Category Archives: Books

Selected Quotes

January 27, 2016 John Hughes

Here you will find books that I have purchased – sometimes more than once and in multiple formats – and read. Included on this website are extensive quotes I’ve taken from these books. I’ve done this for my own use as a way of helping me remember. (Anyone under 60 will just have to take my word for it.) If you don’t own one of these books, you are strongly encouraged to purchase it. Each book is linked to a website where it can be purchased.

If you wish to dwell in the enlightenment of the Buddha,
And to obtain the self-originating wisdom,
Make offerings strenuously to the keeper
Of the Sutra of the Lotus Flower of the Wonderful Dharma!

If you wish to obtain quickly the knowledge
Of the equality and differences of all things,
Keep this sutra, and also make offerings
To the keeper of this sutra!

Chapter 10, The Teacher of the Dharma

Buying these books says, Thank you! to the people who worked to make this information available.

Lotus Path: Practicing the Lotus Sutra bookcover

Nichiren, Leader of Buddhist Reformation in Japan bookcover

Lotus Sutra in Japanese Culture bookcover

HisotryTeachingsNichirenBuddhism-bookcover

bdkt_collected_teachings_tendai_lotus-bookcover

A Few Good Men: The Bodhisattva Path according to The Inquiry of Ugra

Suggest a book

Śrimālā, Feminine Ideal, Blog, Books

The Sutra of Queen Śrimālā of the Lion’s Roar

September 1, 2024 John Hughes

The Sutra of Queen Śrimālā of the Lion’s Roar (Śrimālādevisimhanāda-sūtra) is one of three texts brought to Japan in 552 CE from Paikche, a kingdom in Korea. As explained in The Essentials of Buddhist Philosophy:

In 594 the Prince Regent, Shōtoku Taishi (574-622) declared Buddhism the state religion.

Buddhism at this time was quite devoid of the distinction of sects or schools, although the difference of Mahayana and Hinayana was clearly recognized. The Prince himself strictly adhered to Mahayana and wrote commentaries upon three Mahayana texts. The fame of these excellent annotations spread abroad, and one of them was chosen as a subject of commentaries by a Chinese savant.

The particular type of Mahayana that was adopted by the Prince may be seen from a consideration of the texts which were chosen. The first is the Lotus of the Good Law, a text devoted to the Ekayāna (One Vehicle) doctrine, indicating the idea of the good law. The second is the Discourse on the Ultimate Truth by Vimalakirti, a lay Bodhisattva of Vaisali, while the third is the Book of the Earnest Resolve by Srimala, a lady Bodhisattva, the Queen of Ayodhya. The central idea of this non-sectarian period was the doctrine of the Great Vehicle (Mahayana) as expressed in these three texts. This idea has remained the dominating feature of Buddhism throughout its history in Japan.

The Essentials of Buddhist Philosophy, p17

The Sutra of Queen Śrimālā of the Lion’s Roar was translated into English for the BDK English Tripiṭaka by Diana Mary Paul. In her Translator’s Introduction, she writes:

The story of Queen Śrimālā has a simple and beautiful theme, full of lush imagery and metaphors. The bodhisattva is the essential agent through whom living beings are instructed in the profound teaching of the tathāgatagarbha (“womb of the Buddha”). A future Buddha who is still embracing the teachings and instructing others, Queen Śrimālā becomes a bodhisattva who explains the doctrine of the tathāgatagarbha in the presence of the Buddha, after her parents send her a letter requesting that she study the teaching (Dharma). Awakening to the thought of enlightenment (bodhicitta), meditating upon the Buddha, she visualizes him and expresses the wish to follow the bodhisattva path. Receiving the prediction of her future Buddhahood from the Buddha, she enters the path of the True Dharma and thus begins her bodhisattva practice.

Queen Śrimālā, who had the “lion’s roar “—or eloquence—of a Buddha, first converts the women of her kingdom, then her husband, a non-Buddhist, and finally the men. Śrimālā is praised for her intelligence and compassion, not for her beauty or wealth, which are implicit. She is proficient in explaining the Dharma and is charismatic, as are all the bodhisattvas throughout Buddhist literature. Queen Śrimālā describes the True Dharma using four metaphors: 1) the great cloud, which is the source of all good merits pouring forth on living beings; 2) the great waters, which are the source for creating all good meritorious acts; 3) the great earth, which carries all things just as the True Dharma supports all living things; and 4) the four jewel storehouses, which are the four types of instructions that living beings accept and embrace.

The text raises the question of the possibility of female Buddhas. This question had continually vexed Buddhist scholars and commentators, who attempted to come to terms with the possibility of a relationship between the notion of the ultimate spiritual perfection or Buddhahood and the feminine. Such a relationship was viewed with ambivalence. This question was raised only by Mahayana Buddhists, particularly those who proclaimed the one path to universal Buddhahood. For these Buddhists, all men and women equally had the nature of the Buddha. If women were truly capable of having Buddha-nature in this lifetime without denying their female gender, this would implicitly indicate that women were not biologically determined as religiously, psychologically, and physically inferior to men.

One popular theme in Mahayana Buddhist texts had been the teaching of transformation from female to male, providing a means, both literary and spiritual, for women to become bodhisattvas and Buddhas. Other texts and commentaries suggest that there is no need to undergo a gender change through either vowing to despise the female nature or through rebirth as a male after death as a female.

The controversy that arose among scholars concerning Queen Śrimālā’s level of spiritual attainment may reflect continual controversy among Buddhists with regard to the bodhisattva ideal and the image of Buddhahood as female.

The entire tone of the text, in which the bodhisattva is the supporter, acceptor, and compassionate Dharma mother, suggests female imagery. The question of whether or not women were ever recognized as potential or imminent Buddhas remains unanswered.

The Sutra of Queen Śrimālā of the Lion’s Roar, p5-7

In 1974, Diana Mary Paul published her PhD dissertation at the University of Wisconsin-Madison. This in turn was reprinted as Number 30 in the American Academy of Religion Dissertation Series edited by H. Ganse Little Jr. and published in 1980 under the title, The Buddhist Feminine Ideal.

In reading this sūtra and Diana Mary Paul’s thesis, I was impressed by the sutra’s important lessons emphasizing that Bodhisattvas are Bodhisattvas not just for themselves but for everyone.

Over the next several days I will be publishing quotes from the sūtra and the thesis that illustrate this point. For Fall Higan, I will be using Queen Śrimālā to illustrate the Six Perfections.

Dogen, words, Blog, Books

The Karma of Words

August 20, 2024 John Hughes

In “Visions of Awakening Space and Time,” Taigen Dan Leighton quotes from William R. LaFleur’s “The Karma of Words: Buddhism and the Literary Arts in Medieval Japan.” For example:

In The Karma of Words, William LaFleur discusses the sophisticated nature of the Lotus Sutra as literature and its impact on medieval Japanese poetics: “The surprising feature of [the parables] in the Lotus is that they are simultaneously the vehicle and the tenor of that vehicle. In a very important sense, the parables of the Lotus are about the role and status of parabolic speech itself. They are what I would call self-reflexive allegory; that is, their trajectory of discourse behaves like a boomerang. Much like the Dharma described in a crucial section of the hōben chapter, they are characterized by ‘the absolute identity [or equality] of their beginning and end.’ ”

Dōgen and the Lotus Sutra, p27

And, as is my want, after reading this I sent away for a copy of LaFleur’s book, which was published by University of California Press in 1986.

This book is not about the Lotus Sutra but, instead, about Medieval Japan, the period in which Nichiren lived.

LaFleur explains in his Preface to the book:

The origin of this study lies in the simultaneous frustration and fascination I felt nearly two decades ago when for the first time I saw a performance of nō drama in Japan. I was greatly moved by what I saw, but I was also greatly perplexed by the presence in this form of drama of energies, assumptions, and aesthetic values that seemed very different from those present in the classical theaters of ancient Greece and Renaissance Europe. Here was a form of drama that had evidently been shaped by a set of religious and philosophical assumptions—but these were neither those of Aristotle nor those of European Christianity. My curiosity about this led me to search for relevant books and to question people who I thought might provide information.

I soon discovered a certain consensus; it was that, although the components in nō are many and complex, it is probably Japanese Buddhism which did most to shape the world of nō. Beyond this, however, my frustration continued, since the available materials in Western languages provided information about Buddhist elements in this form of drama but stopped short of a real reconstruction of the way the Japanese in the medieval period of their history saw their world and envisioned their destinies in and through Buddhist terms and concepts. Footnotes gave definitions of things like arhats, asuras, and Amida, but these things collectively never added up to a satisfying account of the intellectual and religious assumptions of the Buddhist poets, dramatists, and writers of prose in medieval Japan.

This book is first an attempt to provide what I could not find then and was subsequently forced to pursue in the original texts and in modern scholarly studies in Japanese.

Of course, I’m less interested in nō, which I’ve never seen performed, than I am in understanding how Buddhism shaped Japan’s world view.

As a self-styled “modern Buddhist,” I was particularly taken by this observation by LaFleur:

Buddhism gained ascendency in medieval Japan largely because it successfully put forward a coherent explanation of the world and of human experience; it was the single most satisfying and comprehensive explanation available to the Japanese people at the time. This is to deny neither that Buddhism was espoused by persons who had great social and political power nor that it provided justifications for their power and prestige. Moreover, this is not to disembody it or overlook the impressive technological and artistic side of the Buddhism that came to Japan from China and Korea—its magnificent architecture, paintings, icons, vestments, illuminated scrolls, and choreographed ritual. It is merely to call attention to the cognitive dimension and to observe that Buddhism provided not only salvation but also explanation. That is, as a religion in a medieval context, it was considerably more comprehensive, than religion in modern settings. In many ways, Buddhism performed in medieval Japan much of the role now customarily assigned to science. It did so by giving to the epoch a basic map of reality, one that provided cognitive satisfaction not only to learned monks in monasteries but also to unlettered peasants in the countryside.

The Karma of Words, p26-27

Perhaps it is time for Buddhists to take back the role taken by modern science and reassert Buddhism’s “basic map of reality” – the law of cause and effect and all of its ramifications.

Over the next four days I’ll publish quotes from “The Karma of Words.”

Dogen, Blog, Books

Dōgen and the Lotus Sutra

August 8, 2024 John Hughes

From the flyleaf of the book:

As a religion concerned with universal liberation, Zen grew out of a Buddhist worldview very different from the currently prevalent scientific materialism. Indeed, says Taigen Dan Leighton, Zen cannot be fully understood outside of a worldview that sees reality itself as a vital, dynamic agent of awareness and healing. In this book, Leighton explicates that worldview through the writings of the Zen master Eihei Dōgen (1200-1253), considered the founder of the Japanese Sōtō Zen tradition, which currently enjoys increasing popularity in the West.

The Lotus Sutra, arguably the most important Buddhist scripture in East Asia, contains a famous story about bodhisattvas (enlightening beings) who emerge from under the earth to preserve and expound the Lotus teaching in the distant future. The story reveals that the Buddha only appears to pass away, but actually has been practicing, and will continue to do so, over an inconceivably long life span.

Leighton traces commentaries on the Lotus Sutra from a range of key East Asian Buddhist thinkers, including Daosheng, Zhiyi, Zhanran, Saigyo, Myōe, Nichiren, Hakuin, and Ryōkan. But his main focus is Eihei Dōgen, the 13th century Japanese Sōtō Zen founder who imported Zen from China, and whose profuse, provocative, and poetic writings are important to the modern expansion of Buddhism to the West.

Dōgen’s use of this sutra expresses the critical role of Mahayana vision and imagination as the context of Zen teaching, and his interpretations of this story furthermore reveal his dynamic worldview of the earth, space, and time themselves as vital agents of spiritual awakening.

Leighton argues that Dōgen uses the images and metaphors in this story to express his own religious worldview, in which earth, space, and time are lively agents in the bodhisattva project. Broader awareness of Dōgen’s worldview and its implications, says Leighton, can illuminate the possibilities for contemporary approaches to primary Mahayana concepts and practices.

As Taigen Dan Leighton explains:

Dōgen quotes the Lotus Sutra more by far than any other sutra, and with unsurpassed veneration. In the Shōbōgenzō (True Dharma Eye Treasury) essay “Taking Refuge in the Three Treasures” (“Kie Buppōsō-hō”), he quotes a passage from the closing verse of chapter 16 about how beings who are beset by their evil karma do not ever hear the name of the three treasures (buddha, Dharma, and sangha), whereas those who are virtuous, gentle, and upright see the Buddha’s enduring presence on Vulture Peak. Immediately after quoting from chapter 16 about the Buddha’s enduring life span, Dōgen says that this Lotus Sutra is itself the single great cause for the appearance of buddha tathāgatas, substituting the sutra itself for the intention to awaken all beings cited as the single great cause for buddhas in chapter 2 of the sutra. Then he declares that the Lotus Sutra “may be said to be the great king and the great master of all the various sutras that the Buddha Śākyamuni taught. Compared with this sutra, all the other sutras are merely its servants, its relatives, for it alone expounds the Truth.”

Dōgen and the Lotus Sutra, p67

As a Nichiren follower, I find Dōgen’s view of the Lotus Sutra very “Zen”:

In the essay in Shōbōgenzō that most directly and fully focuses on the Lotus Sutra, called “The Dharma Flower Turns the Dharma Flower” (“Hokke-Ten-Hokke”) from 1241, Dōgen celebrates the value of sutras while explicitly responding to the Zen axiom about sutra study that privileges direct mind-to-mind teaching above study of words and letters. The essay centers on a dialogue from the Platform Sutra of the Sixth Ancestor, Dajian Huineng (638-713; Daikan Enō in Japanese), who tells a monk who has memorized the Lotus Sutra that he does not understand the sutra. Huineng tells the monk, “When the mind is in delusion, the Flower of Dharma turns. When the mind is in realization [enlightenment], we turn the Flower of Dharma.” Dōgen clarifies how this story implies the necessity for an awakened hermeneutical approach to the active, practical applications of sutra study, rather than being caught by reified scriptural formulations.

Much of the essay involves intricate wordplay and discussion concerning the polarity of turning the Dharma flower, or else being turned by it, which Dōgen eventually resolves in characteristically nondualistic fashion. In the conclusion he says that now that we have heard about this turning or being turned and “experienced the meeting of the ancient buddha with ancient buddhas, how could this not be a land of ancient buddhas? We should rejoice that the Dharma flower is turning from age to age, and the Dharma flower is turning from day to night, as the Dharma flower turns the ages and turns the days and nights.” For Dōgen, the reality of the Dharma flower and of the Buddha’s enduring life span transforms the very earth and time itself. He ends the lengthy essay by proclaiming, “The reality that exists as it is … is profound, great, and everlasting [referencing the Buddha’s life span], is mind in delusion, the Flower of Dharma turning, and is mind in realization, turning the Flower of Dharma, which is really just the Flower of Dharma turning the Flower of Dharma. … If perfect realization can be like this, the Flower of Dharma turns the Flower of Dharma. When we serve offerings to it, venerate, honor, and praise it like this, the Flower of Dharma is the Flower of Dharma.”

In Dōgen’s reality, ultimately the Lotus turning the practitioner, as well as the practitioner turning the Lotus, are both simply instances of the Lotus Dharma turning the Lotus Dharma. The Dharma of the Lotus Sutra is simply nondual and wondrous.

Dōgen and the Lotus Sutra, p68-69

Consider the dreams of Dōgen:

In another of the numerous examples in Shōbōgenzo of Dōgen using wordplay to invert conventional thinking, in “Within a Dream Expressing the Dream” (“Muchū Setsumu”), written in 1242, he extensively elaborates on his statement “All buddhas express the dream within a dream.” He thereby denies the supposedly lesser reality of the “dreams” of the transient phenomenal world and negates a Platonic exaltation of the absolute, which LaFleur describes as the antithesis of Lotus Sutra teaching. Instead, Dōgen proclaims the dream world of phenomena as exactly the realm of buddhas’ activity: “Every dewdrop manifested in every realm is a dream. This dream is the glowing clarity of the hundred grasses. … Do not mistake them as merely dreamy.” The liberative awakening of buddhas is itself described as a dream: “Without expressing dreams, there are no buddhas. Without being within a dream, buddhas do not emerge and turn the wondrous dharma wheel. This dharma wheel is no other than a buddha together with a buddha, and a dream expressed within a dream. Simply expressing the dream within a dream is itself the buddhas and ancestors, the assembly of unsurpassable enlightenment.”

Dōgen is not frivolously indulging in mere paradox here, but follows the logic of the dream as necessarily the locus of awakening. As he says in his celebrated 1233 Shōbōgenzō essay, “Actualizing the Fundamental Point” (“Genjōkōan”), “Those who have great realization of delusion are buddhas.”

What is worthy of study is not delusions or fantasies about enlightenment, but the reality of the causes and conditions of the realms of delusion and suffering. A similar logic is expressed in the Lotus Sutra dictum that buddhas manifest only due to the presence of suffering beings.

Dōgen and the Lotus Sutra, p32-33

Or this example:

In his Enlightenment Day jōdō, number 88, in 1241, Dōgen says:

“Two thousand years later, we are the descendants [of Śākyamuni]. Two thousand years ago, he was our ancestral father. He is muddy and wet from following and chasing after the waves. It can be described like this, but also there is the principle of the Way [that we must] make one mistake after another. What is this like? Whether Buddha is present or not present, I trust he is right under our feet. Face after face is Buddha’s face; fulfillment after fulfillment is Buddha’s fulfillment.

“Last night, this mountain monk [Dōgen] unintentionally stepped on a dried turd and it jumped up and covered heaven and earth. This mountain monk unintentionally stepped on it again, and it introduced itself, saying, “My name is Śākyamuni.” Then, this mountain monk unintentionally stepped on his chest, and immediately he went and sat on the vajra seat, saw the morning star, bit through the traps and snares of conditioned birth, and cast away his old nest from the past. Without waiting for anyone to peck at his shell from outside, he received the thirty-two characteristics common to all buddhas, and together with this mountain monk, composed the following four-line verse:

Stumbling I stepped on his chest and his backbone snapped,
Mountains and rivers swirling around, the dawn wind blew.
Penetrating seven and accomplishing eight, bone piercing the heavens,
His face attained a sheet of golden skin.

In this jōdō Dōgen describes a dreamlike fantasy in which he accidentally steps on a piece of shit, and in accord with Yunmen’s description of Buddha often cited by Dōgen, it jumps up and declares itself to be Śākyamuni. This vision increases the apparent disrespect for Buddha in Yunmen’s utterance, as Dōgen again steps on his chest (albeit again accidentally), even after the dried shit identifies himself as Śākyamuni Buddha. But Dōgen uses this scatological vision not to degrade, but to further celebrate Buddha, by declaring that upon being stepped on, “He went and sat on the vajra seat, saw the morning star, bit through the traps and snares of conditioned birth, and cast away his old nest from the past.”

Here Dōgen skillfully proclaims and celebrates, nonexplicitly, the major revelation of the Lotus Sutra of the Buddha’s life span enduring over inconceivable ages, and that his archetypal story of his home-leaving and awakening is demonstrated simply as a skillful mode. The effect of this dream parable of Dōgen is to reinforce the story in chapter 16 by describing Buddha and his awakening process as still omnipresent, “last night” right at Eiheiji, and even in excrement.

Dōgen’s dream story also echoes the Lotus Sutra, chapter 4, parable of the prodigal son, who can realize his fundamental endowment only after years of shoveling manure in his father’s field. As Dōgen says in the introduction to his parable, even Śākyamuni “is muddy and wet from following and chasing after the waves.” Dōgen’s further introductory statement, “Whether Buddha is present or not present, I trust he is right under our feet,” echoes the Lotus Sutra parable about the ragged beggar unknowingly having the Dharma jewel sewn within his robe. It further suggests the image in chapter 15 of myriad bodhisattvas suddenly springing forth from beneath the ground “under our feet,” which, as we will see, represents for Dōgen the omnipresence of the bodhisattva potential in the ground of concrete particulars.

Dōgen and the Lotus Sutra, p37-38

Other parts are less “Zen” and clearer for me. Here are some quotes I’ve set aside from the book:

Liberation and the Lotus Sutra

The purpose of Buddhism is liberation from the karmic cycle of suffering via awakening, and the goal of the Mahāyāna is the awakening of all beings. In chapter 2 the Lotus Sutra states, in the line probably most often cited by Dōgen, that the sole cause for a buddha’s appearing in the world is to help the diverse suffering beings enter into, open up, disclose, and fully realize this awakening. The one great cause for Buddha’s manifesting is also the one great cause for the expounding of Buddhist teachings. So it is a primary hermeneutical principle and criterion of all interpretations of Buddhist texts that they be evaluated based on their effectiveness as liberative instruments.

Dōgen and the Lotus Sutra, p15

The Need to Practice

For Dōgen, the ultimate emptiness or impermanence of all things and events does not diminish the need to fully engage in practice the present particulars of the conditioned world. And there is no place or time other than this current, impermanent Dharma position in which to enact this practice. Dōgen often emphasizes ordinary, everyday reality, such as the activities of daily monastic practice, as the locus of awakening and of the sacred and the importance of not seeking liberation outside of the grounding of immediate everyday circumstances.

Dōgen and the Lotus Sutra, p70-71

Seeing that the Buddha Is Alive

Dōgen further turns the meaning of the Buddha’s life span in the 1244 Shōbōgenzō essay “Awakening to the Bodhi-Mind” (“Hotsu Bōdaishin”), in which he discusses bodhicitta, the first arousal of the thought of universal awakening, which he considers of utmost importance, mysterious, and in some sense equivalent to the whole of a buddha’s enlightenment. After quoting the Buddha’s statement at the very end of chapter 16, “I have always given thought to how I could cause all creatures to enter the highest supreme Way and quickly become Buddhas,” Dōgen comments, “This [statement] is the Tathāgata’s lifetime itself. Buddhas’ establishment of the mind, training, and experience of the effect are all like this.” For Dōgen the inconceivable life span is exactly this intention to help all beings awaken, which mysteriously creates the ongoing life of the Buddha. As long as this vow and direction to universal awakening persists in the world and has the potential to spring forth in current practitioners, Dōgen sees that the Buddha is alive.

Dōgen and the Lotus Sutra, p90

In addition to discussing Dōgen’s view of the Lotus Sutra, Taigen Dan Leighton offers some interesting background on the sutra and the context of Japan’s Kamakura period. For the next eight days I’ll publish quotes concerning Nichiren, Zhiyi and Zhanran.

How Buddhism Began, Blog, Books

How Buddhism Began

July 24, 2024 John Hughes

Professor Richard F. Gombrich gave a series of lectures in 1994. These in turn were turned into a slim volume entitled, “How Buddhism Began; The Conditioned Genesis of the Early Teachings,” which was published in 1996 by the School of Oriental and African Studies in London.

Here’s the publisher’s introduction:

This book takes a fresh look at the earliest Buddhist texts and offers various suggestions how the teachings in them had developed. Two themes predominate, firstly, it argues that we cannot understand the Buddha unless we understand that he was debating with other religious teachers, notably brahmins. For example, he denied the existence of a “soul”; but what exactly was he denying? Another chapter suggests that the canonical story of the Buddha’s encounter with a brigand who wore a garland of his victims’ fingers probably reflects an encounter with a form of ecstatic religion.

The other main theme concerns metaphor, allegory and literalism. By taking the words of the texts literally—despite the Buddha’s warning not to—successive generations of his disciples created distinctions and developed doctrines far beyond his original intention. One chapter shows how this led to a scholastic categorization of meditation. Failure to understand a basic metaphor also gave rise to the later argument between the Mahayana and the older tradition. Perhaps most important of all, a combination of literalism with ignorance of the Buddha’s allusions to Brahminism led Buddhists to forget that the Buddha had preached that love, like Christian charity, could itself be directly salvific.

Richard F. Gombrich was the Boden Professor of Sanskrit at Oxford University. He has written numerous books and articles on Buddhism, in which include The World of Buddhism: Buddhist Monks and Nuns in Society and Culture (1991) and Buddhist Percept and Practise (1991 ). He was the President of the Pali Text Society and was honoured with Sri Lanka Ranjana award in 1994 and the SC Chakrabarty medal from the Asiatic Society, Kolkata.

The 164 pages offer little that I feel I need to copy here, but I found a couple of his concepts worth noting.

For example, he argues, in effect, that Buddhism is Empty – there is no fixed, unchanging essence that is Buddhism.

Buddhists readily accept … that Buddhism as we can now witness it is in decline; they might even accept such labels as ‘corrupt’ and ‘syncretistic.’ They should have no trouble in accepting the proposition on which these lectures are based: that Buddhism as a human phenomenon has no unchanging essence but must have begun to change from the moment of its inception.

This seems, however, to worry some modem scholars. Not long ago I attended a meeting of the British historians of Indian religions at which there was a discussion not, I am glad to say, about the definition of religion, but about the definition of Buddhism. I do not think that most of the participants approached the question in an essentialist spirit: they were ready to accept that Buddhism could be adequately defined, in a nominalist manner, as the religion of those who claim to be Buddhists. But they asked whether the various forms of Buddhism which gave those people their religious identity had any common features. They failed to find any, and reached the rather despairing conclusion that Buddhism was therefore not a useful concept at all.

I think this is to go too far. True, it is not prima facie obvious that there are features common to the religions of a traditional Theravādin rice-farmer, a Japanese Pure Land Buddhist, and a member of the UK branch of the Soka Gakkai International. This may not bother the Buddhists themselves, secure within their own traditions, and I am not aware that they have seriously discussed the problem. But I suggest that the Buddha’s teaching again offers a solution through the doctrine of causation, conditioned genesis. For the Buddha and his followers, things they focused mainly on – living beings – exist not as adamantine essences but as dynamic processes. These processes are not random (adhiccasamuppanna) but causally determined. Any empirical phenomenon is seen as a causal sequence, and that applies to the sāsana too. ‘One thing leads to another,’ as the English idiom has it. Whether or not we can see features common to the religion of Richard Causton, the late leader of the UK branch of Soka Gakkai International, and that of Nāgārjuna, or of the Buddha himself, there is a train of human events which causally connects them. Buddhism is not an inert object: it is a chain of events.

How Buddhism Began, p6-7

I also appreciated Gombrich warning about literalism, having myself admitted to a preference for the literal words of the Lotus Sutra.

The Buddha seems to have had a lively awareness of the dangers of literalism. A short text, AN Il, 135, classifies people who hear his teachings into four types; the terms are explained at Puggala-paññatti IV, 5 (= p. 41). As commonly, the list is hierarchic, the best type being listed first. The first type (ugghatita-ññu) understands the teaching as soon as it is uttered; the second (vipacita-ññu) understands on mature reflection; the third (neyya) is ‘leadable’: he understands it when he has worked at it, thought about it and cultivated wise friends. The fourth is called pada-parama, ‘putting the words first’; he is defined as one who though he hears much, preaches much, remembers much and recites much does not come within this life to understand the teaching. One could hardly ask for a clearer condemnation of literalism. As throughout this lecture, I am merely pointing out that Buddhism provides the best tools for its own exegesis.

In fact there is an extremely famous text in the Pali Canon in which the Buddha criticizes literalism. But I see a great irony here, for the words of the text have been too literally interpreted, so that its point has been missed. I am referring to the simile of the raft in Alagaddūpama Sutta (MN sutta 22), the sermon with the simile of the water snake.

How Buddhism Began, p22

More problematic for me is Gombrich’s discussion of Merit Transfer. As a Nichiren Buddhist, I am quite comfortable with the idea that I can transfer, through my prayers, merit I’ve earned through my practice.

To begin with, it is very difficult to keep reading when Gombrich starts by saying he is discussing “The transfer of kama – in particular of good karma, merit… ” and then describes this “a process” being transferred. I must assume Gombrich is speaking in shorthand. It is too far-fetched to imagine that he actually confuses the actions – good and bad – with the results &ndash merit. Here’s the pertinent quote:

The transfer of kama – in particular of good karma, merit – is a vast topic; much has been written about it and there is no room here for a long digression. However, I cannot resist the opportunity to make three points. First: Buddhologists have tended to ignore the importance of such transfers in Brahminical texts, where they are documented from a very early period. As Professor Hara has pointed out (Hara, 1994), the Mahābhārata, for example, envisages transfer not only of good and bad karma but of such things as long life and dishonor. So the idea that many properties we are accustomed to thinking of as nontransferable can in fact be transferred was probably part of a widespread popular belief, and in partly accepting it Buddhism was moving towards the general norm.

However, too easy acceptance of such transferability would have shaken the foundations of Buddhism as a doctrine of moral responsibility. So far from reifying merit, Buddhist orthodoxy even resisted the reification of the individual, the moral agent. How could a process transfer an aspect of itself to another process? The Sarvāstivāda, showing a tendency to multiply entities, argued that the process which we conventionally talk of as a person was connected to its properties (including karma) by something called prāpti ‘possession’ (in a verbal sense). The Theravāda came to accept the transfer of merit, but apparently tried to evade the problematic notion of transferring a process, karma, by taking over this piece of Sarvāstivādin terminology. This is my second point; I am not aware that it has been noticed before. In Pali, therefore, what is said to be given is not merit but ‘possession’ (of merit) – patti-dāna. Though all Theravādins use the term patti (= Sanskrit prāpti), I suspect that hardly any of them know just what it means (as distinct from what it refers to), since it was borrowed from another school.

It has always been my understanding that my prayers transfer my “possession” of merit to my ancestors.

Even more problematic is Gombrich’s conclusion to his discussion of merit transference:

In early Buddhism, the Buddha was a savior only in the sense that he taught the way to salvation. In the Mahāyāna, both Buddhas and bodhisattvas saved more directly, by transferring merit. My third point is that this transfer of a reified karma seems to me to be what is crucial in turning Buddhism into a religion in which one could be saved by others. It is thus the transfer of merit which takes the place in Buddhism which divine grace occupies in Christianity.

How Buddhism Began, p56-57

I strongly object to – this transfer of a reified karma seems to me to be what is crucial in turning Buddhism into a religion in which one could be saved by others.

In the Lotus Sutra’s Parable of the Burning House, the Buddha explains: “Śāriputra! The rich man did not save his children by his muscular power although he was strong enough. He saved them from the burning house with a skillful expedient and later gave them each a large cart of treasures.”

The Buddha and the Bodhisattvas remain saviors only in the sense that they teach the way to salvation. The merit transfer that I offer to my ancestors, to my family and to all beings should never be confused with salvation. That’s not what I’m offering.

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The Essestials of Buddhist Philosophy

June 13, 2024 John Hughes

Yesterday I completed reprinting quotes from Walpola Sri Rahula’s What The Buddha Taught. A trained Buddhist monk in Sri Lanka, the Rev. Dr. Rahula focused entirely on what is taught in his country. Today, I jump to the other extreme, with The Essestials of Buddhist Philosophy by Juniro Takakusu, a book completely devoted to the Buddhism of 20th century Japan.

Takakusu, 1886-1945, explains the rationale for this Japanese perspective in his Introduction:

A discourse on Buddhist Philosophy is usually begun with the philosophy of Indian Buddhism, and in this respect it is important to trace the development of Buddhist thought in India where it thrived for 1500 years. It should be remembered, however, that before Buddhism declined in India in the eleventh century, its various developments had already spread far into other countries. Hinayana Buddhism, or the Small Vehicle, which emphasizes individual salvation, continued in Ceylon, Burma, Siam and Cambodia. Mystic or esoteric Buddhism developed as Lamaism in Tibet. Mahayana Buddhism, or the Great Vehicle, which emphasizes universal salvation, grew in China where great strides in Buddhist studies were made and the different thoughts in Mahayana schools were systematized.

In Japan, however, the whole of Buddhism has been preserved — every doctrine of both the Hinayana and Mahayana schools. Although Hinayana Buddhism does not now exist in Japan as an active faith, its doctrines are still being studied there by Buddhist scholars. Mikkyō, which we may designate as the Esoteric Doctrine or Mysticism, is fully represented in Japan by Tendai mysticism and Tōji mysticism. The point which Japanese mysticism may be proud of is that it does not contain any vulgar elements, as does its counterpart in other countries, but stands on a firm philosophical basis.

The schools which were best developed in China are Hua-yen (Kegon, the ‘Wreath’ School) and T’ien-t’ai (Tendai, the ‘Lotus’ School). When the Ch’an (Zen) School is added to these two, the trio represents the highest peak of Buddhism’s development. These three flourished in China for a while and then passed away, but in Japan all three are still alive in the people’s faiths as well as in academic studies.

A rather novel form of Buddhism is the Amita-pietism. It is found to some extent in China, Tibet, Nepal, Mongolia, Manchuria and Annam; but it flourishes most in Japan, where it is followed by more than half of the population.

I believe, therefore, that the only way to exhibit the entire Buddhist philosophy in all its different schools is to give a resume of Buddhism in Japan. It is in Japan that the entire Buddhist literature, the Tripitaka, is preserved and studied. …

In the present study of Buddhist philosophy the subject will not be presented in its historical sequence but in an ideological sequence. This ideological sequence does not mean a sequence in the development of ideas; it is rather the systematization of the different schools of thought for the purpose of easier approach.

The Essentials of Buddhist Philosophy, p9-10

As a result of this Japanese focus, Takakusu’s explanation of Buddhism focuses on six general principles common especially to all schools of Mahayana:

The Principle of Causation
The Principle of Indeterminism of the Differentiated
The Principle of Reciprocal Identification
The Principle of True Reality
The Principle of Totality
The Principle of Perfect Freedom

In discussing Reciprocal Identification, Takakusu offers his explanation of the major difference between the Hinayana and Mahayana.

Hinayana Buddhism is generally satisfied with analysis and is rarely inclined to synthesis. The Mahayana, on the other hand, is generally much inclined to the reciprocal identification of two conflicting ideas. If one party adheres to his own idea while the other party insists on his own, a separation will be the natural result. This is what happens in the Hinayana. The Mahayana teaches that one should put one’s own idea aside for a moment and identify one’s own position with that of the other party, thus mutually synthesizing the opposed positions. Then both parties will find themselves perfectly united. This is really a process of self-denial which is minutely taught in the dialectic method of the School of Negativism (Sunyata, Void).

The word for ‘reciprocal identification’ is more literally ‘mutual’ and ‘regarding,’ that is, ‘mutually viewing from each other’s point, ‘mutual identification,’ which is as much as to say an ‘exchange of views.’ It is indispensable to bring about a reconciliation of conflicting opinions or to effect a syncretism among opposing speculative systems. This trend of thought, in fact, served greatly to restore the original idea of tolerance which was revealed in the Buddha’s teaching but was almost entirely lost in the various schools of Hinayana which resulted from differences of opinion.

The Essentials of Buddhist Philosophy, p43-44

The material for the book was originally delivered in a series of lectures during 1938-39 at the University of Hawaii, where Takakusu was a visiting professor.

The pre-World War II context is clear in Takakusu’s discussion of the Aryan race in India:

Against the asserted superiority of the Aryan race and the appellation of anarya (non-Aryan) given to the aborigines or some earlier immigrants [in India], the Buddha often argued that the word ‘Arya’ meant ‘noble’ and we ought not call a race noble or ignoble for there will be some ignoble persons among the so-called arya and at the same time there will be some noble persons among the so-called anarya. When we say noble or ignoble we should be speaking of an individual and not of a race as a whole. It is a question of knowledge or wisdom but not of birth or caste. Thus the object of the Buddha was to create a noble personage (arya-pudgala)—in the sense of a noble life.

The Essentials of Buddhist Philosophy, p25

Before returning to Japan, Takakusu gave the university permission to publish this book. The first edition was published in 1947. The third edition, which is the one I read, was published in 1956.

Tomorrow: Takakusu’s Claim of Violent Nichirenism

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What the Buddha Taught

April 25, 2024 John Hughes

In 1959 Walpola Sri Rahula published a concise summary of the teachings of the Buddha. The Rev. Dr. Rahula, 1907-1997, was a trained Buddhist monk in Sri Lanka. As explained by Paul Demieville in the Foreword:

The book … is a luminous account, within reach of everybody, of the fundamental principles of the Buddhist doctrine, as they are found in the most ancient texts, which are called ‘The Tradition’ (Āgama) in Sanskrit and “The Canonic Corpus’ (Nikāya) in Pali.

As Rahula explains in his Preface:

I have tried in this little book to address myself first of all to the educated and intelligent general reader, uninstructed in the subject who would like to know what the Buddha actually taught. For his benefit I have aimed at giving briefly, and as directly and simply as possible, a faithful and accurate account of the actual words used by the Buddha as they are to be found in the original Pali texts of the Tripiṭaka, universally accepted by the scholars as the earliest extant records of the teachings of the Buddha.

In 1974 a second edition was published which added a number of selected sutras.

Personally, as a follower of Nichiren, I have read this book from the perspective of the teachings of the Lotus Sutra. I have set aside a number of quotes from the book which I will be publishing daily through June 12. I’ve selected these quotes as explanations of the foundational teachings of the Buddha.

However, some of what Rahula teaches is problematic for me as a devotee of Japanese Buddhism. In addressing the Buddha’s spirit of tolerance, Rahula writes:

In the third century B.C., the great Buddhist Emperor Asoka of India, following this noble example of tolerance and understanding, honored and supported all other religions in his vast empire. In one of his Edicts carved on rock, the original of which one may read even today, the Emperor declared:

‘One should not honor only one’s own religion and condemn the religions of others, but one should honor others’ religions for this or that reason. So doing, one helps one’s own religion to grow and renders service to the religions of others too. In acting otherwise one digs the grave of one’s own religion and also does harm to other religions. Whosoever honors his own religion and condemns other religions, does so indeed through devotion to his own religion, thinking “I will glorify my own religion.” But on the contrary, in so doing he injures his own religion more gravely. So concord is good: Let all listen, and be willing to listen to the doctrines professed by others.

We should add here that this spirit of sympathetic understanding should be applied today not only in the matter of religious doctrine, but elsewhere as well.

This spirit of tolerance and understanding has been from the beginning one of the most cherished ideals of Buddhist culture and civilization. That is why there is not a single example of persecution or the shedding of a drop of blood in converting people to Buddhism, or in its propagation during its long history of 2500 years. It spread peacefully all over the continent of Asia, having more than 500 million adherents today. Violence in any form, under any pretext whatsoever, is absolutely against the teaching of the Buddha.

What the Buddha Taught, p4-5

It may be true that “Violence in any form, under any pretext whatsoever, is absolutely against the teaching of the Buddha,” but that was not the experience in Japan. As the History of Japanese Religion by Masaharu Anesaki points out, the Tendai soldier monks of Mount Hiei felt compelled to pick up arms and battle Nichiren’s followers.

The last and bitterest of the combats was fought in Miyako in 1536, when the soldier-monks of Hiei in alliance with the Ikkō fanatics attacked the Nichirenites and burnt down twenty-one of their great temples in the capital and drove them out of the city. Shouts of “Namu Myōhō Renge Kyō,” the slogan of the Nichirenites, vied with “Namu Amida Butsu,” the prayer of the Ikkō men; many died on either side, each believing that the fight was fought for the glory of Buddha and that death secured his birth in paradise.

History of Japanese Religion

Again, as a follower of Nichiren and the Lotus Sutra, I stumble when I encounter discussions of “Truth.”

Early in the book The Rev. Dr. Rahula addresses this topic:

The question has often been asked: Is Buddhism a religion or a philosophy? It does not matter what you call it. Buddhism remains what it is whatever label you may put on it. The label is immaterial. Even the label ‘Buddhism,’ which we give to the teaching of the Buddha, is of little importance. The name one gives it is inessential.

What’s in a name?
That which we call a rose,
By any other name would smell as sweet.

In the same way Truth needs no label: it is neither Buddhist, Christian, Hindu nor Moslem. It is not the monopoly of anybody. Sectarian labels are a hindrance to the independent understanding of Truth, and they produce harmful prejudices in men’s minds.

What the Buddha Taught, p5

A few pages later The Rev. Dr. Rahula underscores this with the words of the Buddha:

Asked by the young Brahmin to explain the idea of maintaining or protecting truth, the Buddha said: ‘A man has a faith. If he says “This is my faith,” so far he maintains truth. But by that he cannot proceed to the absolute conclusion: “This alone is Truth, and everything else is false.” In other words, a man may believe what he likes, and he may say ‘I believe this.’ So far he respects truth. But because of his belief or faith, he should not say that what he believes is alone the Truth, and everything else is false.

The Buddha says: ‘To be attached to one thing (to a certain view) and to look down upon other things (views) as inferior — this the wise men call a ‘fetter.’

What the Buddha Taught, p10-11

Is it a “fetter” to hold that the Lotus Sutra is the supreme teaching of the Buddha, that it encompasses and embraces all of the provisional lessons taught before it?

I will leave it at “This is my faith.”

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Handsome Nanda

April 16, 2024 John Hughes

This continues my discussion of the epic poems of Aśvaghoṣa

Aśvaghoṣa’s Handsome Nanda is a detailed explanation of how a rich, handsome, happily married young man was persuaded to give it all up to venture upon the good path.

(As this point of the story, Nanda has been told he is to become a monk but Nanda refuses. He is brought to the Buddha, who says:)

What is more, you have seen the flaws of family life, and you have heard of the bliss of giving it up; yet still you have no mind to leave your home, like a death-desiring man who will not leave a place of plague. How can you be so fixated with the wasteland of samsara that you have no urge to venture upon the good path, even when you have been set on that very path? You are like a merchant who has wandered from his caravan!

Only a man who is so stupid that he would settle down to sleep in a house ablaze on all sides, rather than escaping from it, would be oblivious to the world burning with the fire of time, with its flames of disease and old age. It is dreadful that a convicted man being led out for execution should be drunk, laughing and babbling; so too is it dreadful that a man should be careless and contrary-minded while Death stands by with a noose in his hand. When kings and householders have gone, are going and will go forth, leaving behind their relatives and possessions, you give consideration to incidental loves!

Handsome Nanda, p107

Again the Burning House allusion.

Eventually, Nanda is convinced to give up his beautiful wife in exchange for a promise that if he agrees to take vows and follows the path he will be rewarded in heaven where the ápsarases – heavenly beings more beautiful than his wife – will attend him. The futility of this goal is explained to Nanda by Ananda:

́”I understand from your expression your motive in practicing dharma, and knowing it, I am moved to both laughter and compassion on your account. Just as someone would carry a heavy rock on his shoulder to use as a seat, likewise you are laboring to uphold the rules of restraint for the sake of sensual indulgence! Just as a wild ram draws back when he is about to charge, likewise this celibacy of yours is undertaken for the sake of sex. Just as businessmen like to buy goods to make a profit, so you practice dharma as an article for trade, not to become peaceful. Just as a farmer scatters seed to produce a particular fruit, likewise you have let go of sense objects because of your weakness for them.

You are seeking out suffering with your thirst for sensory experience, as though someone would want to be ill just to enjoy the pleasure of a remedy. Just as a man looking for honey does not notice a precipice, so in your focus on the ápsarases you do not see your resulting fall. What is this celibacy of yours? While your heart is ablaze with the fire of lust, you carry out your observances with your body only, and are not celibate in your mind.

Handsome Nanda, p219

I particularly enjoyed the line: “Just as businessmen like to buy goods to make a profit, so you practice dharma as an article for trade, not to become peaceful.” Reminds me of my days in Soka Gakkai: Need something? Chant. Not getting it quick enough? Chant more.

Once Nanda realizes that trading lust for his wife for lust for ápsarases is not a bargain, he goes to see the Buddha. After Nanda explains his change of heart, the Buddha says:

“Oh! This comprehension is the presursor of Excellence arising in you, just as when a firestick is rotated, smoke arises as a precursor of fire.”

Handsome Nanda, p233

The Buddha goes on to explain the role “faith” plays:

When a man believes there is water underground, and is in need of it, then he digs the earth assiduously. If a man doesn’t need a fire, or if he does not believe that fire comes from firesticks, then he would not rotate the firesticks; but when that condition is true, he rotates them. And if a farmer did not believe that corn is produced from the earth, or if he had no need of corn, he would not sow seeds in the ground.

That is why I refer to faith particularly as ‘the hand,’ since it reaches out to the true dharma like an unimpaired hand reaches out for a gift. It is described as ‘the sense organ’ because of its prevalence, and as ‘strong’ because of its persistence, and as ‘wealth’ because it allays the impoverishment of virtue. It is declared to be ‘the arrow’ by reason of its protection of the dharma, and it is named ‘the jewel’ because it is so hard to find in this world. What is more, it is said to be ‘the seed,’ since it causes the arising of Excellence; again, it is called ‘the river’ because it cleanses wickedness.

As faith is the primary factor in the arising of dharma, I have called it different names on various occasions due to its effects. Therefore you should nurture this shoot of faith; when it grows, dharma grows, just as a tree grows when its roots grow. When a man’s vision is blurred and he is weak in resolve, his faith wavers, for it is not operating towards its proper outcome.

As long as reality is not seen or heard, faith is not firm or strongly fixed. But when a man’s senses are governed by the rules of restraint and he sees reality, then the tree of faith is fruitful and supportive.

Handsome Nanda, p237-239

I could have used this definition of faith in my 800 Years of Faith project.

But faith without action has little value. In the chapter describing the Noble Truths, Nanda learns about applying himself to the path.

Just as a substance may be pungent in flavor yet when eaten ripe may prove to be sweet, so an endeavor may be hard in its execution but when it ripens through the accomplishment of its aims, prove to be sweet. Endeavor is paramount, for it is the foundation of doing what needs to be done, and without endeavor there would be no accomplishment at all. All success in the world arises from endeavor, and if there were no endeavor evil would be complete.

Men without endeavor won’t acquire what has not yet been acquired, and they are bound to lose what has been acquired. They experience self-contempt, wretchedness, the scorn of their superiors, mental darkness, lack of brilliance, and a loss of learning, restraint and contentment; a great fall awaits them. When a competent person hears the method but makes no progress, when he knows the supreme dharma but wins no higher estate, when he leaves his home but finds no peace in freedom—the reason for this is his own laziness, and not an enemy.

Handsome Nanda, p313

For me, the discussions covering the law of cause and effect have the deepest resonance. Here are some examples:

The reason for this suffering during one’s active life in the world is not a God, not nature, not time, not the inherent nature of things, not predestination, not accident, but the hosts of faults such as desire. You must understand thereby that man’s active life continues because of its faults. It follows that people who are subject to passion and mental darkness die repeatedly, while someone free from passion and mental darkness is not born again.

Handsome Nanda, p289

Since individuality is produced by conditions, and there is no maker or thinker, and individual activity arises from a network of causes, Nanda saw that this world is empty.

Since the world is not self-dependent and has no power to set things in motion, and no one exercises sovereignty in actions, and since states of existence arise in dependence on all sorts of things, he understood that the world was without self.

Then, like feeling a cool breeze from fanning oneself during the hot season, or like getting fire that is latent in wood by rubbing sticks together, or like finding underground water by digging for it, he reached the hard-to-reach supramundane path.

With his bow of true knowledge, binding on his armor of mindfulness, standing in his chariot of pure vows of moral self-restraint, he stood determined to fight for victory against his enemy, the defilements, which were ranged in the battlefield of his mind. Holding the sharp weapon of the constituents of enlightenment, and standing on the excellent chariot of well-directed effort, with his army which consisted of the elephants of the constituents of the path, he gradually penetrated the ranks of the defilements. With the arrows of the four foundations of mindfulness, each with its own range of application, in an instant he burst apart the four enemies which consist of distorted views, the causes of suffering.

Handsome Nanda, p325

For he who understands that while a particular activity in the here and now is not caused by something else, it is also not without cause, and who recognizes that everything is dependent on a variety of things—he sees the ultimate noble dharma. And he who sees that dharma is tranquil, benign, without age or passion, and unexcelled, and sees that its teacher, Buddha, is the best of the noble ones—he has won insight.

Handsome Nanda, p327

As a postscript I offer this:

Just as a light which is extinguished does not travel to the earth or the sky, nor to the directions or any intermediate directions but, because its oil is used up, merely ceases, so he who has reached nirvana travels not to the earth, not to the sky, nor to any of the directions or intermediate directions, but, because his defilements have ended, just attains peace.

Handsome Nanda, p291

I hope this is my experience when I finally “shuffle off this mortal coil.”

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Aśvaghoṣa’s Epic Poems

April 15, 2024 John Hughes

I’ve beeen on something of an Aśvaghoṣa kick for the last couple of weeks. I picked up the Clay Sanskrit Library’s Life of the Buddha (Buddhacarita) translated by Patrick Olivelle and published in 2009. This is Aśvaghoṣa’s biography of the Buddha, beginning with his descent from the Tuṣita Heaven into the womb of Queen Maya until his death. I followed that with Handsome Nanda, in which Aśvaghoṣa details the reluctant conversion of Nanda, the Buddha’s half-brother. Linda Covill did the Clay Sanskrit Library’s translation of Handsome Nanda. It was published in 2007.

The Life of the Buddha offered a number of tidbits I wanted to keep here. For example, why Queen Maya died seven days after the birth of Siddhārtha:

But when queen Maya saw the immense might of her son, like that of a seer divine,
she could not bear the delight it caused her; so she departed to dwell in heaven.

Life of the Buddha, p43

Then there’s Aśvaghoṣa’s explanation for Rāhula’s name. Traditionally, it is said the Buddha named his son Rāhula because his son was a fetter or chain to hold him back from the path to enlightenment. Aśvaghoṣa instead suggests Rāhula’s grandfather named him:

Then in time Yashodhara, the “bearer of fame,” bearing alluring breasts and bearing her own fame, begot a son for Śuddhodana’s son, a son who had a face like Rahu’s foe, a son who was, indeed, named Rāhula.

Life of the Buddha, p53

As Olivelle explains in the notes: Rahu was the celestial demon responsible for the eclipses of the sun and the moon.

I was also caught by this reference to escaping a burning house, which plays such a large role in the Lotus Sutra. At this point Siddhārtha has asked his father to allow him to become an ascetic:

To his son making such a hard request, the king of the Śākyas made this response:
“Withdraw this your request, it is inordinate;
An extravagant wish is improper and extreme.”

Then that one, mighty as Meru, told his father:
“If that’s not possible, don’t hold me back;
for it is not right to obstruct a man,
Who’s trying to escape from a burning house.”

Life of the Buddha, p141

Another interesting aspects of Olivelle’s translation is his decision not to translate the word dharma.

One departure from my other translations of Sanskrit texts concerns the pivotal concept of dharma. In my other translations I have regularly translated all Sanskrit terms, including dharma. In Aśvaghoṣa’s vocabulary and argument, however, dharma is used deliberately with so many meanings and nuances that it would have been futile to capture these varying significations in the translation; English does not have a sufficiently rich vocabulary for this purpose. Therefore, I have kept the words dharma and its opposite a/dharma in the translation, inviting thereby the reader to see the different contexts and meanings of this central term.

Olivelle says in his Introduction:

It is within this context of inquiry and debate that we must see the controversies surrounding dharma. Aśvaghoṣa presents the arguments from the Buddhist and the Brahmanical sides as a controversy centered on the correct definition of dharma. It is not so much that some definitions of dharma are considered false. Aśvaghoṣa presents the array of meanings in which his interlocutors used the term, all of them legitimate at some level. What he wants to emphasize, however, is that no dharma can prevent the pursuit of the highest dharma, the dharma that Siddhārtha pursues, the dharma that he preaches once he has become the Buddha. Lower level conceptions of dharma cannot be obstacles on the path to the highest dharma, the “true dharma” of Buddhism called saddharma.

And, of course, it is the Saddharma which is revealed in the Saddharma Pundarika – the Wonderful Law of the Lotus Flower Sutra.

Tomorrow: The Training of Nanda

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A Record of Buddhistic Kingdoms

February 22, 2024 John Hughes

In 399 CE, a Chinese Mahāyāna monk named Fa-hien set out for India to find a complete copy of the Vinaya, the rules and precepts for fully ordained monks.

After Fa-hien set out from Ch’ang-gan, it took him six years to reach Central India; stoppages there extended over [another] six years; and on his return it took him three years to reach Ts’ing-chow [China].

A Record of Buddhistic Kingdoms, p115-116

After his trip, Fa-hien wrote a book about what he saw. Fa-hien’s book was translated into English by James Legge (1815-1897). Legge, at the time he published his translation in 1886, was professor of Chinese studies at Oxford University. Throughout the book, Legge offers extensive notes explaining for his Western audience the background and meaning of what Fa-hien saw in his travels.

From Legge’s Introduction:

Nothing of great importance is known about Fa-hien in addition to what may be gathered from his own record of his travels. I have read the accounts of him in the ‘Memoirs of Eminent Monks,’ compiled in A.D. 519, and a later work, the ‘Memoirs of Marvelous Monks,’ by the third emperor of the Ming dynasty (A.D. 1403-1424), which, however, is nearly all borrowed from the other; and all in them that has an appearance of verisimilitude can be brought within brief compass.

His surname, they tell us, was Kung, and he was a native of Wu-yang in P’ing-yang, which is still the name of a large department in Shan-hsi. He had three brothers older than himself; but when they all died before shedding their first teeth, his father devoted him to the service of the Buddhist society, and had him entered as a śramaṇera, still keeping him at home in the family. The little fellow fell dangerously ill, and the father sent him to the monastery, where he soon got well and refused to return to his parents.

When he was ten years old, his father died; and an uncle, considering the widowed solitariness and helplessness of the mother, urged him to renounce the monastic life, and return to her, but the boy replied, ‘I did not quit the family in compliance with my father’s wishes, but because I wished to be far from the dust and vulgar ways of life. This is why I choose monkhood.’ The uncle approved of his words and gave over urging him. When his mother also died, it appeared how great had been the affection for her of his fine nature; but after her burial he returned to the monastery.

On one occasion he was cutting rice with a score or two of his fellow disciples when some hungry thieves came upon them to take away their grain by force. The other śramaṇeras all fled, but our young hero stood his ground, and said to the thieves, “If you must have the grain, take what you please. But, Sirs, it was your former neglect of charity which brought you to your present state of destitution; and now, again, you wish to rob others. I am afraid that in the coming age you will have still greater poverty and distress. I am sorry for you beforehand.” With these words he followed his companions to the monastery, while the thieves left the grain and went away, all the monks, of whom there were several hundred, doing homage to his conduct and courage.

When he had finished his noviciate and taken on him the obligations of the full Buddhist orders, his earnest courage, clear intelligence, and strict regulation of his demeanor were conspicuous; and soon after, he undertook his journey to India in search of complete copy of the Vinaya-piṭaka. What follows this is merely an account of his travels in India and return to China by sea, condensed from his own narrative, with the addition of some marvelous incidents that happened to him, on his visit to the Vulture Peak near Rājagṛha.

A Record of Buddhistic Kingdoms, p1-2

The book offers a fascinating look at Buddhist life and practice at the start of the fifth century. Keep in mind, that at the same time Fa-hien was exploring India, Kumārajīva was busy translating the Lotus Sutra into Chinese.

Several things Fa-hien witnessed were of particular interest to me. For example, having recently finished Jan Nattier’s “A Few Good Men: The Bodhisattva Path according to The Inquiry of Ugra,” it was interesting to note that some Buddhist communities that Fa-hien encountered included both Mahāyāna and Hinayāna monks, while others were strictly Hinayāna or Mahāyāna. In The Inquiry of Ugra the Mahāyāna Bodhisattva path was not a separate teaching but just one of the vehicles available to renunciants. Centuries later, Fa-hien finds evidence of a separation of the Mahāyāna and Hinayāna schools, while still finding areas where they practiced together.

I also found the topic of Pratyeka buddhas fascinating. In the Lotus Sutra, we hear of people seeking Pratyekabuddhahood, one of the three provisional vehicles, but nothing about someone actually attaining this goal.

Fa-hien witnessed:

At this place there are as many as a thousand topes of Arhans and Pratyeka Buddhas.

A Record of Buddhistic Kingdoms, p40

Topes is another word for stupas. Legge offers this note about Pratyeka Buddhas:

In Singhalese, Pasê Buddhas; called also Nidâna Buddhas, and Pratyeka Jinas, and explained by ‘individually intelligent,’ ‘completely intelligent,’ ‘intelligent as regards the nidânas.’ This, says Eitel (pp. 96, 97), is ‘a degree of saintship unknown to primitive Buddhism, denoting automats in ascetic life who attain to Buddhaship “individually,” that is, without a teacher, and without being able to save others. As the ideal hermit, the Pratyeka Buddha is compared with the rhinoceros (khadga) that lives lonely in the wilderness. He is also called Nidâna Buddha, as having mastered the twelve nidânas (the twelve links in the everlasting chain of cause and effect in the whole range of existence, the understanding of which solves the riddle of life, revealing the inanity of all forms of existence, and preparing the mind for nirvāṇa). He is also compared to a horse, which, crossing a river, almost buries its body under the water, without, however, touching the bottom of the river. Thus in crossing saṃsāra he suppresses the errors of life and thought, and the effects of habit and passion, without attaining to absolute perfection.” ‘ Whether these Buddhas were unknown, as Eitel says, to primitive Buddhism, may be doubted.

A Record of Buddhistic Kingdoms, p40

Underscore “without being able to save others,” which tells you all you need to know about Pratyeka buddhas.

(See Pratyekabuddhas Before Śākyamuni)

Legge, who came to China as a Christian missionary, is mostly supportive of Buddhism, but takes offense at Fa-hien’s tale of a monk who attained parinirvāṇa by cutting his own throat.

[At a distance of 50 paces from the rock dwelling of Devadatta] is a large, square black rock. Formerly there was a bhikṣu who, as he walked backwards and forwards upon it, thought with himself: ‘This body is impermanent, a thing of bitterness and vanity, and which cannot be looked on as pure. I am weary of this body, troubled by it as an evil.’ With this he grasped a knife and was about to kill himself. But he thought again: ‘The World-honored one laid down a prohibition against one’s killing himself.’ Further it occurred to him: ‘Yes, he did; but I now only wish to kill three poisonous thieves.’ Immediately with the knife he cut his throat. With the first gash into the flesh he attained the state of a Srotaāpanna; when he had gone half through, he attained to be an Anāgāmin; and when he had cut right through, he was an Arhat, and attained to parinirvāṇa; (and died).

Legge responds in a note:

Our author expresses no opinion of his own on the act of this bhikshu. Must it not have been a good act, when it was attended, in the very act of performance, by such blessed consequences? But if Buddhism had not something better to show than what appears here, it would not attract the interest which it now does. The bhikshu was evidently rather out of his mind; and the verdict of a coroner’s inquest of this nineteenth century would have pronounced that he killed himself ‘in a fit of insanity.’

A Record of Buddhistic Kingdoms, p86

Not everything Fa-hien saw in India accorded with traditional Buddhism.

In this Middle Kingdom there are ninety-six sorts of views, erroneous and different from our system, all of which recognize this world and the future world (and the connection between them). Each has its multitude of followers, and they all beg their food: only they do not carry the alms-bowl. They also, moreover, seek (to acquire) the blessing (of good deeds) on unfrequented ways, setting up on the roadside houses of charity, where rooms, couches, beds, and food and drink are supplied to travelers, and also to monks, coming and going as guests, the only difference being in the time (for which those parties remain).

There are also companies of the followers of Devadatta still existing. They regularly make offerings to the three previous Buddhas, but not to Śākyamuni Buddha.

A Record of Buddhistic Kingdoms, p61-62

I’ll end here with Fa-hien’s tale of the woman who accused the Buddha of having gotten her pregnant.

Outside the east gate of the Jetavana, at a distance of seventy paces to the north, on the west of the road, Buddha held a discussion with the (advocates of the) ninety-six schemes of erroneous doctrine, when the king and his great officers, the householders, and people were all assembled in crowds to hear it. Then a woman belonging to one of the erroneous systems, by name Chañchamana, prompted by the envious hatred in her heart, and having put on (extra) clothes in front of her person, so as to give her the appearance of being with child, falsely accused Buddha before all the assembly of having acted unlawfully (towards her). On this, Śakra, Ruler of Devas, changed himself and some devas into white mice, which bit through the strings about her waist; and when this was done, the (extra) clothes which she wore dropt down on the ground. The earth at the same time was rent, and she went (down) alive into hell. (This) also is the place where Devadatta, trying with empoisoned claws to injure Buddha, went down alive into hell. Men subsequently set up marks to distinguish where both these events took place.

A Record of Buddhistic Kingdoms, p59-60

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A Few Good Men

February 19, 2024 John Hughes

The Bodhisattva Path according to The Inquiry of Ugra

After reading Jan Nattier’s deconstruction of the predictions of the extinction of Buddhism in Once Upon A Future Time, I remembered that I had a copy of Nattier’s “A Few Good Men: The Bodhisattva Path according to The Inquiry of Ugra.” In this 2003 book Nattier deconstructs the meaning of the early Mahāyāna. Was it a new doctrinal school, a reformist sect, or simply a “movement”?

She concludes:

If the Mahāyāna as reflected in the Ugra thus fails to conform to any of the three major categories–a new doctrinal school, a reformist sect, or simply a “movement”–to which it has been assigned in buddhological literature to date, how then was this term used by the Ugra’s authors? Somewhat surprisingly, perhaps–given the volume of ink that has been spilled in an attempt to define the “Mahāyāna” in recent years–the Ugra offers us a very simple and straightforward answer. For the authors of this sūtra, the Mahāyāna is nothing more, and nothing less, than a synonym of the “bodhisattva path.” For the Ugra, in other words, the Mahāyāna is not a school, a sect, or a movement, but a particular spiritual vocation, to be pursued within the existing Buddhist community. To be a “Mahāyānist”–that is, to be a bodhisattva–thus does not mean to adhere to some new kind of “Buddhism,” but simply to practice Buddhism in its most rigorous and demanding form.

A Few Good Men, p195

This conclusion originally surprised me, but upon reflection I realized that this accords well with the Lotus Sutra, which promises at the conclusion of the first chapter:

The Buddha will remove
Any doubt of those who seek
The teaching of the Three Vehicles.
No question will be left unresolved.

While the Lotus Sutra goes on to declare that there is only One Vehicle, the lesser path of the Bodhisattva vehicle is clearly a part of the Buddha’s provisional teachings. As Nattier notes:

If the Ugra cannot offer us a glimpse into the very dawn of the bodhisattva enterprise, it nonetheless remains a valuable witness to one of the earliest stages in the development of that path. It portrays a Buddhist community in which the path of the bodhisattva was viewed as an optional vocation suited only for the few; where tensions between bodhisattvas and Śrāvakas were evident, but had not yet led to institutional fission generating a separate Mahāyāna community; and where texts containing instructions for bodhisattva practice were known and transmitted by specialists within the larger monastic saṃgha. It emphatically does not convey a picture of the Mahāyāna as a “greater vehicle” in the sense of a more inclusive option, for the bodhisattva vehicle is portrayed as a supremely difficult enterprise, suited only (to borrow the recruiting slogan of the U.S. Marine Corps) for “a few good men.” And while the Ugra reflects an environment in which lay men were beginning to participate in such practices, there is no evidence that its authors even considered the possibility that women (whether lay or monastic) might do so as well.

A Few Good Men, p196

500 Yojanas

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