Are the Four Noble Truths Really the First and Primary Teaching of the Historical Gautama Buddha?

One of the most interesting questions, at least among scholars, in all branches of Buddhism remains whether the historical founder and teacher known as Gautama existed. But a second, and probably, more ascertainable, question has to do with the nature of his teaching (i.e., when, where, and how it developed). This not only a classic line of inquiry among Western scholars of Buddhism, but Christianity and other world religions as well. Scholars routinely find that great teachings and teachers do not develop in a cultural vacuum, but within a cultural context. And it is not only the language of the time that tells the story of an ancient people used in a such a manner that is appropriate for a prescientific world, but it is also the appropriation of ideas that already exists in the culture that tends to make the teachings less “miraculous” in their rise as well. For example, while there are unique differences between the resurrection accounts of Jesus and Attis of the Greeks or Horus of the Egyptians, the idea of rising from the dead in a salvific form was not unknown to these two cultures that bumped up against one another, usually through some unremarkable form of cultural interaction like mercantilism.

It is popular among Western Buddhists to disarm Gautama’s teaching of its supernatural dimension to focus on the Dharma. While this is fine, the approach is certainly not historical, at least according to scholars of the Pali Canon, who work on the issue of the historical canon. The reason being is quite elementary. The Dhammacakkapavattana sutra, which contains the Dharma teaching, known synonymously as the Four Noble Truths, is thought to be a latter development, with other scholars suggesting the Truths are themselves a latter addition to the sutra. The teaching does not come to prominence nor is it recommended until the commentaries written about 1,000 years after the Buddha’s death. That is a thousand years of oral and ancestral transmission....a thousand years to play the game of telephone and eventually turn the message into something that may  have looked quite different from its original intent. Indeed, variations in the Theravada texts show that the  earliest readings of the Four Noble Truths were not thought to be keys to the liberation of the practitioner. Even the question of whether the teaching is original with Gautama is questioned, since various scholars see it as a syncretic appendage of Indus Valley philosophy and Jain theology. Others like Carol S. Anderson have questioned its compartmentalized nature. Are the Four Noble Truths really the Dharma or simply a part of a larger Dharma teaching? The latter tends to be the current trend in scholarship.

The question of the Buddha’s existence is not a new one in Western scholarship. Friedrich Nietzsche’s aphorism sums up the view that not even Buddhism is immune to immortalization: “After Buddha was dead, his shadow was still shown for centuries in a cave – a tremendous, gruesome shadow. God is dead; but given the way of men, there may still be caves for thousands of years in which his shadow will be shown.” Yet given that there is less resistance in Western Buddhism to withdraw from the historical nature of such a person called Gautama than in Christianity where resistance to the elimination of Jesus is much more unified among both believing and agnostic scholars, it is more than likely that the Buddha need not remain for the teaching to maintain its attractiveness.  Buddhism in the West has become its own experiment that allows for ample testing away from the harsh realities of dogmatic communities in the East that clutch at the reigns for control.

While it might not matter whether the Buddha existed as a historical figure and even the manner in which the insights of the four noble truths arise, if we are looking to keep one another honest, it may stand to reason that we are no longer dealing with “Buddhism” as in the “teaching of the enlightened One” but one teaching of 84,000 possible teachings attributed (though most likely impossibly) to the Buddha that gained prominence through the tradition.


Again, not even the transmission history needs to matter if we find what we want. This is precisely the critique leveled against Mahayana followers of Jodo Shinshu, namely that the recitation of the nembutsu is a periphery teaching of tertiary importance, and not a core teaching like the Four Noble Truths. But if the Four Noble Truths is not the primary teaching as we are led to imagine, but the one which through a transmission history rose to prominence, then the criticism against nembutsu practitioners who through Amida have already overcome the world through Tariki power, is also dubious.  This is why scholarship is an importance dimension of Buddhist study. The placement of the Four Noble Truths as the core around which all other teachings orbit is not settled. Using Occam’s Razor may very well end with cutting out the teaching we suppose is the core. And if the core has not been proven in its essential connection to Buddhism, then perhaps all a follower of the Four Noble Truths can declare is only the practicality with which it might be practiced. But what we cannot say is that it deserves more attention, veneration, or reflection than other components if one remains a Buddhist. 

However, all of this does matter, if, for the sake of historical accuracy, teachers who write on the subject of practical application and meditation continue to invoke the name of Buddha and articulate that the Four Noble Truths rise with Gautama’s earliest teaching all while claiming that talks about gods and divine beings were latter accretions that should be ignored as attempts by tribal sects to import their own unique presentation.  It may not matter the way it matters to Christians who are trying to secure textual inspiration but cannot tell us why God can inspire the text but not preserve it properly given the many variations of the texts that have existed through the Christian era. For those interested in Buddhism, whether Gautama existed or what was central to his teaching matters in a way that does not summon divine judgment. But it matters if we are interested in honesty. It matters if we are interested in the integrity of our own words and if we are going to be people of integrity. It matters because saying that it doesn't matter actually makes us just as dogmatic if we were to say it does matter! Such a statement is simply reverse engineered to the same effect.


We can certainly say "we don't know" in a way that maintains the integrity of our intellectual curiosity and practice. But we should not put ourselves in a position to suggest that ideas and material developments are two different creatures. We actually lock ourselves into a kind of Western materialistic dualism by doing so, where ideas just float "out there" but the only truth that we should take seriously are material truths, such as the medical dosage necessary to administer to a patient in the proper amount without taking his life. Those material realities with the force of science backing them should not be non-negotiables while our thought life is scattered to the winds of arbitrariness. Science always maintains room for modification and so should we. There is a measure of responsibility that the Buddha teaches that each one of us maintain over our thought life. It is actually a part of the Four Noble Truths and appears as a component of the Eightfold Path. And while I cannot recommend that it did or did not come first, or whether the one to whom we attribute its existence himself existed, it is ample reinforcement from the tradition that holds our attention.

Theology through the eye of Anthropic Reasoning – Can a Case be made for a Comparative Theology?

Finding comparative material as a scholar of comparative religious studies is a different task from finding comparative material as a theologian. To begin, the theologian is interested in a field that is scarcely viewed as anything more than hypothetical at best with regard to a system of belief or faith, all while working with ideas that because of their lineage are causally disconnected. Verses that crop up in ancient texts expounding the wide reach of some divine being are often subsumed under the  doctrinarian impulses of the tribe that prefer a more insular revelation. Those who study their faith do so under the superintendence of history and anthropology, where any deviation from the well- defined borders of what the tradition has come to regard as part of its heritage is jettisoned as rank supernaturalism, despite the supernaturalist expressions those traditions honor. Supernaturalism does not becomes a dragnet of God’s activity interdicting other religious revelations but a pencil-thin line traceable only through the texts and practices approved by those communities. A God whose dominion spans the world but is only known by those who actively engage this God in their own tradition is the farce of all supernaturalist claims primarily because such claims always lack universal footprints.

Books that are published that compare the statements of Muhammad or the Buddha with that of Jesus are done so tongue-in-cheek, as good-hearted experiments thanks to the pluralism of our day, but rarely with a meaningful goal in mind that might inspire a new approach to faith. Universalists, other than the Unitarian brand, are often looked at with caution, as those taking part in a non-sanctioned experiment, whose companionship is often tolerated.  

But when someone moves from one religion to another, he cannot help but bring with him a store of information and experience that at times appears to intersect with the new information and experience he obtains. These incidents make for curious encounters and oftentimes lend to an experience of the divine that defies well-defined boundaries. Recognizing for example the New Testament in the Tannisho, where certain verses run deeper than the broad overlay of general religious principles is always exciting for someone who takes the claim of a universal God interested in the universal welfare of all beings seriously. The cross-pollination of ideas is acceptable only insofar as the unspoken rule against proselytizing will not be secretly violated.  It is not the hope of the organizers of Vatican II or the Parliament of World Religions that one might walk out seeking a new religious approach, but indeed these opportunities do occur. We see those like Thomas Merton, Bede Griffiths, or Paul Knitter looking to the East for guidance, while we see those like D.T. Suzuki, Takeda Kiyoto, and Kitaro Nishida of the Kyoto School looking to the West. One will not find, however, existential communion with scholars who study religion as a cultural phenomenon or through a linguistic approach linked to creating a better understanding of the original textual interpretations in which events arise. In each of these approaches, religion in its most diagnostic form is not a living experience but a series of events that evolve or perish through objective causation.

Those interested in theology as a comparative activity will find it hard to express themselves where no objective causation is testable. At best, we can say human situations are not that different. People tend to experience many of the same problems, and complicated social structures do not entirely condemn those problems to variation. The same questions that stir action in one religion are not unknown to those in others: equal rights, monasticism vs. individualism, faith vs. works, all of these come from the same observable encounter with the world around us. Rather than diminish the supernatural origins of any religion by appealing to a kind of directed human evolution we share in common, could it be that what drives those essential similarities uncovers a core experience in the domain of human existence that could only propagate such questions? One is reminded of the old dilemma posed from the Anthropic Principle: is it because the world is observable that I see it, or do I see it because it is observable?

Could it be that a comparative theology is possible because the similarities experienced across religious borders are possible? Learning how we evolve socially and structurally as religious-minded people may best be learned through a genuine examination of the way religious ideas come into existence across unrelated spectrums rather than in spite of them, in the same world claimed by divine.  This represents a possible philosophical basis for a comparative theology that is not merely glimpsed as another cause for celebrating our shared humanity, but one that captures and equalizes it at a much deeper level.