Mahayana vs. Theravada: a Multiform Comparison

By John Haas

Significant differences abound between the two principal schools of modern Buddhism, Mahayana and Theravada. Among the many distinctions that exist, a few could be considered especially integral to an understanding of how these mutually exclusive divisions contrast with each other. Before treating these specific dissimilarities, however, it must be established that the one, fundamental divergence between the sects, which could possibly be understood as resulting in the following earmarks that make both brands unique unto the other, is that Mahayana practice stresses an inclusiveness that stands antithetically to Theravada’s doctrinal preservation. Where the former sort’s adaptability has both attracted new practitioners and altered itself to complement modernity, the latter’s staunch resistance to change has allowed it to remain an uncompromised vessel of original Buddhist thought, battered by, yet having weathered well, two millennia’s worth of transformation.

Building upon this thesis, one of the most overt examples of Mahayanistic lability, or revisionism from a more critical perspective, has been its adoption of the Bodhisattva ideal in outlining the preferable path for an enlightened individual to take. The sacrificial model of the Bodhisattva coexists well with western perceptions of what qualities a superior being should possess—Christ-like compassion and selflessness. Even though little emphasis was placed on any dutiful forbearance of Nirvana in the first teachings of Buddhism, this heroic concept, resounding well with newer followers, has become mainstay in Mahayana tradition. Thus, where Mahayana Buddhists preach a magnanimous rejection of personal salvation as being their terminal goal, this lofty effort is reserved for only the most capable in the Theravada discipline. It could therefore be concluded that Mahayana customs have been carved largely from what the religion has needed to attract adherents at any given time in the past.

Buttressing the offered argument further is the classic incongruity between Mahayana and Theravada perspectives on the Buddha-nature, or innate human potential for enlightenment. For the theologians in the former camp, humanity is endowed with an unquestionable capability to achieve an escape from the cycle of rebirth. This positive outlook is usually better understood when juxtaposed with the somewhat less savory, Theravada philosophy that humanity is a hurdle to be overcome when striving for said egress. Summarily, the Mahayana “Buddha-nature of humanity” is at odds with the Theravada “human nature of the Buddha” because for one, humanity is conducive to freedom, whereas for the other, it is deleterious. Ergo, a Buddha-nature rosily present even in the absence of self-actualization, the idea to which Mahayanas subscribe, is an alluring, cosmopolitan philosophy that has a much more promising capacity to draw converts than the fire-and-brimstone, Theravada proscription of the human condition. It should be no surprise that the optimistic and welcoming Mahayana interpretation is subject to much objection among Theravadas, who feel that the truth is being exchanged for larger numbers.

Although additional differences don’t sunder the two factions to the extent of the ones hitherto described, there are still several other wedges that noticeably segregate Mahayanas and Theravadas into discrete blocs. One of these minor-but-nonetheless-noteworthy distinctions is the role of the sangha, or spiritual community, in the practice of the faith. Theravadas, for whom the concept of “be[ing] a lamp unto [one]self” holds heightened meaning, generally regard the sangha as being a practical, but not necessarily useful, instrument in garnering religious fulfillment. That is to say, a monastic collective may be an economically sound setting in which to work toward enlightenment, but the presence of others in such an environment has no bearing on the actual acquisition thereof. This runs counter to the import Mahayanas often place upon their congregations, whose function it is to provide individual members encouragement and mutual support throughout the course of their spiritual journeys. It could be again observed that the Mahayanistic high status afforded the sangha caters to western and Confucian tastes, as the religions of the former are often observed in gatherings, and the collectivism of the latter would not prove conflictive. Syncretism once more seems a priority for Mahayanas and a fate to be avoided by Theravadas.

Expanding the list of disparities secondary to, but not paltry in regards, the first two cleavages presented is the cross-school inconsistency over the issue of how soon upon exposure to the dharma one must wait until enlightenment is achievable. While the Theravadas have chosen to accept the canonically orthodox response of “eons,” which they, as many fundamentalists, would suggest connotes at least several lifetimes, it is typical of the Mahayana school to either adopt “eons” to metaphorically describe a long period of time during one’s current life, or to discard it altogether by pronouncing that it’s immediately attainable. (Of course, the concept of previous allusion, “sudden” enlightenment, is a belief exclusive entirely to Zen, and thus should not be considered representative of the Mahayana tradition.) With such a range of possibilities, it should come as no surprise to the onlooker that every variety of seeker has a corresponding Buddhist discipline, and that the fast-pace modus vivendi of westerners may be best accommodated by Mahayana practice. The instant gratification that the modern age has made possible, and that its inhabitants have grown to expect, may account for much of the popularity of Mahayana, and especially Zen Buddhism, in the developed world. Therefore, the malleability of Buddhism under the Mahayana banner again seems to have opened the faith up to neophytes, although perhaps at the cost of undermining its own message.

Finally, it would appear as though the spirit of liberal concession Mahayana authorities bring to formulating canon—construing broadly imprecise terminology and emphasizing choicer elements—exists analogously in the political realm, “liberal” policies often accepted by the religious establishment. Although both Theravada and Mahayana sects often identify moreso with the American left than other creeds, the divisive issue of abortion has split these two vessels of the dharma just as it has the American public. This single matter of debate is an exemplar of how both, even when considered highly correlative in regards political perspective, may still diverge dramatically along an orthodox-reformist divide. With the Theravada fold refusing to recognize a woman’s right to choose under any circumstances, and Mahayana’s approach being a more modified and mollified position, recognizing a right to life, but offering extenuations, it becomes apparent which variety promulgates a value system that corresponds more closely with that of the populace of the modern era. Hence, the Mahayana mindset departs from traditionalism again to promote fellowship, which sensitivity to public opinion will undoubtedly propagate.

The preceding examples have been offered to reinforce the postulation that, while a wide variety of disagreements exists between the two most prominent vehicles of Buddhistic transmission, their origins lie in one, reduced difference of opinion—whether or not a changing of the guard and a resultant boost in numbers is preferable to a conservation of tradition capable of alienating newcomers.

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