A Hell/Heaven of Our Own — Alma and the Tibetan Book of the Dead
By: Nathan Smith
Tags: Mormon, Tibetan Book Of The Dead, Book Of Mormon, Buddhism, Afterlife

Centuries old Zhi-Khro mandala, a part of the Bardo Thodol’s collection, a text known in the West as The Tibetan Book of the Dead, which comprises part of a group of bardo teachings held in the Nyingma (Tibetan tradition) originated with guru Padmasambhava in the 8th Century. Borrowed from Wikipedia.

“In the Tibetan Book of the Dead [or The Bardos], when the instructions are given as to what happens when someone leaves their body after death, it says something like, ‘When the clear light of the void comes, it is followed by the vision of the blissful Bodhisattvas; then comes the vision of the wrathful Bodhisattvas,’ and so on. And then it says, ‘Realize, oh nobly born, that all this is but the outpouring of your own mind.” — Alan Watts, What is Zen? (New World Library, 2000), 23 “I say unto you, can you imagine to yourselves that ye hear the voice of the Lord, saying unto you, in that day, ‘Come unto me ye blessed, for behold, your works have been the works of righteousness upon the face of the earth?’ Or do ye imagine to yourselves that ye can lie unto the Lord in that day, and say, ‘Lord, our works have been righteous works upon the face of the earth,’ and that he will save you? Or otherwise, can ye imagine yourselves brought before the tribunal of God with your souls filled with guilt and remorse, having a remembrance of all your guilt, yea, a perfect remembrance of all your wickedness, yea, a remembrance that ye have set at defiance the commandments of God? “I say unto you, can ye look up to God at that day with a pure heart and clean hands? I say unto you, can you look up, having the image of God engraven upon your countenances? I say unto you, can ye think of being saved when you have yielded yourselves to become subjects to the devil? “I say unto you, ye will know at that day that ye cannot be saved; for there can no man be saved except his garments are washed white; yea, his garments must be purified until they are cleansed from all stain, through the blood of him of whom it has been spoken by our fathers, who should come to redeem his people from their sins. … “These are they that are redeemed of the Lord; yea, these are they that are taken out, that are delivered from that endless night of darkness. And thus they stand or fall; for behold, they are their own judges, whether to do good or do evil.” — Alma 5:16–21, 41:7; borrowed from Grant Hardy, The Book of Mormon: A Reader’s Edition (University of Illinois Press, 2005), 261, 367

I believe these two ideas, those of the Tibetan Book of the Dead (as described by Alan Watts) and those of Alma the Younger in the Book of Mormon, are quite similar. Something about the approach of death, and even passing through it, brings something like judgment, we could say.

Both the Book of Alma and the Tibetan Book of the Dead agree, however, that this is not the judgment of external deities, though we surely experience it that way initially. Instead, we come to find that, whether punishment or reward, these do not come flying at us from some externality, but erupt from within us. Even in the afterlife, as in this life, our lives are not the result of an external authority’s judgment, but of our own inner state of being. This should entirely change how we read Alma’s teaching, that one must have their “garments purified” of that which condemns us from within, not without. The Book of Mormon has a long lineage of malefactors, like Nehor, who taught that God will save all without judgment. But this view misses the point: it’s not that God is unwilling to save all, but that God does not save anymore than condemn. God instead opens our eyes to those portions of ourselves which we seek to hide from others, including ourselves; those truths about ourselves which we desperately wish were not true. Nehor missed the point, but so do those who glory in self-condemnation, the unfortunate people who meet themselves with disgust, contempt, shame.

God is not the judge in any conventional sense, but the Christ, who looks upon even the darkest corners of our hearts, not with a runaway or renegade justice of retribution (that was our gig), but with unconditional mercy. We are the ones who cannot accept ourselves or others, not God, not Christ. Christ is the one who looks at the darkest reaches of the soul, that which one would wish wholeheartedly to hide away, and says, “I love you.” It’s in this vein that the Book of Mormon calls its reader to take upon themselves the name of Christ, to awaken the same pure love of Christ within, for themselves and others. Our problem is not that God is mad and we have to win him over; it’s that the root of our suffering is that we can’t accept ourselves or others as is. Our problem is not that we have to win over or woo someone else, or even ourselves, but that we keep desperately telling ourselves we must because we and others are not enough in ourselves. Always trying to be someone else or get somewhere else, we’re never who or where we are.

We all die, and, in a manner of speaking, we’re all going to the same place. In this life, we can be in the same room doing the same thing, but one of us is experiencing joy and the other their own private hell — a subtlety which follows us beyond death. A Zen koan says this:

“A soldier named Nobushige came to Hakuin, and asked: “Is there really a paradise and a hell?” “Who are you?” inquired Hakuin. “I am a samurai,” the warrior replied. “You, a soldier!” exclaimed Hakuin. “What kind of ruler would have you as his guard? Your face looks like that of a beggar.” Nobushige became so angry that he began to draw his sword, but Hakuin continued: “So you have a sword! Your weapon is probably much too dull to cut off my head.” As Nobushige drew his sword Hakuin remarked: “Here open the gates of hell!” At these words the samurai, perceiving the master’s discipline, sheathed his sword and bowed. “Here open the gates of paradise,” said Hakuin. — 122 Zen Koans: Find Enlightenment, ed. Taka Washi (2013), section 57

We are not punished for sin or rewarded for virtue, but punished by sin and rewarded by virtue. God cannot give that any more than life will — we create our own hells and heavens.