Confession of a Buddhist Atheist [NOOK Book]

Overview

Does Buddhism require faith? Can an atheist or agnostic follow the Buddha’s teachings without believing in reincarnation or organized religion?
 
This is one man’s confession.

 
In his classic Buddhism Without Beliefs, Stephen Batchelor offered a profound, secular approach to the teachings of the Buddha that struck an emotional chord with Western readers. Now, ...
See more details below
Confession of a Buddhist Atheist

Available on NOOK devices and apps  
  • NOOK Devices
  • NOOK HD/HD+ Tablet
  • NOOK
  • NOOK Color
  • NOOK Tablet
  • Tablet/Phone
  • NOOK for Windows 8 Tablet
  • NOOK for iOS
  • NOOK for Android
  • NOOK Kids for iPad
  • PC/Mac
  • NOOK for Windows 8
  • NOOK for PC
  • NOOK for Mac
  • NOOK Study
  • NOOK for Web

Want a NOOK? Explore Now

NOOK Book (eBook)
$12.99
BN.com price

Overview

Does Buddhism require faith? Can an atheist or agnostic follow the Buddha’s teachings without believing in reincarnation or organized religion?
 
This is one man’s confession.

 
In his classic Buddhism Without Beliefs, Stephen Batchelor offered a profound, secular approach to the teachings of the Buddha that struck an emotional chord with Western readers. Now, with the same brilliance and boldness of thought, he paints a groundbreaking portrait of the historical Buddha—told from the author’s unique perspective as a former Buddhist monk and modern seeker. Drawing from the original Pali Canon, the seminal collection of Buddhist discourses compiled after the Buddha’s death by his followers, Batchelor shows us the Buddha as a flesh-and-blood man who looked at life in a radically new way. Batchelor also reveals the everyday challenges and doubts of his own devotional journey—from meeting the Dalai Lama in India, to training as a Zen monk in Korea, to finding his path as a lay teacher of Buddhism living in France. Both controversial and deeply personal, Stephen Batchelor’s refreshingly doctrine-free, life-informed account is essential reading for anyone interested in Buddhism.
Read More Show Less

Editorial Reviews

Publishers Weekly
Batchelor’s Buddhism Without Beliefs (1997) described a “secular” approach to the Eastern philosophy stripped of doctrines such as karma and rebirth; how a young British monk ordained in the Tibetan tradition turned into a “Buddhist atheist” is revealed in this new book. On the dharma trail in India and Korea, and later as a lay resident at the nonsectarian Sharpham community in England, Batchelor was beset by doubts about traditional Buddhist teachings. Finally convinced that present-day forms of Buddhism have moved far beyond what founder Gotama had intended, Batchelor embarked on a study of the Pali canon (very early Buddhist texts) to find out what the Buddha’s original message might have been. Batchelor’s own “story of conversion” is woven effortlessly with his analysis of Buddhist teachings and a 2003 pilgrimage to Indian sites important in the Buddha’s life. He is candid about his disillusionments with institutionalized Buddhism without engaging in another “new atheist” broadside against religion. While Batchelor may exaggerate the novelty of his “Buddhism without beliefs” stance, this multifaceted account of one Buddhist’s search for enlightenment is richly absorbing. (Mar. 2)
Kirkus Reviews
Religious scholar and former monk Batchelor (Living with the Devil: A Meditation on Good and Evil, 2004, etc.) chronicles his four-decade journey through varieties of Buddhism. The notion that a Buddhist can be an agnostic or atheist is not oxymoronic, of course. Buddhism requires no formal belief in a god or gods. It does, however, require other leaps of faith, including one that Batchelor admits to having had trouble grasping-namely, the acceptance of reincarnation, for "the entire edifice of traditional Buddhist thought stands or falls on the belief in rebirth." The author arrives at his discussion of reincarnation through a hard tour of duty in a highly intellectual school of Tibetan Buddhism that prizes the study of formal logic and debate, providing tools for a rationally based, constantly inquiring approach to religion. As the Buddha said, "Just as a goldsmith assays gold, by rubbing, cutting, and burning . . . so should you examine my words. Do not accept them just out of faith in me." Elsewhere Batchelor writes of his encounters with the Dalai Lama, who has been waging a quiet war against the Tibetan belief in evil spirits, but who has also long been engaged in schools of Tibetan Buddhist thought other than his own in a kind of ecumenical spirit. Batchelor provides smart commentary on various aspects of Buddhist belief of whatever school, including the well-known eightfold path guiding appropriate behavior, "a complex feedback loop that constantly needs to be renewed and restored." Seekers of truths large and small, no matter what their inclinations, will find that commentary valuable, especially the author's exhortation that belief is not enough-one also has to act and act inthe right way. A welcome contribution to Buddhist studies, joining essential modern books such as Rick Fields's How the Swans Came to the Lake (1980) and Robert Aitken's Taking the Path of Zen (1982). Tie-in with author's lecture schedule. Agent: Anne Edelstein/Anne Edelstein Literary Agency
From the Publisher
“A moving and thoughtful book that does not fear to challenge.”—The Guardian (U.K.)

“In this honest and serious book of self-examination and critical scrutiny, Stephen Batchelor adds the universe of Buddhism to the many fields in which received truth and blind faith are now giving way to ethical and scientific humanism, in which lies our only real hope.”—Christopher Hitchens
 
“[Batchelor] taps his committed thirty-eight-year personal Buddhist practice to inform the book’s sense of wisdom, clarity and insight. . . . An emotionally detailed and compelling account.”—The Huffington Post

Library Journal
Buddhism, at least in its more ascetic and scholarly forms, prescinds from the existence of God: whether or not you believe in God, you can become enlightened. Siddhartha Gautama, the Buddha, did not teach the existence of any kind of God. (Many Buddhists, however, do believe in a God or gods.) As Batchelor (Buddhism Without Beliefs), a former Buddhist monk, points out in his new memoir, central to the beliefs of Buddhists are doctrines of rebirth and of dharma (universal law of recompense for one's acts). These doctrines define Buddhism as a religion. Batchelor is a highly regarded scholar and writer on Buddhism who has extensively studied the Pãli Canon, which gives an authoritative account of Gautama's teachings; he finds to his surprise that Gautama did not teach rebirth or dharma and that consequently he did not teach that there was any final justice in the universe. VERDICT This carefully researched and thorough title may not be suitable for a casual reader seeking a basic introduction to Buddhism, but it is well worth the effort; recommended especially for academic libraries.—James F. DeRoche, Alexandria, VA
Read More Show Less

Product Details

  • ISBN-13: 9781588369840
  • Publisher: Random House Publishing Group
  • Publication date: 3/2/2010
  • Sold by: Random House
  • Format: eBook
  • Sales rank: 210,372
  • File size: 3 MB

Meet the Author

Stephen Batchelor is a former monk in the Tibetan and Zen traditions and the author of books including Alone with Others, The Faith to Doubt, The Awakening of the West, Buddhism Without Beliefs, and Living with the Devil. He lives with his wife, Martine, in southwestern France and lectures and conducts meditation retreats throughout the world.

From the Hardcover edition.

Read More Show Less

Read an Excerpt

Chapter One

 A BUDDHIST FAILURE    

(I)   MARCH 10, 1973. I remember the date because it marked the fourteenth anniversary of the Tibetan uprising in Lhasa in 1959, which triggered the flight of the Dalai Lama into the exile from which he has yet to return. I was studying Buddhism in Dharamsala,the Tibetan capital in exile, a former British hill-station in the Himalayas. The sky that morning was dark, damp, and foreboding. Earlier, the clouds had unleashed hailstones the size of miniature golf balls that now lay fused in white clusters along the roadsidethat led from the village of McLeod Ganj down to the Library of Tibetan Works and Archives, where the anniversary was to be commemorated.

   A white canvas awning, straining and flapping in the wind, was strung in front of the Library. Beneath it sat a huddle of senior monks in burgundy robes, aristocrats in long gray chubas, and the Indian superintendent of police from Kotwali Bazaar. I joineda crowd gathered on a large terrace below and waited for the proceedings to begin. The Dalai Lama, a spry, shaven-headed man of thirty-eight, strode onto an impromptu stage. The audience spontaneously prostrated itself as one onto the muddy ground. He reada speech, which was barely audible above the wind, delivered in rapid-fire Tibetan, a language I did not yet understand, at a velocity I would never master. Every now and then a drop of rain would descend from the lowering sky.  

I was distracted from my thoughts about the plight of Tibet by the harsh shriek of what sounded like a trumpet. Perched on a ledge on the steep hillside beside the Library, next to a smoking fire, stood a bespectacled lama, legs akimbo, blowing into athighbone and ringing a bell. His disheveled hair was tied in a topknot. A white robe, trimmed in red, was slung carelessly across his left shoulder. When he wasn't blowing his horn, he would mutter what seemed like imprecations at the grumbling clouds, hisright hand extended in the threatening mudra, a ritual gesture used to ward off danger. From time to time he would put down his thighbone and fling an arc of mustard seeds against the ominous mists.  

Then there was an almighty crash. Rain hammered down on the corrugated iron roofs of the residential buildings on the far side of the Library, obliterating the Dalai Lama's words. This noise went on for several minutes. The lama on the hillside stampedhis feet, blew his thighbone, and rang his bell with increased urgency. The heavy drops of rain that had started falling on the dignitaries and the crowd abruptly stopped.   After the Dalai Lama left and the crowd dispersed, I joined a small group of fellow Injis. In reverential tones, we discussed how the lama on the hill--whose name was Yeshe Dorje--had prevented the storm from soaking us. I heard myself say: "And you couldhear the rain still falling all around us: over there by the Library and on those government buildings behind as well." The others nodded and smiled in awed agreement.  

Even as I was speaking, I knew I was not telling the truth. I had heard no rain on the roofs behind me. Not a drop. Yet to be convinced that the lama had prevented the rain with his ritual and spells, I had to believe that he had created a magical umbrellato shield the crowd from the storm. Otherwise, what had happened would not have been that remarkable. Who has not witnessed rain falling a short distance away from where one is standing on dry ground? Perhaps it was nothing more than a brief mountain showeron the nearby hillside. None of us would have dared to admit this possibility. That would have brought us perilously close to questioning the lama's prowess and, by implication, the whole elaborate belief system of Tibetan Buddhism.  

For several years, I continued to peddle this lie. It was my favorite (and only) example of my firsthand experience of the supernatural powers of Tibetan lamas. But, strangely, whenever I told it, it didn't feel like a lie. I had taken the lay Buddhistprecepts and would soon take monastic vows. I took the moral injunction against lying very seriously. In other circumstances, I would scrupulously, even neurotically, avoid telling the slightest falsehood. Yet, somehow, this one did not count. At times, I triedto persuade myself that perhaps it was true: the rain had fallen behind me, but I had not noticed. The others--albeit at my prompting--had confirmed what I said. But such logical gymnastics failed to convince me for very long.  

I suspect my lie did not feel like a lie because it served to affirm what I believed to be a greater truth. My words were a heartfelt and spontaneous utterance of our passionately shared convictions. In a weirdly unnerving way, I did not feel that "I"had said them. It was as though something far larger than all of us had caused them to issue from my lips. Moreover, the greater truth, in whose service my lie was employed, was imparted to us by men of unimpeachable moral and intellectual character. Thesekind, learned, enlightened monks would not deceive us. They repeatedly said to accept what they taught only after testing it as carefully as a goldsmith would assay a piece of gold. Since they themselves must have subjected these teachings to that kind of rigorousscrutiny during their years of study and meditation, then surely they were not speaking out of blind conviction, but from their own direct knowledge and experience? Ergo: Yeshe Dorje stopped the rain with his thighbone, bell, mustard seeds, and incantations.  

The next morning, someone asked the teacher at the Library, Geshe Dhargyey, to say something about the practices involved in controlling the weather. Geshe-la (as we called him) belonged to the scholarly Geluk school, in which the Dalai Lama had been trained.Not only did he possess an encyclopedic knowledge of Geluk orthodoxy, he radiated a joyous well-being that bubbled forth in mirthful chuckles. The question seemed to disturb him. He frowned, then said in a disapproving voice: "That was not good. No compassion.It hurts the devas." The devas in question belonged to a minor class of gods who manage the weather. To zap them with mantras, mudras, and mustard seeds were acts of violence. As an advocate of universal compassion, this was not something Geshe-la was preparedto condone. I was surprised by his willingness to criticize Yeshe Dorje, a lama from the Nyingma (Ancient) school of Tibetan Buddhism. And why, I wondered, would the Dalai Lama--the living embodiment of compassion--tolerate the performance of a ritual if itinjured devas? 

  Tibetan lamas held a view of the world that was deeply at odds with the one in which I had been raised. Educated in the monasteries of old Tibet, they were ignorant of the findings of the natural sciences. They knew nothing of the modern disciplines ofcosmology, physics, or biology. Nor did they have any knowledge of the literary, philosophical, and religious traditions that flourished outside their homeland. For them, all that human beings needed to know had been worked out centuries before by the Buddhaand his followers and was preserved in the Kangyur and Tengyur (the Tibetan Buddhist canon). There you would learn that the earth was a triangular continent in a vast ocean dominated by the mighty Mount Sumeru, around which the sun, moon, and planets revolved.Driven by the force of good and bad deeds committed over beginningless former lifetimes, beings were repeatedly reborn as gods, titans, humans, animals, ghosts, and denizens of hell until they had the good fortune to encounter and put into practice the Buddha'steaching, which would enable them to escape the cycle of rebirth forever. Moreover, as followers of the Mahayana (Great Vehicle), Tibetan Buddhists vowed to keep taking birth out of compassion for all sentient beings until every last one of them was freed.Of the world's religions, they believed that Buddhism alone was capable of bringing suffering to an end. And of the various kinds of Buddhism, the most effective, rapid, and complete of them all was the form of the religion as preserved in Tibet. 

  I believed all this. Or, more accurately: I wanted to believe all this. Never before had I encountered a truth I was willing to lie for. Yet, as I see it now, my lie did not spring from conviction but from a lack of conviction. It was prompted by my cravingto believe. Unlike some of my contemporaries, whom I envied, I would never achieve unwavering faith in the traditional Buddhist view of the world. Nor would I ever succeed in replacing my own judgments with uncritical surrender to the authority of a "root"lama, which was indispensable for the practice of the highest tantras, the only way, so it was claimed, to achieve complete enlightenment in this lifetime. No matter how hard I tried to ignore it or rationalize it away, my insincerity kept nagging at me ina dark, closed recess of my mind. By the lights of my Tibetan teachers, I was a Buddhist failure.        

Chapter Two

ON THE ROAD    

FROM THE MONK'S cell, hewn out of the sandstone cliff centuries earlier, where I spent my days idly smoking a potent blend of marijuana, hashish, and tobacco, a narrow passage led to a dark inner staircase that I would illuminate by striking matches. Thesteep rock steps climbed to an opening that brought me out, via a narrow ledge, onto the smooth dome of the giant Buddha's head, which fell away dizzily on all sides to the ground one hundred and eighty feet below. On the ceiling of the niche above were fadedfragments of painted Buddhas and bodhisattvas. I feared looking up at them for too long lest I lose my balance, slip, and plummet earthward. As my eyes became used to the fierce sunlight, I would gaze out onto the fertile valley of Bamiyan, a patchwork of fieldsinterspersed with low, flat-roofed farmhouses, which lay stretched before me. It was the summer of 1972. This was my first encounter with the remains of a Buddhist civilization, one that had ended with Mahmud of Ghazni's conquest of Afghanistan in the eleventhcentury.   Like others on the hippie trail to India, I thought of myself as a traveler rather than a mere tourist, someone on an indeterminate quest rather than a journey with a prescribed beginning and end. Had I been asked what I was seeking, I doubt my answerwould have been very coherent. I had no destination, either of the geographical or spiritual kind. I was simply "on the road," in that anarchic and ecstatic sense celebrated by Jack Kerouac, Allen Ginsberg, and other role models I revered at the time. 

  I enjoyed nothing more than simply being on the way to somewhere else. I was quite content to peer for hours through the grimy, grease-smeared windows of a rattling bus with cooped chickens in the aisle, observing farmers bent over as they toiled in fields,women carrying babies on their backs, barefoot children playing in the dust, old men seated in the shade smoking hookahs, and all the shabby little towns and villages at which we stopped for sweet tea and unleavened bread. Yet as soon as we entered the telltalesuburban sprawl of the city of our destination, my stomach would contract and I would feel anxious and restless again. I did not want to stop. My craving to keep moving was like an addiction.    

My first memory is that of sitting on my mother's lap, nestled in the folds of her fur coat while peering through an airplane window at the miniature houses and cars of Toronto. I was three years old. My parents had emigrated from Scotland to Canada in1957 in an attempt to save their marriage. They separated a year later and I returned to England with my mother and younger brother, David, where we grew up in Watford, a charmless suburb on the outer rim of London. My mother did not remarry and raised my brotherand me alone. I had no further contact with my father.   We were initially supported by my mother's father, Alfred Craske, a businessman who had a photoengraving firm in Covent Garden. Alfred had rejected the God-fearing atmosphere of his childhood and considered all religion humbug, while his wife, Mabel--mygrandmother--was the demure daughter of the local Wesleyan minister. My mother adopted her father's views on religion and considered herself a humanist. Emotionally she remained close to her mother and her mother's sister Sophie, a nurse who had served in theDardanelles and Flanders, never married, and faithfully attended chapel. In the background hovered the enigmatic shadow of Alfred's younger brother Leonard, who had renounced a promising medical career and a young wife to pursue his passion for theater andsculpture in the United States. The Craskes had nothing further to do with him. A weathered bronze statue of a dancing nymph called "Joy" in our back garden was the only evidence of Leonard's existence.  

As a child I did not attend church. I was exempted from "Scripture" classes at the schools I attended, so I did not receive the basic instruction in Christianity that was part of the British educational curriculum. When I was eight or nine, I rememberbeing struck by a BBC radio program that mentioned how Buddhist monks avoided walking on the grass in order not to kill any insects. I have often wondered whether this first positive impression of Buddhist monks played a role in my later adopting Buddhism,or whether I chose to remember it because in retrospect it helped me rationalize the unconventional decision I made to become a Buddhist monk myself.  

From an early age I was troubled by how rarely I experienced genuine contentment. I was conscious of how niggling worries were constantly present either in the center or at the periphery of my self-awareness. I remember lying awake at night trying to stopthe incessant outpouring of anxious thoughts. I was perplexed by the failure of teachers at school to address what seemed the most urgent matter of all: the bewildering, stomach-churning insecurity of being alive. The standard subjects of history, geography,mathematics, and English seemed perversely designed to ignore the questions that really mattered. As soon as I had some inkling of what "philosophy" meant, I was puzzled as to why we were not taught it. And my skepticism about religion only grew as I failedto see what the vicars and priests I encountered gained from their faith. They struck me either as insincere, pious, and aloof or just bumblingly good-natured.  

From the Hardcover edition.

Read More Show Less

Table of Contents

Pt. 1 Monk

1 A Buddhist Failure (I) 3

2 On the Road 8

3 The Seminarian 19

4 Eel Wriggling 32

5 Being-in-the-World 45

6 Great Doubt 60

Pt. 2 Layman

7 A Buddhist Failure (II) 81

8 Siddhattha Gotama 97

9 The North Road 111

10 Against the Stream 125

11 Clearing the Path 136

12 Embrace Suffering 150

13 In Jeta's Grove 163

14 An Ironic Atheist 174

15 Vidudabha's Revenge 184

16 Gods and Demons 195

17 Tread the Path with Care 212

18 A Secular Buddhist 225

Appendix I The Pali Canon 241

Appendix II Was Siddhattha Gotama at Taxila? 245

Appendix III Turning the Wheel of Dhamma 253

Appendix IV Map: The Buddha's India 255

Notes 259

Glossary 275

Bibliography 281

Acknowledgments 287

Index 289

Read More Show Less

Customer Reviews

Average Rating 4
( 26 )
Rating Distribution

5 Star

(9)

4 Star

(12)

3 Star

(2)

2 Star

(2)

1 Star

(1)

Your Rating:

Your Name: Create a Pen Name or

Barnes & Noble.com Review Rules

Our reader reviews allow you to share your comments on titles you liked, or didn't, with others. By submitting an online review, you are representing to Barnes & Noble.com that all information contained in your review is original and accurate in all respects, and that the submission of such content by you and the posting of such content by Barnes & Noble.com does not and will not violate the rights of any third party. Please follow the rules below to help ensure that your review can be posted.

Reviews by Our Customers Under the Age of 13

We highly value and respect everyone's opinion concerning the titles we offer. However, we cannot allow persons under the age of 13 to have accounts at BN.com or to post customer reviews. Please see our Terms of Use for more details.

What to exclude from your review:

Please do not write about reviews, commentary, or information posted on the product page. If you see any errors in the information on the product page, please send us an email.

Reviews should not contain any of the following:

  • - HTML tags, profanity, obscenities, vulgarities, or comments that defame anyone
  • - Time-sensitive information such as tour dates, signings, lectures, etc.
  • - Single-word reviews. Other people will read your review to discover why you liked or didn't like the title. Be descriptive.
  • - Comments focusing on the author or that may ruin the ending for others
  • - Phone numbers, addresses, URLs
  • - Pricing and availability information or alternative ordering information
  • - Advertisements or commercial solicitation

Reminder:

  • - By submitting a review, you grant to Barnes & Noble.com and its sublicensees the royalty-free, perpetual, irrevocable right and license to use the review in accordance with the Barnes & Noble.com Terms of Use.
  • - Barnes & Noble.com reserves the right not to post any review -- particularly those that do not follow the terms and conditions of these Rules. Barnes & Noble.com also reserves the right to remove any review at any time without notice.
  • - See Terms of Use for other conditions and disclaimers.
Search for Products You'd Like to Recommend

Recommend other products that relate to your review. Just search for them below and share!

Create a Pen Name

Your Pen Name is your unique identity on BN.com. It will appear on the reviews you write and other website activities. Your Pen Name cannot be edited, changed or deleted once submitted.

 
Your Pen Name can be any combination of alphanumeric characters (plus - and _), and must be at least two characters long.

Continue Anonymously
See All Sort by: Showing 1 – 20 of 26 Customer Reviews
  • Anonymous

    Posted January 11, 2013

    A great memoir and historical biography

    Batchelor's memoir is the story of his search for personal authenticity within Buddhism. As he grew in his practice, he found little tolerance within the traditional doctrine for his spiritual skepticism, so he charted his own path to research the life and teachings of the historical Buddha. The story of this Buddha--a flawed man living in a time of political intrigue--is far more powerful and complex than the traditional religious fairy tale that we all know. As a seeker and a skeptic, I admire Batchelor's courage to publicly reject what he does not find truthful, while still respecting the people that have moved Buddhism through history. I wholeheartedly recommend this book, and look forward to reading it again as my own experience deepens.

    1 out of 1 people found this review helpful.

    Was this review helpful? Yes  No   Report this review
  • Anonymous

    Posted April 8, 2014

    I am a high school sophomore and I read this book for my researc

    I am a high school sophomore and I read this book for my research project. This was a very interesting book about the authors’ struggles to stay faithful with the philosophy Buddhism. Even thought this book has very big words that are sometimes hard to comprehend, but it is still an exquisite book about Buddhism and the Pali Canon version of Siddhartha Gautama’s life. This book helped my learn things about Buddhism that I have not yet known, and I realized that its hard to stay faithful. Also in the book I got to read about the Dalai Lama and how he connects with the different kinds of Buddhist groups and how he helps them answer their questions even though their questions were very limited because the teachers did not want to disrupt the Lama. Even though I did not learn much about Siddhartha Gautama, he still creates this imagines on what the Buddha went through on his journey to find enlightenment and Nirvana and how he lived his life before that. Also on how we can live in according to Siddhartha Gautama and what his words mean in the Pali Canon. Also I read that not all Buddhist stick through the concepts, rules, and traditions of Buddhism, for example in Stephen’s book the Korean monks go to war and kill others when the Buddha teaches that you cannot kill other or harm other. This breaks the Buddha’s non-violence code. At the end this was an excellent book to read if you want to know about Siddhartha Gautama and if you are a beginner in learning about Buddhism. 

    Was this review helpful? Yes  No   Report this review
  • Anonymous

    Posted April 8, 2014

    I am a high school sophomore and I read this book for my researc

    I am a high school sophomore and I read this book for my research project. This was a very interesting book about the authors’ struggles to stay faithful with the philosophy Buddhism. Even thought this book has very big words that are sometimes hard to comprehend, but it is still an exquisite book about Buddhism and the Pali Canon version of Siddhartha Gautama’s life. This book helped my learn things about Buddhism that I have not yet known, and I realized that its hard to stay faithful. He also mentions the Dalai Lama answering questions for the different Buddhist groups even though their questions are limited. Even if I had not learned much about the Buddha Gautama, Batchelor still explains his journey to find enlightenment in a different perspective. At the end this was an excellent book to read if you want to know about Siddhartha Gautama and if you are a beginner in learning and practicing Buddhism. 

    Was this review helpful? Yes  No   Report this review
  • Anonymous

    Posted March 17, 2010

    No text was provided for this review.

  • Anonymous

    Posted March 11, 2011

    No text was provided for this review.

  • Anonymous

    Posted October 1, 2010

    No text was provided for this review.

  • Anonymous

    Posted January 28, 2012

    No text was provided for this review.

  • Anonymous

    Posted July 12, 2010

    No text was provided for this review.

  • Anonymous

    Posted August 2, 2011

    No text was provided for this review.

  • Anonymous

    Posted April 28, 2011

    No text was provided for this review.

  • Anonymous

    Posted July 20, 2010

    No text was provided for this review.

  • Anonymous

    Posted August 19, 2011

    No text was provided for this review.

  • Anonymous

    Posted August 5, 2011

    No text was provided for this review.

  • Anonymous

    Posted April 29, 2010

    No text was provided for this review.

  • Anonymous

    Posted May 15, 2010

    No text was provided for this review.

  • Anonymous

    Posted December 1, 2010

    No text was provided for this review.

  • Anonymous

    Posted August 7, 2010

    No text was provided for this review.

  • Anonymous

    Posted May 16, 2011

    No text was provided for this review.

  • Anonymous

    Posted November 2, 2011

    No text was provided for this review.

  • Anonymous

    Posted January 6, 2014

    No text was provided for this review.

See All Sort by: Showing 1 – 20 of 26 Customer Reviews

If you find inappropriate content, please report it to Barnes & Noble
Why is this product inappropriate?
Comments (optional)