytic meditation on emptiness, and the assertion that the Consequentialist (Prasangika) school has a thesis and a system of its own, if only on the conventional level. The final and most important peculiarity of Tsongkhapa’s approach is, according to Brunnhölzl’s reading of Mikyo Dorje, the distinction between “existence” and “real existence” of dependently arisen phenomena. In Tsongkhapa’s careful avoidance of the nihilistic extreme, he appears to leave phenomena not empty of their own nature, creating a layer of “double-think” that contradicts the Indian forebears. (p. 563)

Brunnhölzl avoids the temptation to make these peculiarities into a sectarian feeding frenzy, quoting Khenpo Rinpoche in saying that it is not a matter of establishing an “official Kagyu [doctrinal] position.” Instead, by observing the issues that arise in the debate between Mikyo Dorje and Tsongkhapa, we must more closely “investigate and find out for ourselves what we personally think is correct.” (p. 554) What are the ramifications of Tsongkhapa’s position, and how do they differ from those of Mikyo Dorje, Nagarjuna, Aryadeva and Chandrakirti? Which Centrist method is most likely to untrap us from the vagaries of conceptual mind? Is there an effective way to free ourselves from any and all views that obscure the true nature of mind?

This pedagogy pervades Brunnhölzl’s book, and it is a heartening departure from some Madhyamaka translations that give the impression of dogmatic entrenchment. He presents Centrism as a tool that can be dangerous if it is misused, a powerful liberator if it is used correctly, just as Nagarjuna spoke of Centrism in general and emptiness in particular as being like a large poisonous snake. If it is wrongly grasped, by the tail, it can strike and poison us with its deadly fangs. If it is held properly, behind the head, its venom can be extracted and used as serum to remove the poison from ourselves and all sentient beings.

Brunnhölzl also presents helpful perspectives on Shentong, or the legendary “other-emptiness” school that complements the “self-empty” Rangtong school of Madhyamaka. Shentong has become the “straw man” of many Centrist arguments, especially Consequentialist, and it has long been asserted by sectarian-minded that the Kagyu were Shentong-Madhyamakans, in contrast to the Rangtong position of Tsongkhapa. Brunnhölzl abruptly but convincingly asserts that this distinction is completely obsolete according to the Eighth Karmapa and his successors. Mikyo Dorje claimed that the term Shentong was used in specific contexts merely as a skillful means, a hypothetical possibility, or just conventional parlance in refutation. Since Shentong has no foundation in India or Tibet before Dolpopa, Mikyo Dorje says that true Centrism would never reify such petty and misleading distinctions.

Brunnhölzl asserts that it is more efficacious to refer to the complementary schools from India with their different perspectives for balance. Madhyamaka (Centrism) is called the lineage of profound view, while Yogacara (Yoga Practice) is called the lineage of vast activity. “What is called Shentong is nothing other than the Yogacara system of Maitreya, Asanga, and Vasubandhu.” (p. 445) Because many in Nagarjuna’s time misinterpreted emptiness in a nihilistic way, Asanga’s lineage developed a comprehensive, sophisticated way of demonstrating emptiness more positively, using different methods. In the debate traditions of Tibet, according to Brunnhölzl, the Indian Yogacara tradition as a whole was neglected, and studied only in its Centrist refutations until Dolpopa.

In the fourteenth century, Dolpopa asserted that Yogacara was not mere mentalism (Chittamatra), which argued that the phenomenal world is nothing but a projection of a truly existent mind. Instead, “ultimate reality—Buddha nature or the nature of mind—is other-empty, that is, empty of adventitious stains but not empty of Buddha qualities.” (p. 503) This proclamation, designed to generate a re-examination of the Yogacara and Buddha Nature teachings, instead ignited a seismic reaction in Tibet, with sectarian and political backlash that saw Dolpopa and his Jonangpa school censored and banned. Since that time, the term Shentong and its associated views served as a kind of “corporate identity” unifying those who were opposed to Gelukpa political and religious power and doctrine. These complex events led to a kind of polemical environment that has pervaded Tibetan Buddhism until the present, in spite of attempts at non-sectarianism such as the nineteenth and twentieth century Rime movement. Brunnhölzl’s unbiased motivation comes through at the end of this presentation, when he expresses his wish that:

…one of the big opportunities in the spread of Buddhism to the West is that Western students of Buddhism, especially in its Tibetan form, now have the chance to take a fresh look at the original Indian and Tibetan sources and to reevaluate the various Indo-Tibetan controversies without immediately getting caught up in centuries-long entrenchments of sectarian politics. (pp. 504–5)

These perspectives on Madhyamaka make up the first three-fourths of his wonderful book. The last section, which stands quite alone, is Brunnhölzl’s translation of Pawo Rinpoche’s commentary on the monumental ninth chapter of Shantideva’s Bodhicaryavatara. The Second Pawo Rinpoche, Tsugla Trengwa (1504–1566), was a student of the Eighth Karmapa and teacher for the famous Mahamudra yogi, the Ninth Karmapa, Wangchuk Dorje. Pawo Rinpoche’s commentary reflects the perspectives of his guru.

Shantideva’s chapter is, of course, one of the most important in the Indian Consequentialist tradition of Centrism, as he summarily takes on all opponents in his eighth century Indian milieu. My primary disappointment with Brunnhölzl’s book has to do with the disconnection between the first and second parts. While his introduction to Mikyo Dorje’s work is helpful and comprehensive, and provides context for Pawo Rinpoche’s commentary, Shantideva is hardly mentioned in the first section. A more comprehensive integration of the role of Shantideva’s ninth chapter in the debates between Tsongkhapa and his critics would have been illuminating, as this text has been a basis of so much commentary in Tibetan Centrist traditions.

Brunnhölzl does summarize the unique features of Pawo Rinpoche’s commentary: the extensive quotes from the Indian sutras and commentaries on Shantideva; the references from the early Tibetan commentaries; the rigorously Consequentialist perspective, free of the peculiarities of Tsongkhapa. Pawo Rinpoche also does not hesitate to describe, in glimpses, the direct experience of the bodhisattva who realizes emptiness. “This is the ultimate seeing which is like the orb of the sun. When it becomes stable and increases in such a way, great compassion—which is like the light rays of the sun—will grow even more than before.” (p. 615) The blossoming of the bodhisattva begins—rather than ends—with realization of the center of the sunlit sky.

Altogether, Brunnhölzl’s book is like a delectable feast lain out for diners resigned to much more pallid fare—it is absolutely delicious. A book that presents a perspective on Tibetan Madhyamaka not dominated by Tsongkhapa’s interpretation has been sorely needed, and Brunnhölzl has been able to do so without sectarian baiting. He has also eloquently presented Madhyamaka as an essential view for meditative training, especially for Mahamudra. His abundant quotations of Indian sources and the Kagyu forefathers enrich his presentation immeasurably. His prose is clear and communicative, and his precise articulation of Madhyamaka perspective both in his introduction and his translation of Pawo Rinpoche’s commentary make this book a treasure. I will be using this book in my teaching, my practice and my contemplation for years to come.

Acharya Judith Simmer-Brown, Ph.D., is professor of Buddhist studies at Naropa University, and director of the Ngedon School of Higher Learning. She is author of Dakini’s Warm Breath: The Feminine Principle in Tibetan Buddhism, and a frequent contributor to Bodhi. © Judith Simmer-Brown.