BUDDHIST STUDIES EDITOR-IN-CHIEF A. K. Narain University oj Wisconsin, Madison, USA L. M. Joshi Punjabi University Patiala, India Alexander W. Macdonald Universite de Paris X Nanterre, France Bardwell Smith Carleton College Northfield, Minnesota, USA Volume 4 EDITORS 1981 Ernst Steinkellner University of Vienna Wien, Austria jikido Takasaki University oj Tokyo Tokyo, japan Robert Thurman Amherst College Amherst, Massachusetts, USA Number 2 THE JOURNAL OF THE INTERNATIONAL ASSOCIATION OF BUDDHIST STUDIES, INC. ThisJournal is the organ of the International Association of Buddhist Studies, Inc., and is governed by the objectives of the Association and accepts scholarly contributions pertaining to Buddhist Studies in alI the various disciplines such as philosophy, history, religion, sociology, anthropology, art, archaeology, psychology, textual studies, etc. The JIABS is published twice yearly in the Spring and Fall. The Association and the Editors assume no responsibility for the views expressed by the authors in the Association's Journal and other related publications. Manuscripts for publication and correspondence concerning articles should be submitted to A. K. Narain, Editor-in-Chief,JIABS, Department of South Asian Studies, University of Wisconsin, Madison, Wisconsin 53706, U.S.A. The Editor-in-Chief is responsible for the final content of the Journal and reserves the right to reject any material deemed inappropriate for publication and is not obliged to give reasons therefor. Books for review should be sent to the Editor-in-Chief. The Editors cannot guarantee to publish reviews of unsolicited books nor to return those books to the senders. EDITORIAL ADVISORY BOARD Andre Bareau (France) JosephM. Kitagawa (USA) John Brough (U.K.) Jacques May (Switzerland) M.N. Deshpande (India) Hajime Nakamura (Japan) R. Card (USA) John Rosenfield (USA) B.C. Cokhale (USA) Bardwell L. Smith (USA) P.S.Jaini (USA) David Snellgrove (U.K.) J. W. de Jong (Australia) E. Zurcher (Netherlands) A NOTE TO lABS MEMBERS Because of the high cost of postage, issues of the Joumal are sent to OUr members via book rate, which means that the J ou';"'al often takes one to two weeks to reach its destination if it is going anywhere in the USA or Canada longer if it is going to Europe or East Asia, and as long as three months if it i ~ going to South Asia or South America. In addition, when items such as the Journal are sent via book rate, if the addressee is no longer at the address listed on the envelope, the Journal mayor may not be returned to us. We have no way of knowing exactly which members are still at the addresses we have, since just as often as a Journal is returned to us marked "Return to sender," often it is not returned. Mail sent via book rate is not forwarded, even if the addressee has left his or her post office with a forwarding address. Please be' sure to keep our office posted whenever you move, or make arrangements to have someone forward your mail for you. The following names are members whose mail, whether first class or book rate, has been returned to us, and we would please ask our general membership to help us locate them. If you have any information as to their whereabouts, please drop us a note: Professor George R. Elder, formerly New York city, NY USA Ven. Lozang Jamspal, formerly of the Lamaist Buddhist Monastery, NJ USA Professor Nicholas Poppe, formerly of Seattle, WA USA Professor Braj Mohan Sinha, formerly of Wooster, OR USA Assistant Editor: Roger Jackson The Editor-in-Chief wishes to thank Rena Haggarty for assistance in the preparation of this volume. Copyright The International Association of Buddhist Studies 1981 ISSN: 0193-600X Sponsored by Department of South Asian Studies, University of Wisconsin, Madison. CONTENTS 1. ARTICLES l. New Buddhist Sanskrit Texts from Central Asia: An Un- known fragment of the Mahayana Mahiiparinirvii7fa- sutra by G. M. Bongard Levin 7 2. Buddhist Hybrid English: Some Notes on Philology and Hermeneutics for Buddhologists by Paul j. Griffiths J7 3. Nonorigination and Nirvii7fa in the Early Tathiigatagarbha Literature by William Grosnick 33 4. Multiple Dimensions of Impermanence in Dagen's "Gen- jakaan" by Steven Heine 44 5. The Autobiography of a 20th-Century Rnying-ma-pa la;:na by Alexander W. Macdonald 63 6. Metapsychology of the Abhidharma by Shanta Ratnayaka 76 II. SHORT PAPER l. The Buddhist "Prodigal Son": A Story of Misperceptions by Whalen Lai 91 III. BOOK REVIEWS l. Lustful Maidens and Ascetic Kings (Buddhist and Hindu Stories of Life) by C. Amore and Larry D. Shinn 99 2. The Syncretic Religion of Lin Chao-en by Judith A. Berling 101 3. The Memoirs of a Modern Gnostic (Parts I and II) by Edward Conze 102 4. Buddhist Studies by J. W. de Jong 106 5. Sources for a History of the bSam yas Debate by C. W. Houston 107 6. Buddhist Architecture of Western India (c. 250 BC-AD 300) by S. NagaraJu 109 7. The Thousand Buddhas: Ancient Buddhist Paintings from the Cave-Temples of Tun-huang on the Western Front- ier of China by Aurel Stein 112 IV. PRESIDENTIAL ADDRESS 1. Tasks Ahead: Presidential Address Given on the Occasion of the Third Conference of The International Associa- tion of Buddhist Studies, Winnipeg, Canada, August 1980 by Herbert V. Guenther Contributors 124 New Buddhist Sanskrit Texts from Central Asia: An Unknown fragment of the Mahayana Mahiiparinirviir;asutra by G. M. Bongard-Levin The discovery of ancient Indian texts in Central Asia at the end of the 19th century opened a new stage in the study of Indian culture. There was found a large number of original Sanskrit literary and religious documents destroyed in India due to the climatic conditions but preserved in sand-covered ancient towns of Central Asia. Scholars have acquired many unique manuscripts, dating back to the 6-8th centuries A.D. The publication of these texts by P. Pelliot, K. Otani, L. Finot, S. Levi, E. Waldschmidt and others has allowed us to recon- sider many traditional views concerning the domain of Indian culture and historical influence, as well as the history and development of Buddhism, its schools and main trends. New problems were put before Buddhology: the problem of co-relation of Hinayana and Mahayana, that of the reconstruction of the Buddha's original teaching, etc. Owing to the discovery of lan- guages not known before-Saka and Tocharian-as well as of the Central Asian variants of ancient Indian scripts, there appeared a new branch of Oriental studies: Central Asian philology and paleography. Owing to the expeditions of Russian scholars to Central Asia, the Russian Academy of Sciences has acquired a remarkable collection of Indian and Saka-Khotanese manuscripts, in many aspects surpassing by its fullness and scientific value the Central Asian collections of France, Germany, Japan and other countries. 1 Professor S. Oldenberg was among the first researchers to investigate the Central Asian texts. In fact, he was a founder of the Soviet school of Central Asian studies. 2 From the beginning of the 7 50's a gifted Leningrad orientalist, V. S. Vorobyev-Desyatovsky, de- voted himself to studies of the Central Asian material; in spite of his short life he succeeded in publishing a number of unique documents in the Sanskrit and Saka languages. V. S. Vorobyev-Desyatovsky completed a full catalogue of all manuscripts and fragments of the Central Asian collection, which forms a solid base for further investigations of this valuable collec- tion. 4 The publication of Central Asian documents is an urgent task for Soviet scholars. Its realization will expose dozens of new docu- ments on Indian culture and will help to solve important problems related to the history of spiritual culture in India and neighbouring countries during the ancient and early medieval periods. Among the Buddhist Sanskrit texts of the Central Asian collec- tion the fragments of the Mahayana Mahiiparinirvii'fJlSutra-an import- and religious text of Northern Buddhism-are of the utmost interest. Only two fragments of this text were at the disposal of scholars until quite recently;5 that is why the study of the Mahiiparinirvii'Yfasutra as well as of all connected problems of Mahayana religion and of the history of early Mahayana sutras was carried out with the help of Tibetan and Chinese translations. The Sanskrit texts of the Mahiiparinirvii'Yfasutra, which were discovered in Turfan by a Ger- man expedition and later published by E. Waldschmidt, form a part of the Mulasarvastivada canon and are not directly connected with Mahayana. 6 The Southern (or Theravada) tradition is repre- sented by the Mahiiparinibbiinasutta-the sixteenth sutra of the Digha- Nikiiya. 7 It was V. Vorobyev-Desyatovsky who, while studying the Central Asian Collection, brought attention to the existence of five fragments of the Mahiiparinirvii'Yfasutra in his catalogue; later we discovered one more fragment. 8 The investigation of these fragments is now com- plete: they have been transliterated, translated and annotated and many lacunas have been reconstructed. Judging by the fragments, the Mahayana version of the Mahiiparinirvii'Yfasutra differs textually and conceptually from the Pali and Sanskrit (Mulasarvastivada) ones. In Mahayana, a completely new interpretation was given to basic ideas of the early Buddhist religion. The sutra deals with the interpretation of the ideas of nirvii'Yfa, salvation, Buddhahood, etc. The Mahayana Mahiiparinirvii'Yfasutra was very popular in Central Asia and China. 9 Chinese sources preserve a story about the journey of 8 a native of Magadha, in India, to Khotan in search of the Mahayana manuscripts of the Nirviir:asutra. 10 dis- covered in Khotan copies of thesutra and on his return to China, made a translation of the Sanskrit text into Chinese. 11 This tradition is in accordance with the find of the six fragments of the sutra in Central Asia. Moreover, examination ofthese texts shows them to be different hand-written copies. The opinions of scholars concerning the data of the Mahayana Mahiiparinirvii1Jasutra differ greatly: some consider it to have been completed by 200-300 A.D., others suggest later dates-e.g., the beginning of the Gupta dynasty in India. Our fragments are written in upright Central Asian Brahm!. It is possible to assume them to be part of a manuscript copied in Central Asia from some Indian version of the sutra. Judging by the data of the Chinese texts, manuscripts of the Mahayana Mahiiparinirvii1Jasutra were widespread in Kashmir in the 5th century A.D. The existence of Indian versions (Indian orig- inal texts) is mentioned in the Chinese works dealing with the activi- ties of 12 For example, it is mentioned that Dharma- originally brought an incomplete manuscript of Mahayana Nirva1Jasutra from India to China. The Chinese sources also inform us that the beginning of the sutra was written on birch-bark. In scholars' opinion it may be an indication of the Kashmiri origin of the sutra's basic version. 13 The text of our fragment is not preserved in full; 14 there is only its left side intact, dimensions 17/9 cm 2 The text is put down in Indian ink on light brown paper. The space between the lines is 1 cm, 27 -28 akr;aras in each line. The verso text is better preserved than the recto, where the left sides of the first and seventh lines are wiped out. In the left part of the manuscript there is a circle and a hole for holding; it is registered as SIsra in the N. Petrovsky collection. Judging by the pale- ography, the manuscript dates back to the 6-7th centuries A.D. 15 The fragment being published here has a pagination, No. 15, which corresponds to the 13th page of the Tibetan translation xylograph (l3a (1)-b (4))-'Phags pa yongs su my a ngan las 'das pa chen po theg pa'i chen po'i mdo, Bka' 'gyur, Vol. Jha; and 369A (15)-B (17) of the Chinese translation of (XII Volume of the Chinese Tripitaka). 9 10 A. 1. .' . yiipra []igrahitapi1JeJapiitiilJ, ekiinte sthan. punar apara'T(l- tatheva ca tri1[liadga'T(l-gi iii . . . 2. llyaya'T(l-l dadiita. mahatii si'T(l-havikrame1Ja gandhahastiva diiya . .. 3. kraviikakiil da'T(l-l bakiira1Jrjava. siirasakaukilabiihikakalavi'T(l-kajivajiva . .. 4. ya svai svai na [dit] viibhaidy2 ekiinte sthan. punar apara'T(l- yii kiinciinalJ, prthiv . .. 5. ka siilamula 3 ni'T(l-nam. pradeSam iilokyiipagataSarkkarasikatamiikJii . .. 6. tataSca kJiriid [v]yapanrya makJikii ekante tasthu punar apara'T(l- tadaiva catudvipaniv 4 . . . 7 ... , [ddhi]balena 5 : samidii 6 upiidiiya. bhojana'T(l- copanii[mya?] mahii- yiinakii[Syapa? F B. 1. ... nyol vii (ja]napadapradesam u[pii]jahru. te sarve niravaSe!ja'T(l- tatra tad iijagmulJ, sthii . . . 2. kharT}caiti punar apara'T(l- tena samayena 2 sa'T(l-khyeyii ga'T(l-giiviilikasamii mahii . .. 3. tiin aviviiritiitapapr:thucchiiya 3 siliitalii prasrava1}iikiT1J1Janirjharii .. . 4. hiiprabhiiviidevaputriilJ, sumerii1}ii'T(l-4 saha piijiinimittam iiga[cch] .. . 5. sa'T(l-kheya 5 ga'T(l-giiviilikasamiiScatusiigaraniviisino maluinadi . .. 6. gu1}iibhiriimii piijiipurassariilJ, divaprabluim iviidityaprabhiibhilJ, surya- prabhii . .. 7. m abhinavadiviikarodaya iviiSokappa 6 llavariiga'T(l- krtvii bhagavantam abhiva'T(l-[dya] ... NOTES TO THE TEXT Recto 1. Ought to be abhaya1!L. 2. naditviibhaidya, abhedya-without dividing, undivided, i.e., together; in Ti- betan: "everyone crying loudly"; in Chinese: "carrying flowers and fruits"-evidently connected with abhiviidya. 3. After a there is a little space but no is preserved. 4. Possibly 11 5. Evidently, vr:ddhabalena, cf. Tibetan text. 6. Ought to be samidluim upiidiiya (cf. Tibetan text), but a instead of am is possible, see F. Edgerton, Buddhist Hybrid Sanskrit Grammar and Dictionary, I (Grammar), II (Dictionary) (New Haven, 1953), I, 9.20-22. . 7. According to the Tibetan text, ought to be MahakaSyapa. Evidently, the copyist first wrote maha and then, by mistake, na, but in order to retain the sense, put down under the line 'yO: -mahayana. Verso 1. Possibly, bhi"-!u"!yo. 2. Correctly (a)sa,!,kheya, thus samayena. 3. Usually eeluiyii, here N.PI., see also Edg. I, 9.86. 4. Better without '!'; usually u,,!a, but u,,!ii is also possible, see Edg. I, 12.32. 5. asa,!,kheya. 6. Superfluous p. TRANSLATION A 1.. .. (they), not having received the alms-food, stood aside. And then in the same manner (all the living beings) in their number equal to that of the grains of sand in 30 Garigas ... 2. took (a vow) of fearlessness. Like the great might of a lion, they, having taken flowers and garlands (which yielded a perfume), similar to the scent of the elephant's female at the time of coupling ... 3. cakravakas, kadambas, karandavas, sarasas, kaukilas, bahikas, kalavin:t- kas; Fva-jivas 26
4. each of them, exclaiming together in one voice,27 stood aside. Then this golden land ... 5. having noticed that the place at the foot of a soJa tree was devoid of the stones and sand ... 6. and then, having cleared the milk from the flies, they stood aside. And then (those who live) on the four continents ... 7. (with the help of the magic power), having brought fire-wood and food and offering (this). Mahakasyapa ... 12 B . 1. ... they (the nuns) came to this part of the land. And all of them, without exception, came there ... 2. and then in that time (the great ones) ... innumerable like the sand-grains of the Ganga. . . . 3. (trees), offering great shade, keeping out the heat, the foot of the rocks and the streams, (carrying the water) of the water-falls ... 4. the divinites, possessing great power, came together at Sumeru, in order to make worship ... 5. (the divinities), in number equal to the sand-grains of Ganga, as well as those who live in the four oceans, and the great rivers ... 6. brilliant in their merits, longing to make worship, they (darkened) the brilliance of the Sun (by their own light), just like the brilliance of the Sun (surpasses) the light of the day ... 7. like the rising of the Sun, they expressed (their love), (gleaming) like the flowers of an aSoka tree, and, having offered veneration to the Buddha ... Compare the Chinese Translation (The Mahayana MahaparinirvaTfa-sutra, A Complete Translation from the Classical Chinese Language in 3 volumes, Annotated and with full Glossary, Index, and Concordance, by Kosho Yamamoto, Oyama, Ube City, 1973; vol. I, pp. 17-18). 13 As the Buddha was about to enter nirvaTfa, each took up innumerable, boundless, beautiful flowers of lotus and came to where the Buddha was, touched his feet with the head, carried their steps back, and sat on one side. Also, there were lion kings, that were as many as the sands of twenty Gangeses. King lion's Roar headed the number. To all beings they gave fearlessness. Carrying various flowers and fruits they came to where the Buddha was, touched his feet with the head and carried their steps back, and sat on one side. Also, there were kings of flying birds as many as the sands of twenty Gangeses. They were lapwings, wild geese, mandarin ducks, peacocks, and all such birds, and gandharvas, karandas, minas, parrots, kokilas, wagtails, kalavinkas, jivamjivakas, and all such birds, carrying flowers and fruits, came to where the Buddha was, touched his feet with the head, carried their steps back, and sat on one side. Also, there were buffaloes, cows, and sheep, that were as many as the sands of twenty Gangeses, which all came to the Buddha and gave out wonderfully fragrant milk. All this milk filled the ditches and pits of Kusinagara castle. The colour, fragrance and taste were all perfect. This done, they carried their steps back and sat on one side. Also, there were present r-!is of the four lands, who were as many as the sands of twenty Gangeses, K ~ a n t i t ~ i headed the number. Carrying flowers, incenses, and fruits, they came to where the Buddha was, touched his feet with the head, walk.ed around him three times, and said to him: "0 World-honoured One! Please have pity and accept the last of our offerings!" The Tathagata, aware of the occasion, was silent and did not accept. At this, their wish was not answered, all the r-!is were sad. They carried their steps back and sat on one side. There were present all the kings of the bees of J ambudvipa. Wonderful Sound, the king of bees, headed the number. They carried in many flowers, came to where the Buddha was, touched his feet with the head, walked around him once, carried their steps back, and sat on one side. At the time, the bhik.}us and bhik.}unis of Jambudvipa were all gathered, excepting the two venerable ones, Mahakasyapa and Ananda. Also, there are spaces in between the worlds, which were as many as the sands of innumerable asamkhyas of Gangeses and all the mountains of J ambudvipa, of which King Mount Sumeru headed the number. Grand were the adornments of the mountains. Old and luxuriant were the bushes and forests, and the branches and leaves were full grown, so that they hid the sun. Various were the wonderful flowers which bloomed all around and they were beautiful. The grand springs and streams were pure, fragrant, and transparent. Devas, niigas, gandharoas, asuras, garudas, kimnaras, maharagas, r-!is, charmers, actors, dan- cers, and musicians filled the pIace. All these heavenly ones of the mountains and others came to where the Buddha was, touched his feet with the head, carried their steps back, and sat on one side. Also, there were gods of the four great seas and of the rivers, who were as many as the sands of asamkhyas of Gangeses and who all had great virtues and heavenly feet. Their offerings were twice as many as those that had preceded them. The lights that had emanated from the bodies of the gods and those of the mask dances so hindered the lights of the sun and moon that they were hidden and could not be seen any more. The champaka flowers were strewn over the waters of the river Hiranyavati. They came to where the Buddha was, touched his feet with the head, carried their steps back, and sat on one side. 14 NOTES See M. L Vorobyeva-Desyatovskaya, E. N. Tyomkin, "The Manuscripts of the Central Asian Fund," in The Oriental funds of the largest libraries of the Soviet Union (MoscoW, 1963), pp. 50-51 (in Russian); G. M. Bongard-Levin, E. N. Tyomkin, "New Buddhist Texts from Central Asia" (Moscow, 1967). 2. See T. L Stcherbatsky, "S. F. Oldenburg as an Indologist," in To the 50th Anniversary oj Scientific and Public Activity of s. F. Oldenburg (1882-1932) (Leningrad, 1934), pp. 15-23 (in Russian); S. Oldenburg, "A Preliminary Note to a Buddhist Manuscript, Written in Kharosthi" (S. Petersburg, 1897) (in Russian); S. Oldenburg, "A Kashgari Manuscript of N. Petrovsky," ZVOIRAO, voL 7 (1892), pp. 81-82 (in Russian); S. Oldenburg, "Two Kashgari Buddhist Texts," ZVOlRAO, voL 8 (1893- 1894), pp. 152-153 (in Russian); S. Oldenburg, "Notes on the Kashgari Buddhist Texts," ZVOIRAO, voL 8, pp. 349-351 (in Russian); S. Oldenburg, "Fragments of Kashgari and Sanskrit Manuscripts from the Collection of N. Petrovsky," ZVOlRAO, voL 11 (1897-1898), pp. 207-264 (in Russian); Ibid., voL 15 (1902-1903), pp. 0113- 0112 (in Russian). 3. Details in: G. M. Bongard-Levin, E. N. Tyomkin, "Works by V. S. Vorobyev- Desyatovsky and investigation of the Buddhist texts from N. Petrovsky collection," Problems of the History of Languages and Culture oj the Peoples of India (A collection of articles in memoriam ofV. S. Vorolryev-Desyatovsky (M., 1974), pp. 12-19 (in Russian). See also the bibliography of works by V. S. Vorobyev-Desyatovsky printed here. 4. Recently some of the texts were investigated and published (See G. M. Bon- gard-Levin, E. N. Tyomkin, "New Buddhist Texts from Central Asia"; G. M. Bongard- Levin, "Buddhist Studies in the USSR and New Archaeological Excavations in Soviet Central Asia," in East Asian Cultural Studies, voL XII (1973), W 1-4, pp. 11-28; G. M. Bongard-Levin, E. N. Tyomkin, "Fragment of an Unknown Manuscript of the SaddharmapuIJ.qarika from N. F. Petrovsky collection," in Indo-Iranian Journal, voL VIII, 1965, N 4, pp. 268-274; G. M. Bongard-Levin, "Two New Fragments of the SaddharmapuIJ.qarika (a preliminary note)," in Indian culture and Buddhism (M., 1972), pp. 187-191 (in Russian); G. M. Bongard-Levin, M. I. Vorobyeva-Desyatovskaya, E. N. Tyomkin, "New Sanskrit Texts from Central Asia," in program of the Conference on the Languages of India, Pakistan, Nepal and Ceylon (M., 1965) (in Russian); G. M. Bongard-Levin, M. 1. Vorobyeva-Desyatovskaya, E. N. Tyomkin, "On Investiga- tion of Indian texts from Central Asia," in Materials on the History and Philology of Central Asia (Ulan-Ude, 1968), N 3, pp. 105-117 (in Russian); G. M. Bongard-Levin, M. 1. Vorobyeva-Desyatovskaya, E. N. Tyomkin, "A Fragment of the Sanskrit Sumukha- dharani," in Indo-Iranian Journal, vol. X (1967), N 2-3, pp. 150-159; G. M. Bongard- Levin, E. N. Tyomkin, "Fragment of the Saka version of the Dharmasarira-sutra from the N. F. Petrovsky collection," in Indo-Iranian Journal, voL XI (1969), N 4, pp. 269- 280; See also: Akira Yuyama, "Supplementary Remarks on Fragment of an Unknown Manuscript of the SaddharmapuIJ.qarika from N. F. Petrovsky Collection by G. M. Bongard-Levin and E. N. Tyomkin," Indo-Iranian Journal, voL IX, N 2 (1966), pp. 85 -112; "A Bibliography of the Sanskrit texts of the SaddharmapuIJ.qarika (Canberra, 1970), pp. 21, 22, 102; H. Bechert, "Uber die 'Marburger Fragmente des Saddharma- pUIJ.qarika'" in Nachrichten der Akademie der Wissenschaften in Gottingen. Philologisch- Historische Klasse, 1972, W 1, S.3-81. 15 5. See R. H6ernle, "Manuscript Remains of Buddhist Literature," vol. I (Ox- ford, 1916), pp. 93-97, p. XXI; Taisho (Taisho, Shinshu Daizokyo), t. XII, p. 604. According to D. S. Ruegg, one of the fragments of the Mahayana sutra is given in Ratnagotravibhga-Mahayanottaratantraliistra. See D. S. Ruegg,Le traite du Tathagatagarbha du Bu Ston Rin Chen Grub (Paris, 1973), p. 24; Nakamura Hajime, "A Critical Survey of Mahayana and Esoteric Buddhism Chiefly Based upon Japanese Studies," Asiatica, vol. VII (Tokyo, 1964), pp. 49-53. H. Nakamura refers to a work by K. Vatanabe, where a fragment of the sutra from Central Asia is mentioned (Ko-getsu-in Japanese) (Tokyo, 1933), p. 570. 6. See E. W. Waldschmidt, "Das MahaparinirvaTfa-sutra," Abhandlungen der Deutschen Akademie der Wissenschaften zu Berlin, Bd. I - III, 1950-1951. 7. Digha-Nikaya, vol. II (Pali Text Society). Ed. T. W. Rhys Davids, J. E. Car- penter (London, 1947). 8. A short characterization of these fragments has been given. See G. M. Bon- gard-Levin, E. N. Tyomkin, "New Buddhist Texts from Central Asia," Journal of the Asiatic Society, vol. XI (1969), N 1-4; G. M. Bongard-Levin, "Buddhist studies ... "; G. M. Bongard-Levin, E. N. Tyomkin, "Works of Vorobyev-Desatovksy ... " . (in Russian). 9. Details in: A. Bareau, Recherches sur la biographie du Buddha dans les Sutra- pitaka et les Vinayapitaka anciens: II. Les derniers mois, Ie parinirviiTfa et les funerailles, t. I (Paris, 1970). 10. The difference between Hinayana and Mahayana versions was pointed out by many scholars on the basis of the Chinese translations (see, for instance, L. Renou" J. Filliozat, L'Inde classique (Paris, 1953), p. 435. 11. Cf. F. W. Thomas, "Brahm! Script in Central-Asian Sanskrit Manuscripts," Asiatica, (Leipzig, 1954); L. Sander, Palaographisches zu den Sanskrithandschriften der Berliner Turfansammlung (Wiesbaden, 1968). 12. P. Ch. Bagchi, India and Central Asia (Calcutta, 1955); E. Ziircher, The Bud- dhist Conquest of China, vol. I (Leiden, 1959); A. Gabain, "Der Buddhismus in Zentral- asien," Handbuch der Orientalistik, Bd. 8 (Religionsgeschichte in der Zeit der Weltreligionen) (Leiden-K61n, 1961); Ch'an and Zen Teaching, Ed., trans. and expl. by Lu 'K'uan Yii (London, 1962). 13. P. Ch. Bagchi, India and Central Asia, p. 109-110. 14. G. M. Bongard-Levin, "Sanskrit Manuscripts from Central Asia (A frag- ment of the Mahayana MahaparinirvaJ:.la-sutra)," Journal of Ancient History (Vestnik Drevnei Istorii) (1975), N 4, pp. 75-79 (in Russian); two other fragments were also published: G. M. Bongard-Levin, "New Indian Texts from Central Asia (An unknown fragment of Mahayana MahaparinirvaJ:.la-sutra)," Peoples of Asia and Africa (1975), N 6, pp. 145-151 (in Russian); by the same author, "A New Fragment of Mahayana Mahaparinirvana-sutra," Acta Antiqua Academiae Scientiarum Hungariae, t. XXV, fase. 1-4 (1977), pp. 243-248. Abbreviations ZVOIRAO-"Zapiski Vostochnogo Otdeleniya Imperatorskogo Russkogo Archeolo- gicheskogo Obschestva" (Transactions of the Oriental Section of the Imperial Archeo- logical Society). 16 Buddhist Hybrid English: Some Notes on Philology and Hermeneutics for Buddhologists by Paul]. Griffiths Buddhist thought has a strange, and in many respects deplorable, effect upon language; in India it produced that barbaric language we usually call by the equally barbaric name of Buddhist Hybrid Sanskrit, a language in which large numbers of long, repetitive, obscure, and subtle works were composed over a period of more than a thousand years. It forced the Tibetans to invent not only an alphabet but also what was in effect a new language, the most mechanical form of trans- lationese which the world has yet seen. It managed to disturb even the severe balance and precise rhythms of classical Chinese. And it is now in process of wreaking its havoc upon the English language, creating a dialect comprehensible only to the initiate, written by and for Bud- dhologists, a dialect which has provided the title for this paper: Buddhist Hybrid English. It is the intention of this paper to make some suggestions about the causes of this unfortunate development, and to point the way to its remedy. More specifically, one main problem area will be dealt with: that of how to interpret Buddhist Sanskrit texts in such a way as to avoid unnecessary bastardization of the English language, while still performing the scholarly task of making available the meaningof such texts to the scholarly community. We shall be concerned here only with Buddhist texts that survive in Sanskrit, and how they have been and should be handled by the English-speaking Buddhological community. Much of what is said here will have wider applications, but such applications will not be made explicit.! We are here dealing with what is essentially an hermeneutical issue, and we shall try to answer three questions: first, what should be the aims of the Bud- dhological community in handling the corpus of Sanskrit texts avail- 17 able to it? A subsidiary issue here will be whether or not the training methods used for young Buddhologists are in fact appropriate to the achievement of these aims. Second, it will be asked how these aims may best be achieved. In order to answer this it will be necessary to look briefly at the literary nature of the available Sanskrit texts, and to establish some hermeneutical principles. We shall need to ask whether philological expertise as classically understood has any relevance to the hermeneutical enterprise, and to examine the possible aims and purposes of translation. Third, we shall ask-and make some attempt at answering-the question about the proper relationship of philol- ogy to hermeneutics in the Buddhological sphere. It is here, above all, that Buddhologists have a great deal to learn from other disciplines in which these problems have been faced and discussed for generations. There is absolutely no reason why Buddhology should become an hermetic tradition, sealed off from the uninitiate and passed down from master to pupil by mystical abh4eka; that way lies extinction, or at least a self-banishment from the wider academic community. First, therefore, we need to discuss the legitimate aims of the Buddhological community in handling the corpus of Buddhist San- skrit texts at its disposal. This area of Buddhological endeavour is dearly a part of the history of religious ideas in its widest sense. That is to say, the Buddhologist handling Buddhist Sanskrit texts is-or should be--concerned initially to understand what his texts are about. This sounds obvious, and should hardly need saying, but as we shall see the Buddhological community produces a large number of trans- lations (particularly of Tibetan texts, but also to a somewhat lesser degree of Sanskrit texts) which betray no such understanding. What then constitutes understanding? This is a multi-faceted phenomenon, involving the interaction of the Buddhologist with his text on a number of different levels; it goes far beyond philology, though a certain degree of philological expertise is a necessary precondition for understanding to occur. Philological expertise should provide the ability to know what the technical terms of Buddhist Sanskrit philos- ophy mean (an enterprise which is still in its infancy) and to handle the complex syntax of Sanskrit philosophical sentence. This is no easy matter, and I doubt whether anything less than five years intensive study of the Sanskrit language could provide the necessary expertise. We should note here that philology, as classically under- stood in Europe and America, is of very marginal relevance for the study of Buddhist Sanskrit. Sanskrit has been-and often still is- 18 taught in Western universities primarily in connection with Indo- European studies, studies which have significance primarily for the understanding of the Veda. 2 The Sanskritic B uddhologist does not need to know the etymology and derivation of his technical terms and their relationship to conjectural Indo-European roots; more relevant would be a thorough grounding in the Prakrits, the linguistic devel- opments of Middle lndic. The Sanskritic Buddhologist's primary concern is to understand the technical terminology of his texts as it was understood by their authors, throughout a thousand years of Indian history, and the only effective way of gaining such under- standing is by wide reading of texts and commentaries. Only thus can the full semantic range of a given technical term be appreciated. Clearly, the pre-requisite here is the ability to read Buddhist Sanskrit with ease and fluency, to be able to pick up a text and read it with the same speed and level of comprehension that we would bring to a modern study in English, French or German. The undoubted fact that such skill is rare among Western Buddhologists means that very few have the time to become acquainted with a full range of Buddhist Sanskrit literature, and so our understanding of the material remains very limited. We shall return to this point. The second step on the path to understanding a given text is the ability to contextualize, to place the text under discussion in its historical context, both in the broad sense of tracing continuities and discontinuities with the earlier tradition, and in the narrower sense of seeing how a given text fits into the larger corpus of its author. Con- textualization should also, wherever possible, include a placing of the text in its socia-cultural context in an attempt to show how particular forms of thought arose in interaction with particular forms of society. It is true that the paucity of our knowledge about both the relative and absolute chronology of the composition of Buddhist Sanskrit texts in relation to the chronology of Indian history at large makes this task difficult; but even its desirability is hardly recognized by most practicing Buddhologists, who tend to discuss their texts exclusively on the level of abstract philosophy, as though each and everyone was really composed in the t ~ i t a heaven, in blissful isolation from the world of men. The third-and most important-step on the path to under- standing a given text is that of appropriating its meaning, of making explicit to oneself one's understanding of the intentions of the text's author. It is at this point that creative thinking begins to operate, and 19 it is only when this point has been reached that any attempt at inter_ pretation is likely to have success. There is unfortunately no space here to draw out the full implications of this tllird stage on the path of understanding; to do so would involve an excursion into the kind of hermeneutical philosophy which is far from popular in the Anglo- Saxon world. All that can be said is that a necessary condition for the attainment of this third stage is the ability on the part of the Buddhol- ogist to restate what he takes to be the meaning(s) of his text in terms other than those employed by its author. If the Buddhologist cannot do this, and restricts himself to discussions of his text in the idiom and thought-world of the context which produced it, then he has failed in what we shall see to be a prime duty of any scholar in any field-that of making his results available to the wider scholarly community. It should also be noted that this process of restating the meaning(s) of a given text in terms other than those employed by the text itself may, but need not, involve straightforward translation of the text from one language to another. It will be suggested in the course of this paper that translation is very frequently not the best way of performing the hermeneutical task, a fact rarely realized by practicing Buddhologists, most of whom stand transfixed in awe of their texts and are con- cerned largely to transmit them by means of translation regardless of whether or not they have been understood. So far, then, it has been suggested that the initial aim of the Buddhologist handling Buddhist Sanskrit texts and working within the academic community should be to understand his sources. The second legitimate aim, as we have already begun to see, is that of making his understanding available, initially to his co-specialists, secondarily to the wider scholarly community, and finally to the interested public. It must be stressed again and again that the Bud- dhologist, as an academic, has a real duty to communicate, and the tendency in contemporary Western Buddhology to retreat behind an impenetrable shield of technical vocabulary comprehensible only to co-specialists, and to make no effort to reach out to colleagues in related fields, is to be very strongly deplored. Very few of the papers published in the dozen or so English-language journals which handle specialized work in this field can be comprehensible to anyone outside the closed circle of specialists, and this is largely because few Buddhol- ogists have any expertise in anything but Buddhology. Dr. Richard Gombrich, in his inaugural lecture as Professor of Sanskrit in the University of Oxford, bemoaned the state of British Sanskrit studies in these words: 20 We have three problems: we are not very good at English; we are not very good at Sanskrit; and we are not very good at anything else. 3 We should take these words to heart; they are, if anything, still more true of the state of Buddhist Sanskrit studies in England and Amer- ica. There are, as one would expect, some exceptions, some Buddhol- ogists who have both the skills and the desire to communicate with scholars in other fields and to undertake the hermeneutical task, but they are few, and mostly in the realm of philosophy, where at last some attempt is being made to enter seriously into the realm of cross- cultural philosophy.4 But the vast majority of published work speaks only to other Buddhologists, and not always very clearly to them. If the third step on the path to understanding were taken more ser- iously, if it was felt as a duty to develop the ability to restate the meaning(s) of one's text, and if this approach were inculcated in our university departments devoted to Buddhist Studies, then we might begin to see some very positive results in the area of inter-disciplinary and inter-cultural thinking. This should not be misunderstood. I am not trying to say that there is no room for specialized research work, or that journals should not publish abstruse and complex pieces likely to be under- stood only by other Buddhologists. Rather, I am suggesting that every Buddhologist should see it as his duty not merely to communicate with fellow specialists, but also with the wider scholarly world and with the interested public. If a Buddhologist's specialized research work makes him unable to do this, then there is something wrong with the educational system which produced him and with the aca- demic structures which support him. So far, then, it has been suggested that a Buddhologist's aca- demic work is in principle no different from that of any other special- ist in the field of the history of religious ideas, and that the aims towards which he works are just a part of the wider field of the search for truth. Something needs to be said, however, about what the aims of the Buddhologist are not, if only because there seems to be a great deal of confusion, especially in American academic circles, about this. The most important point to bear in mind here is that the Buddholo- gist qua Buddhologist cannot be a religious enthusiast, proselytiser, or even, one might go so far as to say, Buddhist. The set of attitudes that a Buddhist usually has towards the texts of his tradition are quite different from, and to a large extent incompatible with, those that a Buddhologist should have towards the text he is studying. The un- 21 critically religious Buddhist-and most Buddhists are uncrItIcally religious-regards his texts with awe as instruments of salvation and containers of truth. He is not concerned to l ~ a r n things about Bud- dhism, is only marginally concerned with philological matters, and generally has no interest whatever in what we have called contextual_ ization. For the Buddhologist, the opposite is--or should be-the case. To take two examples: the average Sinhalese Buddhist (and this applies also to the intellectuals of that tradition) is quite happy to believe that the suttas of the Pali suttapitaka were spoken by Sakyamuni just as they now stand in the texts preserved for us. He is not interested in, say, the application of form-critical method to the Pali canon in an attempt to reclaim the Buddhavacanam. Similarly, the Tibetan scholastic, trained in the philosophical method of his school, has no trouble at all with the idea that the same Sakyamuni spoke the sutras of the prajiUipiiramitii, and would regard as at best unnecessary and at worst sacrilegious the attempt to contextualize the prajiUipiira- mitii literature in the way that has been'suggested in this paper. The conflict between uncritical faith and rigorous historico-philological enquiry, a conflict which radically divided and almost destroyed the intellectuals of Protestant Christendom during the last century, is in fact just as strong and just as pernicious in the Buddhist sphere, even though it has yet to corne out into the open. We shall have occasion to return to this issue, especially when we consider the motivation for translating Buddhist texts. At this point it needs to be stressed once again: the Buddhologist as Buddhologist cannot be a proselytizer, neither can he regard his texts with awe as receptacles of revealed truth. The only kind of truth they can have for him as scholar is that which is subject to discussion and verification in the open arena of the academy. This is not, of course, to say that no Buddhologist can also be a Buddhist, but only that any who claim to wear both hats-and many do--must be very careful to separate in their minds and their teach- ings the different functions of Buddhist and Buddhologist. To con- fuse the two is simply bad scholarly method. This problem is es- pecially severe when Buddhism is taught in Western universities by Buddhist scholastics, either of the Tibetan or Theravadin persuasion. The difference in presuppositions and approaches between their way of studying Buddhism and the way in which aspiring Buddhologists should be studying it is often not made sufficiently clear to students, with the result of confused method and questionable results. 22 Having briefly sketched the aims of the Buddhologist handling Buddhist Sanskrit texts, we must now consider whether or not train- ing methods in British and American universities are in fact appro- priate to these aims. What can we expect of the new generation of Buddhologists in the field of Sanskrit studies? The first point to note is that there are not very many of them. There are a number of reasons for this: one is that Sanskrit tuition is not widely available in the universities of either England or America, and even where it is to be found the stress is either on Indo-European philology, or upon the study of the classical language and the mainstream literature of India. 5 Even in those few universities where Buddhism is treated as a field of study in its own right, Buddhist Sanskrit tends to get taught primarily as an adjunct to specialization in either Tibetan ot Sino- Japanese fields. The attraction of having access to a complete corpus of Buddhist literature rather than a fragmentary one, combined with having living representatives of a given tradition available, together with their oral traditions, has meant that more and more aspiring Buddhologists are centering their attention either upon Tibetan studies or upon Sino-Japanese studies to the detriment of Sanskrit. 6 One result is that it is now typically possible to get a Ph.D. in Buddhist Studies from an American university with only one, or at most two, years of Sanskrit, the kind of training which can give no more than a faint hint of the complexities, attractions, and sheer difficulties of reading Sanskrit philosophical texts with any kind of fluency. The study of Sanskrit among the rising generation of Buddhologists in the West is thus assuming a subsidiary position, and Eugene Burnout's prophecy of 1844, that the study of Buddhist Sanskrit would always have priority for those interested in understanding Buddhism/ is now in process of being disproved. This is a sad state of affairs. If real expertise in the handling of Buddhist Sanskrit texts should vanish from the universities of Eng- land and America-and it is becoming increasingly difficult to find outside India and Japan-the loss would be irreparable. It would be as though we had access to the sacred books of Christianity only through the Vulgate. So far, then, we have seen that one of the aims of the Buddholo- gist which was outlined in the first part of this paper-that of under- standing his texts-is in some danger because the time and teaching necessary to gain a fluent reading knowledge of Buddhist Sanskrit is not readily available in the universities of England and America, and even when it is, the young Buddhologist is not very likely to want it. 23 But it is in the third stage of the process of understanding, that of appropriating and restating the meaning(s) of o n e ~ s text, that the real problems arise. The education of the aspiring Buddhologist as an hermeneutical philosopher is likely to have been sketchy, and so his skills as a communicator are likely to be equally minimal. We must ask: what are the methods best adapted to achieving the aim of restating the meaning(s) of one's text? There can be no doubt that since the beginning of Buddholo gy as an academic discipline, one method above all others in communi- cating the meaning of Buddhist texts to the world has been adopted: this is the method of translation. Since Burnouf translated the Sad- dharmapu1}r/ankasutra,8 the sine qua non of success as a Buddhologist has been the production of substantial translations of previously untranslated texts. This is still very much the case today; the standard American Buddhist Studies Ph.D. consists of a translation (and some- times also a critical edition) of a given text, combined with a fifty page introduction and perhaps the same amount of explanatory notes. 9 Part of the thesis of this paper is that the obsession with translation in the Buddhological community, the pick-your-text-and-translate-it ap- proach, is no longer, if indeed it ever was, the best way of undertaking the hermeneutical task which we have seen to be of such fundamental importance. Among other problems, the stress on translation has led to the development of that regrettable phenomenon which provided the title for this paper: Buddhist Hybrid English, a bastardized form of the English language, so hag-ridden by Sanskrit syntax that aJmost every sentence is constructed in the passive, every technical term is translated by a series of hyphenated polysyllables, and the ideal of writing clear, precise, and elegant English hardly even comes to the conscious awareness of the translator. I do not wish to underestimate the difficulties of translating Buddhist Sanskrit texts into clear, precise, and elegant English; I am only too aware of them. But I do wish to argue that if the task of translating in this way proves too difficult, then another way of communicating the meaning of the text should be adopted. To flesh out this statement in more detail we need to look at the nature of the source material with which the Sanskritic Buddhologist works, not, as is usually done, from the viewpoint of content, but from the viewpoint of form, of literary and aesthetic merit. Clearly it is impossible to make any attempt at a survey of the literary forms and aesthetic merits of the entire field of Buddhist 24 Sanskrit literature. I wish simply to take a few examples of texts which are, for varying reasons, unsuited to communication and interpreta- . tion by translation. Examples will be taken from both siitra and siistra, though not from tantra. 10 To begin with the siitra: there survives in Sanskrit a substantial body of work, ranging from the concise and elegant vajracchedika, through the diffuse, repetitive and ornate Ga'l'!- rjavyiiha, to the cryptic and disorganized Laidwvatiira. From the reli- gious viewpoint these are the basic and essential texts of Buddhism; for the believing Buddhist it is here that the word of Buddha is to be found, and so the religious motivation for preserving and translating these texts is obvious. To do so is an action amassing great merit for the doer, and makes the saving word of the Buddha available for whole new cultures. It should always be remembered that the cult of the book is hardly less developed in the Mahayana than in Islam,11 though the terms in which it is expressed are rather different. But for the scholar, as we have already pointed out, different considerations should provide motivation. The Buddhologist should ask himself, when dealing with a particular Sanskrit siitra, whether or not it has any literary merit; whether or not it is of a kind to permit a clear English rendering, or whether its meaning would be better communi- cated by study and analysis. To take just one of many possible examples, let us look at the Ga'l'!4avyiiha. 12_ In this text we see the apotheosis of Gautama taken to an extreme degree and a concomitant fascination with the details of the various buddhak:jetras which mutually interpenetrate to make up the dharmadhiitu. The ostensible "plot" of the siitra-Sudhana's pilgrimage from teacher to teacher in an at- tempt to discover how to live the life of a bodhisattva-is almost completely overlaid by the endlessly repetitive descriptions of the appearance, ornaments, and powers of the various bodhisattvas, and the piling up of a multi-membered compound upon multi-membered compond, each more grandiose than the last. For example, in a section of the siitra devoted to describing bodhicitta there are no less than 224 separate similes used to elaborate upon it,13 none adding anything substantial to our understanding of the phenomenon. Leav- ing aside for the moment the question of why so many Mahayana siitras employ this kind of literary overkill, it is surely clear that a translation of such a work could have no scholarly purpose. Who would read it? Buddhologists have access to the original, which is at least syntactically easy to follow, even if paralysingly boring, and the wider scholarly community is not going to spend its time wading 25 through 500 pages of verbose repetltlon. Any Buddhologist who wishes to study the GaT!4avyuha, and to understand it in the sense of understanding which has been discussed in the course of this paper, would be better off producing a study of the text and an analysis of its religious meaning than a translation. Translation can all too often be a replacement for thought, a temptation to establish one's credentials and exhibit one's virtuosity; it frequently has little to do with the scholarly enterprise. I would suggest, therefore, that a large proportion of the surviv- ing sutra material in Sanskrit is better left untranslated. Buddhologists can give far more to the scholarly community by creatively studying and interpreting these texts than by translating them. Translation can be left to those who wish to perform it as an act of religious super- erogation. But here again a disclaimer becomes necessary. Some sutras, even if a small minority, are models of literary elegance and religious power, and it is these that cry out for translation. I can do no better than to quote Jacques May on this matter, a man whose literary sensibilities and good sense could well be imitated by many English- speaking Buddhologists. He said (in reference to the Sarrulhinirmocana): ... il est un des quelques Mahayana sutras qui, tels Ie Vimalakirti- nirdesa, l'Upali-paripr:ccham n ~ u n i s s e n t des qualites qui font en general cruellement defaut a ce genre des textes: proportions raisonnables, ni trop vaste, ni trop restreintes; composition clair et rigoureuse; idees distinctes, articulees, exprimees avec per- tinence et sans trop de repetitions. 14 It is just because most sutras are either excessively long or obscurely short, cryptically incomprehensible or repetitively obvious, and just because they lack the marks of clear and precise thinking, that most of them do not benefit from translation and are better interpreted in other ways. We may now turn briefly to the second category of Buddhist literature traditionally distinguished, that of sastra. The range of literary types subsumed into this category is very wide, and the decision as to the best method of undertaking the hermeneutical task must be made on the merits of each case. Here I wish only to take two examples of the Buddhist Sanskrit sastras in order to give some idea of the special translation problems associated with this kind ofliterature, and in order to show that not all of these texts are amenable to trans- lation. Our first example is the Abhidharmakosa together with Vasu- 26 bandhu's own bhiiSya, which we may take as a paradigm of kiirikii texts with attached prose commentaries. Such texts provide special prob- lerns: the most obvious is that of what to do with the kiirikii portions of the text. Is it legitimate to attempt a translation of the verses alone, without their prose commentary(s)? Were the kiirikiis ever meant to be read without a commentary, and do they in fact make much sense without one? These issues are at least partially literary ories, having to do with facts about the nature of Buddhist Sanskrit sastras and the literary conventions of the time in which they were written; the issues remain difficult to decide because we do not know enough about such things. The common-sense view, and that which appears to have been taken by the majority of Buddhist intellectuals, past and present, is that a kiirikii text such as the Kosa is of little use without a commentary. A kiirikii text by itself is so concise and ambiguous that it communi- cates little; its main function is to provide a matrix for the extensive commentarial discussions of disputed philosophical issues which are to be found in the works of such as Vasubandhu and SthiramatiY Therefore, taking into account the guidelines that we have already set out, we must conclude that the enterprise of translating kiirikii texts by themselves is a fruitless one. The result can only be to produce an English version which is as ambiguous and frustrating as the Sanskrit original. Matters are different, though, when we move to a considera- tion of kiirikii texts in conjunction with their commentaries. We move at once from the realms of aphoristic ambiguity to those of prolix precision. The problems here are not that we do not know what the author intended-that is usually very clear-but that Indian com- mentarial style is quite exceptionally hard to render into lucid and comprehensible English. Any attempt to make a complete English rendering of a b h ~ y a which adopts the usual method of glossing each word, then unpacking each compound, and eventually getting a- round to discussing the philosophical meaning of the verse under consideration, is likely to lose the uninitiated reader in confusion very quickly. The best method of making such texts available for the scholarly community is therefore not straightforward translation, but rather studies which incorporate translation only as and when necessary. Parts of the prose commentaries upon kiirikii texts, notably those which go beyond word and grammatical glosses, are in fact master- pieces of philosophical prose, lucid and even at times entertaining, and it is these above all which need to be translated. It is also in these 27 extended commentarial sections-a commentary upon one kiirikii may typically extend to half a dozen pages where matters of philosophical controversy are raised-that the real philosophical meat of a given work is to be found. The rest is of interest only to those who have sufficient philological expertise and interest in Sanskrit syntax to read it for themselves. The model for dealing with such kiirikii-plus- commentary texts, therefore, should be Van Buitenen's study of Ramanuja's Gitiibhii.)ya. 16 Here interpretive cruxes are translated; the rest is summarized, analyzed, and interpreted. It might be objected that this kind of selective interpretation/study does violence to the integrity of the text and is therefore to be shunned; but as long as the scholarship employed in the study is careful and the content of the text under consideration adequately conveyed, this is no real objec- tion. We have seen that one of the main objectives of the Buddholo- gist is to communicate the meaning of his text. The kind of selective translation/study I am suggesting for kiirikii-plus-commentary texts would do this much more effectively than would a full translation, and is therefore to be preferred. It takes the text seriously but not slavishly. Our second example of a Buddhist Sanskrit siistra which is not amenable to communication by translation will be the monumental YogiiciirabhumiSiistra. About half this text has survived in Sanskrit, and much of it is now available in editions of varying excellence. 17 The Y ogiiciirabhumi is in effect a pedagogical handbook of the Y ogacira school, a work of what Jacques May has called "inexorable technical- ity" 18 consisting of little more than lists of technical terms together with brief definitions. To attempt a translation of such a work would be tantamount to rendering the Oxford English Dictionary into San- skrit. Clearly, works of this kind need intensive study, and the results of such study need to be made available, but translation is simply not the best way to go about it. It should, of course, be pointed out that some Buddhist Sanskrit siistras do in fact possess the literary characteristics which make translation a suitable method of undertaking the hermeneutical task -namely, the characteristics of precision, lucidity and elegance. We might suggest Santideva's Bodhicaryiivatiira or Kamalasila's Bhiivanii- krama as fairly random examples. But the majority of the surviving Buddhist Sanskrit siistra material is, I suggest, better left untranslated for much the same reasons that were distinguished earlier for the sutra material. 28 This superficial and hurried review of the literary and aesthetic characteristics of Buddhist Sanskrit texts may allow the tentative con- clusion that the Buddhologist's interpretive methods should always conform to the material with which he is dealing; that one method will not do for all texts; and that translation is only occasionally the most appropriate method. Before we close this paper we should look at an example of Buddhist Hybrid English. It is not a phenomenon confined to grad- uate students or recent Ph.D. candidates, but something which afflicts the most mature scholars. Take this for instance: ... all dharmas are situated in permanence, ease, the self, the lovely; and likewise in impermanence, ill, not-self and the un- lovely; in greed, hate, delusion, wrong views; for an entity made by false views does not exist, how can the false views themselves take place? For situated in Suchness are all dharmas, and from that situation they do not depart. And why? Because the coming and going of Suchness cannot be apprehended. And so for the Dharma-element, the Reality-limit, Sameness, the unthinkable element, and immobility. 19 This example of Buddhist Hybrid English was chosen pretty much at random from the late Edward Conze's translation of the Paiicavi1[L- satisiihasrikiiprajiiiipiiramitiisiitra. This translation was originally pub- lished without notes or explanatory apparatus of any kind, and one cannot help but wonder if Dr. Conze ever thought about his audience. Non-Buddhologists, those who. have no Sanskrit and no training in the intricacies of the prajiiiipiiramitii, cannot possibly make any sense of it whatever. Dr. Conze's translation bears only the most tenuous rela- tionship to the English language in terms of syntax, and is full of unexplained technical terminology; this much should be obvious even from the short extract quoted here. Its only advantage is that the Sanskrit original shines through with a fair amount of clarity; it isn't difficult for the Sanskritist to reconstruct the original. But it is pre- cisely the expert who doesn't need a translation. He can read the original, and should prefer to do so. The barbaric nature of Dr. Conze's translation is not, of course, altogether his fault. The nature of the material is such that anything else would be almost impossible to achieve; the Paiicavi1[Lsatisiihasrikii is just as barbaric in Sanskrit. His fault, then, lies not in a bad rendering of the text, but in that he decided to translate it at all. The long 29 prajfuiparamitii S'utras are just the kind of texts which do not benefit from translation and which are better studied and interpreted in other ways. I have no doubt that Dr. Conze came closer to an under- standing of this material than has any Weste;n Buddhologist before or since, but he failed signally in his hermeneutical task, that of making his understanding available to others, because-in this case at least-he chose the wrong method. The Buddhological community would have been better served if Dr. Conze had produced a good critical edition of this text (still a desideratum) rather than an un- readable translation, together with a detailed critical study of its structure, relationship to other prajiiaparamita texts, ideas, and tech- nical terminology, and (only as and when necessary) a translation of and commentary upon key passages. I chose this example not because Dr. Conze's translations are worse than anyone else's; in fact they are better than most. Rather, it illustrates with a concrete example the kind of gibberish that is all too often produced by the Buddhological community in the sacred name of translation. I might add that still more striking examples of Buddhist Hybrid English could be adduced if we were to look at the results obtained by those who translate Tibetan texts. We must now make some attempt to draw together the threads of this discussion. We have tried to sketch the legitimate aims of the Buddhologist in studying the corpus of Buddhist Sanskrit literature, and to show the fundamental importance of a good reading knowl- edge of Buddhist Sanskrit for the achieving of these aims. We have noted in passing that an adequate training in the field of Buddhist Sanskrit is becoming increasingly hard to find in English or American universities, largely because there is a growing tendency to treat Sanskrit merely as an adjunct to Tibetan or Sino-Japanese studies. But we have also tried to show that philology is not enough; in order for the Buddhologist to achieve his aims, philological expertise must be properly employed in the task of interpreting the sources and making them available for others; that is to say, philology must be properly related to hermeneutics. The second part of our paper was designed to show that such a relationship is only rarely brought into effect by translation, largely because of the literary nature of the source material. To attempt translation where this is not an appropri- ate means of undertaking the hermeneutical task leads to that regret- table phenomenon which I have called Buddhist Hybrid English. 30 NOTES A version of this paper was first read at the 4th Conference of the Inter- national Association of Buddhist Studies, held at the University of Wisconsin, Madison, U.S.A., August 7-9, 1981. 1. Most of what is said in this paper will be applicable only to England and America, in both of which the author has experience. While some of the problems are similar, there are sufficient differences to make the application of what is said here to the Buddhological communities of India, Europe, and Japan somewhat problematic. 2. cf. Richard Gombrich, On Being Sanskritic (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1978), pp.20-22. 3. Gombrich, op. cit., p. 27. 4. Especially noteworthy here is Chris Gudmunsen's Wittgenstein and Buddhism (London: 1977) and many of the papers published in Philosophy East & West during the last decade. A good recent example is Robert Thurman's "Philosophical Nonegocentrism in Wittgenstein and Candrakirti in their treatment of the Private Language Problem" (Ph.E.W., Vol. 30.3, July 1980), pp. 321-337. 5. Sanskrit of any kind is formally studied in no more than half-a-dozen universities in England, and Buddhist Sanskrit in its own right is taught nowhere on a regular basis. While Sanskrit is more widely available in American universities, there is still comparatively little specialized teaching of Buddhist Sanskrit. 6. This tendency has now reached the point at which English translations of Buddhist texts are being produced solely from the Tibetan or Chinese even when the Sanskrit original---{)r part of it-survives. This kind of thing is done even by those who have at least some pretensions to scholarship in the field, for example, Jeffrey Hopkins, who has perpetrated a translation of Nagarjuna's Ratniivali (as part of The Precious Garland & The Song of the Four Mindfulnesses, London: Allen & Unwin, 1975) entirely on the basis of the Tibetan version in apparent blissful ignorance that a substantial part of this text survives in Sanskrit, and has even been edited by G. Tucci as "The Ratnavali of Nagaruna" (JRAS, 1934, pp. 307-25; 1936, pp. 237-252, 423-435). Such a pro- cedure is simply bad scholarly method, and is becoming ever more common among Ti- betophiles who seem to forget that Buddhist canonical texts were originally largely composed in Sanskrit. 7. Eugene Burnouf, Introduction Ii I'Histoire du Buddhisme Indien (Paris: Maison- neuve, 1844, 2nd ed. 1876), pp. 10-11. 8. Burnouf, Le Lotus de la Bonne Loi (Paris: Maisonneuve, 1825). 9. In surveying forty Buddhist Studies Ph.D.'s awarded by American universi- ties from 1974-1979, I found that 25 followed this standard pattern. 10. This restriction is partly because I do not consider myself competent to dis- cuss tantric texts from the literary angle or any other, and partly because the problems invoved in the hermeneutics of tantrism are so idiosyncratic and complex that even a superficial discussion would need a paper to itself. Nevertheless, many of the broader points made about siitra and sastra may also be applied to tantra. 11. cf. G. Schopen, "The Phrase 'sa frr:thivipradeSaScaityabhiito bhavet in the Vajracchedika: Notes on the Cult of the Book in the Mahayana." (Indo-IranianJoumal, Vol. 17, 1975), pp. 147-181. 31 12. This text is to hand in two reasonably good editions: D. T. Suzuki & H. Izumi, The Ga:rufavyiihasiitra (Tokyo: Suzuki Research Foundation, 1949), and P. L. Vaidya, GaTfcfavyiihasiitra (Buddhist Sanskrit Texts 5, Darbhanga: Mithila Insti- tute, 1960). There is no complete published English translation. 13. Vaidya, ed. cit., 397. 17ff. 14. Jacques May, "La Philosophie Bouddhique Idealiste" (Etudes Asiatiques, Vol. 25,1971), p. 276. 15. The fact that kiirikii texts are sufficiently ambiguous to be capable of a wide range of interpretations becomes clear if we compare, say, the Kosa with the Abhi- dharrnadipa. The latter is a work written in an attempt to re-establish the V a i b h a ~ i k a viewpoint in reaction against the Sautrantika leanings of the KosabhiiJya. It does this in many instances by reproducing the kiirikiis of the Kosa and interpreting them in a different-sometimes diametrically opposed-manner. Some 300 of the 597 surviving Sanskrit kiirikiis of the Dipa have more or less exact parallels in the Kosa. The "meaning" of any given kiirikii is thus not inherent in the kiirikii but determined by the commenta- tor. The best editions of the respective works are: AbhidharrnakosabhiiJyam oj Vasu- bandu, ed. P. Pradhan with introduction and indices by A. Haldar, Tibetan Sanskrit Works Series, Vol. 8 (Patna: K. P. Jayaswal Research Institute, 1975); Abhidharmadipa with VibhiiJaprabhiiVr:fti, ed. P. S. Jaini, Tibetan Sanskrit Works Series, Vol. 4 (Patna: K. P. Jayaswal Research Institute, 2nd ed. 1977). 16. J. Van Buitenen, Riimiinuja on the Bhagavadgitii: A Condensed Rendering oj the GltiibhiiJya with copious notes and an introduction (Delhi: Motilal Banarsidass, 1968). 17. Bhiimis 1-5, ed. V. Bhattacharya, The Yogiiciirabhiimi oj Arya Asanga (Cal- cutta: University of Calcutta Press, 1957); Bhiimis 8, 9, 14, ed. A. Wayman in Journal of Indian & Buddhist Studies, Vol. 8, 1960, pp. 375-379; Bhiimi 13 ed. K. Shukla, Sriivaka- bhiimi of Arya Asanga, Tibetan Sanskrit Works, Vol. 14 (Patna: K. P. Jayaswal Research Institute, 1973); Bhumi 15, ed. Unrai Wogihara, Bodhisattvabhiimi (Tokyo: Sankibo Buddhist Bookstore, 2nd ed., 1976); also, ed. N. Dutt, Bodhisattvabhiimi, Tibetan San- skrit Works Series, Vo!' 7 (Patna: K. P. Jayaswal Research Institute, 1966. 2nd ed., 1978). 18. In a review of Lambert Schmithausen's Der Niruiina-Abschnitt in der Viniicaya- SaT(lgrahaTfI der Yogiiciirabhiimil! in Indo-Iranian Journal, Vol. 14, 1972, pp. 125-129. The reference to "technicite inexorable" occurs on p. 125. 19. Edward Conze, The Large Siitra on the Perfection oj Wisdom, Parts 2 & 3 (Madison, Wisconsin: 1964), p. 374. 32 N onorigination and Nirvar;a in the Early Tathagatagarbha Literature by William Grosnick One of the most interesting notions found in the early tathiigatagarbha literature is the idea that niruiirJa should be understood as non- origination (anutpiida). This idea is explicitly formulated in two texts, the Ratnagotravibhiiga, the only siistra extant in Sanskrit which is com- pletely devoted to the tathiigatagarbha and Buddha-nature teachings, and the Jiiiiniilokiilankiirasutra, the sutra upon which the Ratnagotravi- bhiiga bases its exposition of nonorigination. The Jiiiiniilokiilankiira- sidra itself does not speak of the tathiigatagarbha or Buddha-nature doctrines, but the Ratnagotravibhiiga takes the Jiiiiniilokiilankiirasutra explanation of nonorigination and links it to the view of niruiirJa found in two of the important early sutras that do speak of the tathii- gatagarbha, the AnunatviipiirrJatvanirdda and the Srimiiliidevisutra. This interpretation of niruiirJa in terms of nonorigination is of considerable importance in understanding the early tathiigatagarbha teaching, for it clarifies certain notions frequently associated with the tathiigatagarbha like the "natural purity of mind" (cittaprakrtiviSuddhi)-notions which have been hotly debated ever since the doctrine's inception. It may also tell us something about the conceptual issues which divided the schools of early Buddhism and so hold clues for understanding the origin of Mahayana Buddhism. In order to see how the tathiigatagarbha theorists could under- stand niruiirJa as nonorigination it is necessary first to examine some of their ideas about niruiirJa. It is of course well known that the earliest Mahayana literature placed great emphasis on the figure of the Buddha, and urged beings to strive for buddhahood rather than personal liberation. At first glance this would seem to give the im- pression that buddhahood and niruiirJa were thought of as separate and distinct goals, the understanding being that one should strive for 33 buddhahood in order to help other beings attain nirva'f!a. Buddha- hood would be the higher goal because it represents selfless activity on behalf of others rather than selfish striving for personal release. This indeed is how some Mahayana Buddhists apparently understood the relationship between buddhahood and nirva'f!a, for the authors of the so-called "triyana" texts like the SarJ.ldhinirmocanasiitra and the Mahiiyanasiitralankiira reasoned that certain beings (the tathiigatayana- gotraka) had the superior faculties necessary for buddhahood while others (the sravakayanagotraka and the pratyekabuddhayanagotraka), had only the faculties necessary for attaining nirva'f!a. 1 But "ekayana" texts like the Ratnagotravibhiiga and the tathiigata- garbha siitras upon which it relies do not make this conceptual dis- tinction between buddhahood and nirva'f!a. Buddhahood is not simply a superior state of wisdom and compassion from which one helps others attain liberation-it is also itself a state of liberation. Thus the Ratnagotravibhiiga maintains that from the highest point of view "buddhahood and nirva1!a are one and the same"2; and the SrWuila- devisiitra, in a passage quoted in the Ratnagotravibhaga, says The sravaka and pratyekabuddha vehicles all enter the great ve- .hicle. The great vehicle is the Buddha vehicle. Therefore the three vehicles are the one vehicle. One who attains the one ve- hicle attains supreme, perfect enlightenment. Supreme enlight- enment is the realm of nirva'f!a (nirva'f!adhiitu). And the realm of nirva1!a is the Dharma-body of the Tathagata. 3 Thus buddhahood was not simply understood as the attainment of those various powers and kinds of wisdom by which one might aid others to find liberation in nirva'f!a-it was itself a form of liberation. Indeed, it was the only form of liberation that there was. What above all made possible this identification of buddhahood and nirva7!a was the rejection of the notion that nirva7!a represented extinction. This idea was probably implicit in the doctrine of the eternality of the Tathagata so vigorously expounded in the Sad- dharmapur!4art7w and the first half of the Mahiiparinirva'f!asiitra. But the siitras of the tathiigatagarbha tradition do not just speak of non- extinction for the Tathagata, they also make clear that it is wrong to think of any sentient being attaining extinction. In the Aniinat- vapiiT1!atvanirdesa, the title of which means the "siitra which expounds neither increase nor decrease," the Buddha responds to the question of whether there is any increase or decrease in the number of beings 34 transmigrating through the triple world first by rejecting the quest- ions as ill-conceived, and then by explicitly attacking both the idea that nirvarJa represents a kind of severance, destruction, or non-being (the view of "decrease"), and the idea that it represents a reality over and above the phenomenal life that arises suddenly without cause (the view of "increase"). 4 The text goes on to say that these two erroneous views of nirvarJa would not arise if beings understood the ~ m e dharma- dhiitu. 5 The Srtmaliidevisutra follows a similar line of thought in its discussion of the third noble truth, the truth of the cessation of suf- fering (duq,khanirodhasatya). In a widely quoted passage the sutra says: By the truth of the cessation of suffering, 0 World-honored One, is not meant the destruction of a single dharma. By the expression "cessation of suffering" is meant the Dharma-body of the Tathagata, which is beginningless, unproduced, unborn, of no destruction, free from destruction, eternal, pure by nature, free from the covering of kleSas, and inseparable from the buddhadharmas, which are more numerous than the sands of the Ganges River. 6 The Ratnagotravibhiiga comments on this passage by saying that this is how the truth of the cessation of suffering should be understood; it should never be explained that the truth gets its name because of the extinction of something. 7 What this seems to mean is that the authors of the Ratnagotra- vibhiiga and other tathiigatagarbha texts rejected the idea that nirviirJa was a state of extinction reached when one destroyed one's ignorance and passions and exhausted one's rebirths. It is possible that their arguments were directed at the notions of nirviirJa "with a remainder" (sopiidhiJe0anirviirJa) and nirviirJa "without a remainder" (anuphiidhiJe0a- nirvarJa) found in texts like the Itivuttaka,8 for both of these notions emphasized extinction. NirviirJa with a remainder (also called klesa- nirviirJa), represented the extinction of asravas ("outflows") like sens- ual desire, desire for existence, and ignorance and the extinguishing of kleSas like greed, hatred, and pride. It represented the attainment of an arhat who had not yet departed this life. NirviirJa without a remainder represented the extinction realized by the arhat at death, when the five skandhas (the "remainder") are dispersed. Both of these articulations of nirviirJa suggest that there is a point in time when certain dharmas, be they kleSas or skandhas, are completely extin- guished, and this appears to be precisely the kind of extinction which 35 the tathiigatagarbha texts were arguing against. Moreover, the idea thatniruiir;a is attained or entered at a particular point in time is also something argued against in the texts. TheJiiiiniilokiilankiirasutra says that: It is impossible to see the Tathagata enter niruiir;a, though sentient beings give rise to such a notion and say that the Tatha- gata has attained ultimate niruiir;a . ... The Tathagata's true, all- pervading knowledge is unborn, undying, unoriginated, and undestroyed. . . . From beginningless time he realizes eternal mahiipariniruiir;a. 9 The view of niruiir;a brought forward in the early tathiigatagarbha texts as an alternative to the idea of extinction was the rather remark- able notion of nonorigination. The authors of the Ratnagotravibhiiga and Jiiiiniilokiilankiirasutra (and perhaps the other tathiigatagarbha sut- ras), seemed to believe that true attainment is to be found not in the extinguishing of ignorance and passion, but in their nonorigination. This rather ingenious notion is clearly brought forward in the Jiiiiniilokiilankiirasutra where it is said that: Where there is neither origination nor extinction, mind, intel- lect, and consciousness do not take place. When mind, intellect, and consciousness do not take place, there is no false discrimina- tion by which incorrect thought would arise. One who arouses correct thought never originates ignorance. Nonorigination means the non-arising of the twelve parts of existence. 10 The idea seems to be that correct practice consists of not generating those mental activities by which illusory realities are conceived. Cor- rect thought seems to be thought which does not originate those notions of "me" and "mine" that in turn give rise to desire, craving, hatred, and the other passions that plague human existence. Correct thought is the nonorigination of any false and foolish conceptions of reality (prapaiica). And the Jiiiiniilokiilankiirasutra clearly associates this nonorigination with niruiir;a, the liberation from sarl}Siira: 36 One who has been able to reach the truth does not give rise to vain imaginings (prapaiica). One who does not give rise to vain imaginings does not act in accordance with falsely posited reali- ties. One who neither imagines nor acts in such ways does not dwell in sarl}Siira. 11 In the analysis provided by the Ratnagotravibhiiga, human bond- age (vibandha) is "the origination of desire, hatred, and ignorance" which is preceded by superficial thought (ayoniJomanasikiira). Super- ficial thought is thought which conceives of and grasps after illusory realities be'cause of its attachment to what are really only the con- ceptual characteristics (nimitta) of things. When one understands that this thought is extinct by nature one ceases to originate duality and discrimination and the suffering associated with them. Therefore the text says, "there is absolutely no origination of suffering." 12 The text seems to be saying that human suffering is the illusory product of mental activity. When one understands this one's proper response is not to try to destroy suffering, but simply not to originate it. Those practitioners whom the Ratnagotravibhiiga characterizes as sriivakas do not understand this and therefore seek to destroy suffering. This is probably why the text claims that the obstacle of sriivakas is the notion of suffering (dul[kha-sa7(ljiial and the fear of suffering (du};,kha-bhirutua). 13 Suffering is not a dharma one should extinguish, but an illusion one should not produce. In the words of the Jfiiiniilokiilankiirasutra, If the bodhisattva does not originate mind he does not effect the extinction of dharmas or the origination of dharmas . ... He sees that dharmas are extinct from the outset and that they are not extinguished. 14 Thus, rather than understanding the noble truth of the extinc- tion of suffering as a state of nonbeing or extinction, it would appear that the early tathiigatagarbha thinkers regarded it as a kind of practice -namely the practice of nondiscriminative wisdom (avikalpa-jfiiina). N ondiscriminative wisdom is not a practice aimed at deliverance (viriiga), but a practice that is already deliverance, 15 for ignorance and its attendant passions and sufferings are simply not originated. It is also a practice that does not involve the application of correctives for specific ills (as, for example, in the case of a man prone to hatred who might consciously cultivate benevolent thoughts toward his enemies). The mind of one who practices correct thought (i.e., nonorigination), is "pure by nature," and as the Jfiiiniilokiilankiirasutra puts it, "because mind is pure by nature in one who practices correct thought, there is no need for This rejection of would suggest that the understanding of practice found in the Rat- nagotravibhiiga and Jfiiiniilokiilankiirasutra may have more in common with certain Sino-Japanese views of practice (like the Zen Master 37 Dogen's "enlightenment-based practice")17 than it does with more traditional Indian Buddhist understandings of practice like the five path system of the Abhisamayalankiira. Since the nonorigination of ignorance is an activity, rather than a state of extinction, it is not surprising that the tathiigatagarbha texts portray it using the dynamic, personified figure of the Buddha's Dharma-body rather than using the traditional term nirva'f}a with its connotation of stasis. It is probably because of this active sense of nonorigination that the Ratnagotravibhiiga literally identifies the ex- tinction of suffering with the dharmakiiya of the Tathagata. 18 Indeed, the active nonorigination of ignorance is so central to the tathiigata- garbha theory that some of the texts seem almost to make nonorigina- tion into the defining characteristic of the dharmakiiya. The Srzmala- devZsutra defines the dharmakiiya as beginningless, unproduced, and non-arisen. 19 And the Jiianiilokiilankiirasutra says that the pure Dhar- ma-body is unmoving, does not originate mental actions, does not engage in pointless speculation, and does not reason dualistically. It does not discriminate; it is free from discrimination. It does not speculate; it is free from speculation. It does not imagine; it is free from imagination. It is tra.nquil and quiescent, of neither origination nor destruction. 20 In another passage of the Jiiiiniilokiilankiirasutra that is quoted by the Ratnagotravibhiiga, the text says that "he who is said to be of neither origination nor destruction is called the Tathagata."21 The understanding of nirva'Y?a and the dharmakiiya in terms of nonorigination has several important implications for understanding the tathiigatagarbha theory. One of the most obvious of these implica- tions concerns the proper interpretation of the notion of the "natural purity of mind" (cittaprakl:tiviSuddhi) or the "natural luminescence of mind" (cittasya prakrtiprabluisvaratal.22 Some scholars of Buddhism, most notably Obermiller,23 seem to have felt that these notions imply a sort of Brahmanical monism-that underlying the constant flux of mind-produced illusions there is a sort of pure mental substratum that remains eternally the same. This interpretation would have it that the natural purity of this mental substratum serves as an ultimate refuge from the uncertainties and sufferings of transitory human existence. It is clear, however, from the idea of the nonorigination of 38 ignorance that there is no need to go so far as to posit a mental substratum in order to understand the theory of the natural purity of mind. The natural purity of mind can be thought of simply as the . awareness of one who does not originate thoughts of "me" and "mine" and other illusory realities. Nothing special is being said about any kind of mystical penetration into an absolute or universal mental nature. The natural luminosity of mind is only the natural purity of one who does not generate foolish thoughts. It is completely unthink- able, unlocalizable, and indescribable,24 and thus fully compatible with the prajiiiiparamitii teaching of emptiness. A second important implication of nonorigination involves the sister concept of the tathiigatagarbha, the Buddha-nature (buddha- dhatu). An important problem confronting scholars of the Mahiipari- nirva,,!asutra was how to reconcile the various assertions made in the sutra that the Buddha-nature is both a cause and a result; the idea of nonorigination may show how this is possible. For example, in the "Kasyapa" Chapter of the Mahiiparinirva,,!asutra, the Buddha says that before enlightenment the Buddha-nature is a cause but that after enlightenment it is a result. 25 Later in the same chapter the Buddha says that when he speaks following his own volition (i.e., not adapting his thought to the capacities of listeners), he explains that the result lies in the cause and the cause in the result. 26 Unfortunately, the sutra itself does not do much to clarify these rather confusing statements; but if one were to identify the Buddha-nature with the active non- origination of ignorance, this apparent contradiction between cause and result might be resolved. As noted earlier, the practice of not originating ignorance is not simply the means to liberation (cause), it is also liberation itself (result). By not originating false notions of reality, beings actualize their innate purity. All beings are said to possess the Buddha-nature because they possess the capacity to prac- tice nonorigination-this is the Buddha-nature as cause. When they practice it becomes result. 27 It is also interesting to note that the identification of liberation with nonorigination that is found in the tathgatagarbha literature may hold some clues for understanding the origins of Mahayana Bud- dhism, or at least for understanding the philosophical questions which divided them from their so-called "Hinayana" opponents. For it is clear from the tathiigatagarbha literature that the early Mahayana thinkers had some strong views regarding the nature of nirva,,!a. The Snmaliidevisutra, as we have noted, is most adamant in asserting that 39 the truth of the cessation of suffering (du!;,kanirodhasatya) should not be thought of as extinction. It is reasonable, therefore, to assume that one of the philosophical issues that led Mahayana Buddhism to dis- tinguish itself from other Buddhist schools of thought was the proper understanding of nirviir;a. How far back can one trace the notion that nirviir;a should be thought of as nonorigination rather than extinc- tion? If one examines what the historical Buddha is purported to have said about nirviir;a, it is clear that there was plenty of room for dis- agreement right from the start. Certainly there are plenty of refer- ences to extinction in the Buddha's utterances-allusions to the ex- tinguishing of a lamp or flame, to the extinction of desire, hatred, and illusion, and even to the "stopping of becoming."28 There are also, however, some important qualifications of the idea that nirviir;a is extinction, perhaps foremost among them being the refusal of the Buddha to answer questions like whether or not the Tathagata exists after death 29 or whether or not a monk who has destroyed the asravas exists after the dissolution of the body. 30 It is certainly clear from this that he did not lay down as dogma the notions of nirviir;a with and without a remainder. Moreover, because of the Buddhist rejection of the reality of the self, or iitman, it is apparent that there is nothing that ever really needs to be extinguished in the first place. In an early discourse attributed to Sariputra it is concluded that "a Tathagata cannot be held to be perceived as existing even in this life in truth and reality."3! Assertions like these suggest that extinction is in a very real sense already attained, and it is only the illusion of self that could present a problem. The question might well then have become, should one extinguish such illusions or simply not originate them? And finally there is that curious quote from the Udiina, which almost seems to suggest that nirviir;a should be understood as existing: There is an unborn, an unbecome, an unmade, an uncom- pounded; if there were not, there would not be an escape from the born, the become, the made, the compounded. But because there is an unborn, an unbecome, an unmade, an uncom- pounded, there is therefore an escape from the born, the become, the made, and the compounded}2 It would be stretching things to suggest that this quote expresses the view of nonorigination that is found in the Jiiiiniilokiilankiirasutra, but it is nevertheless clear that even in those statements attributable to the 40 Buddha, nonbirth and nonorigination were important notions. De- bate over extinction or nonorigination could have begun even during the lifetime of the Buddha. As a sidelight it is worth noting that the idea of nonorigination might have also figured in the dispute over the backsliding of an arhat that apparently divided some of the splinter schools. Schools like the Theravadins and the Vibhajyavadins, which rejected the idea that an arhat can fall back from his attainment, almost always based their arguments on the idea of extinction. The Theravadins, for example, asserted that an arhat cannot backslide because he has destroyed the roots of kldas. 33 And the Vibhajyavadins compared the arhat's de- struction of klesas to a fire reducing a tree to ashes--nothing remains of the original that could grow back. 34 On the other hand, it would seem that if one thought of practice not as the extinction of klesas, but as the nonorigination of kleSas, practice would be endless, and would never bring one to any sort of final state. Backsliding would either always remain a possibility, or else it would remain a possibility as long as one had the mistaken idea that at some point in time one's kleSas would be extinct (then, con- ceivably one might erroneously relax his vigilance). This might have been the reasoning of the Sarvastivadins, for there is some evidence that they felt that the possibility of backsliding was tied to one's understanding of nonorigination. According to Vasumitra, one of the theses of the Sarvastivadins was the rather surprising contention that streamwinners (srotiipanna) cannot backslide but arhats can-a con- tention that is strange because it see.ms to reverse the traditional order and place streamwinners above arhats. The very next Sarvastivadin tenet listed by Vasumitra asserts that all arhats do not obtain the wisdom of nonorigination (anutpiidajftiina),35 and though no connec- tion is made between these theses in Vasumitra's enumeration, one might conjecture that the second was originally put forward as an explanation for the first. That is, the reason that some arhats slide back is that they have not obtained the wisdom of nonorigination. All this is highly speculative, and there is no indication that the Vatsiputriyas or Sammitayas followed similar reasoning when they argued for the backsliding of arhats. But it does show that the issue of nonorigination was central to some of the doctrinal disputes among the splinter schools. Mahayana Buddhism might well have developed from doctrinal disputes like these. 41 NOTES 1. D. Seyfort Ruegg, La Theone du Tathiigatagarbha et du Gotra (Paris: Publica_ tions de I'Ecole Fran<;aise d'Extreme Orient, 1969), pp. 73-74, 78. 2. Taisho Shinshu Daizokyo. XXXI, 835c and ]ikido Takasaki, A Study on the Ratnagotravibhiiga (Rome: Serie Orientale Roma, 1966), p. 261. 3. T. XII, 220c. RGV quote: T. XXXI, 821a, band Takasaki, p. 144. 4. T. XVI, 466a, b. 5. T. XVI, 466c. 6. T. XII, 221c. RGV quote: T. XXXI, 824a and Takasaki, pp. 167-68. 7. T. XXXI, 824a and Takasaki, p. 167. 8. Edward Conze et al., Buddhist Texts Through the Ages (New York: Harper and Row, 1964), pp. 96-97. 9. T. XII, 24lc. 10. T. XII, 247c. RGV quote: T. XXXI, 824a and Takasaki, p. 167. 11. T. XII, 244b. 12. T. XXXI, 824a, band Takasaki, pp. 167-69. 13. T. XXXI, 829a and Takasaki, p. 205. 14. T. XII, 247b. 15. The RGV explains that deliverance has the common feature of both nirodhasatya and miirgasatya. T. XXXI, 823c and Takasaki, p. 164. 16. T. XII, 244c. 17. Cf. ShObogenzo "Muchilsetsumu," ed. Fumio Masutani (Tokyo: Kadogawa- shoten, 1975), IV, 162. 18. T. XXXI, 824a and Takasaki, p. 168. 19. T. XII, 22lc. 20. T. XII, 240c. 21. T. XII, 242b. RGV quote: T. XXXI, 823a and Takasaki, p. 159. 22. Cf. T. XXXI, 824c-825a and 833a, band Takasaki, pp. 172-74 and 238-40. 23. Cf. Y. Y. Obermiller, The Sublime Science of the Great Vehicle to Salvation, Being a Manual of Buddhist Monism (Copenhagen: Acta Orientalia IX, 1931) (Reprint: Shang- hai, 1940). 24. Cf. the following quote from the ]AA: "The Tathagata's Dharma-body is markless and free from any discernible aspect. It is without location and cannot be localized." T. XII, 241c. 25. T. XII, 571b. 26. T. XII, 580c. 27. This may be why the Nirviinasutra devotes so much space to discussing the icchantika, a being whose current practices represent the antithesis of correct Buddhist practice. 28. Conze et aI., pp. 92-93. 29. Majjhima-Nikiiya, I, 157. Quoted in E. ]. Thomas, The History of Buddhist Thought (New York: Barnes and Noble, 1951), p. 124. 30. Sa7!lyutta-Nikaya, III, 109. Thomas, p. 125. 31. Samy., III, 109. Thomas, p. 126. 32. Udiina, VIII, 1-3. Conze, et al., p. 95. 42 33. Andre Bareau, Les Sectes Bouddhiques du Petit Vehicule (Saigon: Publications de I'Ecole Fran!,:aise d'Extrerne Orient, 1955), p. 212. 34. Bareau, p. 174. 35. Bareau, p. 140. 43 Multiple Dimensions of Impermanence in Dagen's "Genjokoan" by Steven Heine When all dharmas are of the Buddha Dharma, that is delu- sion and enlightenment, practice, birth and death, Buddhas and sentient beings. When ten thousand dharmas are without self, -there is neither delusion nor enlightenment, neither Buddhas nor sentient beings, neither arising nor extinction. Because the Buddha Way originally springs out of abundance and shortage, there is arising and extinction, delusion and enlightenment, beings and Buddhas. And yet, even though this has been said, blossoms scatter in sadness and weeds spring up in dismay.! Dogen,a "Genjokoan"b I. Introduction: Ambiguity of the Passage One of the most challenging and compelling passages in Dogen's collected writings is the opening paragraph of "Genjokoan," which in most editions (apparently according to Dogen's own editing) is the first fascicle of Shobogenzo c and thus the central introduction to his work. The first three sentences appear to evoke the Tendai doctrine of "three truths in their perfect harmony": the truth or perspective of the temporary or provisional (ke)d; the truth of the void or empty of own-being (kii)e; and the middle truth (chii)f between and beyond the empty and provisional, absolute and relative, being and non-being, transcendental and worldly. Thus, the first sentence expresses (in light of primordial non- differentiation-Hof the Buddha Dharma") the realm of provisional duality encompassing the concrete ups and downs of religious aspira- tion (to transform oneself from a sentient being to Buddha) and existential achievement (in the struggle between delusion and enlight- enment) while perpetually confronting the ever-present and pervas- Ive reality of impermanence (birth and death). The category of 44 practice, which seems to bind all spheres of existence, is not men- tioned in the remaining sentences. The second sentence reveals the more fundamental perspective of emptiness--not mere negation and denial-underlying the provisionally bifurcated dimensions, which recognizes the relativity and non-substantiality of interdependent and contingent polarities. The third sentence (recalling the Diamond Sutra's "A is not A, therefore A") shows that true non-differentiation is not opposed to dichotomization, but eliminates the very distinction between difference and non-difference. It equalizes the first two sentences, not only by reversing their order, but by highlighting the creatively dynamic interplay uniting both perspectives. The middle is both provisional and empty, and therefore neither provisional nor empty; only in light of complete equality can the full range and multiplicity of differentiation be conveyed. The fourth and final sentence of the paragraph clearly illus- trates Dogen's attempt to re-raise the question of impermanence (mujo)g and of human reaction to transiency as crucial to an under- standing of Buddhist Dharma. What does it add to the Tendai doctrine? Is it an afterthought or a challenge? The meaning and significance of the final statement is so rich and ambiguous in its brevity that it can be and has been translated and interpreted (both in gendaiyaku h or modern Japanese translation 2 and in English) from a variety of perspectives, including two nearly opposite views: either as representing an unenlightened standpoint of attachment, longing and regret which must be negated; or as an absolutism which at once encompasses and transcends human emotions of sorrow and grief concerning incessant change. According to the first interpretation, the sentence represents a misguided stance in contrast to the Buddhist doctrine preceding it. That is, for those who do not fully comprehend the Dharma, suffer- ing arises due to volitional involvement with uncertain and unstable phenomena that should be altogether attenuated. The other position, however, suggests that the final sentence actually deepens and chal- lenges the first three by stressing personal encounter with imper- manence, continuing even beyond enlightenment, as the direct and unavoidable pointer to the truth of non-substantiality (muga)i. Ac- cording to this interpretation, the sentence discloses a new vantage point reversing the eternalist tendency in previous Mahayana and Zen efforts to attain nirvarJa in terms of an immutable Buddha-nature beyond the ephemeral world. Genuine realization must be found in 45 terms of-rather than by elimination of--Dne's emotional response to variability and inevitable loss. What is the source of the controversy, and on what basis can it be resolved? It seems that the key to interpreting the sentence lies in the double-edged qua1ity of the terms "sadness" (aijaku)j and "dismay" (kiken)k, which can imply either sentimentality and clinging or a deeper religio-aesthetic sense of attunement and commitment to the cares of the perpetual flux. 3 Yet, this ambiguity is not necessarily problematically inconclusive. Two or more meanings seen in a single phrase may not imply contradiction, but indicate that in Dagen's understanding there are multiple and paradoxical dimensions of 1m permanence. In order to explicate the ambiguity of the passage, I will first discuss the underlying aims of the "Genjakaan" fascicle which ex- presses Dagen's fundamental religious quest and philosophical pro- ject of reconciling and clarifying the Mahayana (particularly Japanese Tendai) notion of original Buddha-nature (busshO) I with the trans- iency and sorrow of existence as he himself experienced it. Second, I will examine alternative translations of the passage by Nakamura Saichi, Masutani Fumio, Tanahashi Ikka and Tamaki Koshiro (in gendaiyaku) and Waddell/Abe and Maezumi/Cook (in English) to highlight the textual difficulties and variety of possible interpreta- tions. Finally, I will show that the ambiguity of the final sentence is grounded in Dagen's multi-dimensional view of impermanence and multi-perspectival theory of truth: impermanence at once signifies an unenlightened sense of fragility and uncertainty; an emotional sensi- tivity to the poignant and heartfelt passing of things, which is essential to awaken the resolve for enlightenment; and the spontaneous and complete manifestation of the realization (genjokoan)4 that existence is thoroughly free of substratum and duration or of a fixated notion of substance in self and world that conceals evanescence. II. Aims of the Fascicle: Historical and Doctrinal Background The composition of "Genjokoan" in 1233 represents a distinct change in Dagen's expression of Zen. The fascicle is neither a straight- forward admonition or restatement of Buddhist principles nor a deliberately non-sensical utterance, but a cogent, organic philosoph- ical essay at once disturbing and persuasive, poetic and discursive. 46 "Genjakaan" is the third fascicle of Shobogenzo written by Dagen,S but the first of the foremost philosophical pieces which are the founda- tion and hallmark of his doctrine,. preceding by nearly a decade the creative peak in which he composed "Dji,"m "Bussho" and "Gyoji,"n among others. This was a significant period of transition for Dogen after his return to Japan from his training under Chinese master Ju- ching and consequent attainment of saton.o Yet it preceded the estab- lishment of his own strictly disciplined Eihei temple in relatively remote Echizen province; which fulfilled Ju-ching's exhortation to stay free of any involvement in the political controversy and wordly affairs that seemed to have corrupted Kyoto and the Tendai center on Mt. Hiei. In these years, however, Dogen occupied several temples in Fukakusa and areas near Kyoto, advocating "liberal" positions- later largely repudiated-such as the involvement oflay men and women disciples in Zen practice. He also participated in Court poetry through attendance of uta-awaseP (poetry contests) where he wrote rengaq (linked verse), one of which was later included in an imperial anthol- ogy, and befriended Fujiwara Teika, prominent poet and co-compiler of Shinkokinsju r (New Collection of Old and Recent Poems).6 An essay written and given to a lay disciple rather than a sermon delivered to (and frequently recorded by) monks as is typical of many of the subsequent fascicles of Sh5bogenzo, "Genjokoan" marks Dogen's stylistic liberation from more conventional presentations in his three previous major works: "Hokyo-ki"s (1226), a fragmentary and pos- thumously discovered autobiographical account of his practice with Ju-ching and record of the Chinese teacher's central sayings and interpretations of doctrine; "Fukanzazengi"t (1227), the first piece Dagen wrote in Japan recommending the universal merits of zazen u and considered his "manifesto" on the theory and practice of medita- tion; and "Bendawa"v (1231), a pronouncement through the quest- ion-answer format of Dogen's Soto views on key Zen issues, including the role of sutras and language in transmitting the Buddhist Dharma, from the standpoint of the priority of zazen-only. "Genjokoan" is largely thematically consistent with and an am- plification of notions expressed in these works, such as the temporal unity of practice and realization fully disclosed here-and-now and perpetually renewed throughout all moments, and the universal equalization of all phenomena as manifestations of Buddha-nature. The innovative element in "Genjokoan" is its metaphorical and philo- sophical deepening and enrichment of the impermanent/non- 47 substantial moment as the ground of selfless realization. Dogen Uses an indirect or poetic communication with naturalistic symbolism, as in the final sentence of the opening paragraph, to divulge the essential multi-dimensional structure of mujo. The common basis of these writings as well as his collected works is Dagen's enlightenment experience, achieved under Ju-ching's guid- ance, of shinjin-datsuraku w (body-mind dropping off)-a liberation from conceptual and volitional fixations realized in and through one's selfless immersion in ephemeral reality. According to Dagen's tradi- tional biography, Kenzeiki x , the tragic early deaths of his parents amidst unpredictable political upheavals and natural disorders had aroused in Dagen a profound awareness of the all-pervasive con- ditions of transiency beyond particular experiences yet most directly and despairingly realized through them. Dogen's religious quest began when, even as a youth, he rejected the aristocratic background and Court poetic tradition in which he was raised for the sake of shukkey (Buddhist renunciation). Poetic classics, he apparently felt, conveyed an emotional attunement to the fleeting beauty of transitory existence symbolized by changing seasons, falling blossoms and the bird's winter flight. Yet they tended to indulge in either a romanti- cized fatalism or an idle and sentimental attachment to the hedonic moment, and thereby perpetuated bondage to a supposedly persist- ent and enduring self underlying change. The Buddhist conception of karma (moral causation) was inauthentic ally portrayed as a psy- chological crutch to rationalize the uncertain and unstable quality of personal and social contingency and consequent loneliness, longing, frustration and failure. In his pursuit of Dharma, Dagen was deter- mined to penetrate to a genuine understanding of mujo-as-mujo unbound by arbitrary ego-oriented decisions to accept and enjoy or reject and dismiss evanescence or self-centered attitudes of optimism, nostalgia and nihilism. As a monk, Dagen soon found that the basic Buddhist analysis of the relative, interdependent and non-substantial nature of the universal flux was somewhat subverted in then-current Tendai and Rinzai Zen centers on Mt. Hiei. He was disturbed by the prevailing conception of an absolute and unvarying Buddha-nature which tran- scended time and yet manifested itself in time but was achieved only through the elimination of time. This problematic standpoint is meta- phorically depicted in the "Uji" fascicle by the image of a "ruby palace" which represents an unreflective and ignorant attempt to be 48 free of the tribulations of impermanence (symbolized by crossing a valley to climb a mountain) by projecting an illusory eternalism-a tendency he felt plagued Japanese Buddhism: "Although the mount- ains and river are indeed here right-now, I [from the standpoint of the average man] seem to think that I have left them far behind and I act as if I occupy a palace made of rubies, thereby believing that there is a separation between myself and the mountains [as great] as that between heaven and earth."7 Dagen's pilgrimage to China was motiv- ated by the view that the Japanese Court poetic and Buddhist reli- gious/philosophical traditions had hopelessly weakened one another, resulting in the heterodoxical notion underlying Zen practice of a statically-conceived eternal Buddha-nature. This inauthentic view created bifurcations between a supposedly substantive self and the fragile movement it undergoes as well as the contingency of enlight- enment and the immutability of Buddha-nature attained at the end of a linear sequence. The fundamental question Dagen forced himself and Buddhists to confront in the quest for a release from suffering was later framed in "Fukanzazengi": "Originally, the Way is complete and all-pervasive. How does it depend on practice and realization?"g Dagen thereby challenged the conception of Buddha-nature as a potentiality some- how falsely detached from everyday experience, or as an unactualized possibility awaiting the appropriate time for fulfillment. He was wary of any misleading objectification of bussha either as something sub- stantive and unchanging that did not require exertion or effort (jiriki)z or as an obtainable goal reached only at the completion of practice. The profound and troubling soteriological dilemma which Dagen faced-increased by the apparent gap between his existential awareness of muja and the Tendai notion of an eternal b u s s h ~ i s intriguingly expressed in the following monda aa in "Genjakaan": A monk approaches Zen master Hatetsu, who is fanning himself, and asks, "The wind-nature is constant. There is no place it does not circulate. Why do you still use a fan?" The master replies, "You merely know that the wind-nature is constant. You do not yet know the meaning of it circulating every place,"9 and continues fanning himself. That is, the permeation of wind, symbolic of Buddha-nature, seems to render superfluous any contingent human activity, such as waving a fan. But, if the fan, which represents full immersion in impermanence actively realized, is not used, the coolness and fresh- ness of the breeze will never be felt. 49 Dagen's breakthrough to a new understanding of imperma- nence occured in China during a prolonged and intensive session of meditation when Ju-ching reprimanded the slumbering monk sitting next to Dagen, "In zazen it is imperative to drop off body-mind. How could you indulge in sleeping at such a critical time?" The remark had the effect of liberating Dagen, whose satori was soon confirmed by Ju- ching, by dissolving the fabricated boundaries he had previously accepted between eternal and instantaneous, n i r v a ~ i c and contingent, purposeless and directional time. It seems that upon that occasion of awakening, Dagen no longer vIewed impermanence from the stand- point of the spectator self surveying the multiple variations of a con- tinuing process of change moving from one point in time to the next. Rather, he spontaneously penetrated muja as the self-generating and self-renewing non-substantial totality of each and every moment without reference to or contrast with any other supposedly stable entity outside it. The task which remained for Dagen upon his return to Japan was to perfect an expression of impermanence now freed of the bonds of subtle eternalism to show that " ... blooming flowers and falling leaves, such itself is true nature [of dharmas]. But fools believe that there must be no blooming flowers and falling leaves in the world of the true nature of dharmas (hosshO)ab.'>10 "Genjakaan" is his first attempt to re-orient and re-explore both the Japanese aesthetic and religious traditions so that they enhance and deepen rather than hinder each other-to use naturalistic imagery and existential sensi- tivity to transiency to purify the Buddhist conception of interdepend- ence from overly speculative and eternalistic tendencies, and similarly to ground poetics in the experience of shinjin-datsuraku unbound by sentimentality and fully reflective of the non-substantiality of all phenomena. III. Problematics of Translation and Interpretation of the Text The aim of this section is to illustrate and analyze how the ambiguity of the final sentence of the opening paragraph of "Genja- koan" has led to a variety of modern Japanese and English transla- tions. Each of the translations presupposes and conveys a distinctive interpretation concerning two central interrelated issues in Dagen's thought: the role of human feelings about transiency, and Dagen's 50 relation to previous Mahayana philosophy, which he seems to evoke in the first three sentences of the passage. Before examining the various translations, I will discuss the philological basis of the sentence's ambiguity and point out possible discrepancies in translations which overlook the double-edged quality of Dogen's literary style or impose an interpretation that may not reflect the text itself. Two linguistic elements are controversial: the use of conjunctions and the terms of emotion. Nishio Minoru in his study Dagen to Zeami ac (Dogen and Zeami) maintains that the conjunc- tions-for example, "when" (jisetsu)ad in sentences 1 and 2, and "because" (yuheni) in the third sentence-are especially noteworthy for an understanding of the complex inner unity of the passage. The fourth sentence is interesting for the conjunctive phrases that are included and excluded both by Dagen and the translators. The lengthy phrase which opens the sentence (shikamo kakuno gotoku nan toihe domo) has a literal meaning which can be and generally is trans- lated more succinctly as "in spite of this" or the one-word conjunction "nevertheless." But Dagen, having chosen this original expression, probably intended the length itself to serve as a kind of buffer which would offset the sentence from the previous ones and call attention to it. More significant, however, is the addition of certain conjunc- tions by some of the translators in the latter part of the sentence. Nakamura and Maezumi/Cook, for example, add that the flowers fall "because" of man's longing; Tamaki's rendering is that "if' flowers fall, then human feeling emerges; Masutani adds that flowers fall "even though" it is regrettable. None of these are actually stated in the original text. Both Tanahashi and Waddell/Abe make note of Dagen's poem in his Eihei Karoku ae (Record of Eihei), "Blossoms scatter by [or because of (yoru)]af sorrow, weeds spring up by [or because of] dismay," 11 but they do not impose that implication here since the sentence must be interpreted in its own context. Similarly, most of the translations add that the sadness or longing which is felt is "ours." Although it can be argued that the possessive pronoun is naturally implied by the original Japanese, Dagen's omission of such a pronoun may have been intended to imply a holistic and impersonal context of shared and pervasive sorrow as well as an individual sense of loss. The central controversy which influences an interpretation of the fourth sentence and perhaps the entire passage concerning Da- gen's view of impermanence pertains to the two terms for emotion, 51 both of which are compound words: the first, composed of ai (love, affection, loathing to part) andjaku (regret, reluctance); the second, ki (abandon, renounce) and ken (dislike, hate). Botb compounds contain one passive and one active emotive term which tend to moderate and transmute each other, an element of resignation or renunciation coloring the active emotion. In the modern Japanese and the Mae- zumi/Cook translations, however, only one part of each compound is used-ai and ken, respectively-which may overlook the ambiguity and drastically alter the meaning of the entire sentence by suggesting that emotions only playa negative or destructive role in human affairs and religious pursuit. Furthermore, it should be noted that ai by itself is a technical Buddhist term for desire (Skt., tn'fJa) with an obviously negative connotation. Yet, ai used in various compounds is also a Buddhist term that connotes the positive and constructive aspect of love, as in the words aipoag(love of Dharma) and aigoah (the bodhisattva's bene- ficent words of edification). Aijaku indicates the compassionate caring of a bodhisattva's unwillingness to relinquish the struggle for universal release from suffering. Just as ai has the double-edged Buddhist sense of desire and compassion, it is also commonly used in Japanese poetics with a similarly two-fold meaning: it can either signify love for a particular person, or a deeper aesthetic sense of care and commit- ment. It is likely that Dogen deliberately intended to suggest both the positve and negative connotations of emotions by using these terms and not merely the latter. I will now cite the various translations with a brief analysis of how each one interprets the role of human emotions and the relation of Dogen's view of impermanence to earlier Mahayana thought: 1. Nakamura Soichi's gendaiyakuY Man knows this, and yet he sees the blossoms scatter because he regrets the scattering blossoms, he is grieved that blossoms scatter when he wants them to keep blooming, and he sees that weeds spring up because he hates the weeds. By adding the causative element ("because") between feelings and the realm of transiency and the additional clause which is implicitly critical of human attachments, Nakamura takes the strongest stand amongst the translators in denigrating emotions and contrasting what he sees as the desire and ignorance represented by the fourth sen- 52 tence with the Mahayana truths stated in the first three. For Naka- mura, the passage is not ambiguous but a straightforward critique of human folly as opposed to detachment from any involvement in the realm of evanescence. 2. Tanahashi's Ikko's gendaiyaku: 13 vVe know this, and yet if we are attached to enlightenment, enlightenment becomes remote, and if we seek separation from delusion, delusion only becomes greater. Tanahashi loses the intriguing symbolism of the sentence by equating flowers with enlightenment and weeds with unenlightenment, but heightens (compared to Nakamura) the ambiguity concerning emot- ive experience. Here the sentence becomes a warning that false detachment is as spiritually deficient as attachment even to a noble end. Thus, emotions are relative and variable depending on the context and timing. 3. Masutani Fumio's gendaiyaku: 14 And yet, we know that blossoms scatter even though we regret it, and that weeds grow thick and spread even though we hate it. Much more direct than the two gendaiyaku cited above, Masutani's version stresses man's continual existential confrontation with the pervasive reality of impermanence. That is, in spite of traditionally accepted Tendai doctrine recapitulated in the first three sentences, transiency is not so easily dismissed and must be dealt with emotion- ally and expeientially ever anew. Even though man struggles to attain enlightenment, the effects of impermanence continue to plague him and stir an emotional response. 4. Tamaki Koshiro's gendaiyaku: 15 This is so, and yet if blossoms scatter it IS regrettable, and if weeds grow thick it is truly deplorable. Tamaki is very Close to Masutani. Yet, the subtle change of conjunc- tion from "even though" to "if" seems to imply that there may be an eternalized state in contrast to impermanence and in which the effects of transiency are no longer felt. 53 5. Maezumi/Cook's English translation: 16 Nevertheless, flowers fall with our attachment, and weeds spring up with our aversion. This English version, although adhering to the brevity of the original, basically concurs with Nakamura's gendaiyaku in castigating the emo- tions which are translated with "negative" words and contrasted with traditional Buddhist doctrine. (Interestingly, in a book which is nearly entirely a commentary on the "Genjakaan" fascicle, no further inter- pretation of his sentence is offered.) 6. Waddell/Abe's English translationY In spite of this, flowers fall always amid our grudging, and weeds flourish in our chagrin. . The addition of "always," although not literal, accentuates the inevit- able and unceasing permeation of impermanence as a continual challenge even--or especially-to the enlightened one, thereby large- ly agreeing with Masutani and Tamaki. The use of the prepositions "amid" and "in" suggests a two-fold sense of causation and resolute acceptance in the relation between emotions and transiency. In their introductory comments, however, the translators go even further in elevating the status of emotions by declaring that here "Dagen clari- fies the absolute reality ... of man's own feelings of yearning and dis- like toward [the flower and weed] ... insofar as both are ultimately human reality."18 Thus, in opposition to Nakamura and Maezumi/ Cook, Waddell/Abe proclaim Dagen's expression to represent a para- doxical standpoint which at once fully recaptures and transforms the significance of emotions in Buddhist realization, although the transla- tion itself does not necessarily convey the perspective espoused in the commentary. IV. Conclusions: The Multi-Dimensionality of Impermanence In this section, I will show that the fundamental ambiguity of the sentence in question-and the controversy in interpretation to which it gives rise-is both grounded and reconcilable in terms of Dagen's multi-dimensional understanding of impermanence. The translations previously examined seem to fall into three interpretive models: 54 1. The position of Nakamura and Maezumi/Cook that the fourth sentence advocates the need for man's thorough negation of his emotions, which egoistically and self-defeatingly cause the con- tingent flux that in turn perpetuates volitional bondage. According to this view, the final sentence represents an unenlightened perspective in contrast to Dagen's acceptance and restatement of traditional doctrine in the first three sentences. 2. The view espoused by Masutani, Tamaki and Tanahashi that in the fourth sentence Dagen accentuates man's continuing existential confrontation with and aesthetically-attuned sorrow concerning the pervasive reality of impermanence, an emotional response used ad- vantageously to awaken the "Buddha-seeking mind" in pursuit of enlightenment. Dagen thus deepens previous doctrine by warning that it must not be understood substantively or eternalistically but in terms of incessant vicissitude--despite apparent Buddhist truths, gen- unine realization is experienced by means of loss and regret, dismay and chagrin. 3. The third interpretation, indicated by the Waddell/Abe com- mentary (if not necessarily by the translation itself), suggests that Dagen here challenges and reorients previous Mahayana expressions by disclosing an absolute equality of longing and no-longing, regret and no-regret as spontaneous expressions of impermanence. Grounded in the detachment of selfless realization, emotional response is as justifiable and illuminative as the inevitable rise and fall of transient phenomena so long as it overcomes itself and remains free of sub- stance-fixations. What is the relation between the respective interpretations? Are they complementary or contradictory? Is the third position the op- posite of the first or somehow compatible with it? It is possible to show that the ambiguity of the sentence is not hopelessly inconclusive by analyzing two other significant passages from the "Genjakaan" fasci- cle, which help clarify the issues of selfhood and momentariness raised by the opening paragraph. The first passage deals with the role of the self in the quest for enlightenment: 55 To study the Buddha Way is to study the self. To study the self is to forget the self. To forget the self is to be authenticated through all dharmas. To be authenticated through all dharmas is to drop off body-mind of self and others. 19 Dagen seems to indicate three levels of self-understanding in this passage. The first level, implicitly conveyed, is that of a separation or barrier between self and Buddhism. From the, ordinary standpoint, the Buddha Way is seen as something substantive and objective, an entity to be attained. Second, Dagen establishes an intimate relation between the Way and selfhood. Not a conceptualizable and acquirable goal, the Way is sought in and through introspection and personal experience. The third level points to the fundamental paradox that self-learning necessarily involves self-forgetfulness, inner evaluation is achieved in terms of outward manifestations. Thus, self and other, subject and object are ultimately identifiable yet allow for infinite differentiation. The next passage explains the meaning and structure of the impermanent moment in terms of the doctrine of the "abiding dharma-position" (jii-hoi) ai, and also allows for three levels of inter- pretation: Firewood is reduced to ash and cannot become firewood again. So, one should not hold the view that ash is succeeding and fire- wood is preceding. One must know that firewood dwells in the dharma-position of firewood [of which] there is preceding and succeeding. Although there is before and after, it is cut off from .before and after. 20 The first level of momentariness implied by the passage is that before and after, past and future, life and death are seen as enduring entities in opposition to each other. The next level suggests that before and after are simultaneous and interdependent stages of impermanent phenomena. The third level again represents the paradoxical view- point that the dharma-position possesses and yet is cut off from before and after. Just as the firewood is completely manifest in itself without reference to what precedes and succeeds it, the impermanent moment is spontaneous yet simultaneously inclusive of all possibili- ties, independent yet interdependent with the temporal phases of the totality of phenomena. In both cases, Dagen expresses a three-fold understanding which also seems to echo the opening sentences of the first paragraph of the fascicle. The three levels are: a dualistic standpoint, an inter- dependent and non-substantive perspective, and finally a paradoxical identity-in-difference that reveals the middle path unbound by, yet gwmg rIse to, all polarities. The relation among these dimensions 56 seems to be one of sublation rather than negation, and of paradox rather than contradiction. That is, the levels do not contradict but tend to deepen and expand upon one another so that the third is the most comprehensive stance, even while it transcends the previous two. Dagen suggests such a multi-perspectival theory of truth in "Genjakaan" by the example of someone who rides a boat in a mountainless sea and assumes that the ocean is a circle. From his particular vantage point at the time, the ocean may legitimately appear round, but to a fish the ocean looks like a palatial dwelling and to a deva it seems to be ajewelled necklace. None of these viewpoints should be negated as wrong, but each IS one-sided, relative and mis- leading if taken in an isolated context. The truth of the situation can only be appropriated through an holistic outlook that is not limited to any particular perspective. "To understand the variety of perspec- tives, we must know that the virtue of the mountains and sea is limit- less extending beyond apparent circularity or angularity, and that there are worlds in every direction." 21 Dagen's multi-dimensional and multi-perspectival vision, ex- pressed in the first three sentences of the opening paragraph and demonstrated in the analyses of self and dharma-position, can now resolve the ambiguity of the sentence in question because the three interpretive models of the sentence are grounded in the multi- dimensionality of impermanence. The first interpretation suggests the dualistic view of impermanence seen as the human attitude of fragility and uncertainty about the coming and going of unstable things. Just as self is misguidedly severed from the objectified Way and before and after are similarly hypostatized, man considers him- self as a single entity who must resist the flux of other entities or lose a grasp of his ego. The limitation of the translation which evaluates this as the only dimension of impermanence is that it interprets 'emotional response toward transiency as the actual cause of impermanence. Emotions, however, do not create the pervasive and perpetual process of impermanence, although it is true that they may aggravate suffer- ing by not comprehending the non-substantive ground of muja. Yet the distinction between cause anc;l. response, evanescence and self- imposed bondage must be highlighted by the translation in order to divulge the multiplicity of dimensions. If the sentence were only intended to imply the unenlightened standpoint it would probably have been more effective at the outset of the paragraph (to illustrate the problem) than at the conclusion (where it suggests a resolution). 57 Nevertheless, that dimension should not be fully discounted; it is just not complete in itself. The second model of translation is more comprehensive than the first, for it suggests the intimate connection between subjectivity and realization. When self and Way and before and after are under- stood in terms of their unity, the experience of longing and regret should be interpreted as a necessary and essential stage in the quest for the termination of suffering through awakening to non-self. This viewpoint could, however, create the impression that for Dagen an aesthetic sensitivity to vicissitude and loss is spiritually sufficient in itself. Emotional response to transiency is only legitimate, however, when it leads beyond itself to realization of non-substantiality. The third interpretation shows the fundamental paradox of the deepest dimension of impermanence-the level at which each and every manifestation (genjO) of natural phenomena and human re- sponse are ultimately and paradoxically identifiable in disclosing a realization of the riddle (koan) of impermanent/non-substantial exist- ence. In the "Bussha" fascicle, Dagen refers to this essential stand- point as mujo-bussho (impermanence-Buddha-nature), another para- doxical doctrinal means of resolving his initial soteriological dilemma. Just as self-learning is fulfilled through self-forgetfulness, and just as the dharma-position encompasses and yet is cut off from before and after, Zen enlightenment includes and is free from longing and regret; it contains both an aversion and a profound resignation to suffering as well as a desire for release without expectation or attachment. Intense emotional attunement spontaneously disturbed by sorrow and simul- taneously detached from the tribulations of evanescence, independ- ent of egoistic clinging and interd.ependently linked to the suffering experienced by all beings, is the basis of the initial and sustained resolve that seeks to cultivate and renew enlightenment beyond the (statically conceived) attainment of enlightenment. If the three dimensions of impermanence 22 conveyed by the final sentence of the paragraph mirror the multiple perspectives expressed in the first three sentences, what does it contribute? Does the final sentence have special significance? In highlighting the per- vasiveness of impermanence poetically, the sentence seems at once to undercut traditional Tendai doctrine by warning against and over- coming eternalist or substantive attachments that had plagued J apan- ese Buddhist practice, and to fulfill and surpass previous notions through a poetic evocation of the contrasting shades and textures of 58 emotional struggle. The sentence does not state a truth that is reducible to formula, but naturalistically conveys the disturbing and inspiring encounters at the basis of the quest for truth. Here Dagen expresses the religio-aesthetic category of sabiaj in its highest form- the paradox of pursuing release yet finding it directly through both ephemeral beauty and lyric melancholy rather than philosophical reflection, from which standpoint the loneliness of emotional re- sponse is seen as the fulfilled locus of spiritual renewal. When one opposes the flux by wishfully seeking a state of immutability or stag- nation, Dagen points out in the final sentence, the result tends to be just the reverse in that flowers still fall even more painfully than before. The same dilemma confronts both those who claim to have overcome their passions and those who have not yet reflected on their problematic self-centeredness. Dagen's phrase thus recalls Saigya's waka ak : "A heart subdued, yet poignant sadness (aware) is deeply felt/ The snipe takes off over the marsh as an autumn dusk descends."23 On the other hand, truly to penetrate impermanence as the manifestation of non-substantive reality (genjokoan) terminates nei- ther the perpetual scattering of blossoms nor the haunting and sorrowful atmosphere evanescence generates. Impermanence as gen- jOkoan, which is neither strictly subjective nor objective although it includes the interdependence of both realms, persists regardless of how one feels about it. To accord genuinely with genjokoan is at once to accept uncompromisingly and resign oneself to the flux and to struggle urgently against the grief it causes by seeking realization of no-self. The fundamental paradox of impermanence at the third and deepest level is that even the effort to overcome self must be aban- doned through uncompromising renunciation, but self cannot be dropped off without continual aesthetic-emotional attunement to the sorrow from which it seeks release. Therefore, the final sentence of the opening paragraph ex- presses the issue of Dagen's "primal question" (as framed in "Fukan- zazengi": what is the need for renewed practice if Buddha-nature is immanent?) but from the perspective of having resolved-while still remaining deeply disturbed by-that concern. It articulates the initial and naive yet profound longing for release which he and all Buddhist seekers share, suggesting a distinct value judgement about what should be prevented (flowers are preferable to weeds) as well as the sense of futility when this effort falls short in the face of imper- manence (weeds still grow). The sentence also conveys a paradoxical 59 equalization of sustained despair that stimulates continuing realiza- tion grounded in universal non-substantiality. The sentence could be rewritten as the Jollowing: "Even so, to learn the Dharma is to be sorrowful about transiency. To be sorrowful is to transcend sorrow (as a source of attachment) and to realize impermanence as the non-substantiality of all phenomena." But, the complexity and depth of the sentence lies in its utter simplicity. It is literally a koan because it presents a disturbing and puzzling ambiguity whereby question and answer, problematic and resolution, speech and silence are unified. It also expresses what Dagen seems to mean by the term genJokoan as the fundamental dimension of imperma- nence-the full and unimpeded manifestation of each occasion in which one encounters, is moved by and seeks to subdue the effects of transiency. NOTES 1. Dagen Zenji, Shobogenzo (Treasury of True Dharma-Eye) in Nihon shiso taikei al , volumes 12 and 13, ed. Terada Taru and Mizuno Yaoko. Tokyo, Iwanami shoten, 1970 and 1972, vol. 12, p. 35. For a complete and generally excellent transla- tion of the "Genjakaan" fascicle, see Norman Waddell and Abe Masao's version in The Eastern Buddhist, vol. 7, no. I (May 1974), pp. 129-40. This rendering will be discussed in the course of the essay. 2. Because of the complexity and difficulty of Dagen's Sino-Japanese writing, many recent gendaiyaku or translations into modern Japanese have appeared. These are not necessarily intended to be a strict translation, but a combination translation- commentary with additional notes or interpretive materials; generally they are accom- panied by the original text on the same page for easy reference. The translations of the gendaiyaku into English are mine. For a critical examination of the relation between some English translations of Dagen and the gendaiyaku on which they tend to rely, see Thomas Kasulis, "The Zen Philosopher: A review article on Dagen scholarship in English," Philosophy East and West, vol. 28, no. 3 (July 1978), pp. 353-73. In addition to the two English translations discussed here, the following ones have appeared: Kasen Nishiyama and John Stevens, A Complete English Translation oj Dogen Zenji's Shobogenzo, vol. I (Sendai, Japan: Daihokkaikai, 1975); Jiyu Kennett, Selling Water by the River (New York: Vintage, 1972); Reiha Masunaga, The Soto Approach to Zen (Tokyo: Layman Buddhist Society Press, 1958). 3. Two noted Japanese aestheticians, Nishio Minoru (in Dagen to Zeami. Tokyo, Iwanami Shoten, 1967) and Karaki Junza (Mujo, Tokyo Chikuma shoba, 1967) have attempted to relate Dagen's philosophical/religious expressions to the Japanese Court poetic tradition in which he was raised and trained, but which he ultimately renounced in order to pursue the Buddhist Dharma. They reach essentially different conclusions. Nishio stresses that Dagen never fully abandoned aesthetics, which must not be 60 overlooked in interpreting texts such as "Genjoko<ln"; Karaki maintains that Dogen's "metaphysics (kejij"agaku) of impermanence" surpasses the sentimentality of the Court tradition. My view is that this controversy itself points to the creative tension in Dogen's thought-he relied on poetics for the power of his writing yet disdained idle or self- indulgent aestheticism. Perhaps the issue cannot be resolved until there is a study of Dogen's considerable accomplishments as a composer of waka (31-syllable Japanese verse). 4. "Genjokoan" as used by Dogen seems to mean "complete and spontaneous manifestation" (gen-ja) of "Zen realization" (kOan), and should be contrasted with another possible reading as that which is "ready-made" or merely immament, which suggests the pantheistic heresy Dogen repeatedly refutes. 5. The first two fascicles are "Bendowa" (sometimes not included in Shaba- genzO) and "Mahakannyaharamitsu."an For a chronology of Dogen's life and writings, see Hee-jin Kim, Dagen-Kigen-Mystical Realist (Tucson: University of Arizona Press, 1975), pp. 309-11. 6. For an examination of Dogen's poetic production and involvements, see Okubo Doshli, Dagen zenji-den no kenkyu ao (Biographical Studies of Zen master Dogen) (Tokyo: Chikuma shobo, 1966), pp. 358-62. 7. Dogen, Shabagenza, vol. 12, p. 257. 8. Dogen, "Fukanzazengi" in Dagen zenji zenshuap (Complete Works of Zen Master Dogen), ed. Okubo Doshli (Tokyo: Chikuma shobo, 1969-1970), vol. 2, p. 3. 9. Dogen, Shabgenza, vol. 12, pp. 38-39. 10. ibid., vol. 13, p. 85. 11. Dogen, Dagen zenji zenshu, vol. 2., p. 18. 12. Nakamura Saichi, Gendaiyaku Shabagenza (Modern Japanese Translation of ShObagenzO), 4 volumes (Tokyo: Seishin shobo, 1970), vol. 1, p. 1. 13. Tanahashi Ikko (of Zen beunkagakuin hen), Gendaiyaku ShObagenza (Modern Japanese Translation of ShabagenzO) (Tokyo: Seishin shobo, 1959), p. 3. 14. Masutani Fumio, Zenyaku ShObagenza (Complete Japanese Translation of ShabagenzO) , 8 volumes (Tokyo: Kadakawa shoten, 1970), vol. 1, p. 24. 15. Tamaki Koshiro, Dagen shu (Selected Writings of Dogen) (Tokyo: Chikuma shoba, 1968), pp. 120-121. 16. Hakuyu Taizan Maezumi and Francis Cook, The Way of Everyday Life (Los Angeles: Center Publications, 1979) (pages unnumbered). 17. Norman Waddell and Abe Masao, "Genjokoan," p. 133. 18. ibid., p. 132. 19. Dogen, Shabagenza, vol. 12, p. 36. 20. ibid. 21. ibid., p. 37. 22. The three interpretive levels or dimensions would roughly correspond to the following categories of Japanese religio-aesthetic tradition: hakanashi (fleetingness), muja-kanaq (sense of impermanence), muja-kan ar (clear observation of impermanence- as-non-substantiality). 23. For original Japanese and another translation, see William LaFleur, Mirror for the Moon (New York: New Directions, 1977), p. 24. 61 a. :@: JI; d. 1.& g. j. m.1fa:!i p. -g- h-tt s . tc v. !YJ:@: if.!i y. t:l* abo ,ti. ae.7.K;SY-
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aj. ;R am.w ap. :@: JI; ilj:! The Autobiography of a 20th Century Rnying-ma-pa lama 1 by Alexander W. Macdonald The massive printing and reprinting of Tibetan texts which has taken place in India in recent years has opened up a whole new field of study for scholars throughout the world concerned with diverse aspects of Tibetan culture. At the same time, anthropological re- search in Nepal, Ladakh, to some extent in Sikkim, but not as yet in Bhutan, has widened our knowledge of the functioning of the Bud- dhist church in the southern borderlands of Tibetan culture. Some years ago David Snellgrove edited and translated into English four very interesting biographies of Tibetan lamas who lived and worked in the Dolpo area of Nepal between the 15th and 18th centuries. Further information on the activities of contemporary lamas is given in his book Himalayan Pilgrimage, in that of Corneille Jest on Dolpo, anq in the recent work of Barbara Aziz on Dingri.2 In addition . Michael Aris has published in Tibetan the autobiographies of three Rnying-ma-pa lamas who were active between 1668 and 1767 in Kutang, in Northern NepaI.3 However, Western-language transla- tions or summaries of autobiographies of frontier lamas active in contemporary times are rare. So it may be of interest to draw atten- tion to a short autobiography written by my teacher and collaborator the Sherpa lama Sangs-rgyas bstan-'dzin, and printed in Delhi in 1971. The biography covers 121/2 pages of normal Tibetan format, having six lines on recto and verso, and is entitled Jo-glang gangs- rgyud shar-pa sangs-rgyas bstan-'dzin gyi rnam-thar mdor-sdus sgro skur bral-ba'i bden-gtam. This might be translated as "Brief autobiography of the Sherpa Sangs-rgyas bstan-'dzin of the mountainous region of Everest: True words written without falling a prey to Eternalism or Nihilism."4 The Tibetan expression rnam-thar which I have translated here as "biography" and "autobiography," and which the dictionaries in- 63 dicate as equivalent to the Sanskrit v i m o ~ a , can be rendered in English by a variety of paraphrases according to the context in which it is employed. It is interesting then to note how the author himself envisages the subject of his composition. He' remarks that to begin with one might divide the summary of those of his acts directed towards his own emancipation and the good of others under three headings: 1) his birth, 2) his studies, and 3) his services to Buddhism. Again, these headings might be subdivided and the account devel- oped so that first, concerning his birth, one would deal with the place and the country in which he was born, who his parents were, and the manner in which his birth occurred: this would make four sub- sections. Secondly, concerning his studies, one would deal with the places in which he studied, at what dates he studied, to what branches of learning he addressed himself, and in what manner he carried out his studies: this would make four more sub-sections. Thirdly, con- cerning his usefulness to other Buddhists, one would state in what domain he rendered service, the volume of his contribution, its nature, and the needs to which it responded: and this would make four more sub-sections, in all twelve. Were one to develop these twelve sub-sections, each would need to be explicated firstly from the author's own point of view, then from the point of view of others, and finally the two points of view would have to be reconciled. However, by this triple multiplication, one would arrive at thirty-six sub-sections -altogether too many, so he decided to limit himself to a few indications, following the general plan only in outline. 5 His birth took place in that of the Five Continents known to "Modern Science" as Asia. It occured among the animate beings of the holy kingdom of Nepal-to be precise, among the snowy mount- ains where is situated the highest summit in this world: Sagarmatha. The country in which he was born was Sholu-Khumbu, an area where religion and people are pure; and the site was Brag-mtho-sbug, where water, grass and wood abound. 6 As for the moment of birth, it took place in 1924 according to the system of dating in universal usage; in 1981 according to the Nepalese system; and in 897 according to the Tibetan system. It is said that his birth took place on the lOth day of the rising moon, the Fifth Hor month, a Monday, at dawn. As for the father and mother from whom this body was born, the father was Zla-ba bstan-pa, the younger son of 'O-rgyan phur-pa who was himself the elder of two sons of Padma tshe-ring, an important man of Mi-nyag gdon family (rigs) and of the Grags- 64 mtho clan (rus) of Gshongs-Iung. His mother was Nyi-ma bu-khrid, the only daughter of the lama Zla-ba nor-bu, an important man of the Nyang family belonging to the Ser-pa clan, who was himself the elder son of the lama bstan-pa of Gshongs-Iung. 7 In what manner was he born? Many favourable outer and inner omens being manifested simultaneously, it is said that the embryo was belted like a religious robe. Not only that, its surface was enclosed by sinews similar to kusha grass. As for' himself, it is said that he was seated in an open, four-petalled lotus bloom, coming from the east from the far depths of a cloudless sky. He still clearly remembers coming flying with the flower; the scene remained particularly vivid to him, both in wakeful state and in dreams, up to the age of four or five. The birth-feast was celebrated with fervour and, in conformity with the conjunction of the planets, he was given the name of Zla-ba bstan-'dzin. 8 Later he began his studies. From his fifth year onwards his father taught him the Tibetan alphabet, the vowels and the con- sonants, writing and the spelling out of words. He learned quickly and, from the age of eight, he could write without tuition the Sdig- bshags, the Bzang-spyod and other texts in dbu-can. 9 He began to learn spoken and written Nepali when he was eleven, and this too without difficulty. At the age of seventeen, furnished with numerous gifts, he went to study with the lama Yon-tan rgya-mtsho at Gshongs-Iung. From him he requested and obtained the dbang, lung and khrid of the principal religious texts current in the Gshongs-Iung and Shar-Khum areas. IO In addition he completed most of the retreats prescribed for the teachings he had received. At twenty, with his lama's permission and with gifts, he went to study with the lama Rtogs-Idan tshul-khrims at Steng-po-che. II There he learned to read and write Tibetan long- hand and followed the lama's teachings in vocabulary, grammar and arithmetic and on the Rgyal-sras lag-len so-bdun-ma. 12 One year later he took his vows of dge-tshul in the presence of the lama Sangs-rgyas chos-'phel,13 from Tshul-bzang in the Rtsib-ri district of Tibet. He was given the religious name of Sangs-rgyas zla-ba since it was that of the local abbot. At twenty-two he settled down to study with Padma tshe-dbang, the rin-po-che of Stod Nya-dkar. At that period he studied the Dkon-mchog spyi-'dus,14 the Sgrol-ma nyer-gcig l5 and the Khro nag- mo. He was given the dbang and lung of these texts and the khrid of the commentary on the Bde-smon l6 by Rme-ba Chos-grags. He also studied sems-khrid, 'pho-ba, gcod and other meditational cycles. 65 At twenty-three he went to Lha-sa, visited Se-ra, 'Bras-spungs and Dga'-ldan, the two images ofJo-bo Shakyamuni,17 and the Potala. He studied for a short while in BIo-gsal-gling college at 'Bras-spungs. 18 Then at twenty-four, in the face of many he went to study in Khams. He went in stages by way of Chab-mdo to Sde-dge,19 Rdzong-gsar,20 Rdzogs-chen,21 Lcham-mo ri-khrod,Zhe-chen 22 and Lchang-ma Sgar. The mkhan-po Thub-bstan snyan-grags, the mkhan-po Padma tshe-dbang, the mkhan-po N gag-dbang nor-bu, the mkhan-po Gang-shar dbang-po, the mkhan-po Mdo-sngags Bstan-pa'i nyi-ma, the mkhan-po 'Jam-dpal rdo-rje, the mkhan-po BIo-gros the mkhan-po Nyi-ma rgyal-Io, the mkhan-po Thub-bstan chos-'phel, the mkhan-po Lung-rtogs mthar-phyin, the mkhan-po Tshe-dbang nor bu, Dkon-mchog of Dpal-yuF3-in front of these and other learned, reverend and good teachers, who shouldered the heavy responsibility of maintaining the Doctrine and explaining it to others, he studied lexicology, grammar, kiivya, the Amarakosa, astrology, logic and, in addition to the four common sciences of craftsmanship and healing, the Madhyamaka, the Paramita, the Vinaya, the Abhidharmakosa and the tantra. Having listened to these teachings he studied them with ardour and to the best of his ability. He followed with particular attention the teachings of the incarnation of the mental principle (thugs) of 'Jam- mgon Blo-gros mtha'-yas. 24 When he recalls this teacher's compassion and bounty, it is difficult for him to pronounce his name without tears. He bows deeply before the feet of him whose reputation is famous in the three worlds, his mulaguru named Padma dri-med legs- pa'i blo-gros.25 From him he obtained the dbang, lung and khrid of the religious teachings of the Snga-'gyur Gsung bka'-ma;26 the dbang, lung and khrid of the great Rin-chen gter-mdzod;27 on two occasions, the dbang, lung and khrid of the Smin-grol gling 'Dod-jo bum-dzang;28 the lung of the Bka'-'gyur and of the Bstan-'gyur; the lung of the complete teachings of Rong zom_pa;29 of the master Klong-chen and his pupil;30 of the Smin-grol gling brothers;3! of the two 'Jam-kong rnam-rgyal;32 of Jigs-med Chos-kyi dbang-po, the incarnation of Dpal-spungs;33 of the mkhan-po of Kal;t-thog, Nus-ldan;34 of the mkhan-po of Sde-dge dgon- pa, Kun-dpal; the lung of the complete works of 'J am-mgon Mi-pham rnam-rgyal. 35 Likewise, from the sixth embodiment (sku-phreng) of Zhe-chen, Kun-bzang Chos-kyi Nyi-ma, he solicited dbang and lung of the Klang-chen snying-thig36 and of the Gsang-ba'i snying-thig. 37 From the fourth sku-phreng at Zhe-chen, 'Gyur-med Padma rdo-rje theg- mchog, he requested, on frequent occasions, the dbang and lung of the 66 Bka'-ma Dong-sprugs. 38 Furthermore, he obtained from the incarna- tion of Rdzogs-chen, ,]u-nyung sprul-sku, from Chos-kyi blo-gros of Rdzong-gsar and other incarnations and rin-po-ches all possible teach- ings on the sutra and the tantra. 39 At the age of twenty-nine, in accordance with the instructions of his teachers, he took the vows of dge-slong in front of the Smin-grol gling Gcung-sprul, N gags-dbang Chos-grags rin-po-che, and obtained the khrid and lung, with oral explanations of the commentaries on the Gsang-ba'i snying-po,40 the Bsang-bdag dgongs-rgyan 41 and the Zhal- lung. 42 Thus, with the help of numerous kalyiiTJamitra from his own country and from Upper and Lower Tibet, he completed his religious studies to the best of his capacity, rounding them off by the three Means,43 having undertaken difficult tasks without loss of faith and without yielding to pleasures. Then, thanks to the compassionate blessings of his lamas, he received a favourable omen. Once, he does not know how, in a dream which seemed to be true, the teacher Shakya-thub-pa, Rdo-rje sems-dpa', the master Padma byung-gnas, ']am-dpal-dbyangs, Spyan ras-gzigs, SgroI-rna, Dbyangs-can-ma, Ye- shes mtsho-rgyal, Bi-ma mitra,44 Klong-chen rab-byams, ,]am-mgon Mi-pham, along with other lamas, tutelary deities and tjiikinis,45 showed their faces to him, gave him instructions and made prophe- cies. In this dream, there came out from within his own heart a ray of sunlight, unbearable to look at. With his hand he threw up into the sky barley-flowers. These were all transformed into ring-bsrel, scat- tered everywhere and multiplied. From the summit of a peak of vaitf,urya there came forth a white cloud which did not darken the light of the sky; transparent, it spread out in the sky in a miraculous manner. Meanwhile, he himself felt at times that he was rising into the sky, at times sliding down into a great lake, at times climbing to the . top of a mountain. 46 On a peak to the east the sun appeared innum- erable times; he cannot describe it all. Having finished his studies, in accordance with the prophecy of the gods and his lamas, he came back in his thirty-third year to his own country and, in order to spread the Doctrine and for the good of others, in the hope of starting to teach, he set up a temple with some statues, and began work. Little by little the work was done, and after two years the building itself and some of the statues were completed. Then in his thirty-fifth year, on the fourth day of the sixth month of the year Earth-Hog, he opened the school. He has taught each of his hundred or so pupils, according to their bent and .their capa- 67 bilities, to read and write Tibetan in dbu-can and dbu-med; he has taught vocabulary and grammar, prayers and instructions, the Rgyal- sras lag-len; the Spyod-jug 'grel-ba,47 the Dbu-ma rgyan-'grel; 43 the Sher- phyin mngon-rtogs-rgyan-gyi 'grel-ba;49 the Don -:nam nges;50 the Mkhas- jug rtsa-ba;51 the Mdo-rgyan 'grel-ba;52 the Kun-bzang zhal-lung; the Bar- do drug-khrid; the Sdom-gsum dpag-bsam snye-ma;53 etc. He has count- ered local opposition to his teachings by clear arguments and by quo- tations. When it became necessary, he composed a dictionary, a grammar, prayers and school-books, mes-rabs and a chos-'byung as well as other brief compositions. He has explained these and to explain them for the profit of those who enter into religion. His viewpoint is not blemished by extremist theses. He has himself for the profit of others. The monastery thus founded by Sangs-rgyas bstan-'dzin at Ser- log in 1959 is called Bshad-sgrub zung-'brel gling. In his autobiog- raphy the author does not go into detail about the difficulties en- countered in setting up the monastery. However in the chos-'byung he enlarges on this theme, and since his remarks are pertinent to the understanding of his own life-history, I shall include some notice of them here. 54 Once he had started explaining the Vehicle of the sutra and tantra, the possibility of hearing them and pondering on them existed. However, for this, living-quarters and a meeting-hall were necessities. Secondly, an indispensable minimum of clothes and food had to be obtained. Thirdly, for each pupil a series of books for study was necessary. Fourthly, if a learned abbot from another area was to be invited, there had to be a good reason for his coming. Even if these four basic necessities were met with, this in itself would not be satis-' factory unless he could dispose of sufficient capital. A small sum would be of no use; he needed a large amount. Despite the presence in his homeland of pious and generous patrons, he could not obtain what was required. He realized that, in the circumstances, he could not bring his project to fruition; so he decided to go once again to Sde- dge, Zhe-chen and Rdzogs-chen, to those areas where there were many great and holy men in the Rdza-chu district of Mdo-khams in Lower Tibet, which is a fertile religious field; and so he set out once more. He was very frightened by the dangers which threatened his life on the way, meeting with the terrible forces of the powerful invaders from Red China. Wherever he went, there was neither food nor drink on arrival. However, treating with contempt whatever happened, he 68 made his way through to the lamas who were behaving like Buddhas in human form. At that time the Red Chinese filled with their foul stench the east, the west and the celltre of Tibet, and religious men found themselves, as in the proverb, like living creatures held in the mouth of a great makara: it could not be otherwise. Nonetheless he explained to them the reasons for his coming, as sketched out above, in order to undertake fresh actions on behalf of the Doctrine and for the benefit of others. These great kalyii'fJamitra, their hearts filled with desire to help others and strong in their religious convictions, were delighted. As the proverb has it, "When a learned father, on the point of going overseas, suddenly meets an intelligent son, both are equals in religion." When he had explained fully his case and his problems, they answered him forthwith that all he wanted should be done. Seeing that his ambition was to be fulfilled and that he could get all he longed for in his heart, he was happier than anyone can be. However, seeing how the misfortunes of this sad epoch were sweeping down upon the lamas as heat spreads from tongues of fire and as cold spreads from ice, he was filled at the same time with joy and sadness. As the proverb has it, "a very loving mother, on the point of leaving for a far-off country, will give to her son who knows her projects all he wants; but this son, once she has gone, will be more unhappy than he was previously happy." In like manner, even ifthe author's mulagurus, full of sympathy as they were for his projects, had decreed that all he wanted should be given to him-just as a great king would give to his son as a marriage-portion several tens of horses, several hundred 'bri and g-yag, vessels of gold, silver and copper along with turquoise, corals and pearls, tea, silks, woollen and cotton cloths-the fact remained that the Red Chinese were in the process of wiping out the wealthy. Moreover even in the case of a poor pilgrim who was going to Lha-sa they were known to have passed a law forbidding him to carry with him more than 100 da-sgor. 55 To quote the proverb: "Once bitten by a poisonous snake one runs away from a multi-coloured string." Not only did the lamas themselves have doubts: our author too remembered that the Sugata had taught to his dge-tshul and d g ~ slang that one should not transgress civilian law. So, abandoning the question of riches, he simply asked for permission to return to his homeland. The lamas replied: "For the moment we can't do other- wise. Later, if conditions get better, you should come back again. So if you leave now, taking only what you need in the way of provisions for the journey, all should go well." Therefore, following his lama's instructions, taking with him only five loads containing books and 69 money and abandoning the rest like riches perceived in a dream, he showed all he had to the rdzong-dpon of the Red Chinese, and requested and obtained a travel document. Us}ng trucks and horses, he made his way and arrived back in his homeland without hindrance, thanks to the compassion of the lamas. When he had assembled the material goods obtained, as related above, in his homeland together with those he had brought with him from Khams, the monastery at Ser-Iog was completed. However, not even one-hundredth part of what had been envisaged in the original plan was accomplished. This plan had provided for living-quarters for sixty monks, each to be equipped with a mattresses, tables and altars, grouped around the gtsug-lag-khang, and was based on the cal- culation that there would be fifty-three resident monks to whom rations, clothing and bedding would be provided. Inside the gtsug-lag- khang were to be the Three Supports which give great blessings as well as many fine offerings. In particular were envisaged a printing press for carving xylographs of the books of his own order; and all that was necessary in the way of facilities was to be offered to itinerant men of religion. Now, however, all this was merely words that had been pro- nounced, thoughts that had been in the mind. Nonetheless, thanks to his own diligence and to the compassion of his reverend lamas, he now had in hand something of what was needed and what he wanted, even if because of the unfortunate coincidence of his original plan with the invasion by the Red Chinese the riches of which he had dreamed were not translated into concrete reality. So, without aban- doning his initial resolve; and thanks to the help of fortunate people from his own country and abroad, he has worked and continues to work for the benefit of the Doctrine and living creatures. This biography seems to me significant on several counts. First, its simple but fairly detailed and factual account complements the kind of biographical detail one looks for in F. W. Funke, Religioses leben der Sherpa, and in Sherry B. Ortner, Sherpas through their rituals. 56 Secondly, we learn from it much about the training of a Rnying-ma- pa lama in our century, and what we discover leads us to understand that village lamas are by no means always simple people. Thirdly, it shows us what can still be accomplished, even in these days, by a man of stubborn courage and solid faith. Lastly, it is an interesting ex- ample of the Tibetan literary genre of rnam-thar, a genre which is very different in its aim and content from the western "warts-and-all" or "kitchen-sink" types of autobiography; Sang-rgyas bstan-'dzin would 70 agree with 'Brug-pa kun-Iegs that to relate "how he ate this morning and how he defecated this evening"S7 would be of little significance. It is no doubt the necessary exemplarity of a Tibetan rnam-thar which accounts for the somewhat self-congratulatory tone employed by Sangs-rgyas bstan-'dzin. However this may be, it is always a moot point to what extent the true and individual character of an author is revealed in his autobiography, whatever the language employed. NOTES I. I read a short paper on this topic at the second meeting of the International Association of Buddhist Studies at Nalanda in January, 1980. The intention of the present article is to provide the non-specialist reader with an example of how a contemporary lama envisages his own life-history. The footnotes are not intended as a definitive plunge into the arcana of Tibetan bibliography; they aim to draw the reader's attention to some publications, knowledge of which helps to elucidate the text. I wish to thank my friends Perna Tsering, Helmut Eimer and Michael Aris for positive criticism and helpful advice. 2. D. Snellgrove, Four Lamasfrom Dolpo (Oxford: Bruno Cassirer, 2 vols., 1967); Himalayan Pilgrimage (Oxford: Bruno Cassirer, 1961). C. Jest, Dolpo, Communautes de langue tibitaine du Nepal (Paris: Editions du C.N.R.S., 1975); B. Aziz, Tibetan Frontier Families (Delhi: Vikas Publishing House, 1978). 3. M. Aris, Autobiographies of Three Spiritual Masters of Kutang. Lives of Padma don-grub, Padma dbang-'dus and Padma lhun-grub (O-rgyan bstan-'dzin) (Thimpu, Bhutan, 1979). 4. In my translation I have tried to convey something of the mam-thar's flavour by retaining the author's own figures of speech and peculiarities of expression. The Tibetan text is to be found in Shar-pa'i Bla-ma Sangs-rgyas bstan-'dzin and Alex- ander W. Macdonald, Documents pour l'etude de la religion et de l'organisation sociale des Sherpa, I (Junbesi-Paris/Nanterre, 1971), fo!' 1-13. Information on the circumstances in which the volume was composed is given in my article "The writing of Buddhist History in the Sherpa area of Nepal" in A. K. Narain (ed.), Studies in History of Buddhism (Delhi: B. R. Publishing Co., 1980), pp. 121-131. Some further passages from the same source have been summarized in A. W. Macdonald, "The Coming of Buddhism to the Sherpa area of Nepal," in Acta Orientalia Academiae Scientarum Hung., t. XXXIV (1-3) (Budapest, 1980), pp. 139-146. As S. C. Das, Dictionary, p. 336, indicates, sgro- skur is an abbreviation for the expression sgro-'dogs-pas dang skur-pa 'debs-pa "decorating with feathers and casting abuse." However, to restrain from such excesses designates, in chos-skad, the Madhyamaka. 5. Tibetan mam-thar are generally classified as phyi, nang and gsang, outer, inner and secret, a classification in which these three divisions often overlap. The reader will note that the biography we are concerned with conforms also, to some extent, with this pattern. As Gene Smith has pointed out, the Western term "biography" can also deal with matters related in Tibetan rtogs-brjod. 71 60 A small village on the main path from Kathmandu to Namche Bazaar, at the foot of the Junbesi side of the Lamjura lao 70 Gshongs-Iung is junbesio Gshong-rong is Soluo 80 ioe., because he was born, as stated on a Monday: gza' zla-ba. 90 There seems to be no generally accepted English rendering of dbu-can: "copper-plate" never seems to have gained admittance 0 Dbu-can means, of course, "having the Sirorekha, i.e., headline" and is contrasted to dbu-med, "cursive, i.e., without the headline." 10. i.e., in Solu, Pharak and Khumbu. On dbang, lung and khrid, see recently Tarthang Tulku Rinpoche, Foreword to Ho V. Guenther, Kindly Bent to Ease Us, Part II (Emeryville: Dharma Press), pp. vii-viiio 11. In Khumbu. 12. The Thirty-Seven Points of the Practice of the Bodhisattva, a text composed by a Bka'-gdams-pa disciple of Bu-ston, Rgyal-sras thogs-med bzang-po, but accepted by all the Tibetan monastic orders. 13. Perhaps the "Ch'o zang lama" of Barbara Ariz, op. cit., p. 222. 14. On this cycle, discovered in Brag-lung in the 17th century by Las-phro gling-pa (1585-1656), see, for instance, David Snellgrove, Buddhist Himalaya (Oxford: Bruno Cassirer, 1957), pp. 228-234, 249-258. 15. For the cult of the Twenty-One forms of Tara in Tibet, see S. Beyer, The Cult of Tara. Magic and Ritual in Tibet (Berkeley: University of California Press), passim. 16. Prayers for re-birth in the paradise of Bde-ba can (Sukhavati). 170 See A. Ferrari, Mk'yen-brtse's Guide to the Holy Places of Central Tibet (Rome: Is.MoKO., 1958), pp. 39-40 and notes 39 and 46. Recently Hugh Richardson has published a useful article reconstituting the plan of the Jo-khang, "The Jo-khang, cathedral of Lha-sa" in Essais sur l'Art du Tibet (Paris: Maisonneuve, 1977), ppo 157 -188. When I visited the Jo-khang in June, 1980, it was still very much the spiritual heart of Tibet. I was repeatedly told that the statue of Jo-bo which one sees today in the Jo- khang was one of the few statues not destroyed by the Red Guards during the 1967/ 68 troubles in Lha-sa. The great majority of the statues at present in the Jo-khang seem to be re-makes and copies (often very good ones) made on Chinese orders in 1973/74. Pilgrims from far-off Khams and Amdo still crowd into the Jo-khang daily to make their devotions in front of these statues; the scene is most impressive and I, personally, was convinced that if Lamaism, as a social force, is dead in Tibet, Buddhism, as a system of beliefs, still has a strong hold in the minds of the local population. I wish to thank the Academia Sinica of the Peoples Republic of China for their invitation, which made this visit possible. 18. Blo-gsa! g!ing was visited by Prof Tucci in 1949 (To Lhasa and Beyond, Rome: Liberia dello Stato, 1956, pp. 104-105). As I saw it in June, 1980, it is now only an empty husk of its former self On 'Bras-spungs, see, recently, Geshe G. Lodro, Geschichte der Kloster Universitiit Drepung mit einmen Abrus der Geistesgeschichte Tibets, I (Wiesbaden: Franz Steiner Verlag, 1974). 19. On Sde-dge, see E. Teichman, Travels of a Consular Officer in Eastern Tibet (Cambridge, 1922), pp. 158-159; J. Kolmas, Prague Collection of Tibetan Prints from Derge, Part I, Asiatische Forschungen, Bd. 36 (Wiesbaden: Otto Harrassowitz, 1971), p. 10 and A Genealogy of the Kings of Derge, Sde-dge rgyal-rabs (Prague, 1968), passim. 72 20. On Rdzong-gsar, see the references in D. Schuch, Tibestische Handschriften und Blockdrucke, Gesammelte Werken des Kon-sprul Blo-gros mtha'-yas, Verzeichnis der Orientalischen Handschriften in Deutschland, XI, VI (Wiesbaden: Franz St.einer Verlag, 1976), Index, p. 327. 21. On Rdzogs-chen, see Gene Smith, Preface to The Autobiographical Remini- scences of dpal-bzang, Late Abbot of Kah-thog Monastery (Gangtok, 1969), p. 7, n. 18 and Ringu Tulku, "Zog-chen gon-pa," in The Tibet Journal, I, N 3-4 (Dharam- sala, 1976), p. 85-86. 22. On Zhe-chen, see Gene Smith, lac. cit., p. 7, n. 20. 23. There is a sketch, in which there figure several of the monastic foundations mentioned by our author in the previous sentence, in S. Kaschewsky and Perna Tsering, "Die Niederschlagung des Empiirers von Nag-rori und andere Reminiszenzen des Dpal-sprul rin-po-che," in Zentralasiatische Studien, 7 (Wiesbaden, Otto Harras- sowitz, 1973), p. 445. Dpal-yul, as indicated in Helmut Eimer and Perna Tsering, "Abte und Lehrer von Kah-thog," Zentralasiatische Studien, N 13 (Wiesbaden: Otto Harras- sowitz, 1979), pp. 459-460, n. 7, lies to the south of Sde-dge dgon-chen. 24. The works of Kong-sprul Blo-gros mtha'-yas are catalogued in the remark- able volume by D. Schuch quoted above in n. (20). The Introduction, p. XXV- XLVII, gives a most interesting account of Kong-sprul's life-history. 25. See the Introduction by Gene Smith to Kongtrut's Encyclopaedia of Indo- Tibetan Culture, Parts ]-3, edited by Lokesh Chandra in the Series, vol. 80 (New Delhi, 1970), p. 76. 26. On Bka'-ma, see Eva Dargay, The Rise of Esoteric Buddhism in Tibet (Delhi: Motilal Banarsidass, 1979), pp. 13-14. 27. The Mtshur-phu edition of the Rin-chen gter-mdzod in sixty volumes was arranged by Kong-sprul Yon-tan rgya-mtsho alias Padma Gar-dbang. A reproduction, with additional texts from Dpal-spungs, numbering in all one hundred and eleven volumes, is in course of publication, since 1976, at Paro, Bhutan. 28. This is the Sgrub-thabs 'dod-jo bum-bzang, A Collection of Nyingmapa Sadhanas written by Gter-bdag gling-pa with the help of Smin-gling La-chen, Reproduced from the manuscript of Dorje Khandro by B. Jamyang Nor-bu, vol. 1-2 (New Delhi, 1972-73). There was also a Derge Dpal-spungs print. 29. On Rong-zom Chos-kyi bzang-po, who lived in the 11th century, see Gene Smith, Preface quoted in n. (21) above, p. 4, n. 7. 30. On Klong-chen Rab-'byams, Dri-ma 'od-zer (1308-1363), author of the Mdzod-bdun, see Gene Smith, Preface quoted in n. (21) above, p. 4 and n. 8. Sras refers to 'Jigs-med gling-pa. On the master and his pupil, see also Perna Tsering, "Tibetische Geschichten zur Erlauterung der Drei Forman des Glaubens (dad-pa gsum)," in Studien zur Indologie und lranistik, Heft 2 (Reinbek, 1976), pp. 136-138. 31. On Smin-grol-gling, see Gene Smith, Preface quoted in n. (21) above, p. 6-7, n. 17. The brothers are Gter-bdag gling-pa (1646-1714) and Lo-chen Dharma- sri (1654-1717). 32. These are 'Jam-dbyans Mkhyen-brtse dbang-po and Kong-sprul rgya- mtsho, also known as Mkhyen-Kong rnam-gnyis. 33. This is Dpal-sprul O-rgyanJigs-med dbang-po, on whom see, most recently, the article by Perna Tsering quoted in n. (30) above, p. 133-135 and 139. 34. For information on KaJ:1-thog, see Helmut Eimer and Perna Tsering, "Abte 73 und Lehrer van Kal:t-thog," in Zentralasiatischen Studien, N 13, pp. 457-509. 35. The collected works of 'Jam-mgon Mi-pham rnam-rgyal (1846-1912) are catalogued in D. Schuh, Tibetische Handschriften ... , XI, V, pp. 63-266. 36. The Klong-chen snying-thig is to be found in the seventh and eighth volumes of the Rnying-ma'i rgyud-'bum of which the Sde-dge edition comprises twenty-six volumes. It was set down by 'Jigs-med Gling-pa (1730-1798) who was inspired to do so in a trance by Klong chen-po. 37. This might refer to D. Schuch, Tibetische Handschriften . .. , XI, VI, pp. 154- 155, W 131. 38. This is a text contained in the Rnying-ma'i rgyud-'bum, pertaining to the cate- gory of the Gsang bka'-ma. According to the dkar-chag, it is also to be found in the section ca of the Bka'-ma. 39. The eighteen basic texts in the curriculum of Rnying-ma-pa lamas at Sde- dge are listed in Helmut Eimer and Perna Tsering, loco cit., paragraph 3.4.3, p. 487, n. 5. 40. On the Sanskrit text of the Gsang-ba'i snying-po, see G. N. Roerich, The Blue Annals, I (Calcutta, 1976), 2nd edition, pp. 103-104. 41. Commentary on the Gsang-ba'i sying-po. Several commentaries are listed in Lokesh Chandra, 'Les imprimeries tibetaines de Drepung, Derge et Pepung,' in the Journal Asiatique (Paris), 1961, p. 516. 42. That is: the Gsang-bdag mal-lung and not the Kun-bzang bla-ma'i zhal-lung. 43. Giving, respecting, obeying. 44. On Blma mitra, see, for instance Eva Dargay, op. cit., pp. 23-31. 45. Such 'visions, blending together at one point in space and making con- temporaries in time of historical characters, divinities and goddesses, are also ex- perienced by jh5kris in the Himalayan area. They are not confined to Buddhists; the dramatis personae in a Hindu or a "tribal" vision will, of course, be different: but the divine assemblies who encourage and instruct are, in such cases also, composed of beings of different classes. 46. One is tempted to interpret these feelings as indicative of his power to move freely up and down the cosmic axis. 47. Tibetan commentaries on the Bodhicaryavatara are legion and they have not yet been catalogued in a definitive manner. For one aspect of the question, see Helmut Eimer, 'Commentaries' on the Bodhicaryavatara," in Studien zum J ainismus und Buddhismus, Gedenkschrift fur Ludwig Alsdorf, edited by Klaus Bruhn and Albrecht Wezler (Wiesbaden: Franz Steiner Verlag), (the off-print bears no date), pp.73-78. 48. A commentary on the Madhyamakala7!!karakarikii of The indica- tions furnished by our author do not permit precise identification of the editions referred to by him. However, it seems useful to draw attention to editions referred to in European catalogues. Confer D. Schuch, Tibetische Handschriften . .. , XI, V, p. 107, N 123. 49. A commentary on the Abhisamayiila7!!kara. Confer D. Schuch, ibid., p. 174, W 187. 50. Confer D. Schuch, ibid., pp. 176-177, N 190. 51. A text by Sakya-pandita. 52. A commentary on the Mahayiiniisutrala7!!kiiraniimakiirikii. Confer D. Schuch, ibid., p. 223, W 236. 74 53. i.e. the Rang-bzhin rdzogs-pa chen-po'i lan-gyi cha-lag Sdom-pa gsum roam-par nges-pa zhes-bya-ba'i bstan-bcos bzhugs-so of Sakya Pandita. 54. See Documents pour l'itude de la religion et de l'organisation sociale des Sherpa, I, fo!' 111-116. 55. A large coin in usage in the Sining a;ea. 56. Innsbruck and Munich, 1969, Universitats Verlag Wagner; and Cambridge, Cambridge University Press, 1978. 57. Quoted in R. A. Stein, Vie et chants de 'Brug-pa Kun-legs, Ie Yogin (Paris: G. P. Maisonneuve et Larose, 1972), p. 12. 75 Metapsychology of the Abhidharma by S hanta Ratnayaka The number of scholarly presentations on Buddhism is impressive today, but only a few ofthem touch the abhidharma system. Tradition- ally, Buddhist countries have esteemed the abhidharma. Theravada countries like Burma, Thailand, and Sri Lanka have held the Pali abhidharma books in high respect, while Mahayana countries like Tibet, China, and Japan have similarly treated the Sanskrit abhi- dharma books. 1 Because the abhidharma is accepted as the profound teaching of Buddhism, even the rest of the Tripitaka is often under- stood and interpreted in terms of the Abhidharmapi;aka. Some teachers believe that one's mastery over the Tripitaka depends on one's skill in comprehending the abhidharma system. According to them, one who has no knowledge of the abhidharma falters at each and every word in any attempt to expound Buddhism. Due to its abstract and philosophical nature, the abhidharma is sometimes classified as Buddhist metaphysics. 2 The present study is not intended to examine the validity of such a claim. Nevertheless, the designation "metaphysics" implies the excellence or specialty of the abhidharma in comparison with the Dharma, or the general dogma, of Buddhism. 3 Most of the abhidharma consists of detailed explanations of mental phenomena. The translation of the first book of the Abhidharmapitaka itself is given the title Buddhist Psychological Ethics. 4 However, the purpose of the abhidharmic analysis of the psyche differs altogether from that of modern psychology. Although the cognitive structure and the causal relations of the psyche are very much a part of the abhidharma, a description of them is not the aim of the system. Rather it guides the adherent to go beyond the normal pattern of his psyche, to attain transcendental realms, and to see beyond the mundane. In this sense it is more appropriate to call the abhidharma system the "metapsychology" of Buddhism. Although this essay will not touch 76 upon transcendental realms, it will coGsider the meta psychological teachings with reference to our life situation. Modern psychology has adopted the word "meta psychology" to mean speculation about the place of mind in the universe. Such theoretical studies have been valuable, but ironically on a practical level they have been kept at a distance. A modern psychologist remarks: "In this light, much of Freud's metapsychology may be regarded as an intricate ideological museum piece the beauty of which resides in its internal consistency as opposed to its relevance for doing psychotherapy."s In less than a century Freud's metapsychology has become a "museum piece."6 What has happened to the age-old Buddhist meta- psychology? The Pali abhidharma canon was complete as early as the third century B.C., as Thera Tissa of the Third Council set forth its last book, the Kathiivatthu (Points of Controversy). More than twenty centuries after its completion, the abhidharma has not become a museum piece, at least for practicing Buddhists. As I mentioned in opening, the abhidharma is very much esteemed in Buddhist com- munities, especially among Buddhist scholars.7 Does survival of the Buddhist metapsychology prove its utilitar- ian value? First, these theories survive on religious grounds. If the religious value is absent, its practical value remains to be proven. Second, a scientific verification of the abhidharmic view of mental phenomena seems impossible. At least no one in this branch of study has done an extensive scientific examination of mental phenomena. Modern metapsychology makes no claim beyond the experi- mental level of mental phenomena. Consequently there is a differ- ence of attitude between the two groups. The modern psychologist might not agree about any of the transcendental states of mind asserted by the abhidharmic teachings. On the other hand, an abhi- dharmic psychologist would view modern psychology as limited only to the realm of mundane affairs. It must be admitted that in Buddhist eyes modern psychology, along with its metapsychology, remains in its early childhood, with its maturity still far in the future. The abhidharmic teaching about life, death and even life be- yond death is based solely on its metapsychology. This system teaches its own psychoanalysis and its own theory of mental states. In the following pages a few examples of this teaching will be shown. First, the conscious layer of mental processes will be expounded; second, an inquiry into the unconscious will be made, and the subconscious also 77 will be brieHy mentioned. It is in the conscious that karmas are found, and it is in the unconscious that death and birth (rebecoming) occur. Seen from this viewpoint, one's whole being anq process of becoming can be easily identified with one's stream of consciousness. The conscious mind of the abhidharma can be exemplified by the following: 8 UVAQECITXXXXXXXRRUVUUUUU 1 2 345 6 7 891011121314151617 Diagram 1 Numbers 1 and 17 are respectively the beginning and end of this particular Process of Consciousness. There was a stream of con- sciousness before 1, and there will be a stream of consciousness after 17; what we see here is a very tiny fragment of the total stream of consciousness. This whole fragment takes place within a very short period of time. The letters of the Diagram indicate the following states of consciousness, which form this particular Process of Con- sciousness (1-17): U Unconscious Continuum (bhavanga) V . Vibrating Subconsciousness (bhavanga calana) A Awakening Subconsciousness (bhavanga upaccheda) Q Inquisitive Subconsciousness (iivajjana) E Eye Consciousness (cakkhu viiiiiii1fa) C Receptive Consciousness (sampa(icchana) I Investigative Consciousness (santira1fa) T Determinative Consciousness (votthapana) X Exertive Consciousness (javana) R Retentive Consciousness (tadiilambana) The Unconscious Continuum (U) will be discussed later in this essay. The state of mind before and after an active Process of Consciousness is usually the Unconscious Continuum. When this state is disturbed by a stimulus, sense perception or mental perception arises. 9 The Vibrating Subconsciousness (V) and Awakening Subcon- 78 sciousness (A) are still not properly active states. The Inquisitive Sub- consciousness (Q) is like an entrance to the active consciousness. As the stimulus is, in this example, a visual object, the Eye Conscious- ness lO (E) takes place next. With it the act of seeing occurs. The stimulus is received further into the Process of Consciousness by the Receptive Consciousness (C). The stimulus is investigated by the next, Investigative Consciousness (I). How to respond to this particular stimulus is decided by the Determinative Consciousness (T). Then whatever response is made is accomplished by the Exertive Con- sciousness (X). Being very short, a single Exertive Consciousness cannot perform an act; therefore, seven Exertives take place one after the other. 11 Because the exertion is very forceful, the effect of it may last for a couple of mind moments, and they are the Retentive Consciousnesses (R). When the two Retentives fade away, again the Unconscious Continuum takes place. Until the next stimulus occurs, the mind continues in the unconscious state. Although the mental process continues, for the present Process of Consciousness, its 17th moment (R) is the last active consciousness. Modern psychic analyses are not exactly parallel to the abhi- dharmic analysis of mind, but some of them are analogous to the abhi- dharma, and certainly some of the mental states they describe are compatible with the abhidharmic ones. The following is an example: 12 Diagram 2 Here the last phase is Action and the previous phase is Think- ing. There is no doubt that the phase of Action also should be accompanied by thoughts. The previous phase of Thinking is a phase of certain distinctive thoughts that lead to action. In other words, thinking is followed both by action as well as the thoughts with which that action is performed. So, the phase of Action is analogous to the Exertives (javanas) of the abhidharmic analysis. The thinking to act is analogous to the Investigative (santirarz,a) and Determinative (vottha- pana) states. In this modern analysis, Feeling and Emotion are ordered 79 before Thinking. This Feeling and Emotion cannot be a deeply felt emotional phase, as they occur even before Thinking. Thus they are analogous to the Receptive Consciousness (sampqticchana). The phase of Sensation and Perception equals the Inquisitive Consciousness (avajjana) and Eye Consciousness!3 (cakkhu viiiiialJa). The phase be- fore Sensation is similar to the Unconscious Continuum and the next two states of subconsciousness. Because what follows Action is not mentioned in this modern analysis, we do not see any phases com- parable to the Retentive Consciousness (tadalambana) of the abhi- dharmic analysis. As shown in Diagram 1 and its explanation, action properly speaking takes place in one's Process of Consciousness. The physical performance is only an outcome of the mental act. Bodily organs function like instruments of the mental process to accomplish the deed. The Exertive Consciousness (Javana) by which the action is put forth is the karma. Bodily karma or verbal karma is only an outcome of the mental climax. In Diagram 1 we see seven Exertives appearing in the same Process of Consciousness. They are seven individual karmas. In Buddhist ethics, bodily or verbal performance itself is recog- nized as karma. An act of love such as almsgiving or an act of hate such as killing is designated as good or bad karma only conventionally. In the metaphysical or metapsychological level of understanding, all bodily, verbal, and mental karmas are the Exertive Consciousnesses (javanas) that occur in one's mental process. The accomplishment of giving or killing is only the outcome of the mental karma. On the other hand, just a thought of giving or a thought of killing does not become an Exertive Consciousness (Javana). Only during the time of the act itself do karmas occur. The outward physical act and the inward physical act take place simultaneously. Some preceding thoughts lead the process to this climax, but the climactic physical action takes place only when karmas arise in the psyche. Often it is said that karma in Buddhism is a willful act. Never- theless, how karma becomes willful or how it fits into the consciousness will never be clear until one looks at it in the light of the abhidharma. Therefore, living Buddhist traditions rely heavily upon the abhi- dharma for a proper understanding of Buddhist teachings. The karma segment of the psyche calls for discussion because it brings about results. What is the result of karma and where does it take place? That is an interesting question in the abhidharmic meta- psychology. The result or the effect of karma is called "vipaka" which 80 means the mature state or fruition of karma. In our example of a mental process, the Unconscious Continuum, the Vibrating Subcon- sciousness, the Awakening Subconsciousness, the Eye Consciousness, the Receptive Consciousness, the Investigative Consciousness, and the Retentive Consciousness are the vipiikas or resultants. They are results brought about by karmas of the past. A pleasant sight brings about happiness, and an unpleasant sight unhappiness. Both sights come through the faculty of the eye, and both of them produce Eye Consciousness, etc., in the psyche. Al- though functionally the two sights are similar, they bring about two different effects. One brings about happiness, the other unhappiness or suffering. The abhidharma explains these two different conscious- nesses as two different results of good or bad karmas of the past. The Process of Consciousness shown in Diagram 1 is a karma- producing one, and thereby that Process functions on a fully active level of consciousness. Between the unconscious and the karma- producing state of consciousness there are less active moments of mind. Some of them are in the subconscious state. After the sub- conscious state, there are conscious moments that are not karmas. Without producing karmas, the Process may fall into the unconscious. Thus most of our conscious thoughts are not karmas. The following example is a Process of Consciousness that does not produce karmas. 14 UVAQECITTUUUUUUU * > * > * > * > * > * > * > ~ * > * > * > * > ~ * > * > * Diagram 3 The unconscious is followed by the subconscious states and the subconscious by the conscious. The Vibrating Consciousness (V), Awakening Consciousness (A), and Inquisitive Consciousness (Q) function on the subconscious level. The Eye Consciousness (E), Re- ceptive Consciousness (C), Investigative Consciousness (I), and De- terminative Consciousness (T) function on the conscious level. As there is no Exertive Consciousness in this process, no karma is pro- duced. Then the Process falls back into the unconscious. Unlike the conscious and the subconscious, the unconscious is easily recognizable and, as it is indicated, the Process begins from, and ends in, the unconSCIOUS. 81 In both Processes of Consciousness (diagrams 1 and 3) the con- scious evolves through the Eye Consciousness. Similarly, perception occurs through the ear, nose, tongue, and bpdy. Sometimes, in- dependent of these senses, perception arises through the mind it- self. ls The eye, ear, nose, tongue, body, and mind are the doors of perception. Therefore, in the abhidharma, the perception which arises through the eye is called Eye Consciousness. Likewise, the Ear Con- sciousness, Nose Consciousness, etc., are named. In modern psychol- ogy, certain terms like "visual perception" and "auditory perception" parallel the abhidharmic terminology.16 However, modern psychol- ogy recognizes other channels of perception, such as the "muscle sense" and "vestibular sense."17 Such new "modalities of sensibility" may be useful in experiments, but clearly they are subdivisions of the above mentioned doors of perception. Depending on the sense object, perception occurs through any of the sense doors, and the activities of the conscious follow. The major focus of this paper has thus far been upon the con- scious, although there has been some mention of the unconscious. Before and after the activities of the conscious, one's mind remains in an unconscious stage. The unconscious is not simply some sleepy interval between the activities of the mind. In its own right, the unconscious performs a task that is not secondary to the work of the conscious. Therefore, the unconscious must be dealt with further in our discussion. Karma becomes a decisive factor in rebirth. The process of death and rebirth is a subtle one. Therefore, neW students sometimes equate rebirth with child birth or child delivery. In the karmic process, rebirth or rebecoming (as it might more properly be termed) is rather the conception that takes place long before delivery. It is the first instance of new becoming that takes place immediately after the death of one's previous life. A new conception occurs when the mental process begins to work in the new material body. When a karma of a dying person is suitable for rebecoming in a particular parental setting, conception takes place. In the abhidharmic point of view, it is the birth of the psyche as a result of a previous karma or Exertive Consciousness of the same mental process. Another question raised often at this point is whether the mental process of a dead person goes into someone else's body. This question indicates how foreign the belief in any form of rebirth is to a student who lacks it in his background. The abhidharmic teaching of rebecoming 82 must be even more difficult for this student to comprehend. The combi- nation of sperm and ovum in a new life and the following growth of its physical body cannot be a person independent of the conceived mental process. Every conception is the karmic result of a stream of consciousnes; this new beginning is not altogether a new beginning. The concern about a dead person's mind going into another's body is a misconception because there are not two persons involved in the death and the birth; rather there is only the rebecoming of one being. There is one mental process through the previous life and the present life. There is also only one living physical body, because when the mental process leaves the previous body, life does not exist there any longer, and until the mental process is conceived, the sperm and ovum do not become a being. Whether it is at the end of life or at the beginning of life, material body without mentality is only a body; it is not a being or a person. Thus one's actual death is the last moment of his mental process in the previous life, and one's rebirth is the first moment of his mental process in the new life. After all, there is one single process divided into two by the psychical moments of death and birth. Depending on the locations of the death and birth, there can be a physical space between the two events, but there is no mental space between them. Death is followed immediately by birth. The actual death and birth, which take place in the stream of consciousness, are shown in the following Process of Consciousness: UVAQXXXXXRRUDBUUU >*>*>*>*>*>*>*>*>*>*>*>*>*>*>*>*>*> Diagram 4 Here the Q is (mind door) Inquisitive Subconsciousness. The next Exertive Consciousnesses are the karmic moments of the dying person. Because it is a weak moment, only five of them, instead of seven, come into the Process. After the Retentive Consciousnesses and a moment of the Unconscious Continuum, there is the dying moment of the psyche, i.e., the Death Consciousness (D). What follows immediately is the Birth Consciousness (B). After the Birth Consciousness, again the process goes into the Unconscious Con- tinuum. 83 Diagrams 1, 3, and 4 show us that in the absence of active segments of consciousness, the Unconscious Continuum remains. Not only during one lifetime, but for the past and fqture lives also, that is the pattern of existence. So, the unconscious plays a major role in the Buddhist metapsychological explanation of existence. Before we examine further this important aspect of Buddhist psychology, it is worthwhile to glance at a modern psychological view of it. In modern psychology, the unconscious has been analyzed at great length. A few typical remarks are quoted below: We hear a great deal about the unconscious, the subcon- scious and the co-conscious. There is no unanimity of opinion as to exact meaning of these terms .... The unconscious has several meanings. When a person has concussion of the brain or is under the influence of an anesthetic during the surgical operation he is unconscious. When we are asleep we are said to be unconscious. The word unconscious is also often used to indicate types of habitual or automatic ac- tion .... Where are memories when we are not thinking of them? They are said to be in the unconscious. But the unconscious is not merely a passive storehouse of forgotten experiences. For many things this is so .... 18 The function of the unconscious described here is, in many respects, very similar to that of the Unconscious Continuum of Buddhist psychology. When one is asleep or in a coma, one's mind remains in the state of unconscious (bhavanga). Besides the memory, all of one's karmic potentialities and personal traits exist in the Un- conscious Continuum. 19 Therefore, the unconscious is by no means an insignificant portion of our mentality as compared with the con- SCIOUS. In the light of the preceding discussion, the unconscious does not seem to be without consciousness. Obviously, sleeping or habitual action is not done by the dead. Nor is the unconscious limited to deep sleep or concussion. Both modern psychology and Buddhist psychol- ogy consider the unconscious to be a functional state of the psyche. For some modern psychologists the two terms "unconscious" and "subconscious," are synonyms. Some include one in the other. 20 Buddhist psychologists also do so when they write on bhavangaY Therefore, the abhidharmic unconscious and subconscious have been treated sometimes as one and the same. Nevertheless, it is more 84 appropriate to treat them as two close stages of mental phenomena. The abhidharmic Process of Consciousness begins from the Uncon- scious Continuum, and then it passes through the subconscious state.s on to the conscious. The Vibrating, Awakening, and Inquisitive states remain on'the subconscious level. With Eye Consciousness, activities of the conscious begin. Finally, the Process falls again into the Uncon- scious Continuum. The Eye Consciousness, Receptive Consciousness, Investigative Consciousness, Determinative Consciousness, Exertive Consciousness, and Retentive Consciousness are in the realm of the conscious. Although the conscious is distinct from the unconscious, the demarcation between the unconscious and the subconscious is extremely difficult. Like the conscious, the unconscious and subconscious operate in many layers. Deep sleep and dreaming stages are easily recognizable as distinct from one another. Similarly, vague thoughts, faint mem- ories, unclear imaginations or blurred sensual perceptions appear in various layers until they become vivid to the conscious. Most of these stages could possibly be empirical, but a state such as deep sleep remains unempirical. Of course, how the brain cells function in one's deep sleep can be detected by modern technical instruments. How- ever, they reveal only the physical, but not the mental, existence of the sleeping person. The same Unconscious Continuum (bhavanga) has sometimes been translated as "life-continuum."22 The term "life-continuum" itself indicates how significant the unconscious is in one's life. In fact, it is crucial in the metapsychological teachings of the abhidharma. Even the earliest abhidharma commentaries dealt with this issue in detail. Buddhaghosa refers to one of these commentaries and remarks: "But in the Abhidharma Commentary two turns of consciousness have been handed down with respect to registration. This consciousness has two names, 'registration' (tadiiramma7Ja ... ) and 'aftermath life-continuum' <P#thi-bhavanga)."23 In his own Commentary to the First Book of the Abhidharmapitako" Buddhaghosa presents further variations of the life- continuum. There he uses the term "milia bhavanga," i.e., base-life con- tinuum. 24 Neither Pitthi-bhavanga (aftermath-life-continuum) nor milia bhavanga (base-life continuum) was invented by Buddhaghosa. His writ- ing itself reveals that such variations of the life-continuum had been defined and used with distinct meanings before he produced his commentaries. The unconscious of the abhidharma is connected with the Death 85 Consciousness and the Birth Consciousness. At conception, the Birth Consciousness occurs, and it goes into the state of life-continuum. Throughout this life, the unconscious is the rebecoming of that particular Birth Consciousness. At the end of this life, the same unconscious occurs at the last moment of the mental process, and this time it is called the Death Consciousness. According to this explana- tion, the Unconscious Continuum could be seen easily as the life- continuum. The following citation is relevant: When the rebirth-linking consciousness has ceased, then, following on whatever kind of rebirth-linking it may be, the same kinds, being the result of that same karma whatever it may be, occur as life-continuum consciousness with that same object; and again those same kinds. And as long as there is no other kind of arising of consciousness to interrupt the continuity they also go on occurring endlessly in periods of dreamless sleep, etc., like the current of a river. ... For the last life-continuum con- sciousness of all in one becoming is called "death" (wti) because of falling .... And after death there is rebirth-linking again; and after rebirth-linking, life-continuum. 25 Two lives of the same person are thus linked by the death-birth and life-continuum. Though linked, the succeeding life and the preceding life are distinct. The two lives evolved from the two Birth Consciousnesses. Because a life-continuum is of the same kind as a Birth Consciousness, the life-continuum of a given life is similar to the Birth Consciousness of that life, not to the Birth Consciousness of the preceding life. Similarly, just as each person differs from all others, so each person's life-continuum or unconscious continuum also differs from all others. Exertive Consciousnesses (karmas) of a dying Process were de- picted in Diagram 4. They are not identical with the Death Conscious- ness of the dying. The succeeding Birth Consciousness is brought about by the karmas of this Process. Because Death Consciousness does not, but the karmas (Exertives) do, produce the Birth Con- sciousness, the latter becomes different from the previous Death Con- sciousness. For this reason, the Unconscious Continuum of one's present life differs from that of the past life, and the Unconscious Continuum of one's next life will differ from that of the present life. Cause and effect continue in the same stream of consciousness, while each birth or life maintains its distinctive identity. Thus karma of the 86 conscious brings about the Death and Birth of the unconscious. The Birth Consciousness reproduces the Unconscious Continuum, and again via subconsciousness 26 it brings about the conscious, and the consciousness produces more karmas. Because this is the mode of existence that the abhidharma teaches, one can understand why the abhidharma has been regarded as metaphysics. Nevertheless, the present essay demonstrates that the abhidharma can now be more appropriately called meta psychology than metaphysics. NOTES 1. In regard to the relationship between the Pali and Sanskrit books on abhi- dharma or the Theravada and Mahayana teachings on abhidharma, Brian Galloway makes the following remark: "In case anyone wonders why Theravada sources are used in the discussion of a Mahayana text, it is because the meaning of standard Abhidharma technical terms is the same in both traditions. The Mahayanists after all built their Abhidharma thought on the same early-Buddhist foundations." Brian Galloway, "A Yogacara analysis of the mind, based on the Vijnana section of Vasubandhu's Pan- caskandhaprakara'f!a with GUI,laprabha's Commentary," The Journal of the International Association of Buddhist Studies, Vol. 3, No.2 (1980), p. 20. 2. For a discussion on the metaphysical nature of the abhidharma or of Bud- dhism as a whole, see; Lama Anagarika Govinda, The Psychological Attitude of Early Buddhist Philosophy (New York: Samuel Weiser, 1974), pp. 38-41. 3. Tattha Abhidhammassa Matika ti ettha ken' atthena Abhidhammo? Dhammatireka dhammavisesatthena. Atirekavisesatthadipako hi ettha abhi-saddo. Kassa patthera of Cola, Mohavicchedani: Abhidhamma MatikatthavaT}T}anii, ed. by A. P. Buddhadatta (London: Pali Text Society, 1961), p. l. 4. Buddhist Psychological Ethics (A Buddhist Manual of Psychological Ethics): Dham- masangaT}i, ed. by Caroline Rhys Davids (3rd ed. London: Pali Text Society, 1974). 5. Richard Levine, "Metapsychology and the Psychoanalytic Theory of Tech- nique," The Psychoanalytic Review, Vol. 66 (1979-80), p. 38l. 6. In the course of writing this paper, I have had several discussions with Dr. A. Amarasinghe, who is a practicing psychiatrist. His helpful suggestions are very much appreciated. 7. Translating the Abhidhammattha Sangaha, Narada Maha Thera notes: "Abhi- dhamma means the Higher Doctrine because it enables one to achieve one's Deliver- ance, or because it exceeds the teachings of the Sutta P i ~ a k a and Vinaya Pipka." Bhadanta Anuruddhacariya, A Manual of Abhidhamma, trans. and ed. by Narada Maha Thera (Kandy, Ceylon: Buddhist Publication Society, 1968), p. 2. 8. In the abhidharma, a portion of the stream of consciousness like this is called "vithi" or "citta vithi." The term "vithi" means street, course, or process. My suggestion is that it is more meaningful to translate citta vithi as "Process of Consciousness." Lama Anagarika Govinda translates it as "Process of Perception," and Narada Maha Thera as "Thought Process." Govinda, Psychological Attitude, p. 136; Anuruddhacariya, A Manual of Abhidhamma, p. 34. 87 9. '" eva"!! bkavanga,,!! otarar:a cittiinampi gar:ana patko nama natthi ... sace pana iipiitha gata,,!! hoti, kiriya mana dhtituyti bhavange iiva??ite caRkhu vinniiniidini uppajjanti. Buddhaghosa, Atthasiilini or the Commentary to the Dhammasan- ganippakarana of the Abhidhamma Pi?aka, ed. by Y. Pannananda, Simon Hewavitarne Bequest Series, XLII (Colombo: The Tripitaka Publication Press, 1940), p. 239. This citation is transliterated by the writer. 10. Brian Galloway properly translates this as "eye-perception." Galloway, "Yogacara Analysis," p. 11. As perception is its function, "eye-perception" is a fit term. Nevertheless, in the Process of Consciousness every individual number is a conscious- ness; accordingly, I have used here the translation, "Eye Consciousness." II. Herbert V. Guenther refers to the Exertives as "several apperceptional phases (javana)." Herbert V. Guenther, Philosophy and Psychology in the Abhidharma (Berkeley: Shambhala, 1976), p. 24. 12. Edward A. Strecker, Kenneth E. Appel, and John W. Appel, Discovering Ourselves: A View of the Human Mind and How It Works (3rd ed., 12th Printing: New York: The Macmillan Company, 1967), p. 36. 13. See "eye-perception" in footnote 10. 14. Buddhaghosa, Atthasiilini, p. 238. 15. The Dhammasanganippakarana of Abhidhamma Pitaka, ed. by H. Nanaloka, Simon Hewavitarne Bequest Pali Text Series, III (Colombo: The Tripi!aka Publication Press, 1953), p. 13. 16. Herbert V. Guenther's translation is noteworthy: "The process in respect to an audible,olfactory, gustatory, and tactile object is exactly the same (as in respect to a visible object)." Guenther, Philosophy and Psychology, p. 27. 17. S. Howard Bartley, Principles of Perception (New York: Harper and Brothers, 1958), p. 57. 18. Strecker, Discovering Ourselves, pp. 41-42. 19. This description of bhavanga parallels iilaya vijnana of the Vijiianavadins. 20. Strecker, Discovering Ourselves, pp. 43, 46. 21. Alfonso Verdu, Early Buddhist Philosophy (Washington, D.C.: University Press of America, 1979), pp. 86-87, 191. 22. Bhadantacariya Buddhaghosa, The Path of Purification: Visuddhimagga, Vol. II, trans. by Bhikkhu NyaJ?amoli (Berkeley: Shambhala, 1976), p. 646. 23. Ibid., p. 629. 24. Buddhaghosa, Atthasiilim: p. 252. 25. Buddhaghosa, Path of Purification, pp. 514-518. 26. In both abhidharmic psychology and modern psychology, although the degrees of consciousness vary as the unconscious, subconscious, and the conscious, their content is interchangeable. The content of the conscious may become the content of the unconscious or of the subconscious, and vice versa. 88 The Buddhist "Prodigal Son": A Story of Misperceptions by Whalen Lai Ever since Western scholars noticed that the Lotus Sutra contains a parable of the "prodigal son" there have been suspicions about Christian influence (St. Thomas' mission in northwestern India) in this Mahayana sutra and also interest in the comparison of this version with that in the Bible. Unfortunately, there has been a history of mis- understanding over this, first, between those in the Buddho-Christian exchange, and, secondly, within the story itself. The Lotus parable is about misperceptions; ironically, it is a story of a generous father but a spendthrift son, unlike the New Testament story. In this short article, I will try to dispel some of the modern misunder- standings, and then discuss the Lotus parable's intention within its own context. I will use the Kumarajiva rendition of the sutra as translated by Leon Hurvitz; numbers in brackets refer to Hurvitz' pagination (New York: Columbia University, 1976). The Modern Misunderstanding Questions of Christian influence aside (it is not impossible, but unlikely given the probable early dating of this stratum of the Lotus Sutra) , the theologian'S contrast of a warm-hearted Christian father running to greet his son and a cool-headed Buddhist father dispatch- ing attendents to fetch his is correct, but off the mark. The Buddha had compassion for his son too, but it would not be becoming for the Buddha if he also "ran, and fell on his neck, and kissed him" (Luke 15:20). The biblical story is a story ofreconciliation; the Buddhist one is of the gradual inducement of the son to recognize his own Buddha- wisdom. However, even so, at the right time, the Buddhist father 91 could as well demean himself to the son's level out of love. "Straight- way he removed his necklaces, his fme outer garments, and his orna- ments, and put on instead a rough, torn, dirty; tar-stained garment and, smearing dust over his body, took in his right hand a dung shovel" (so as to work next to his hired labour of a son for the purpose of eventually revealing their true relationship) (Hurvitz: 87). So, it is not a matter of one being warm and the other delibeni.tely cool. To counter the Christian critique, Buddhist apologists underline the fact that in Mahayana the acquisition of wisdom C.prajfzal is cardinal. The son must come to his supreme understanding, and by so doing become on par with the father. They argue that, since Christianity still assumes a theistic distinction between God and Man, it is understand- able that discovery of self-worth sadly is absent in the biblical narra- tive. However, this prajiiii-ist polemic can be just as off the mark, since there is no mistaking, in the Lotus narrative, that the son does not deserve the lavish attention he receives for his own work (Hurvitz: 81). When the son is finally made heir to the father's tremendous fortune, it comes no less as a "godsend." It is a free gift of grace beyond his expectation, for he thinks, "Formerly I had no thought of seeking or expecting anything, and now these treasure houses have come to me of themselves!" (Hurvitz: 89). So, the difference between the two parables is not explained by the Buddhist ideology of prajiiii and the pure self-discovery either. We must look at the two stories more closely. Now, the Christian narrative refers indirectly to Jesus' preach- ing about the nature of the Kingdom of God, even though it is not formally one of the "Kingdom" parables. It is taught in the presence of "the Pharisees and scribes [who then] murmured, saying, 'This man received sinners, and eateth with them'" (Luke 15:2). It comes after other analogies: the shepherd who leaves the ninety-nine sheep to seek the one lost one (15:4), and the woman who rejoices at finding her lost silver (15:9), both of which are meant to underscore the point that 'Joy shall be in heaven over the sinner that repenteth, more than over ninety and nine just persons, which need not repentance" (15:7). It is a subtle answer to the self-righteous opponents who are cast in the role of the other son, who fail to rejoice in the open admission of the "sinners" in Jesus' audience, "for this thy brother was dead, and is alive again; and was lost, and is found" (15: 32). In this Lucan narrative, the good son is not thrown out into the darkness to weep and to gnash his teeth. The key to the whole story is the prodigal 92 son's repentence, his ready admission that "Father, I have sinned against heaven and before thee" (15: 18), his willingness to renounce all claims and suffer any pitiance shown, "And am no more worthy to be called. thy son; make me one of thy hired servants" (15: 18). Although the father hugs him before he opens his mouth, the festive rejoicing-the fattened calf, etc.-come after the son's public con- fession. The whole story is structured according to the Judeo-Christian concern with the just and the unjust (unearned) dessert. It is about divine love showered on the repentent sinner and the open and free grace in the Kingdom that overlooks all past dues in one universal communitas of rejoicing. This "Love, Power and Justice" drama has a unique structure that cannot be, or be expected to be, found in the Buddhist milieu. Repentance is never an issue there. However, the whole gist of the Buddhist parable is that the son does not consciously return to his father's house. In fact, the story has to do with a basic irony: the son cannot possibly recognize his father, or perceive himself as in any way the son of this "like of a king." The whole object is to get the son to perceive the father and thereby perceive himself in a totally different light from his present view. Behind this irony is the whole drama of the genesis of the Mahayana and the Lotus Ekayana itself. The modern misunderstanding can only be resolved by first understanding a past; built-in, misunderstanding, not only of the Mahayana but of the Hinayana as well. The Past Misunderstanding The Lotus parable is not told by the Buddha to illustrate his compassion for all men; it is told by Subhiiti, Mahakatyayana and Mahamaudgalyayana (in ch. 4) in response to the Ekayana doctrine (Ch. 2), and to the Buddha's parable of the Burning House (ch. 3). Subhiiti and others are Hinayana arhants, i.e., sriivakas, listeners. They are reacting to an unexpected boon, unique to the Lotus Ekayana gospel, namely, that arhants can become Buddhas. The "prodigal son" analogy is their contribution to explaining how, unbeknownst to them, as sriivakas, they are actually sons of the Buddha. Possessing Buddha gotra (seed, lineage) destined for anuttarasamyaksambodhi (the highest enlightenment, previously reserved for the samyaksambuddha, or the Buddha alone), these arhants "came home to the father" after a 93 long absence to find their own status changed from petty Hinayanists to potential Buddhas. The extravagance is not in the prodigal son's spending all his inheritance in debauchery; the extravagance is the new inheritance these spendthrift absentee sons are now about to acquire. Let us review the story in the sutra and the story behind the story in early Mahayana. In chapter two, the Buddha declares that all his prior teachings were upaya, expedient means. The Ekayana of the Lotus Buddha Vehicle now subsumes the Triyana of the sravaka, the pratyekabuddha (the solitary or self-enlightened buddha) and the bodhisattva (the Mahayana wisdom-being). Now all three are destined for the same destiny, Buddhahood. Sariputra, an arhant, rejoices, saying (Hurvitz: 49): "Formerly, when I heard such a [Mahayana] Dharma as this from the Buddha, I saw the Bodhisattvas receive the prophecy that they should become Buddhas: but we [the sravakas] had no part in this." That is, historically speaking, a true fact. There was the Triyana dis- tinction before the rise of Mahayana, and it was logically set up as three discrete paths. Sravakas had sravaka-gotras (seeds), destined for arhantship, that and that only; they did not change their seed-nature by becoming bodhisattvas or pratyekabuddhas. They could not; gotra- lineages were rationally distinct. When Mahayana rose in the Prajiia- paramita corpus and movement, it gradually dislodged the Bodhi- sattvayana as Mahayana (Great Vehicle), and still later turned to de- nouncing the other two as Hinayana (Small Vehicle). The Prajiia- paramita tradition claimed to be the Dharma preserved through Subhuti, a mountain ascetic disciple of the Buddha. His foil in the dialogue that made up the sutra is the venerable Sariputra, a leader of the sravakas. So the remark of Sariputra cited above recalls how even as Sariputra is privileged to learn of the Mahayana Dharma, he has "no part" in it. Not only that, even Subhuti, himself also an arhant, has no part of it, though he be charged with the knowledge of prajiui and sunyatii! Why the stewards of the Dharma, the "secret store of the Tathagata"l (Hurvitz: the Dharma of the secret treasure house, p. 95), would not practice what they preached is explained in the parable itself (see infra). That the arhants are unable to know they are actually potential Buddhas is not the fault of Buddha. As Sariputra confesses (Hurvitz: 49): "This is our fault, not that of the World- Honoured One." Now, as the Buddha offered as an explanation for the Ekayana, the parable of the Burning House (ch. 3), Sariputra's prayer for an accounting to ease the arhants' "doubt and uncertainty over this unheard-of boon (58) is answered. 94 In chapter four, Subhuti and others show their thanks for the enlightening explanation. They now "wish to speak a parable, with which to clarify this meaning" (Hurvitz: 85). The parable of the prodigal son then accounts for the two seeming anomalies: (a) why don't the arhants know they are Buddha sons, and (b) why doesn't Subhuti practice the Mahayana Dharma he was supposed to have preached? The Buddhist tale has nothing to do with Judeo-Christian themes of Justice, Repentance and Forgiveness. It has to do with a natural misperception, an unsolicited stewardship and the final re- cognition-with the irony of Mahayana itself: how this original in- tended gospel of the Buddha is overlooked by the immediate disciples (the Hinayanists), how some of them (Subhuti and others) come to be trusted with it, and how, at long last, they realize that their sriivaka destiny ends no less in Buddhahood. The technically difficult hurdle in the story is, why doesn't the son recognize his sonship immediately? How can he be induced to change his sriivaka-gotra into the gotra of the Buddha? Thus, the crucial "mystery" in the story is not a prodigal son who runs off and returns but the father who, as he goes looking for him, changes his residence and outer appearance so that the son, chancing upon this alien residence, cannot recognize the owner as his father: 95 Suppose there were a man who was young in years and who also, ~ forsaking his father and running off, dwelt long in another country, whether ten, or twenty, or as much as fifty years. Not only did he grow old, but he was also reduced to destitution, running about in all four directions in quest of food and clothing. At length, in his wanderings, he accidentally headed. toward his native land. His father, who had preceded him, and who had sought his son without finding him, had stopped midway in a certain city. The father's house was great and rich 0 [Here follows descriptions of its opulence and the father's ur- gent wish to pass his inheritance to his lost son before his own departure from earth.] At that time, the poor son, hiring himself out as a laborer in his wanderings, by chance reached his father's house, where, stopping by the side of the gate, he saw in the distance his father seated in a lion throne (in the opulent setting). 0 As soon as the poor son had seen his father with the great power, straightway, harbouring great fear, he regretted having come to that place, and privately thought: "This is either a king or the equal of a king; but at any rate, this is no place for me to hire out my labor and earn anything. 0 0" (Hurvitz: 85-86. Italics added.) The resettlement of the father and his assumption of a royal status C . .. in a city, ! Where he built himself a house! In which he amused himself with the objects of the five desires,"2 says the verse version [90]) is an added note crucial to this story of misperception. The son cannot recognize the "like of a king" to be the father he originally left behind. This must refer to the historical idealization of the Buddha in the Mahasall).ghika and then the Mahayana tradition, such that, when the process is completed (i.e., when the father is resettled), the Hinayanist (the sravaka son and original disciple) cannot possibly recognize this transmundane, super-perfect, Buddha-figure, decked with all the sundry objects pleasing to the senses, to be the sannyiisin Sakyamuni they once knew. The Buddha is now fully cosmic, the like of a cakravartin. The absence of the "fifty years"-the mythical span between his first sermon at Benares and this Lotus gospel, supposed tb be delivered just before his parinirva1Ja (thus the reference to his eagerness to reveal the secret "before his own departure")----<:hanges the whole scenario. Once we understand this basic point, the confusion or un- necessary comparison with the biblical version should end. The rest of the story is the re-education of the child. First, the father secretly hires him, and because the son has petty aspirations (being a "Hina- yanist"), he has to be so humoured and placed in a mean job, cleaning the stables. The arhant son is, however, clearly conscientious. The father himself, as he finally puts on similar clothing to be near his heir, says, "Whenever you work, you are never guilty of lying or cheating, of anger or resentment, or of hateful words. I have never seen you guilty of these evils, as are the other workmen" (Hurvitz: 87). The father lavishes upon the son all necessities, working at putting this once-frightened son at ease. He ends the above remark with "From now on you shall be like my own son!" and straightway he gives him a new name. This granting of a name, a new one ap- parently, signals the admission of the sravakas into their true identity as buddha-go trakas, sons of the Buddha lineage. And, true to "history," the Hinayanist son keeps at his diligent task under the master's encouragement of future reward, removing the defilements (kleSa: here probably symbolized by the painful task of removing the dung from the stable). The father in his lowly attire sets an example, as Sakyamuni did in history. Meanwhile, there is the continual inducement. In the verse version: 96 He spoke to him sternly: "You must work hard!" He also used gentle words: "You are like my son." (Hurvitz: 93) Slowly the son grows in confidence, even as he remains steadfastly committed to a low assessment of himself, never once truly presuming sonship or even e ~ o y i n g the comfort that increasingly comes upon him. Finally, the father charges him with the stewardship of all his treasures. Like the biblical steward, the son makes good his charge even as he himself would "have none of these (luxurious) things" (Hurvitz: 94). The good stewardship, however, is not meant to show how his final enlightenment comes as a result of good works. It is meant to explain the second seeming anomaly mentioned earlier. N ow as Subhuti and others comment: The Buddha also in this way (as the father in his) Knowing our fondness for the petty, Has never before told us (Sravakas,) "You shall become Buddhas!" On the contrary, he told us To achieve freedom from outflows, To achieve the Lesser Vehicle, To be voice-hearing disciples. The Buddha [also] commanded us To say of the Unexcelled Path [i.e., Mahayana] That those who cultivate it . Shall be able to achieve Buddhahood. Merely for the bodhisattvas' sakes Did we set forth these matters, Not for our own sakes Preaching these essentials. Just as the poor son Was able to approach the father, And, though responsible for his father's things, Had no thought of taking them .... Thinking low of themselves, Subhuti, et al. never presume Mahayana 97 credentials, at least, not until the Lotus Dharma removes this stigma of the discrete Triyanas that even the Prajiia-paramita sutras presup- poses. (See endnote 1.) Finally, of course, the father summons his entourage and pub- licly reveals to them, as to the son too, the true heir to his kingdom. So, the son finds himself with a godsend he did not expect, just as Subhuti and others, who offer this parable, did not. This is the original inten- tion of the Buddhist parable. Conclusion The Biblical and the Buddhist parable are only similar in certain formal aspects, not in their separate larger contexts. The however, is not between God's Love and Buddha's Wisdom. In fact, the Buddhist father is very compassionate, and the self-acquisition of wisdom is not the real drive of the narrative. Rather, the Buddhist story was meant as a specific case commentary, the sravaka's, on the abolition of the Triyana distinctions. In many ways, the motifs of the Buddhist tale coincide more with the Gnostic myth about the "mes- senger and the secret" than with the repentence-and-forgiveness drama of the Lucan narrative. NOTES 1. I came to this analysis of this chapter in the Lotus Sutra by way of Kumarajiva's assessement of the Lotus Sutra as the ju-la-pi-tsang (secret store of the Tathagata): that its admittance of the arhants as Buddhas excelled over even the Prajiia-paramita sutras. 2. In an earlier draft, I took the word "amused" too literally and too readily dubbed the father as "prodigal" one. I am grateful for the corrections by Professor Andrew Rawlinson (University of Lancaster; letter of 11/29/80). 98 III. BOOK REVIEWS Lustful ,Maidens and Ascetic Kings (Buddhist and Hindu Stories of Life), by C. Amore and Larry D. Shinn. New York: Oxford University Press, 1981. xii + 198 pp. Illustrations by Sharon Wallace, Story Sources, Bibliography. Amore and Shinn have selected the sixty-five classic Buddhist and Hindu stories found in this book on the basis of two criteria: each had use in India as an instructional vehicle conveying social or ethical values, and each was intrinsically entertaining. The first criterion is founded on the now traditional premise that people with cultures in large part oral pass on their cultural roles and attitudes through retelling and performances of those myths, fables, epic stories, anecdotes, etc., that promote desirable qualities. The authors encapsu1e each of these stories with helpful, general comments clarifying the relevant values and important social roles, contrasting Buddhist with Hindu. approaches to seemingly similar dilemmas, and relating the world presented within the story to the larger social struc- tures of the time. Whether or not each offering is entertaining is left to each reader alone to determine. It should be noted here that Amore and Shinn have chosen to translate all the material into American-style prose, a choice which, inevitably, eliminates the stylistic differences. Many of the stories tend to read and sound as if they were all from the same or similar sources. Of course, something is usually lost in transition from language to language, but the result, in this case, may leave readers who are acquainted in some way with the originals slightly disap- pointed in what is, on the whole, a useful and insightful presentation of some of the best of Indian myths and tales. For the less familiar reader, the book offers not only a wealth of folk and classical stories, but also the opportunity to approach them as listeners/readers would on their home ground: "as cultural and reli- gious guideposts." The authors find this to be the most apparent function of the stories. They offer interpretation of the actions of the characters in terms of Geertz' dichotomy between positive behavior, called "models for," and negative behavior, called "images of." In many cases, they have found stories which present opposing views or treat- ments of the same idea; for instance, in the section titled "Woman," the story they call "The Carpenter's Wife" (paitcatantra, Bk. III, no. 8,) offers the Hindu negative "image of' woman as sly, and is immediately 99 followed by "Savitri and the God of Death" (Mahiibhiirata, III), in which Savitri's steadfast devotion and quick intelligence provides the "model for" the ideal Indian woman. Amore and Shinn, in the introductory material; carefully empha- size the importance of oral transmission "in a culture where literacy is low but storytelling abounds." But, while they make clear that these stories are vital also to literate groups, they do not go on to point to the complex interaction between oral and written traditions, a relationship important not only in certain categories of overt literary developmept, but also evidence of the subtle interlockings of Indian social and ethical patterns. They do mention that stories tended to become "frozen" after they were included in various written collections, and they suggest that differences among written versions of the same story stem from the presence of that piece in different religious traditions, geographic areas, or historical periods. In the brief section on sources, the authors review the general content and suggest broad temporal limits for the important collections (Sanskrit and Pali) from which they pulled their material. This section is supplemented bya list given at the end of the bok, which names the specific source for each story. We find material from the Pancatantra, Jiitakas, Mahiibhiirata, the Nikiiyas, Riimiiyana of Valmiki, Vinayapi(aka, the Dhammapadatthakathii, four from the Vetalapancavi'f!lsati, the Sad- dharmapu7}qaTlRa, the Visuddhimagga, and, of course, several puriinas. The selections have all been translated "very freely" according to the authors. Spot checking reveals that "freely" should not be taken to mean self-indulgently. The allegory extracted from the Saddharma- pU7}t:faTlRa (here called "How the Clever Father Saved His Sons") shows some of the freest overall treatment; on the whole, however, the originals are preserved. Amore and Shinn also explain some of the motifs and story- telling devices that may seem alien to a novice in Indian literature. In this section, for instance, we find an elucidation of the. relation between the assiduous and virtuous practice of Hindu asceticism and the result- ant (often destructive) celestial intervention. Oddly, only some of these motifs are analyzed in the introduction; others, of potentially equal unfamiliarity, are found in the brief commentaries, and a few, un- fortunately, are interjected directly into the body of the story, breaking the otherwise easy flow of the narrative line. In the tale called "The Radiant Sambula," which is told early in the book, Amore and and Shinn deal with the character's performance of the "Act of Truth" in a heavy-handed fashion, tacking a bracketed explanation onto the end of a line of interior monologue. But, ninety-eight pages later, in a para- graph preceding the stories and tales focused on the theme of truth- 100 fulness, this same concept is dealt with in a clear and simple statement, an example of which is beautifully demonstrated by the action and very words of Damayanti herself in a well-chosen portion of the Nala- Damayanti story. The stories are divided into four broad categories, each of which is subdivided: Family Roles (Man, Woman, and Children); Social Roles (King, Teacher/Priest, and Ascetic); Lay Values (Courage, Purity, Gen- erosity, Self-Sacrifice, and Truthfulness); and Monastic Values (Self- Control, Asceticism, Detachment, and Compassion). Clearly, some of the stories fit into more than one category, but they add up to a well- rounded view of traditional, orthodox, Buddhist and Hindu attitudes and morals. In light of the type of translation, the critical approach to selec- tion and interpretation, and the title, I should speculate that the book might serve well as suggested supplementary reading in an introduct- ory course on Indian literature or religions. Beth Simon The Syncretic Religion of Lin Chao-en, by Judith A. Berling. New York: Columbia University Press, 1980. xv + 348 pp., appendices, notes, glossary, bibliography, index. This work by Judith Berling of Indiana University is a careful and important study of an interesting Ming dynasty figure, Lin Chao- en (1519-1598), whose life and writings provide valuable insight into the dynamics of syncretism in this period of Chinese history and beyond. The book is composed of eight chapters, plus extensive ap- pendices and notes. The first three chapters discuss "The Problems of Syncretism," "Syncretism and Sectarianism in Early China," and "The Heyday of Syncretism" (in the Sung and Ming dynasties). Chapter Four is a brief biography of Lin Chao-en. The next three chapters, examining Lin's teachings and the movement which grew up around him during his life, are entitled "The System of Mind-cultivation," "The Nine Stages," and "The True Transmission of the Three Teach- ings." Chapter Eight, on "The Legacy of Lin Chao-en," examines the religious organization of this movement, the growth of a cult which followed his death, and its influence in the following centuries. While the movement has its outcrop pings even in the present century among some overseas Chinese, its principal interest for the historian of religion lies in the process whereby Lin Chao-en weaves 101 together elements of Confucianism, Taoism, and Buddhism and in the ways in which he is both a creature and a fashioner of his times. Professor Berling shows at considerable length how Lin Tzu's syncret- ism was highly selective. Though he was fundamentally Confucian in orientation, his earliest writings depict him "as the defender of the true transmission of Confucius against the intellectualizing extremes of the Sung Neo-Confucians." Also, while open to the insights of Taoist and Buddhist thinking, especially where there were parallels to the Con- fucian system of self-cultivation, he was critical of Buddhism and Taoism in a variety of ways, particularly "their neglect of familial virtues in their vow of celibacy." In the San-chiao hui-pen (Joint Chronicle of the Three Teaching:s) Lin "used his principles of syncretic selectivity to correct misconcep- tions and identify the core of truth" in each of the three traditions. Being fundamentally a religious teacher rather than a philosopher, he sought to lead people back to the correct Way. Berling spells out clearly his pedagogical methods and also gives appropriate attention to Lin's emphasis upon healing. Aside from the competent manner in which Judith Berling anal- yzes the figure of Lin Chao-en and his writings, part of the value of this study is its direct discussion of the problem of religious syncretism itself. In her first chapter Berling defends "syncretism" as a useful category of analysis and spells out a convincing definition of what she means by the dynamics and impact of syncretism. While the phe- nomenology of syncretism is complex and needs considerable investi- gation, this work is an excellent case study of one particular figure in an era which was unusually rich in its religious interaction. Bardwell L. Smith The Memoirs oj a Modern Gnostic, by Edward Conze. Part I, Life and Letters and Part II, Politics, People and Places. Sherborne (U.K.): The Samizdat Publishing Company, 1979. v + 160 and vi + 162 pages. Appendices and Index. Edward Conze's privately-printed memoirs, written at the behest of Prof. J. W. de Jong a year before Conze's death, are in neither content nor tone a work of Buddhist scholarship, yet they are deserv- ing of attention simply because their author was one of the pioneering Buddhologists of the twentieth century, editing and translating nearly all of the prajiuipiiramitii literature and writing general accounts of 102 Buddhism that remain today among the standard works on the subject. Few Buddhologists, upon reaching what Conze calls "anecdotage," have felt compelled to set down their autobiographies; nor, indeed, have many led lives that cried out for immortalization in ink. What makes Conze's life fascinating reading-despite. the fact that he was an Orientalist who never set foot in Asia-is his intense involvement in and awareness of the social and political background of his intellectual pursuits, from his early membership in the German communist party to his later outspoken opposition to the war in Vietnam and American Orientalists' unwitting contribution to it. In an elegant, allusive and acerbic style, Conze ranges digressively over the people, places and events with which his life has intersected and, to put it mildly, he is neutral about none of them. The cover of each part is adorned by a reproduction of a wood- block print of Maiijusri, yet far more appropriate-given Conze's attitude toward most of the people he knew-would have been the image of Yamantaka, the wrathful aspect of the Buddha's wisdom, for "sweet-voiced" Conze is not-indeed, he claims that of the Buddha- ghosa's six psychological types he partakes of hate and wisdom, and in fact consciously indentifies his splenetic outpourings with the activity of Yam ant aka (II, p. 76). His most vituperative comments (e.g., regard- ing Christmas Humphreys, Arthur Waley and others) have been ban- ished to a Part III that is unpublished, and will remain so until the parties under discussion are dead, and no longer can sue for libel. Still, there is ample evidence in the two parts that have been published that Conze's view of his fellow man is far from sanguine. Regardless of whether he has, in fact, "written the most vicious pages of this book in a spirit of dispassionate serenity" (U, p. 81), vicious passages there are, directed at various points against Western Buddh- ists, who "are at heart disappointed Christians, discontented with the record of their Churches or the attention which the Almighty has bestowed upon them" (II, pp. 81-82); leaders of the "mass democ- racies," who are either "hopeless non-entitites," "greatly beloved kill- ers" or "certifiable lunatics" (II, p. 74); "mannish" American women; Tibetan exiles who are "whiskey-swilling philanderers"; and assorted academicians he has known, both great and obscure. His mother is spared direct attack, but it is clear that he disliked her. Few are those Conze really admires: his father; among teachers, Max Scheler; among colleagues, D. T. Suzuki, Lamotte, Tucci and Joseph Needham; among students, E. F. Schumacher; among leaders, with reservations, Gandhi and Stalin. His view of himself, it must be added, is as forth- right as his assessment of others: "Committed to Mahayana Buddhism, I have to show equal regard for compassion and wisdom. When I look 103 at my actual being, I find that my indubitable compassion is clearly intertwined with a cruelty so elemental and deep-seated that I do not know where it comes from, and the wisdom goes together with much foolishness and lack of sagacity of which even this self-flattering auto- biography will give some example now and then" (II, pp. 37 -38). Conze's unflattering treatment of people is in part a function of his krodha-nature and in part due to his tendency to view them from the judgemental standpoirit of the sociology of knowledge or Marxism, but still more fundamental to it is his jaundiced view of civilization in general. "No-one should forget," he observes, "that this is the Kali Yuga in which everything begins to stink" (II, p. 32). A self-described "elitist, anarchist person who rejects the world and all that is in it, including most of its human inhabitants and feels a kinship with small groups of the perfect, in the style of Pythagoreans, Cathari, Dukhobors, etc." (II, p. 65), Conze despises egalitarianism, technology and material acquisitiveness, and seems sincerely to long for the good old days of the Stone Age, whence, he believes, originated the Perennial Philosophy of which Buddhism is the last intact representative. Cantankerous and undeveloped as are many of Conze's fulminations, they are provoca- tive, and especially interesting are his reflections on the moral am- biguity involved in, e.g., Gandhian non-violence, which Conze believes contributed despite Gandhi's best intentions to the violence of India's partition; germicide, which led to healthier armies, longer wars and the population explosion; and the development of modern technology, which has made life comfortable for many, but also cast the shadow of nuclear annihilation over all. Conze responded to the crisis that is civilization by successive affinity with two "isms"; Marxism and Buddhism. He was active in the communist party of his native Germany in the early 30's, playing a dangerous game of cat-and-mouse with the ascendant Nazis before fleeing to England. He spent some time as a non-combatant researcher in Spain during its civil war, and was a pamphleteer in British socialist circles until 1939, when he renounced political activity, if not political interests. His renunciation was brought on in part by his disillusion- ment with many of the political figures with whom he had contact, particularly English socialists and Indian nationalists, including Krishna Menon and Nehru; in part by his growing belief that politics, as an exercise of power, was rotten at the core; and in part by his gradual disaffection with Marxism, which he saw as flawed in both theory and practice. Though never nominally a communist after the 30's, Conze remained one by reflex, and continued until his death as an outspoken "anti-imperialist" and advocate of Stalin. Though greatly disappointed by much of what he saw when he visited the Soviet Union in 1960, he 104 remained at heart an admirer of the Soviet experiment, and found in Bolshevism "a movement very much akin to the Mahayana,-in its COncern for the masses, in the dialectical nature of its thinking, and in its desire to perform historic deeds which have miraculous results" (II, p. 19). After 1939, Conze turned his attention almost exclusively to Buddhism, undertaking a career in editing, translating and writing that would bring him eminence, if not riches. Conze most assuredly was a Buddhist in addition to being a Buddhologist-he spent a good part of World War II meditating on Buddhaghosa's forty topics while ensconced in a Hampshire village-but it would not be unfair to characterize him as a "pratyeka" Buddhist: he seems seldom, if ever, to have taken spiritual instruction from Buddhist teachers; he had no use whatever for Western Buddhist societies; and he was largely unin- terested in contemporary Asian Buddhists or their practices. He never went to Asia, and "The basic reason is, of course, that the traditional East is in the process of rapid dissolution and is everywhere being replaced by a modern society. Buddhism is rejected by the more vigorous elements in each country, and its literary traditions are being transferred to the West to be kept here, in cold storage, for further use when peace returns at last and the constant threat of Imperialist intervention in Asian affairs will have been laid to rest" (II, p. 30). Conze viewed Buddhism as a distillation of the Perennial Phi- losophy, and as such as an essentially religious movement, whose philosophy was merely "a rationalization of facets of the spiritual life disclosed in the practice of disciplined meditation" (I, p. 107). He was by no means hostile to philosophy, but he clearly valued "wisdom" more, and it is understandable-if not entirely excusable-that in his Buddhist Thought in India he gives brief and derisory treatment to Buddhist "logicians" like Dignaga and Dharmaklrti, that he fought with Richard Robinson over the applicability of symbolic logic to Na- garjuna's dialectic, and that he finds little value in the work of, e.g., J ayatilleke and Kalupahana, who have drawn fruitful comparisons be- tweeen the Buddhism of the niktiyas and modern analytic and empirical philosophy. It is also possible to question some of Conze's interpreta- tions in the area in which he was most expert-the prajiuipiiramitii- where his tendency to interpret sunyatii in absolutistic or monistic terms certainly is at variance with the tradition of the lineage to which, in these memoirs, he claims to belong, that of Tsong kha pa (cf. E. W. Bastian's review of Conze's The Prajiiiipiiramitii Literature, in jIABS, vol. 2, no. 2, 1979, pp. 99-102). His idiosyncratic views and inevitable scholarly imperfections notwithstanding, Conze contributed a great deal to Buddhism and 105 Buddhist scholarship, and these memoirs, however, "un-Buddhistic" they may occasionally seem, are well worth reading. Not only do we find in them such entertaining stories as Dr. Conze's altruism leads to the closing of Cologne'S brothels, Dr. Conze outwits Intourist, and Dr. Conze wrestles a young woman at a faculty party; more importantly, we glimpse the genesis of Conze's scholarly work; and, above all, we have in Conze's memoirs the reflections of a Buddhist who--whatever his aversion to it-lived very much in the world, thought and wrote about it passionately and, in many cases, may even have been right. Roger Jackson Buddhist Studies, by J. W. de Jong and edited by Gregory Schopen. Asian Humanities Press; a Division of Lancaster-Miller Publishers: Berkeley, Calif., 1979. $35.00. This book brings together sixty-six separate reprints of articles and reviews by J. W. de Jong. It also contains an index, a bibliography of 318 de Jong publications (1949-1977), and an index of books reviewed in those publications. According to the editor, the sixty-six articles and reviews were selected from among de Jong's writings dealing with Indian Buddhist literature. In fact, two articles deal primarily with China, and two items deal primarily with Western interpretations of Buddhism. (Unfor- tunately, the two very important and useful essays that de Jong con- tributed to the 1974 issues of the Eastern Buddhist on the history of Buddhist studies in Europe and America have been omitted.) How- ever, the focus of the collection is clearly on Iridian Buddhism, and primarily on the study and translation of Indian Buddhist texts. The collection is divided into seven sections. The first, entitled "General Studies," contains the four essays mentioned above, one on the background of early Buddhism, two on the Buddhist notion of the absolute, and one on "Emptiness." Section II, entitled "Buddhist Au- thors," contains four essays-"L'auteur de l'Abhidharmadipa," "La legende de Santideva," "Review of G. Roerich, Biography of Dhar- masvamin," and "Notes a propos des colophons du Kanjur." Section III, the shortest of the book, is constituted by reviews of four publica- tions that deal with topics and texts in the Pali tradition. Sections IV, V, and VI-"Sanskrit Hinayana Literature," "Mahayana Sutra Litera- ture," and "Sastra Literature"-form the heart of the collection. The items that appear under these headings are mostly critical book reviews, 106 but there are also a few short articles devoted to specific topics, texts or segments of texts. The final section, on "Tantric Literature," includes just three i t e m s - ~ m e article on the sources and text of the Sang Hyang Kamahiiyiinan Mantrayiina, and two short reviews. Approximately one half of the contents of the book are in English; the other half are in French. This publication is directed to a highly specialized audience of Buddhist scholars, and will serve primarily as a resource for those who need to consult a particular essay that deals with a specific topic or text relevant to their research. Clearly anyone who wishes to explore ser- iously a topic or text on.which de long has commented, must take his analyses and judgments carefully into account. The fact that more than sixty of his essays have been made more accessible, and the fact that a bibliography of his other publications has been provided, makes this task much easier. In this regard, all of us who work in the Buddhology field should be grateful to the editor and publishers of Buddhist Studies. At the same time, however, the collection leaves the reader (or at least this reader) with a sense of frustration. In the first essay in Section I de long states, quite clearly and correctly, that "The most important Skt. vipasyana, p. 49)). More serious are the author's unfamiliarity with (p. 28), and in the sixty-five essays that follow he demonstrates the kind of linguistic erudition and first-hand acquaintance with Buddhist lit- erature which should enable him to make a major contribution to that task. Yet-with the partial exception of the three short essays that consider the Buddhist absolu.te and the doctrine of emptiness-de long makes very little effort to move beyond the level of philology to the level of interpretation. One hopes that in the future Professor de Jong will draw upon his rich philological background and linguistic abilities to shed new light on how it is that the documents he has studied so carefully are "sacred texts which proclaim a message of salvation" (Ibid., p. 28). Frank E. Reynolds Sources for a History of the bSam yas Debate. by G. W. Houston. Sankt Augustin: VGH-Wissenschaftsverlag, 1980. (Monumenta Tibetica His- torica: Abt. I: Scriptores; Bd. 2) 122 pages, bibliography, indices. ISBN 3-88280-007 -0. The author claims in his introduction to be concerned to present this little "source book" as a supplement to Tucci's Minor Buddhist Texts 107 II (Kamalasila's First Bhiivaniikrama) and Demieville's Coneile de Lhasa, so that students of the bSam yas debate could have all the major relevant texts in critical edition and translation. He presents the most important Tibetan accounts of the debate both in critically edited transliterated Tibetan and in his own translation. Most interesting is his version of Dpa' bo gcug lag's account in the Mkhas pa'i dga' ston (13 Tibetan pages and 21 pages of English translation). Also noteworthy is his translation of R. A. Stein's edition of the account of the ancient Tibetan history, the Sba bzhed (8 pages Tibetan, 12 pages English). He also includes the relevant passages from Bu ston's Chos 'byung and from other Tibetan historical texts. On the whole the work is a useful addition to sources available to scholars of Tibetan history and of the history of Buddhism. The author promises in a future work to go into the philosophical issues involved in the debate to present his own "solutions" of the many problems that have occupied scholars, so far inconclusively. This at- tempt will no doubt be of great interest. Some minor problems with the book are: there are quite a few misprints ("depate" p. 30, "personnally" p. 33, "vipaJana" for "vipaJyana" p. 49, etc.), a few grammatical errors (a misplaced "which" p. 4, 1. 19, etc.), and a few awkward translations ("Brahmin heretics" for Tib. mu stegs pa, which can mean any sort of non-Buddhist, not only Brahmin non-Buddhists; "(proper) imagination" for Tib. lhag mthong p. 29 (yet the same concept rendered more correctly as "correct insight" from Skt. vipasyana, p. 49)). More serious are the author's unfamiliarity with certain philosophical concepts from Tibetan Prajiiiipiiramitii and Mii- dhyamika disciplines. For example, from the Tib. p. 25, 11. 26-28-de dan rjes su mthun pa ran sa'i ses rab kyi mthon bas drod ree bzod mchog go (read gil mthon bskyed pa sogs la sems no rtogs pa ces min byas par zad la-the author reads "In agreement with that, one experiences the prajiia of one's own nature. (Also, one experiences) the highest endurance of warmth etc. To (all of this) has been given the name: 'to have the perception of Sems'. By the aforementioned realization of prajiia, be- cause one has practiced the union of Chogs gnis to completion, one wants to be enlightened." (p. 46). This should read, rather more simply: "Correspondingly, one merely gives the name 'realization of actual nature of the mind' to the generation of insight at the (applica- tion stages of) warmth, peak, tolerance, and triumph, by the insight of the wisdom appropriate to each stage, and so forth. However, the process of enlightenment is accepted as the integrated practice of the two stores (of merit and wisdom) combined with the insight of such wisdom." The author would never have made the mistake of reading Tib. drod ree bzod mchog as the "highest endurance of warmth" if he had 108 an elementary familiarity with the terminology of Phar ph yin where the phrase is clearly recognized as an abbreviated way of referring to the four stages of the application path lam). This shows the difficulty of Tibetan historiographical studies, wherein some familiarity with the philosophical culture of the Lama authors is as essential as the usual skills of the historian. In spite of these flaws, the work is a welcome addition to Bsam yas debate studies, especially as providing balance to Demieville's ac- count, primarily from Chinese sources, by showing the Tibetan per- spective. A final point: the Tibetan assumption that the Hyashang Mahayana faithfully represents the Ch'an position should not be un- critically accepted. The great Ch'an masters such as Ma Tzu, Pai Chang, Huang Po, etc., would doubtless have dealt the Hvashang quite a few blows themselves, for his simplistic presentation of "sudden enlightenment" as mere "thoughtlessness." We must remember that the explosion of Ch'an practice during T'ang times produced num- erous pretenders to enlightenment as well as highly enlightened masters. The Hvashang Mahayana should not therefore be simplistically accepted as a representative of all Ch'an lineages of practice, as Tibetan tend to do. Robert A. F. Thurman Buddhist Architecture of Western India (c. 250 BC-AD 300), by S. Naga- raju. Delhi: Agam Kala Prakashan, 1981. xxix + 368 pp. Map, Charts, Figures, Plates, Appendix, Bibliography, Index. Rs.500 ($lOO). If the dating of the Mahayana caves at Ajanta has for some time been the number-one problem of chronology for historians of early Indian art, the second most vexing issue would certainly have to be the dating of the rock-cut caitya-halls and le,,!-as of the "Hinayana phase," found in great numbers throughout the western Deccan and northern Konkan. This earlier group of monuments forms the subject matter of this impressive volume by S. Nagaraju, and understandably, the au- thor's prime concern is to establish a viable chronology for the series. Attempts in this same direction have been made before-the two most valuable being the works of Walter Spink (Rock-cut Monuments of the Andhra Period: Their Style and Chronology, unpublished Ph.D. disserta- tion, Harvard, 1954) and Vidya Dehejia (Early Buddhist Rock Temples: a Chronological Study, London, 1972)-but the problems of dating these 109 monuments are so complicated that the whole issue still remains largely unresolved. For all those who are devoted to such chronological per- plexities and their solution, this book will be a welcome addition to the literature. Whether or not one actually accepts the chronology proposed is a matter of little concern, for the real merit of the book lies elsewhere. N agaraju has given us not just another chronological reconstruction, but something much more: a valuable reference tool of the sort which is all too often lacking in the field of Indian art. What the book practically amounts to is a corpus for the rock-cut architecture of the "Hinayana phase," and although not every single monument of the field is included, the coverage is far more complete and detailed than in any other work previously available. In total, the number of known rock-cut monuments from this period comes to about 1000 inde- pendent excavations distributed over some 50 separate sites; of these, 29 major sites together accounting for nearly 800 of the excavations were studied by Nagaraju during a six year period of field work. The number of monuments actually described in the catalogue portion of the book was further reduced to 570 excavations representing the 19 most important sites. Speaking strictly in terms of numbers, this amounts to a detailed coverage of about 60 percent of the known monuments; but from the standpoint of representative importance, very little has been missed. The sixth chapter of the book, "Descriptive Inventory and Anal- ysis of Monuments and Architectural Development in Different Cen- tres," provides in over 200 pages a site-by-site, excavation-by-excavation description of the 570 monuments covered. After all the excavations of a given site have been described, a general discussion follows, in which the architectural data are considered in conjunction with associated epigraphical and paleographical evidence in an attempt to reconstruct the history of each site. Plans are included for most of the monuments, and the 220 plates serve fairly well as photographic documenta- tion. The appendix is a "list" of all the known associated inscriptions for each site, complete with summaries, information as to location, and bibliographies; but in fact, in the majority of cases even the original text of the inscription is provided. (It is unfortunate that some of the more important, longer inscriptions, such as Nanaghat N 1 and Nasik N 4-as well as some shorter but previously unpublished inscriptions -are only summarized. For the amazingly high price of this book, one would expect to find not only the text of every inscription, but transla- tions as well.) Other chapters deal with the architecture of the caves from within the context of their natural and social environments. The in- 110 fluence of geographical and geological considerations upon the dis- tribution and form of the monuments, the socio-economic factors relating to patronage, and the nature and demands of the sangha and the laity as factors influencing architectural form and distribution, are some. of the topics dealt with. These chapters are full of suggestive statistics and sharp observations, and even though more questions are raised than answered, there is plenty of food for thought here. As for the chronology proposed, I can only say that it can be argued as well as any other. It is obvious that we are still a long way from any kind of certainty when talking about the chronology of these monuments. The excavations are so numerous, and the problems in our understanding of the history of the period are so serious, that one might well despair of ever arriving at a reasonably sound chronological footing. Stated simply, the problem is how to relate the overall relative sequence-established on the basis of stylistic development, and of which only a few of the minor details are ever disputed-to a frame- work of absolute dates. A handful of inscriptions clearly places the excavation of several monuments within the reigns of specific Satava- hana rulers, but then the whole problem hinges upon what dates one accepts for the Satavahanas. This in turn largely depends upon the way in which one interprets the highly controversial evidence of the PuraI!as. One extreme places the rise of the Satavahanas at c. 271 B.C., the other extreme argues for a date of c. 30 B.C., and numerous dates inter- mediate between these two have been suggested. Nagaraju offers an interpretation which puts Simuka, the founder of the dynasty, at c. 228 B.C., and thus places the beginnings of rock-cut architecture in the western Deccan at a very early period, about the middle of the third century B.C. I am certain that there will be those who are convinced by Naga- raju's arguments for an early chronology, just as there will be those who prefer the later dates proposed by Dehejia and others. But what- ever one's chronological leanings, this book will be greatly appreciated for the wealth of detailed and up-to-date information it provides. Phil Wagoner III The Thousand Buddhas: Ancient Buddhist Paintings from the Cave-Temples of Tun-huang on the Western Frontier of China. Recovered and described by Aurel Stein, with an Introductory Essay by Laurence Binyon. Tokyo: Rinsen Book Co., 1978. The work under review IS, indeed, "extraordinary" in many ways. It consists of two sets of color and black-and-white plates. From plates 1 to 33 it measures about 25 X 21 inches, and from plates 34 to 48 the measurement is 16 X 12 inches. In addition, the text explains in detail each of the paintings. All the components are stored in a neatly- designed hard container. It weighs about 15 pounds and is priced at Yen: 98,000.00 (about $500). Undoubtedly it is a very valuable book. The original edition was jointly published by the Secretary of State for India of the British Government and the Trustees of the British Museum. The present edition was printed in Tokyo by the Rinsen Book Company in 1978, and the Academic Press is the agent in the U.S. We shall endeavor to examine the significant points of this collection and outline briefly the origin of these paintings. The discovery early this century of the Buddhist literary treas- ure, which was concealed in a chamber in one of the One Thousand Buddhas Caves in Tun-huang marks an important event in Chinese history. It facilitates the study of Chinese culture, especially the social, religious, philosophical, and literary traditions of ancient China, on the basis of the huge collection of manuscripts written in Chinese, Tibetan, and other Asian languages. Additionally, an excellent collection of artifacts in the form of statues, frescoes, paintings of Buddhas and bodhisattvas on silk and paper, and printed documents from wooden blocks were also uncovered. There were two western scholars, viz., Aure! Stein and Paul Pelliot, who exerted themselves greatly in collect- ing the huge number of manuscripts and artifacts from these caves. The former took over six thousand scrolls to the British Museum, London, and the latter provided the Bibliotheque Nationale, Paris, with another two thousand scrolls. The present collection of about sixty Buddhist paintings is a part of this discovery. The focus of these paintings is the pantheon of Mahayana Bud- dhism, in which Buddhas, bodhisattvas, guardian angels, and paradise congregations are abundantly represented. The Buddhas are Amita- bha (plates 8, 10, 11), (plates 1, 2, 3, 36), Sakyamuni (plates 6, 7, 12, 13, 14, 34, 37), and TejaJ::!prabha (plate 38); the bodhisattvas are Avaloketisvara (plates 14-24,38, 41-44), (plates 15,34,40), Maitreya (plate 9), Manjusri (plates 4,5,27), Saman- tabhadra (plates 4, 5, 30), and Tara (plate 35); the guardian angels are (plate 28), Vaisravana (plates 26, 45), (plate 27), and miscellaneous works of demonic figures (plates 46, 48), saints and 112 monks (plate 32), hermit and horse-dragon (plate 33), and so forth, The severa! paradise scenes of Amitabha, Sakyamuni, and other Buddhas (plates 8, 6, 7, and 1,2,3) are large in size (some of them are about 7' x 5') and grand in style. They show a great assemblage of celestial beings such as bodhisattvas, disciples, guardian angels, nymphs, musicians, dancers, attendants, infants-on-Iotus, and donors who pay homage to the principal Buddha in the center of the painting. The congregation convenes in a heavenly mansion of richly decorated terraces, courts, pavilions, lakes and elaborate structures in Chinese style. Everything in the composition is symmetrical, well-balanced, and harmonious. The details may be based on the Sukhiivati-vyuha-sutra (Taisho No. 366), which describes the beauty of Amitabha Buddha's paradise. But it is the superb skill and imagination of the Chinese artist which transforms fantasy into creative reality. The creations are glor- ious in color and splendid in execution. In presenting the Buddhas, bodhisattvas, and lokapiilas, the Chinese artists strictly follow the Graeco- Gandhara tradition in the areas of features, poses, hair styles, apparel, drapery, and color scheme, while in illustrating the Jataka (birth) stories or life of the Buddha as a prince, they take the liberty of painting the scenes and fashions entirely in the Chinese tradition. Occasionally one notices certain features of a Buddha or bodhisattva showing a greater resemblance to the "Chinese" type than that of the "Indian." It is probably due to the natural process of transformation. It is similar to what is known as the Central Asian, Tibetan or Southeast Asian types of Buddhist iconography. From the numerous paintings dedicated to Amitabha Buddha, and especially Avaloketisvara bodhisattvas (who appeared in fifteen paintings in various forms, about one-third of the entire collec- tion), one can envision the religious sentiment of that period (9th to 10th century A.D.). Amitabha and are associated with saving the souls from purgatory and causing them to be reborn in the Land of Bliss, and Avaloketisvara, popularly known as God (or God- dess) of Mercy, is a bodhisattva who is ever ready to save sentient beings from all kinds of suffering and disaster. The inscriptions of donors recorded in many of these paintings substantiate this religious feeling, which in turn would inspire faith and hope in men of future gen- erations. The descriptive text prepared by Stein and associates is useful in serving the reader as a guide to these paintings, but, unfortunately, Stein did not know Chinese. Being dependent on someone to interpret Chinese inscriptions for him, he was not aware of the fact that there were misinterpretations. Take, for instance, the statement on page 33, plate 20, in explaining the donor's votive: 113 The Chinese inscription in the left top corner describes the painting as a gift of a son in memory of his father. This is with reference to the Chinese words: Nii-ii-tzu Ch'iu-liarig yung wei kung-yang ::9: $ T 1L ~ I b i < . }.% {;J:t 1i The correct transiation is: The female disciple Miss Number Nine made this for perpetual veneration and worship. There is another type of error related to dates in the inscrip- tions. It is hard to detect unless one checks with Chinese historical documents. We have an example in plate 22 (page 34). Our translation of that inscription is as follows: On the 15th day ofthe 7th Moon in the 10th year of Tien-fu, the year of golden horse (keng-wu) (we) record the completion ofthe work. The term "Ti'en-fu" (Heavenly Renewal) refers to one of the reign titles of Emperor Chao-tsung (888 - 904) of the Tang dynasty. It lasted for about three and one-half years, from 901-904. Therefore, there is no such thing as the" 10th year of Tien-fu." On account of the zodiac sequence we are able to identify the year as 910 A.D. It is possible that due to difficulty in communication people in the Tun-huang area might not know the change of reign titles immediately. This collection of Buddhist paintings offers an opportunity for the study of Buddhist art as transplanted from India through Central Asia to the Far East, and for examining the development of Chinese art in the T'ang period. Also, because of the close cooperation between art and religion one is given a chance to speculate on the subtle influence of popular Buddhism penetrating deeply into the heart of the Chinese masses through the artistic creations of Buddhas and bodhisattvas. It is needless to say that art historians, lovers of Oriental art, and scholars of Asian civilization will greatly benefit by the study of this unique collection of Tun-huang paintings. As the price of the book appears to be prohibitive, may one hope that museums, art galleries, and university libraries might extend a helping hand in the matter? W. Pachow 114 IV. PRESIDENTIAL ADDRESS Tasks Ahead: Presidential Address Given on the Occasion of the Third Conference of the International Association of Buddhist Studies, Winnipeg, Canada, August 1980 by Herbert V. Guenther The term religion is one of the many popular words which are assumed to be intelligible in common parlance, but which on closer inspection fail to convey an unambiguous meaning, and then become a source of constant altercation and frustration. Attempts at defining what the word is thought to stand for have either been too narrow or too broad; they also have been either vague or a medley of mistaken notions, all of which defeated the very purpose of defintion. The failure has been due mostly to the fact that one did not distinguish between defining and relational characteristics and that one also over- looked the fact that it is we as living beings who give meaning to the words we use, enough to suit our practical purposes, and sometimes hardly even that, because otherwise words would be mere noises or pen-marks. Thus, in using a word, we actually do two things: 115 (i) we stipulate a meaning in the context of concrete circum- stances--"this is how I am going to use the word and this is what I am going to mean by it"; (ii) we report what those who use a language already mean by a word in this language. But because of the open texture of language and because of the accompanying vagueness of most of the words coined and used to suit the occasion, which itself varies from mome?t to moment, we are constantly engaged in stipulation, even if most of the time we do not notice it. What we are doing is that we constantly break an old rigidity and let new structuration emerge. The emphasis therefore is on a dynamic "how" and not on a static "what." Maybe religion refers to such a dynamic "how" and therefore defies any attempt at reducing it to a static "what." It is only most recently that the nature of natural dynamics, the logical supremacy of process over structure, has been recognized. But this does not mean that reductionism is a matter of the past. It still reigns supreme, particularly in the humanities. The aim of reductionism is to reduce all and everything to one level of explanation-the rational one or the mechanistic one. It may be seen as moving "downward" into materialism-note how in this proposition the term downward is used as moving "upward" into a life of the spirit (whatever that word may mean) which remains without consequences-note how here the term up- ward is used approvingly and extollingly. But let it be stated right away that the presuppositions of any reductionism are obsolete, even if the thought models that evolved from it have been and still are useful in restricted areas. These presuppositions are the Cartesian dichotomy of res extensa and res cogitans, absolutized in a dualism which separates body and mind, and Newtonian mechanism which, jointly with the speculations of Bacon and Locke, demands that all phenomena, including the mental, are to be studied and evaluated in quantitative terms. This attitude was summed up in Lord Ruther- ford's words, which are no longer valid even in the hard sciences, that "quality is poor quantification." Mechanism, as one form of reductionism, represents a static view which is primarily interested in rigid structures which can easily be disassembled into their separate parts and pieces and which then also can easily be reassembled. And while mechanism allows for quantification, it does not allow for change, which implies quality. A mechanistic system is assumed to act in analogy to a Skinner-box, which determines the behaviour of its inmate(s) in every detail- perhaps the ultimate caricature of man's living reality, matched only by that intellectual bankruptcy which goes by the name of logical positivism. Mechanism is easily recognizable in the transfer method, misleadingly called translation, and in the amusing pastime of recon- 116 structing lost Sanskrit texts from their Tibetan translations. The dismal failure of such enterprises--the reconstructed text has little or no resemblance to the original text when it has eventually been found--does not deter the reductionist. 1 He can always take refuge in the sloga.n of objective scholarship, which has an almost unbelievable magical effect on the audience. 2 Here we touch upon another feature of reductionism-the rational and, in the narrower sense, the logical. This feature focuses on an impersonal "it" which is supposed to be assessed objectively without the involvement of an outside observer. However, there is never an object without a subject. As a matter of fact, subject and object are co-constituted and, quite generally, an object becomes observable and assessable only through its interaction with the sub- ject. With every action and every thought, with every observation and theory, we interfere with the object of our study and are ourselves changed. When a young man falls in love with a young girl, both are changed, as is the whole milieu in which they find themselves. The very fact that a person dealing with a text chooses from the various entries under a given term in a dictionary, reveals that person's subjectivism. 3 Of course, the objectivist does not like to be reminded of his subjectivism. Such a reminder is a blow to his presumed ration- ality and logicality. It exposes the fact that that person's neocortex, which is involved in the higher intellectual operations, is really not very much in control, that he is caught in the trap of the palaeo- mammalian brain, or limbic system, which decides which notion it is going to support emotionally (in his case the notion of objectivity) and in the trap of the R-complex, or reptilian brain, which allows only a single idee fixe (the notion of objectivity),4 To clinch matters, the delight the objectivist takes in his alleged objectivism is not rational and logical either. I have dealt somewhat at length with the thought-shrinking operation of reductionism because it determined the direction in which the study of such a phenomenon as Buddhism was to move, regardless of whether the material that was studied was in the Pali or Sanskrit language or whether it belonged to one or the other of the two major developments within the tradition: the Hinayana and Mahayana. The relative simplicity of the statements in the Pali Canon as well as the insistence on the thoroughly human character of that person who by virtue of a self-transcending experience became known as the "Awakened One" (buddha), led to the reduction of what 117 Buddhism--this term itself, like any other "ism," is a case of excessive abstraction, reflecting the mistaken notion that something which affects man can be considered in isolation from the attendant con- crete circumstances in which man is a participant-wanted to convey, to a set of ratio-ethical maxims which, in the wake of a more or less unconscious muddle-headedness, were equated with laws and, by implication, with commands. The basic term dharma in its multi- leveled usage points to an order which excludes law, and with all its ethical overtones is a term for an evolutionary process, not for a static entity.5 It was the orderliness of the process of growth -in terms of experience, the waking up from the nightmare of shrinking-that was pointed out, but not decreed. It is out of such a process-oriented view that, to give an example, Buddhism formulated its concern of being-with others in a world as a region of engage- ments, as "I take it upon myself to learn more about how to refrain from taking another living being's life." Here, ethics is a manifestation of awareness, an acceptance of responsibility through which there is participation in the growing complexity of life. The very words "I take it upon myself' already suggest a whole new way of looking at the world; they announce personal spontaneous existence and, since the world in which we as human beings live is a humanly-constituted world, these words make us experience our humanity over again so that in this experience we create ourselves. By contrast, command- ments, even if they are claimed to have been revealed and to be valid in an absolutistic sense, prescind from man's humanity; they remain opportunistic in merely allowing adaptation to a presumably pre- ordainted structure (a gigantic Skinner-box) and killing the creativity of the process we call life. Turning to the relatively few Sanskrit texts that have survived the waves of destruction which swept the Indian sub-continent, it can easily be noted how reductionism followed two directions. First, inas- much as the majority of these texts were of a nature which aroused association with topics seemingly belonging to that realm of human activity which is termed philosophy, the content of these texts was quickly forced into the mould of thought which was so enwrapped in itself that it could hardly notice anything but itself. Yet, condescend- ingly taking cognizance of the fact that there was something, this something was labelled and dismissed-every labelling is a dismissal from direct experiencing-as either pluralism or monism or idealism. This kind of conceptual-restrictive thinking gave an account of how 118 Western philosophical thinking has developed, but it did not help to understand Buddhist thinking, which implies a perceiving and under- standing in a very specific, non-conceptual sense as a lighting-up, a consummate luminating-illuminating. Buddhist thought, therefore, cannot be dealt with in terms of the idealism developed by Kant or Hegel, who ended up with a universal concept generated by a universal consciousness. Needless to say, the other categories, such as pluralism and monism, have little significance either. They refer to static constructs, not to a dynamic process. Buddhist thought has always been process-oriented thinking-is it not stated over and over again in the original texts that Buddhism is a way, a going?6 The other direction in which reductionism went was the phi- lological analysis of the propositions and the words that made up the propositions. It served a certain useful purpose in that it made a person learn a foreign language properly-not always, but most of the time-and in that it clarified the evolution of that particular language. What was not always realized was that in the Sanskrit language, sub- stantives (nouns) have a verbal meaning-the dynamic coming-into- presence of what there seems to be statically given is the primary feature. The overall inadequacy of the linguistic, philological reduc- tionism, however, lay in the fact that it failed to take into account that there are different realms and levels of discourse which determine the usage and, by implication, the meaning of words. In every moment of discourse, the concrete circumstance into which words are spoken, 7 a word initiates something--{)negives the other person something to think about which is made possible by what the German philosopher Hans Lipps (1938) had called the "circle of the unex- pressed" which surrounds every word. This feature the Indians had long, long ago recognized and was elaborated by Anandavardhana (between 840 and 870) in his dhvani theory. If everything has already been said, there would be no point in saying anything anymore, and if all that is going to be said it but a repetition or duplication of some- thing "definitive"-the "pure and authentic teaching" as decreed by the dogmatist-it would have nothing, absolutely nothing, to say and it would be a waste of time to engage in further quantification. The real horror comes when this philological reductionism is confused with or mistaken as a philosophical or religious meaning in the manner of a denotable thing,8 for the result is dogmatism, the abro- gation of intelligence and the repudiation of the quest for learning and understanding. Dogmatism is not concerned with carefully 119 Neighing the inner meaning of word in a given context, but only with :he perpetuation of obsolete notions. Reductionism, which has ruled undisputedJy in the Western world and still rules, though less undisputedly now, in the sciences md humanities, is not unknown in the Eastern and Buddhist tradi- tions. I am not thinking so much of those representatives of these traditions who have chosen the Western medium for expression and believe they are doing their own tradition a service by repeating the notions which evolved in the Western world. Rather, I am thinking of the Madhyamika presentation; to give only one example, with respect to one of the key terms, if not the key term, in Mahayana thought- sunyata. This term names an openness that cannot be limited by an unvarying and exhaustively specifiable mode of being. It imparts to each and every complex individual an openness and profundity inas- much as, figuratively speaking, it is (dynamically, not statically) the concentration, though nowhere localized, of the infinitely rich poten- tial of possible structures (saruakiiravaropeta), of qualities which will be transformed and deformed into quantities during the unfolding of this sunyata. This openness, misleadingly translated as emptiness or the Void, has been reduced to "pure negation," and it was this reduction that was insisted upon by the dGe lugs pa in Tibet, who present(ed) only one aspect of Buddhism. The proponent of this reductionist presentation, Tsong kha pa, has been severely criticized by most of the other representatives of Buddhism in Tibet. 9 It is not without irony that the reinstatement of the human element, which is tantamount to a break with reductionism, was per- formed by the "hard sciences"-the famous Heisenberg principle (indeterminacy relation) was formulated at the microscopic level, the very small, on which the traditional Western reductionism was based. From this break soon followed a new understanding of the dynamics of natural systems, with the emphasis on becoming, the coming-into- presence, which means that even that which is, is an aspect of becoming, an occurrence of being. 10 This recognition of the human element has now been formulated at the level of the very large, as the anthropic principle,11 which is widely accepted by cosmologists. This principle runs as follows: the fact that we observe the universe as it is is simply a reflection of our existence. All the different physical forces, electromagnetic, gravitational, nuclear, have played their part in our evolution. If gravitation had been slightly different, stars like the sun and planets like the earth would not have formed and we 120 would not be here. However, the very fcct that we observe and are cognizant of the universe, implies that the universe of which we are an inseparable part, is intelligent-what we so far have called mind is not above or outside the universe, it is the self-organizing principle of the universe, ever active in the preparation for autopoietic and dissipative structures so that all organization in and of the universe is physical and psychic simultaneously. 12 This new vision, which finally has over- come the traditional dualism of body and mind and its attendant reductionism, is not so very new. In the SarfJyuttanikiiya 13 it is already stated: yo kho dhammarfJ passati so marfJ passati, yo marfJ passati so dhamma'f(l passati, "He who sees dhamma sees me; he who sees me sees dhamma." Here, ma'f(l (me) stands for the most profound and all-encompassing experience (the awakening) and dhamma stands for, as we would say, the content of the experience, as unlimited as the experience itself . . But if one wants to have a comprehensible picture, one requires a conception of form-in the image of man the universe is then pictured and, if man is wise, he sees this picture male-female-Kun tu bzang po yab yum, as the Tibetan texts assert. So, the old Buddhist vision is not so very old as not to have any significance anymore in the modern world. It can now safely be asserted that the prevailing reductionism in the field of Buddhist studies has done little to facilitate or even make possible an appropriate understanding of that which goes by the name of Buddhism, of the vital role it has played in man's shaping his existence as an opening-up, an awakening. Equally safely it can be asserted that a continued pursuance of reductionism in the study of Buddhism will also be of no avail. The reason is that reductionism disengages itself from experience, prescinds from the experiencer's existentiality, is oblivious of the source and ground from which the notions which organize experience have sprung, and becomes ever more engrossed in its constructs, which it fails to recognize as con- structs. The time, therefore, has come to break this stranglehold and to allow Buddhism to speak of and for itself, to show its meaning by disclosing a world perspective in which the experiencer understands himself as well as the world in which he is lodged. Such an approach is hermeneutical in the best sense of the word. It does not mean to interpret a text in the light of some fashionable slogan, be this "objectivity," "relevance" or "authenticness"-such slogans merely highlight a regression into and the dominance of the R-complex or reptilian brain. Rather, it means to become aware of one's own 121 presence in all one's dealings with one's life-world and to enter into a genuine dialogue with whatever one encounters. A dialogue is not so much an oscillation between two poles nor is it an occasion in which the one uses the other as a sparring partner for self-aggrandisement. Rather it is a simultaneous vibrating of many levels; it is a creative process, so aptly expressed by the poet Holderlin: " ... poetically man dwells .... "14 On the other hand, this becoming aware of one's presence is a first step in the direction of religion, which as a process, as re-ligia, implies a linking backward to the origin from which one's subjectivity is a first break-away. Such linking backwards to the origin is a "holomovement" 15 (a term coined by the physicist David Bohm, not by a person in the humanities) and as such is as much religion as it is philosophy and therapy in an ascending and yet mutually pervasive order. It is a reaching out beyond boundaries which is, admittedly, not an easy task. But as such a challenge Buddhism and its study make life worth living. ata yiivad ete [vaktiiraq, pratipattiiraJ cal sthiisyanti tiivad saddharma iti veditavya11} Therefore let it be known that as long as these two [those who talk and those who realize] exist, Buddhism will continue. 16 NOTES 1. See for instance the difference between the restored and the original versions of the Nairiitmyapanfn:cchii, edited by Sujitkumar Mukhopadhyaya, Visva-Bharati Studies, Nr 4, 1931. 2. Or, he can blame the translator for misunderstanding the text, thus conceal- ing his subjective feeling of superiority under the cloak of objectivity. 3. This is to put it very charitably. Too often, a person does not read beyond the first entry in a dictionary. If he or she did, the unpleasant task of making a decision would have to be tackled. This would then also reveal how much thought has gone into the possible solution of the problem posed by the text. 4. The idea ofa "triune brain" has been developed by the American neuro- physicist Paul D. Maclean. See his "A triune concept of the brain and behaviour" in T. Boag and D. Campbell, eds., The Hincks Memorial Lectures, Toronto: Toronto University Press, 1973. For the wider implication of this useful concept see Erich Jantsch, The Self-Organizing Universe: Scientific and Human Implications of the Emerging Paradigm of Evolution, Oxford: Pergamon Press, 1980, pp. 165-169, 177-180. 5. The attempt to reduce what is intrinsically dynamic to something static is easily recognizable when people start talking about The Dharma-the definite article indicating a "something" and the first letter of the word dharma becoming a capital in order to warn everyone that the enquiry must not be carried any further. Contrary to 122 this Western-style reductionism, the Buddhist knew that the word dharma has many applications ("meanings"). Vasubandhu in his Vyiikhyayukti (the Sanskrit original is lost and the Tibetan translation is obviously not studied) lists ten different usages! Vasu- bandhu's work is frequently quoted by Tibetan authors. 6. The emphasis has always been on the process of going. Thus, for instance, Klong-chen in his Zab mo yang tig, vol. 2, p. 436, defines lam (Skt. marga, "way") by bgrod par byed pa, "to go" and by 'bras bu'i sar bgrod pa'i thabs which in the psychological context in which it is used, signifies the organizing dynamics (thabs) in the evolutionary process moving in the direction of the level of values ('bras bu'i sa). Values are not straitjackets; they are open-ended and multi-level intensities. The highly technical term thabs (Skt. upiiya) deserves detailed investigation. The traditional render- ing by "(skillful) means" merely reflects antiquated mechanistic thinking. 7. This phrase is taken from David E. Linge's Introductions (p. XXXII) to Hans-Georg Gadamer, Philosophical Hermeneutics, Berkeley: University of California Press, 1977. 8. As an example the rendering of the technical term tathiigatagarbha may serve. P. Oltramare and G. Tucci rendered this term as "embryo of Tathagata"-a rendering which still has its followers; D. T. Suzuki and S. Levi rendered it by "womb of Tathagata"-a rendering recently revived by D. Paul. Unless it is a mere matter of copying one's predecessors' mistaken notions, one is forced to assume that some power- ful Freudian complex was and is at work, preventing the researchers from becoming alert to the fact that garbha at the end of a compound means "containing (within itself)." L. de la Vallee Poussin certainly deserves high praise for leaving this technical term untranslated, thereby avoiding the pitfalls of "bad" philology. 9. This reductionism, which extends to such other key-terms as chos-nyid (dhar- matii), bden gnyis (satyadvaya), and dbyermed (abhinna), has been severely criticized by Kat thog-pa bSod nams rgyal mtshan, in his Theg pa thams cad kyi shan 'byed nyi 'od rab gsal, vol. 2, pp. 33 ff. Closest to the Buddhist conception of sunyatii is the modern notion of a vacuum fluctuation or quantum field which is nowhere and everywhere and always bubbling with activity. 10. See Ilya Prigogine, From Being to Becoming: Time and Complexity in the Physical Sciences, San Francisco, W. H. Freeman and Company, 1980, pp. 73 ff. 11. See specifically Paul Davies, Other Worlds: A Portrait rif Nature in Rebellion, Space, Supers pace and the Quantum Universe, New York, Simon and Schuster, 1980, pp. 142-161. 12. The term autopoiesis was coined by the Chilean biologists Humberto Ma- turana and Francisco Varela and the notion was further developed in cooperation with Ricardo Uribe. See "Autopoiesis: the organization of living systems, its characterization and a model," Biosystems, 5, pp. 187-196. The term dissipative structure was coined and developed by the Nobel laureate Ilya Prigogine and his co-workers. See also Erich Jantsch, Design for Evolution: Self-Organization and Planning in the Life of Human Systems, New York: George Braziller, 1975, pp. 37 f. 13. Sa'T[!yuttnikiiya (Pali Text Society edition), III, 120. 14. See Martin Heidegger, Poetry, Language, Thought, translated by Alfred Hof- stadter, New York: Harper & Row, Publishers, Inc., 1971, pp. 211 ff. 15. See David Bohm, Wholeness and the Implicate Order, London: Routledge & Kegan Paul, 1980, pp. 150-157, 178-179. 16. ad Abhidharmakosa, VIII, 39. 123 CONTRIB UTORS Prof. G. M. Bongard-Levin Institute of Oriental Studies Academy of Sciences 12 Zhdanova Street Room 118 Moscow U.S.S.R. Mr. Paul Griffiths Dept. of South Asian Studies University of Wisconsin Madison, WI 53706 Prof. William Grosnick Dept. of Religion La Salle College 20th & Olney Philadelphia, P A 19141 Prof. Herbert Guenther Dept. of Far Eastern Studies University of Saskatchewan Saskatoon, Saskatchawan S7N OWO CANADA Prof. Steven Heine Dept. of Religion La Salle College 20th & Olney Philadelphia, PA 19141 Roger Jackson Dept. of South Asian Studies University of Wisconsin Madison, WI 53706 Prof. Whalen W. Lai Dept. of Religious Studies University of California Davis, CA 95616 Prof. Alexander W. Macdonald Laboratoire d'Ethnologie et de Sociologie Comparative Faculte des Lettres U niversite de Paris X 92001 Nanterre FRANCE Prof. W. Pachow School of Religion University of Iowa Iowa City, IA 52242 Prof. Shanta Ratnayaka Dept. of Philosophy and Religion University of Georgia Athens, GA 30602 Prof. Frank Reynolds Dept. of South Asian Languages and Civilization The University of Chicago The Divinity School Swift Hall 1025 East 58th Street Chicago, IL 60637 Ms. Beth Simon AIlS Chief Court House Ram Nagar Varanasi, U.P. INDIA Prof. Bardwell Smith Asian Studies Program Carleton College Northfield, MN 55057 Prof. Robert A. F. Thurman Amherst College Dept. of Philosophy and Religion Amherst, MA 01002 Mr. Philip Wagoner Dept. of South Asian Studies University of Wisconsin Madison, WI 53706 Election Results THE INTERNATIONAL ASSOCIATION OF BUDDHIST STUDIES, INC. January I, 1982 - December 31, 1986 L. M. Joshi (India) CHAIRPERSON: A. L. Basham (Australia) VICE CHAIRPERSONS: Heinz Bechert (West Germany) Lokesh Chandra (India) Ismae! Quiles (Argentina) TREASURER: Beatrice Miller (USA) GENERAL SECRETARY (EDITOR-IN-CHIEF): A. K. 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Ψυχήas Differentiated Unity in the Philosophy of Plato Author(s) : Robert W. Hall Source: Phronesis, Vol. 8, No. 1 (1963), pp. 63-82 Published by: Stable URL: Accessed: 15/08/2013 18:25