Articles
< Library
Contents
- 1 312 Articles
- 1.1 Notes
- 1.2 Notes
- 1.3 Notes
- 1.4 Notes:
- 1.5 Notes
- 1.6 Notes
- 1.7 Notes
- 1.8 Notes:
- 1.9 Notes
- 1.10 Notes
- 1.11 Notes
- 1.12 Notes
- 1.13 Notes
- 1.14 Notes
- 1.15 Notes:
- 1.16 Notes
- 1.17 Notes:
- 1.18 Notes:
- 1.19 Notes:
- 1.20 Notes
- 1.21 Notes:
- 1.22 Notes:
- 1.23 Notes
- 1.24 Notes
- 1.25 Notes
- 1.26 Notes
- 1.27 Notes
- 1.28 Notes:
312 Articles
From ancient times, the origin of "tathāgata", which has been usually translated as 如 來 (one who comes thus), is not unknown. This has been used as the title of Buddha, chiefly in Buddhism from the start.
Now, I will consider the meaning of "tathāgata" in the Abhisamayālaṃkār' ālokā Prajñāpāramitā-vyākhyā of Haribhadra (ed. by Wogihara) (W.). This includes the Aṣṭasāhasrikā-Prajñāpāramitā-sūtra (As.), Maitreya's Abhisamayālaṃkāraśāstra-kārikā (A.) which is a summary of the Pañcaviṃśatisāhasrikā-Prajñāpāramitā-sūtra (P.), and Haribhadra's commentary which is based on the P. and the As. Accordingly at first, I point out sentences of "tathāgata", which I think as the etymological explanations, and then survey the character of it. (Mano, "'Tathāgata' in Haribhadra's Commentary," 22)
What makes gZhon nu dpal's DhDhV-commentary so interesting is his mahāmudrā interpretation of a central topic in the DhDhV, i.e., the abandonment of all "mentally created characteristic signs" (nimittas). The latter practice plays a crucial role in the cultivation of non-conceptual wisdom, which is taken as the cause or the foundation of āśrayaparivŗtti in the DhDhV. Based on Sahajavajra's (11th century) Tattvadaśakaţīkā gZhon nu dpal explains that the nimittas are abandoned by directly realizing their natural luminosity which amounts to a direct or non-conceptual experience of their true nature. To be sure, while the usual Mahāyāna approach involves an initial analysis of the nimittas, namely, an analytic meditation which eventually turns into non-conceptual abiding in the same way as a fire kindled from rubbing pieces of wood bums the pieces of wood themselves (gZhon nu dpal explains this on the basis of Kamalaśīla's commentary on the Nirvikalpapraveśadhāraņī), mahāmudrā pith-instructions enable a meditation of direct perceptions right from the beginning. In view of the fact that such direct perceptions of emptiness (or dharmatā in this context here) usually start from the first Bodhisattva-level onwards, gZhon nu dpal also tries to show that the four yogas of mahāmudrā are in accordance with the four prayogas of the DhDhV. It should be noted that such a mahāmudrā interpretation must have already existed in India, as can be seen from Jñānakīrti's (10th/11th-century) Tattvāvatāra, in which a not-specifically-Tantric form of mahāmudrā practice is related with the traditional fourfold Mahāyāna meditation by equating "Mahāyāna" in Lańkāvatārasūtra X.257d with mahāmudrā. The pādas X.257cd "A yogin who is established in a state without appearances sees Mahāyāna" thus mean that one finally sees or realizes mahāmudrā.
To sum up, the DhDhV plays an important role for gZhon nu dpal in that it provides a canonical basis for his mahāmudrā tradition, and by showing that the dharmatā portion of the DhDhV is a commentary on the second chapter of the RGV, gZhon nu dpal skillfully links his mahāmudrā interpretation to the standard Indian work on Buddha-nature, and thus to a concept which considerably facilitated the bridging of the Sūtras with the Tantras. (Source Accessed April 1, 2020)
We will begin with a survey of modern Sanskritists' attempts at identifying nien and why such attempts have ultimately failed. Then we will look at a similar attempt by the AFMS to edit off the nien ideology and how by so doing it violated the integrity of the original AFM message. The sinitic meaning of the term nien and wu-nien will be demonstrated with precedents in Han thought, usages in the Six Dynasties and in Ch'an.k I will conclude with a word on why AFMS was produced. (Lai, "A Clue to the Authorship of the Awakening of Faith," 34–35)
The term ' ārambaṇa ' is one of the technical terms unique to Buddhism. Being equivalent to Pali ' ārammaṇa ' and Cl. Skt. ' ālambana ' it is usually used in the sense of 'basis of cognition' or 'sense-object', e.g. rūpa as ārambaṇa of cakṣurvijñāna, or dharma as that of manovijñāna. The usual equivalent to this term in Tibetan and Chinese language is ' dmigs pa ' and '所 縁', respectively.
What I am going to examine here is whether or not the same meaning mentioned above can be applied to this term used in the Ratnagotravibhāga (RGV), I, 9.
Read more here . . .
An encyclopedic author active during the reign of King Rāmapāla (ca. 1084–1126/1077–
ca. 1119) of the Pāla Dynasty, Abhayākaragupta is renowned for his erudition in a vast range of subjects in Buddhism.[1] His expertise is especially prominent in, though not limited to, the area of Tantric Buddhism, as attested by the well-known "Garland Trilogy" (phreng ba skor gsum), i.e. his three major works on Tantric ritual (Vajrāvalī, Jyotirmañjarī, and Niṣpannayogāvalī), which exercised a great influence on the Buddhism of the later period in Nepal and Tibet.
The Peking bsTan 'gyur includes twenty-six works ascribed to Abhayākaragupta, of which twenty-three are in the domain of Tantra; the other three deal with non-Tantric Buddhism.[2] Though most of these works are only available through Tibetan translation, some important texts of Abhayākaragupta are preserved in Sanskrit. The following works in Sanskrit have hitherto been edited: Niṣpannayogāvalī; Vajrāvalī; Jyotimañjarī; Ucchuṣmajambhalasādhana; Svādhiṣṭhānakramopadeśa.[3] In addition, Sanskrit manuscripts are known to exist of the Pañcakramatātparyapañjikā Kramakaumudī, Kālacakrāvatāra, and Abhayapaddhati.[4] According to some recent information, furthermore, Sanskrit manuscripts of the Āmnāyamañjarī, Munimatālaṅkāra and Madhyamakamañjarī[5] have been discovered in Tibet [6]
The Amnāyamañjarī, which may be called the magnum opus of Abhayākaragupta, is a commentary on the Saṃpuṭodbhavatantra and an encyclopedic compendium of Indian Tantric Buddhism. According to Bühnemann, Abhayākaragupta undertook the composition of the Amnāyamañjarī before 1101 or 1108 C.E. (twenty-fifth regnal year of Rāmapāla) and completed it in 1113 or 1120 C.E (thirty-seventh year of Rāmapāla). As has been remarked,[7] the Saṃpuṭodbhavatantra, though traditionally considered to be an Explanatory Tantra (vyākhyātantra) of the Hevajra and Saṃvara cycles, integrates many doctrinal and ritual elements adopted from several heterogeneous textual traditions such as that of the Guhyasamāja. Because of this "ecumenical" character of the Saṃpuṭodbhavatantra, the Amnāyamañjarī as its commentary also encompasses a great variety of subjects relating to the doctrine and ritual of Tantric Buddhism. The Amnāyamañjarī is referred to several times by Abhayākaragupta himself in his other works, such as the Munimatālaṅkāra,
Abhayapaddhati, Pañcakramatātparyapañjikā, and Vajrāvalī.[8] In turn, the Āmnāyamañjarī
refers to his other works [9]
Though, as remarked above, the existence of a presumably complete Sanskrit manuscript of the Āmnāyamañjarī has been reported, it still remains inaccessible to us. However, a single folio fragment of this text has been recently identified in the collection of Sanskrit manuscripts in Göttingen. In this paper, we describe this manuscript fragment and present a critical edition and an annotated translation of the text contained in it. We also include as appendices an edition of the corresponding part of the Tibetan translation as well as parallel passages found in Kamalanātha's Ratnāvalī and Abhayākaragupta's Abhayapaddhati. (Tomabechi and Kano, Abhayākaragupta and the Āmnāyamañjarī, 22–23)
Notes
1. For the dates and works of Abhayākaragupta, see Erb 1997: 27–29: Bühnemann and Tachikawa 1991: Bühnemann 1992.
2. For bibliographical information on these works, see Bühnemann 1992: 123–125.
3. The Svādhiṣṭhānakramopadeśa (or Dvibhujasaṃvaropadeśa) was edited by Okuyama (1993).
4. The Centre for Tantric Studies at University of Hamburg is currently working on a joint project to the Abhayapaddhati in collaboration with CTRC (China Tibetology Research Centre). Tomabechi is preparing a critical edition of the Kramakaumudī based on the manuscript copy preserved at CTRC.
5. The latter text is not included in the bsTan 'gyur, but is mentioned by Abhayākaragupta himself in the Munimatālaṅkāra, D 145v6; P 179r8: mdor bsdus pa ni kho bos dbu ma'i snye mar phul du byung bar rnam par bshad do; Āmnāyamañjarī, D 28r1; P 31r2–3: 'di'i skye ba dang 'jig pa de dag kyang dbu ma'i snye mar nges par dpyad zin pas (P: pa'i) ... ; D 76v7–77r1; P 86v2-3: thsad ma gang gis 'di rang bzhin med pa nyid du bsgrub pa de ni bdag cag gis rgyas pa dang bcas par dbu ma'i snye mar nye bar bkod cing; D 162r5–6; P 179v1: bzlog pa kho na
las de kho na nyid 'di rnams so zhes dbu ma'i snye mar nges par dpyad zin to (P: te). See also Isoda 1984: 3 n. 14.
6. These texts are registered in the (unpublished) catalogue of microfilms kept at the CTRC in Beijing. Tomabechi confirmed the existence of the copies of these manuscripts during his visit to Beijing in May–June 2007.
7. Noguchi 1984 and Skorupski 1996: 201.
8. See Munimatālaṅkāra, D 89r4; P 93v2, D 218r7; P 287r4, Kramakaumudī, fol. 22v4, 27r1, 53v4. For the Abhayapaddhati see Bühnemann and Tachikawa 1991: xiv and Bühnemann 1992:123; and for the Vajrāvalī, see Bühnemann and Tachikawa 1991: xvi and Bühnemann 1992: 125.
This paper focuses on his writings on the "hidden meaning of luminosity". According to Chos grags ye shes the nonaffirming negation in the second cycle of the Buddha's teaching is of not fully perfected definitive meaning while the affirming negation of the third wheel, the inseparability of mind's emptiness and luminosity, in other words mahāmudrā, constitutes the fully perfected definitive meaning. (Draszczyk, introduction, 1)
The constructed nostalgia of the later Great Perfection, or rDzogs chen, tradition gazes backward temporally and geographically toward eighth-century India, reminiscing an era
in which the subcontinent is thought to have served as generous benefactor of Dharma gifts to the fledging Buddhist empire of Tibet. Insistence on the familiar Buddhist requirements for true transmission—authenticity and legitimacy founded in lineage and longevity—certainly inspired many of its textual "revelations" beginning in the eleventh century. Many of those nostalgic constructions of rNying ma history have been well documented by modern scholars.
It would be rash to assert, however, that despite all those imaginings, there were no historical primordia of the Great Perfection in the preceding centuries. The textual roots of the Mind Series (sems sde) texts are testament to these early stirrings, as are the Dunhuang manuscripts identified by Sam van Schaik as expressing a form of “Tibetan Zen.”[1] A third seed was planted via the Tibetan Mahāyoga tantra tradition, and within it, germinations of Great Perfection gnoseology, observable prominently in the ninth-century works of dPal dbyangs, who in some colophons and later histories is designated gNyan dPal dbyangs. His works include six canonical verse texts retrospectively entitled sGron ma drug, or Six Lamps,[2] and the rDo rje sems dpa’ zhus lan (Vajrasattva Questions and Answers) catechism found at Dunhuang in three manuscript copies. I have discussed these texts and their most likely Indian inspirations elsewhere. Here, I highlight a particular text within the Six Lamps, his Thugs kyi sgron ma (Lamp of the Mind), as intending to establish, quite early on, a standard set of topics we see well developed in systemizations of the early Great Perfection tradition a few centuries later, and perhaps even before that, in Mind Series texts such as those attributed to Mañjuśrīmitra like the Byang chub kyi sems rdo la gser zhun and the Byang chub sems bsgom pa.[3]
Of all dPal dbyangs’s texts, the Thugs kyi sgron ma is the ideological, linguistic, and practical hinge to his Mayājāla corpus as a whole, linking the other five of the Six Lamps texts and providing convincing evidence for accepting those Six Lamps as a collection, as well as offering insight to the later interpretations of his catechism. The Thugs kyi sgron ma displays dPal dbyangs’s full range of presentation. It includes, on the one hand, dPal dbyangs’s direct recommendations to Mahāyoga tantra, and on the other hand, his depictions of the realization of reality as utterly unstructured, unmediated, and transcendent of any dichotomization or reification, using the apophatic language sprinkled throughout the rest of the Six Lamps texts. Thus, by emphasizing these two elements—the transgressive and the transcendent—within a single text, the Thugs kyi sgron ma may have served as a valuable field guide to early Tibetan Mahāyoga and at least to some degree as a useful strategic plan for the cultivation of something more sustainable and vibrant on Tibetan soil, the Great Perfection. As I hope to show, dPal dbyangs’s very deliberate indexing of these topics appears to have been intended to standardize them as interpretive categories even while undercutting the value of reliance upon them as such, redefining Mahāyoga tantra as it found its earliest shape in Tibet. (Takahashi, introductory remarks, 159–60)
Notes
1. Sam van Schaik, “The Early Days of the Great Perfection,” Journal of the International Association of Buddhist Studies 27.1: 167 and 201.
2. The Six Lamps texts are as follows: The Lamp of the Mind (Thugs kyi sgron ma), The Lamp of the Correct View (lTa ba yang dag sgron ma), The Lamp Illuminating the Extremes (mTha'i mun sel sgron ma), The Lamp of Method and Wisdom (Thabs shes sgron ma), The Lamp of the Method of Meditation (bsGom thabs kyi sgron ma), and The Lamp of the Precious View (lTa ba rin chen sgron ma). These are P5918, P5919, P5920, P5921, P5922, and P5923, respectively. There are other Lamp collections in both Nyingma and Bön traditions, usually comprising four or six texts. The most prominent example of these is from the Bönpo Great Perfection lineage, the sGron ma drug gi gdams pa. See Christopher Hatchell's "Advice on the Six Lamps" in Naked Seeing: The Great Perfection, the Wheel of Time, and Visionary Buddhism in Renaissance Tibet (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2014), and Jean-Luc Achard’s English translation in the Six Lamps: Secret Dzogchen Instructions of the Bön Tradition (Boston: Wisdom, 2017).
A Philosophy of Plants
The philosopher Tomonobu Imamichi (1922–2012) pointed out that most Japanese family crests are based on plant designs, indicating that, compared with cultures that employ dragons and eagles, or lions and tigers in their heraldry, Japanese cultural patterns show a strong tendency toward adaptability and harmony. Plants survive not as individuals but by species adaptation. This means that they grow where their seed randomly falls, existing within a pattern of dramatic change as their branches and leaves grow. Imamichi wrote, "In the very workings of their life, plants are a reiteration of elegant beauty as they bud, bloom, fall, proliferate, fruit, and change color, all within an intense yet inconspicuous struggle for life" (Tōyō no bigaku [Aesthetics of the East], TBS Britannica, 1980). Plants take root in that space where their seed falls and form a community with other plants. They maintain harmony with their surroundings and continually transform themselves, adapting to changes in their environment. As Imamichi stated, the workings of their life are inconspicuous, but there is no doubt a severity of struggle to survive and flourish.
Are Plants and Trees Nonsentient?
Mahayana Buddhism in general does not consider trees and plants to be capable of sensation and, with the exception of the Lotus and Śūraṅgama sutras, does not hesitate to place them on a par with tiles and stones. For example, the Mahāratnakūṭa Sūtra (Sutra of the Great Accumulation of Treasures) says, "Plants and trees, tiles and stones, like shadows, are not sentient" (Mahāratnakūṭa Sūtra, 78, Discourse to Pūrṇa, 17.2.4). Why is this so?
The geographer Yutaka Sakaguchi reports that recent research has shown that from the middle of the third century to around the sixth or seventh century the world experienced severe climate change in the form of cooling, drier conditions (see "Kako ichiman sanzennen no kikō no henka to jinrui no rekishi" [Climate change and the history of human beings
during the past thirteen thousand years], Kōza, bunmei to kankyō, 6: Rekishi to kikō [Lecture series, 6, Civilization and the environment: History and climate] [Asakura Shoten, 1995 (revised edition, 2008)], 1–11). The Mahayana sutras, with their prohibition of meat eating, were compiled at this time. Why this prohibition was added to the small simple meals demanded by asceticism can thus be explained in ecoreligious terms. In all probability, the acceptance of ascetic behavior in relation to food and the rejection of meat by religious practitioners and the societies that supported them derived from severe and long-term food shortages. At such a time, rather than rearing pigs and other animals on plant food and then eating their meat, many more human lives could be sustained by a considerably lesser volume by eating vegetable foodstuffs directly. "Hence, in order to keep both monks and lay followers free from what was deemed unnecessary inconvenience and qualms, the sentience of plants was, by and large, ignored [in the precept against the taking of life]" (Lambert Schmithausen, Buddhism and Nature: The Lecture Delivered on the Occasion of the EXPO 1990 [International Institute for Buddhist Studies, 1991], 7).
Plants and the Lotus Sutra
Chapter 5 of the Lotus Sutra, "The Parable of the Herbs," likens the teachings of the Buddha benefiting all beings equally to the rain that falls on all trees, shrubs, herbs, and grasses, enabling them to grow and blossom, producing fruits. This chapter was to have an important influence on the Chinese Tiantai and Japanese Tendai schools of Buddhism. Whereas the Chinese Huayan school held that plants are not sentient and cannot achieve enlightenment, in commentaries such as Fazang's (643–712) Huayanjing tanxuanji (Records of the search for the profundities of the Avataṃsaka Sūtra), Tiantai scholars advocated plants' capability of attaining buddhahood. This must have been because of the image presented in "The Parable of the Herbs." (Read the entire article here)Common throughout the De bźin bśegs pa’i sñiṅ po’i mdo (Tathāgatagarbha sūtra) of the Lang Kanjur are several features which are generally assumed to be archaic, such as the ya btags in all words beginning with m- followed by the vowel i or e (e.g. myi, myed, etc.), the usage of the da drag, the tsheg placed before śad, the mtha’ rten ’a (e.g. dpe’ ), occasionally a reversed gi gu, la(s) (b)stsogs pa for la sogs pa, the omission of genitive particles and, in the verses, the reading ’i instead of yi ( ’i counting as a full syllable).
The version of the sūtra represents the canonical transmission (and not the translation found in the “Kanjur from Bathang”).[85] Stemmatically, the text in the Lang Kanjur is very close to the three Phug brag versions of the sūtra, which have been shown to derive from one and the same archetype.[86] It shares mistakes with this archetype. In other instances it is, however, free of the secondary readings found in all three of the Phug brag versions. In all the cases where Phug brag shares a
mistake with the representatives of the Tshal pa-line, the Kanjur version from Dolpo also has this secondary reading. Its use for establishing the stemma of the canonical versions of the De bźin gśegs pa’i sñiṅ po’i mdo is therefore restricted primarily to evaluating the readings of the Phug brag Kanjur in the instances where Phug brag deviates from the Tshal pa-transmission. In all the cases where the Chinese translations of the sūtra could be used to decide on the originality of a reading in the Tibetan, it turned out that whenever the variant in the Lang Kanjur was identical with the one of Tshal pa as against Phug brag, the latter variant was secondary. (Zimmermann, appendix, 104–5)
Notes
85. For more details on this paracanonical translation see Zimmermann 1998.86. See Zimmermann 2002: 173–177.
Of the nine folios, Tucci photographed both sides of seven of them, while he photographed only one side of the remaining two (here labelled 7.2 and 9.2). The two sides not filmed were probably blank or contained title pages (unfortunately, Tucci did not photograph title pages). Some images are out of focus and barely legible, and thus a complete diplomatic transcription is almost impossible. If Rāhula Sāṅkṛtyāyana photographed the same folios, this would be very helpful in deciphering them; however, I have yet to find evidence that he did. Therefore, I have only been able to go through the folios haltingly, and so identify a limited number of them. (Kano, introductory remarks, 381–82)
Notes:
1. The reproduction of these folios will appear together with a new critical edition of the Sanskrit text, a new edition of the Tibetan translation and an annotated English translation in a new issue of Manuscripta Buddhica which is being prepared by Francesco Sferra and Iain Sinclair.
2. It should be noted that in the introduction of the editio princeps of the First Bhāvanākrama, Tucci states: "The manuscript is preserved in the monastery of sPos k’aṅ on a side valley to the right of the Myań c’u, between Gyantse and Shigatse" (Tucci 1956: 6-7). However, this information is most probably wrong for the following reasons: a) the same manuscript was most likely seen by Sāṅkṛtyāyana in Źwa lu Ri phug in 1936 (1937: 39); b) the envelope itself containing the negatives of Tucci’s photographs are labelled "Zha lu" (see above, p. 46); c) in Źwa lu Ri phug there were other manuscripts in Śāradā script, in particular a manuscript containing Sajjana’s Mahāyānottaratantraśāstropadeśa, which might be connected with the Sūtrālaḿkārapiṇḍārtha reproduced together with the
First Bhavanākrama.
There is, however, one subject relating to the spread of Buddhism in Ṭhi-sroṅ-deu-tsen's reign, to which the Tibetan historian devotes his special attention and on which he dwells in detail. This is the strife between two parties into which the Buddhists of Tibet were at that time split. One of these parties consisted of the pupils and followers of Ācārya Śāntirakṣita who professed that form of Mahāyāna Buddhism which was generally acknowledged in India and Nepal, viz. the teaching of the Path to Enlightenment through the practice of meditation connected with the dialectical analysis peculiar to the Mādhyamika school of the Buddhists and with the practice of the six Transcendental Virtues (pāramitā).
The leader of the other party was a Chinese teacher (hwa-śaṅ or ho-shang) known by the Sanskrit name Mahāyānadeva, who preached a doctrine of complete quietism and inactivity. According to him every kind of religious practice, the meditative exercises and all virtuous deeds as well were completely useless and even undesirable: the liberation from the bonds of phenomenal existence was to be attained merely through the complete cessation of every kind of thought and mental activity,—by abiding perpetually in a state analogous to sleep. Bu-ston'"`UNIQ--ref-0000000D-QINU`"' relates how this party grew very powerful and found numerous adherents among the Tibetans, how the followers of Śāntirakṣita suffered oppression from it, and how the king who was an adherent of Śāntirakṣita's system, invited Śāntirakṣita's pupil, the teacher Kamalaśīla in order to refute the incorrect teachings of the Chinese party. The dispute between Kamalaśīla and the Chinese Ho-shang in which the latter was defeated is described by Bu-ston'"`UNIQ--ref-0000000E-QINU`"' in detail. We read that the leading men of the two parties'"`UNIQ--ref-0000000F-QINU`"' assembled in the presence of the king, that the Ho-shang was the first to speak in favour of his theory of quietism and inactivity and was answered by Kamalaśīla who demonstrated all the absurdity of the theses maintained by the Ho-shang and showed that the teachings of such a kind were in conflict with the main principles of Buddhism and were conducive to the depreciation and rejection of the most essential features of the Buddhist Path to Enlightenment. We read further on how the chief adherents of Kamalaśīla'"`UNIQ--ref-00000010-QINU`"' likewise refuted the theories of the Ho-shang, how the latter and his party acknowledged themselves vanquished and were expelled from Tibet by order of the king who prescribed to follow henceforth the Buddhist doctrines that were generally admitted,—the teaching of the six Virtues as regards religious practice and the Mādhvamika system of Nāgārjuna as regards the theory.'"`UNIQ--ref-00000011-QINU`"'
Thus the influence of the Chinese Ho-shang’s teachings over the minds of the Tibetans suffered a complete defeat and with it perhaps some political influence of China.'"`UNIQ--ref-00000012-QINU`"' This is certainly a most important event in the history of Tibetan Buddhism which has been duly appreciated by Bu-ston. It is therefore quite natural that we should be interested in finding out the sources of Bu-ston's historical record. But the text of Bu-ston's History which, as a rule, contains references to the works on the foundation of which it has been compiled, does not give us any information here. At the first glance the account of the controversy looks like the reproduction of an oral tradition and there is nothing that could make us conjecture the presence of a literary work upon which the record could have been founded- The following will show that it has now become possible to trace out this work, to compare with it the account given by Bu-ston and to ascertain its historical importance. (Obermiller, "A Sanskrit MS. from Tibet," 1–3)
Read more here . . .
Among the Tibetan Collection of the Newark Museum in Newark (New Jersey) there is an incomplete manuscript Kanjur from Bathang in Khams (East Tibet). In spite of the fact that this
Kanjur was already donated to the museum as early as 1920 it is surprising that it has only recently become the object of a scholarly treatment of some length.[1] In his critical edition of the Mahāsūtras (cp. n. 1), Peter Skilling has used internal criteria to prove that the Bathang Kanjur is affiliated to neither the Tshal pa lineage nor to the Them spangs ma lineage of textual transmission. Its independent character can also be ascertained by external kanjurological
criteria: the collection of the texts, its grouping and its order within the volumes are unique. It becomes, therefore, very plausible that "the Newark Kanjur belongs to an old and independent textual transmission that predates the compilation of the Tshal pa and Them spangs ma collections."[2]
Contained in the ta volume of the sūtra section (mdo bsde ta) of this Kanjur is the Tathāgatagarbhasūtra (TGS).[3] In the process of editing the Tibetan text of this important Mahāyāna work, of which no Indic copies have come down to us, I used most of the available, historically relevant Kanjurs.[4] Among these 13 versions alone the TGS found in this Kanjur from Bathang represents a different, second translation (Bth). As the existence of two independent Tibetan translations of the same Indic text are of rare occurrence, this study intends to throw light on the differences between the two Tibetan texts, to describe the particular features of Bth and finally to classify it within the history of Tibetan translation activities. (Zimmermann, introductory remarks, 33–35)
Notes:
1. For a description of the Kanjur cp. Eleanor Olson, Catalogue of the Newark Museum Tibetan Collection, Vol. III, Newark 1971, p. 114, dating it to the 16th century; the most detailed analysis of the 23 volumes of the Kanjur can be found in Peter Skilling's unpublished article Kanjur Manuscripts in the Newark Museum: A Preliminary Report, Nandapurī 1995; the only study including some texts of this Kanjur in a textcritical edition is Peter Skilling's (ed.) Mahāsūtras: Great Discourses of the Buddha, Vol. I: Texts, Oxford 1994 (The Pali Text Society, Sacred Books of the Buddhists Vol. XLIV).2. Skilling, Kanjur Manuscripts. . . . , p. 4.
3. Vol. ta, folios 245b1–258a8. The title at the beginning of the volume reads de bzhin gshegs pa'i snying po zhes bya ba'i mdo' . The title at the beginning of the sūtra itself runs: de bzhin gshyes <pa'i> snying po zhes bya ba theg pa chen po'i mdo. It seems remarkable that the Tibetan equivalent for Skt. ārya, 'phags pa, does not appear in the titles of the Bathang translation whereas it is common to all the other major Kanjurs. The spelling mdo bsde can be found "consistently on all tags" (Skilling, Kanjur Manuscripts. . . , p. 6, n. 16).
4. The critical edition of the TGS is part of a Ph.D. thesis to be submitted at the University of Hamburg. The collation comprises the versions of the TGS as contained in the Kanjurs from Berlin, Derge, Lithang, London, Narthang, Peking (Ōtani reprint), Phug brag (three versions), Stog, Tabo (fragmentary) and Tokyo (Toyo Bunko) compared with the two Chinese translations. Bth will be appended as a diplomatic edition.
With reference to two of these 'ātmavādin’ tathāgatagarbha works, I present evidence that authors of this tradition used the idea of a Buddhist doctrine of the self to undermine non-Buddhist accounts of liberation: not only describing them as deficient, but as having been created (nirmita) by the Buddha himself. Such claims expand the boundaries of the Buddha’s sphere of influence, after the description of his activities found in the Saddharmapuṇḍarīkasūtra: a clear influence upon these tathāgatagarbha sources. Other Mahāyānist literature of an ‘ekayānist’ orientation used this strategy also: i.e. that any teaching regarding liberation from saṃsāra finds its origin in the activities of Buddhas and bodhisattvas, but has its definitive expression in the Buddhist dharma. The tathāgatagarbha presented as a Buddhist doctrine of the self can hence be understood as a complement to a certain understanding of the Mahāyāna, here the archetype of all paths that claim to deliver an end to saṃsāra, and to an account of the Buddha as the architect of all ostensibly non-Buddhist accounts of liberation.
Takasaki argued that the first extant text to use the word tathāgatagarbha was the Tathāgatagarbhasūtra. Since Takasaki's research was published, there have been some remarkable advances in research on the Mahāparinirvāṇamahāsūtra, and in recent years scholars such as S. Hodge and M. Radich have begun to argue that it was the Mahāparinirvāṇamahāsūtra that was the first Buddhist text to use the word tathāgatagarbha. The question of which of these two sūtras came first has not yet been definitively resolved, but it may be generally accepted that both belong to the oldest stratum of Buddhist texts dealing with tathāgatagarbha.
On a previous occasion (Kano 2017), focusing on this point, I collected Sanskrit fragments of both texts containing the word tathāgatagarbha and discussed differences in the expressions in which it is used. In particular, taking into account the findings of Shimoda Masahiro, I argued that if the word tathāgatagarbha appearing in the Mahāparinirvāṇamahāsūtra is interpreted as a bahuvrīhi compound qualifying stūpa, this would accord with the word's usage in this sūtra and with the gist of the chapter "Element of the Tathāgata" (Habata 2013: §§ 375–418). This does not mean, however, that this understanding needs to be applied uniformly to every example of its use in the Mahāparinirvāṇamahāsūtra. Because in this earlier article I focused somewhat unduly on the interpretation of tathāgatagarbha as a bahuvrīhi compound, the fact that there are instances of wordplay making use of the multiple meanings of garbha in the Mahāparinirvāṇamahāsūtra needs to be added, together with some concrete examples. (In the passages of this sūtra, it is natural to understand the term tathāgatagarbha as a substantive in the sense of "garbha of tathāgata" or "garbha that is tathāgata," namely, tatpuruṣa or karmadhāraya, and I do not exclude this possibility as discussed in Kano 2017: 39–42.) In addition, there were some redundant aspects in the structure of my earlier article. In this article I rework these aspects so as to sharpen the focus on the points at issue and add some supplementary points. In the first half I clarify some grammatical characteristics to be observed in examples of the use of tathāgatagarbha in Sanskrit fragments of the Mahāparinirvāṇamahāsūtra, while in the second half I ascertain the polysemy of the word garbha on the basis of some concrete examples. (Kano, "A Syntactic Analysis," 17–18)
La question n'est pas nouvelle; plusieurs fois déjà elle a été étudiée, et diverses solutions lui ont été données. Kern, dans son Histoire du bouddhisme dans l'Inde (1), rejetant l'opinion communément admise en Extrême-Orient, plaça Vasubandhu au VIe siècle de notre ère. Buhler (2) essaya vainement de le ramener au IVe : la thèse de Kern conserva la faveur des indianistes. En 1890, M. Sylvain Lévi, dans son remarquable ouvrage sur Le théâtre indien (3), tentait d'établir que la période d'activité de Vasubandhu couvrait toute la première moitié du VIe siècle ; et dans une note sur La date de Vasubandhu (4), il la reportait même jusqu'au milieu et à la fin de ce siècle. Depuis lors à diverses reprises, notamment dans ses Donations religieuses des rois de Valabhī (5) et dans ses Notes chinoises sur l'Inde parues ici même (6), il s'est efforcé d'étayer sa thèse de nouvelles considérations. M. Takakusu Junjirō, après avoir proposé les limites de 450–550 pour l'« àge moyen » (7) dans lequel Yi-tsing range Vasubandhu et Asaṅga, essaya ensuite de les préciser davantage en ce qui concerne le premier et d'établir qu'il avait vécu de 420 à 500 environ de notre ère (8). En 1908, M. Wogihara (9) démontrait en détail ce que les anciens catalogues chinois du Tripiṭaka, Nei tien lou, K'ai-yuan lou, etc., des écrivains comme Touen-louen des T'ang dans son Yeou-kia louen ki (1), еt M. Nanjio Bunyu (2) avaient déjà dit sommairement, à savoir qu'un ouvrage d'Asaṅga, le Yogācāryabhūmi çāstra (3), avait été partiellement traduit en chinois par Dharmarakṣa entre 414 et 421, soit dès le commencement du Ve siècle (4).
Enfin dans l'introduction de sa traduction du Mahāyāna-Sutrālaṃkāra (5) parue en 1911, M. S. Lévi, abandonnant sa première opinion, écrit à propos d'Asaṅga : « Son activité couvre toute la première moitié du Ve siècle, en débordant de part et d'autre sur les deux extrémités de cette période. » C'est peutêtre un peu long, car si Asaṅga a vécu soixante-quinze ans, les documents à notre connaissance nous disent qu'il chercha sa voie un certain temps. N'oublions pas d'ailleurs que le Yogācāryabhūmi çāstra, l'œuvre maîtresse d'Asaṅga, est de dimensions considérables: la traduction chinoise compte 100 kiuan. Son importance dogmatique n'est pas moindre. Il est l'expression d'une pensée maîtresse d'elle-mème, qui a dépassé la période des incertitudes et des tàtonnements. Il est assez peu vraisemblable, mème sans tenir compte des indications données par Paramārtha dans sa vie de Vasubandhu, qu'il ait été écrit par un tout jeune homme. En tout cas, quelque différence d'àge qu'on veuille admettre entre Asaṅga et Vasubandhu, — et il faut tenir compte de l'existence d'un troisième frère, Viriñcivatsa (6) — celui-ci, bien qu'il ait vécu quatre-vingts ans, n'aurait pu, dans ces conditions, dépasser ni mème atteindre la fin du Ve siècle.
D'une manière générale, il semble que dans les études qui ont porté sur ce sujet, quelques documents aient été ignorés et que d'autres aient été délibérément écartés de la discussion comme douteux. En bonne logique, ce simple doute qui ne parait pas avoir jamais été sérieusement éclairci, suffirait à enlever toute sécurité aux conclusions que l'on a cru pouvoir formuler sans en tenir compte, ou si l'on préfère, elles ne sauraient ètre que provisoires tant que la menace qu'il laisse planer sur elles n'a pas été définitivement écartée. La question me parait donc devoir ètre reprise, les documents déclarés douteux soumis à un nouvel examen, et mis en œuvre aussi ceux qui n'ont pas encore été utilisés. Je n'ai pas d'ailleurs la prétention d'ètre complet. C'est à peu près uniquement à la première série, (missing characters), du Supplément du Tripiṭaka de Kyōto, œuvres hindoues et chinoises, que sont empruntés les textes qu'on trouvera au cours de cette étude. Les quelque 700 fascicules déjà parus de cette admirable publication, d'une importance capitale pour les études bouddhiques, en contiennent sans doute d'autres encore, qu'une recherche plus approfondie et plus complète ferait découvrir. Je n'ai pu que feuilleter les œuvres qui m'ont paru devoir ètre les plus intéressantes pour mon sujet par leur date, leur auteur ou leur genre. (Péri, preliminary remarks, 339–41)
Notes
1. T. II, p. 414; Annales du Musée Guimet, t. XI, p. 450; il parle principalement d'Asaṅga, et se basant sur la date de l'avènement de Çīladitya (610, propose les dates de 485 à 560. C'est évidemment à cet ouvrage que la Chronology of India de Mrs. Mabel Duff les emprunte, et non au Buddhismus de Vassilieff, auquel elle renvoie. Celui-ci ne dit rien de tel; si je ne me trompe, il donne seulement la date bouddhiste de 900 ans, dont je parlerai plus loin.
2. Die indischen Inschriften und das Alter der indischen Kunst-Poesie, dans Sitzungsberichte der Kais. Akademie der Wissenschaften, Wien, 1890, p. 79 sqq.
3. Cf. I, 165, et II, 35.
4. Journal Asiatique, 1890, II, p. 552–553.
5. Bibliothèque de l'Ecole des Hautes-Etudes. Sciences religieuses, vol. VII. Etudes de critique et d'histoire, p. 97.
6. La date de Candragomin. BEFEO, III (1903), 47-49.
7. A Record of the Buddhist religion.... by I-tsing, p. VIII.
8. La Sāṃkhyakārikā étudiée à la lumière de sa version chinoise, BEFEO, IV (1904), p. 37-56; et A study of Paramārtha's life of Vasubandhu and the date of Vasubandhu, dans Journal of the Royal Asiatic Society, 1905.
9. Asaṅga's Bodhisattvabhūmi, ein dogmatischer Text der Nordbuddhisten, Leipzig. B. E. F. E.-O. T. XI. —22.
1. Grand ouvrage en 48 k., publié dans le supplément au Tripiṭaka de Kyoto, 1re
série, boites LXXV, fasc. 4 et 5, et LXXVI, fasc. 1 à 4. Le passage cité se trouve boite LXXV, fasc. 4, p. 308.
2. Cf. Nanjio, Catalogue, nos 1083, 1086, etc.
3. Nanjio, Catalogue. no 1170.
4. Le canon chinois contient sept ou huit traductions partielles de cet ouvrage, faites à des époques parfois très voisines les unes des autres, sous des titres différents ; encore n'avons-nous pas toutes celles qui le furent: le K'ai-yuan lou, k. 12, en cite une dizaine pour le mème texte. Le fait qu'il en existait des extraits si nombreux, assez différents pour que des contemporains les traduisissent séparément à quelques années de distance, permet de croire qu'un intervalle assez long sépare la composition de l'ouvrage des premières traductions d'extraits faites en Chine.
5. B. E. H. E. Sciences historiques et philologiques, fasc. 190, p. *2.
challenges the San-chieh-chiao attempted to meet, and it is the burden of Hubbard's careful exegesis to detail the subtle metaphysical and exegetical distinctions they
constructed to do so. (Griffiths and Keenan, introduction to Buddha Nature, 4–5) There is no doubt excellent reason for such acclaim as this. The clarity, force, and elegance of Nāgārjuna's arguments are undeniable. They can easily overwhelm, and often have. However, the lavish traditional and modern appreciations of Nāgārjuna's thought have not been without untoward consequences for our understanding of other varieties of Mahāyāna. The Mahāyāna is a far more various thing than a reading of the Kārikas, or even of their antecedent Prajñāpāramitā scriptures, would indicate; and the Mādhyamika position has hardly gone unchallenged in Buddhist intellectual history. Indeed, much of the subsequent history of Mahāyāna thought may be read as a cumulative qualification of the Śūnyavāda that one finds in the Perfection of Insight Literature and in Nāgārjuna. Such at least was the case with the Yogācāra and Tathāgatagarbha traditions; and when Buddhism found its way to China, Chinese Buddhist thinkers often expressed a clear preference for the later qualifications or modulations of Mādhyamika rather than for the severity of an unadulterated Nāgārjunism. It may well be that our enthusiasm for Nāgārjuna along with the comparative complexity and inaccessibility of other traditions have predisposed us to give less attention than deserved to the alternative forms of Mahāyāna.'"`UNIQ--ref-00000F63-QINU`"' Should this be so, the remarks that follow may be taken as an effort at compensation.
The criticisms, explicit or implicit, that have been leveled against classical Śūnyavāda are many and diverse. One might undertake to examine the question of whether Mādhyamika is normative for the whole of Mahāyāna by investigating, for example, the claim of the Madhyāntavibhāga that an understanding of emptiness is crude and incomplete unless tempered by an understanding of the reality and potency of constructive imagination. For the Yogācāra authors of this text, emptiness is always and ever coincident with the imagination of the unreal (abhūtaparikalpa; hsü-wang fen-pieh) and it is only the coefficiency of the two principles that can wholly account for the way things really are.'"`UNIQ--ref-00000F64-QINU`"' It is in recognition of this—the essential duplexity of reality—that the Madhyāntavibhāga may say, as one would not expect Nāgārjuna to say:
na śūnyaṁ napi caśūnyam tasmat sarvvam vidhīyate
satvad asatvāt satvāc ca madhyama pratipac ca sā
ku shuo i-ch'ieh fa fei k'ung fei pu-k'ung
yu wu chi yu ku shih ming chung-tao i
Therefore it is said that all dharmas
Are neither empty nor nonempty,
Because they exist, do not exist, and yet again exist.
This is the meaning of the "middle-path."'"`UNIQ--ref-00000F65-QINU`"'
One might choose also to consider the theory of the "three revolutions of the wheel of the law" found in the Saṁdhinirmocanasūtra:
Formerly, in the second period and for the sake only of those aspiring to practice of the Mahayana-reckoning on the fact that all dharmas lack own-being, neither arise nor perish, and are originally calm and essentially of nirvāṇa—the Lord turned the Wheel of the Law which is characterized by a hidden intent (i yin-mi hsiang). [But] this too (i.e., like the first turning) had [other teachings] superior to it to which it deferred. It was of a sense still to be interpreted (yu wei liao-id; neyartha), and [thus] the subject of much dispute.
In the present third period and for the sake of aspirants to all vehicles—reckoning [again] on the fact that all dharmas lack own-being, neither arise nor perish, are originally calm and essentially of nirvāṇa, and have the lack of own-being as their nature-the Lord has turned the Wheel of the Law which is characterized [this time] by a manifest meaning (i hsien-liao hsiang). This is the most rare and precious [of teachings]. There is nothing superior to this Turning of the Wheel of Law by the Lord and nothing to which it defers. It is of truly explicit meaning (chen liao-i; nīthārtha) and not the subject of disputes.'"`UNIQ--ref-00000F66-QINU`"'
The third revolution of the dharmacakra here described is, of course, the annunciation of what was to become Yogācāra Buddhism. The second corresponds to the Śunyavāda of the Prajñāpāramitā canon and, proleptically, to its Mādhyamika systematization. The implication of this passage is that although both dispensations of the law teach emptiness (here called "lack of own-being," "nonarising," etc.), the Prajñāpāramitā and Mādhyamika versions of the doctrine are inchoate, eliptical, imprecise and a source of controversy, whereas the Yogācāra version is definitive, explicit, and not liable to conflicting interpretations.
A third approach might be to follow the masterful lead of Ruegg,'"`UNIQ--ref-00000F67-QINU`"' Takasaki,'"`UNIQ--ref-00000F68-QINU`"' and Wayman'"`UNIQ--ref-00000F69-QINU`"' in considering the claims of the Tathāgatagarbha
tradition to superiority over classical Śunyavāda. The Tathāgatagarbha, after all, is a tradition which argues forcefully that the reality of all things is as much "nonempty" (aśūnya; pu-k'ung) as it is "empty" (śūnya; k'ung)'"`UNIQ--ref-00000F6A-QINU`"' and which employs such un-Mādhyamika terminology in its locutions about reality as "permanence" (nītya; chang), "purity" (śubha; ching), and even "self" (ātman; wo).'"`UNIQ--ref-00000F6B-QINU`"'
A fourth option, and the one we take here, is to look at the differences among Mādhyamika and the other varieties of Mahāyāna through the eyes of those Chinese Buddhist who, in devising their own systems of thought, were given the opportunity to compare and choose. I refer here to the numerous sixth-and-seventh-century Chinese thinkers who formulated "division of the doctrine" (p'an-chiao) and similar schemes in the course of fashioning new and uniquely sinic schools of Buddhism. Almost without exception these thinkers chose to subordinate Śūnyavāda of the sort one finds in the Perfection of Insight literature and the Kārikās to other kinds of Mahāyāna, often to doctrines and texts of Tathāgatagarbha provenance or association. The Hua-yen p'an-chiao system, for example, relegated Śūnyavāda to the category of "incipient" or "elementary" (shih) Mahāyāna but held the Tathāgatagarbha tradition to be representative of an "advanced" or "final" (chung) Mahāyāna, both of which fell short of the perfection of its own "rounded" or "comprehensive" (yüan) teaching.'"`UNIQ--ref-00000F6C-QINU`"'
A theme that unites all of these challenges to Mādhyamika primacy—the Yoācāra, the Tathāgatagarbha, and the Chinese—is a profound dissatisfaction with the seemingly relentless apophasis of Nāgārjuna and, to a lesser extent, of his sources. All are able to acknowledge Nāgārjuna's caution—that uncritical use of the constructive language of philosophical views is a species of intellectual bondage—but they acknowledge it only as a caution, a corrective to false views. They insist, however, that the way of denial and negation, the unremitting distrust of positive language, is necessary but not sufficient unto enlightenment. It allows one to fend off error but does not actively advance one toward the truth and may even impede the practical religious life by generating more subtle forms of error and by inhibiting compassion. Therefore, the various alternatives to Mādhyamika that we have mentioned took it upon themselves to reassert the salvific value of kataphasis, the spiritual utility of positive and affirmative language. They chose, in short, eloquence over silence.
[NOTE. The materials embodied in this list were received in a final form from Dr. Hoernle. early in 1918. The typed press copy prepared from them was after his death in November of that year checked with the original under the kind supervision of Dr. F. W. Thomas.
Owing to various reasons difficulty was experienced about verifying the exact reading of all extracts quoted by Dr. Hoernle from particular MSS., mainly in Khotanese language. It being thus impossible to assure in this respect the degree of accuracy which that most painstaking collaborator would have aimed at, I have thought it advisable to reduce the reproduction of such quotations within narrow limits. For convenient reference by future students the original Inventory ' slips' as received from Dr. Hoernle's hand, as well as a typed copy of them, have been deposited at the India Office Library.—A. STEIN.]
Buddhism has a profound and thoroughly developed set of teachings on human being. One might well argue that the question of human being is the question par excellence with which the Buddhist tradition as a whole struggles. According to the traditional account, for example, the point of departure for the Buddha's own search, discoveries, and teachings was the dilemma of the human condition. Moreover, vast numbers of Buddhist texts speak out of or address human experience as such, consciously focusing upon it as the source of both question and answer. Nonetheless, many questions a modern Westerner asks as a matter of course about human being are not directly addressed in the Buddhist texts. There are of course important reasons for this. Our concept of and assumptions about human individuality are profoundly different from Buddhist views of the same. Our two worlds of discourse about the value and meaning of finite bodily existence, the course of history, the meaning of suffering, and the nature of possible human greatness are set up on entirely different foundations. Thus, for a contemporary Westerner to ask the question "What is a person? What is a human being?" of a Buddhist text is to set oneself up to receive an answer that does not satisfy the intent of the question. Yet, while Buddhist views and assumptions differ so markedly from our own, Buddhist texts reveal in their own way a preoccupation with the human condition as intent as that of our own hyperindividualistic, anthropocentric culture.
With such a shared fixation, it is inevitable that persons on both sides of the cultural boundaries will attempt to gain light from the other side on this subject, despite the incommensurability of each other's questions and answers. The present essay is one such attempt: not an East-West comparison, but an effort to address a Buddhist text from the perspective of cross-cultural philosophy (still, despite the name, a thoroughly Western enterprise) . Herein I will engage in dialogue the Buddha Nature Treatise (Chinese: Fo Hsing Luna; hereafter, BNT), a text representative of the Buddha nature tradition that contains an extensive discussion of the concept of Buddha nature, a crucial component, if not the most crucial component, of the East Asian Buddhist concept of human being. I will attempt to wrest from the text answers to two categories of questions-it s view of the ontological nature of human being and its view of the existential status of human beings. In the course of the discussion I will ask such questions as: What roles do individuality and freedom play in the view of human being portrayed in this text? What value, if any, does an individual human personality possess? Is there anything of value in human history? Clearly, the text itself does not speak in these terms; these are the questions of a twentieth-century, philosophically inclined American. In order to bridge the cultural gap, I will first give a summary account of the text's concept of Buddha nature in its own terms and in its own format. Then, acknowledging that the text itself neither speaks this language nor shares my concerns, I will put my questions to the text and attempt to extract from the text its implications for the subject of my concern. In other words, I cannot claim that the author of the BNT does make the statements I will give as responses to my questions about human being, but I do claim that these views are implicit in and follow from the statements he does make about Buddha nature. Granting that human freedom requires us to expect the unexpected, nonetheless, I believe that if the author of the BNT were here today and could engage in dialogue with me, as long as my interlocutor remained consistent, something close to the views I will articulate in the course of this essay would emerge. (King, "Buddha Nature and the Concept of Person," 151–52)
Emulating Never Disrespectful Bodhisattva
The Quest of the Monk Sōō to Practice Revering Buddha-Nature
The "marathon monks" of Japan are one of the iconic images of Japanese Buddhism, familiar to people the world over. These monks walk excruciating mountain circuits on Mount Hiei near Kyoto and Mount Kinpu in Nara Prefecture for a summer retreat of one hundred days. A handful in the posar period have performed the insufferable thousand-day version of this retreat, and also completed additional ascetic practices to gain the title of Great Acarya. Having achieved the humanly impossible, they are sometimes referred to as living buddhas.Hagiographic sources tell us that the founder of this practice, the Tendai monk Sōō (831-918), was motivated to seek enlightenment when as a novice monk he studied the part of the Lotus Sutra that tells the story of Never Disrespectful Bodhisattva. Sōō set his heart on emulating Never Disrespectful's way of practice, walking about making obeisances to other people as future buddhas. Unfortunately, Sōō's responsibilities to look after his teacher, and the daily task of going into the mountains to harvest anise-tree leaves for the offerings at the monastery's central hall, prevented him from dedicating himself solely to the reverence of other people's buddha-nature. According to tradition, however, Sōō's daily forays into the mountain became the origin of today's marathon-monk practice, in which ascetic monks revere the shrines of Buddhist deities and places where Japanese divinities abide in the mountains. It is often said that the marathon monk's true object of reverence is the buddha-nature of the natural world.
The Lotus Sutra's Never Disrespectful Bodhisattva is an archetype of respect for the inherent dignity of sentient beings. As told in chapter 20 of the Lotus Sutra, one time in the past there was a monk who did not practice by chanting sutras but instead went around making obeisance to every person he met, telling them, "I would never dare to disrespect you, because surely you are all to become buddhas!" As the reader can probably anticipate, the Lotus Sutra tells us that Never Disrespectful was oftentimes ridiculed, even physically attacked, but he bore it all patiently and through this practice not only purified his mind and body but also transformed the hearts and minds of the people around him. The Lotus Sutra tells us that performing this practice leads to quickly attaining the Buddha Way. (Scarangello, "Buddha-Nature (1)," 28-29) (Read entire article here)
In the last installment of this column we explored the concept of buddha-nature—its meaning, the Lotus Sutra's teaching of revering buddha-nature, and how Buddhists can reveal the buddha-nature of themselves and others by demonstrating respect for people and discovering their goodness. This time we will consider another way of realizing buddha-nature that is inspired by the stories of the Lotus Sutra. Rissho Kosei-kai members speak of awakening to buddha-nature as attaining the conviction that both oneself and others are, in the allegorical language of the Lotus Sutra, "children of the Buddha." Rev. Nikkyo Niwano, the founder of Rissho Kosei-kai, held that feelings of worthlessness thwarted people's ability to improve their own lives and brought them much suffering, and for this reason he employed the sutra's allegory of the parent-child relationship to help people see themselves as future buddhas and heirs to all the qualities that the Buddha Shakyamuni possessed. The belief that living beings are children of the Buddha also encourages the appreciation of all human life. As members of the human family, all people are our brothers and sisters, possessing the same inherent dignity and human potential as the Buddha. Today some people may not be entirely comfortable with the gendered language of the Lotus Sutra's allegory, but a close reading of the text can open pathways to an understanding appropriate to contemporary society and twenty-first century social norms. (Scarangello, "Buddha-Nature (2)," 35) (Read the entire article here)
In this chapter I will look into interpretations of buddha-nature starting with the Sublime Continuum (Uttaratantra, ca. fourth century), the first commentarial treatise focused on this subject. I will then present its role(s) in Mahāyāna Buddhism in general, and in the interpretations of Yogācāra and Madhyamaka in particular. Next I will discuss the role of buddha-nature as a key element in the theory and practice of Buddhist tantra, which will lead into a discussion of this doctrine in light of pantheism ("all is God"). Thinking of buddha-nature in terms of pantheism can help bring to light significant dimensions of this strand of Buddhist thought. (Duckworth, introduction, 235)
This article is not concerned with whether buddha-nature and tathāgatagarbha thought is actually deleterious to critical philosophical work. Rather, the concern is to demonstrate that, far from embracing buddha-nature doctrine, the eighth-century founders of Southern Chan had serious concerns with it. Evidence for this is found in: (1) the writings of Shenhui, notably in his opposition to the doctrine of the "buddha-nature of insentient objects" (wuqing foxing 無情佛性); and (2) the Platform Scripture of the Sixth Patriarch (Liuzu tanjing 六祖壇經), particularly in the variant versions of Huineng's famous "enlightenment verse." Thus the Southern School may be viewed as a forerunner of the Critical Buddhist anti-dhātuvāda polemics. The article closes with comments on the ongoing problems Chinese Buddhist exegetes had in marrying the metaphysical monism of Yogācāra and tathāgatagarbha teachings with the anti-foundationalist thrust of Madhyamaka and Prajñāpāramitā literature.
Comparing the Sanskrit fragments and the Ratnagotravibhāga, which quotes the Mahāparinirvāṇa-sūtra (that is the Mahāparinirvāṇa-mahāsūtra), the original Sanskrit word fóxìng is buddhadhātu, tathāgatadhātu or tathāgatagarbha. Takasaki Jikidō's research on the tathāgatagarbha theory led him to conclude that the Mahāparinirvāṇa-mahāsūtra is the first known text in which the word buddhadhātu is used in this meaning.'"`UNIQ--ref-00000B8E-QINU`"'
In the fifth century A.D., Buddhism began to extricate itself from its quasi-Daoist pigeonhole by clarifying definitive differences between Buddhist and Daoist thought, shedding Daoist vocabulary and literary styles while developing new distinctively Buddhist terminology and genres. Curiously, despite the fact that Mahāyāna Buddhism had few adherents in Central Asia and was outnumbered by other Buddhist schools in India as well, in China Mahāyāna became the dominant form of Buddhism, so much so that few pejoratives were as stinging to a fellow Buddhist as labelling him ‘Hīnayāna’ (literally ‘Little Vehicle,’ a polemical term for non-Mahāyānic forms of Buddhism). By the sixth century, the Chinese had been introduced to a vast array of Buddhist theories and practices representing a wide range of Indian Buddhist schools. As the Chinese struggled to master these doctrines it became evident that, despite the fact that these schools were all supposed to express the One Dharma (Buddha’s Teaching), their teachings were not homogenous, and were frequently incommensurate.
By the end of the sixth century, the most pressing issue facing Chinese Buddhists was how to harmonize the disparities between the various teachings. Responses to this issue produced the Sinitic Mahāyāna schools, that is, Buddhist schools that originated in China rather than India. The four Sinitic schools are Tiantai, Huayan, Chan and Pure Land (Jingtu). Issues these schools share in common include Buddha-nature, mind, emptiness, tathāgatagarbha, expedient means (upāya), overcoming birth and death (saṃsāra), and enlightenment. (Source: Routledge Encyclopedia of Philosophy, Vol. 1)distinctive view of ultimate truth (don dam bden pa; paramārthasatya) and propagated this view widely and earned much scorn for it, leading to one of the most controversial doctrinal-sectarian disputes in Tibetan Buddhist history. His explication of other-emptiness, which he equates with the ultimate truth, is deemed radical and wholly unacceptable by many of his contemporaries and later Tibetan scholars because it stands in sharp contrast to the mainstream fourteenth-century and early-fifteenth-century Tibetan interpretations of self-emptiness, the notion that all phenomena including ultimate truth do not exist inherently. The
self-emptiness interpretations are based primarily on Indie sources such as the Prajñāpāramitāsūtras, Nāgārjuna's (c. 200) Madhyamakakārikā, and Candrakīrti's (c. 570-640) Madhyamakāvatāra. In contrast, Dolpopa generally does not claim that middle wheel treatises (’khor lo bar pa’i gzhung) such as the Prajñāpāramitāsūtras are the fundamental sources for his presentation of an other-emptiness view. Rather, he bases his formulation of other-emptiness on tantric sources such as the Kālacakra,2 last wheel suūtras {'khor lo tha ma’i mdo) such as Saṃdhinirmocanasūtra,3 and Indic commentarial sources4 traditionally credited to figures such as Maitreya, Asaṅga (c. 300), and Vasubandhu (c. 300).
As a prominent fourteenth-century Tibetan doxographer, Dolpopa, however, does not repudiate self-emptiness per se; rather, he speaks of two types of emptiness5 that have separate referent points. For him, self-emptiness refers only to conventional phenomena such as tables, chairs,
and negative defilements that do not inherently exist6 or that are empty of their own entities. Dolpopa argues that since conventional phenomena cannot withstand analysis, in that their individual entities are essentially empty or deconstructed, as the existence of their nature is thoroughly investigated, they are empty of inherent existence. Therefore, he claims
that self-emptiness is not ultimate truth.7
On the other hand, he passionately demonstrates that other-emptiness exists inherently and ultimately. Furthermore, it is identified with the tathâgata-essence (de bzhin gshegs pa’i snying po, tathdgatagarbha or buddha-nature (sangs rgyas kyi rigs; buddhagotra) endowed with enlightened qualities that exists in all beings. Dolpopa argues that this form of emptiness is not empty of its own entity, since it ultimately and permanently exists. Also, ultimate truth is empty of all conventional phenomena that are antithetical to ultimately existent other-emptiness. So, while self-emptiness, which he refers to as "empty-emptiness" (stong pa’i stong pa), is primarily taught in the Prajñāpāramitāsūtras of the middle wheel teachings, it is not ultimate truth, as it is empty of its own entity and it is not free from conceptual thought. On the other hand, other-emptiness, which he dubs "non-empty-emptiness" (mi stong pa’i stong pa), while not primarily taught in the Prajñāpāramitāsūtras, is delineated in last wheel teachings of the Buddha, such as Tathāgatagarbhasūtra, Śrīmālādevīsūtra, and others to refer to the naturally enlightened buddha-nature that is empty of all conventional phenomena. This is Dolpopa’s position on the two types of emptiness and the hierarchy of Mahāyāna literature in a nutshell and much of the discourse that follows on other-emptiness in the history of Tibetan Buddhist scholasticism has its roots in Dolpopa’s doctrinal formulation of other-emptiness vis-à-vis self-emptiness.
While Dolpopa certainly gets the well-deserved credit for making other-emptiness "a place of fundamental importance in the expression of
his philosophy"8 in Tibet, his controversial interpretation of Mahāyāna texts and the relative early availability of his writings to international scholars has perhaps led some to assume that Dolpopa’s thought is more original than it really was. Fortunately, the recent release of dozens of Kadam (bka’ gdams) volumes of previously unknown philosophical texts that predate Dolpopa allows us to reconsider this issue. Among the new texts that might be pertinent to a reconstruction of the early history of other-emptiness discourse in Tibet is the writing of Rinchen (rin chen ye shes, 13th-14th c.) in conjunction with the previously available Buton’s (bu ston rin chen grub, 1290-1364) Precious Garland of Rebuttals (’phrin yig gi lan rin po che’i phreng ba).9 I argue that Dolpopa’s unique doctrinal views with respect to ultimate truth and their related Indie sources are found in Rinchen’s doctrinal formulation of Mahāyāna literature. Furthermore, there is a good reason to argue that Dolpopa’s unique views were directly influenced by the Kadam scholar.10 Therefore, in this article, I analyze their points of convergence and divergence on the issues of buddha-nature,
I do not intend here to try to resolve all of the many questions involved in determining the author of the AFM (such an undertaking is well beyond the scope of a short paper), but I would like to address an argument that Professor Lai raised in the first of his articles—namely his contention that the AFM's exposition of the relationship of hsin (mind) and nien (thought, thought-moment) bears such an "unmistakable sinitic stamp" that it must have been authored in China. I will try to show that the AFM's central conception of an "unmoved," pure mind (hsin) existing as the basis of the deluded movement of thoughts (nien) has an important Indian precedent in the cittaprakṛti and ayoniśomanaskāra notions of the Ratnagotravibhāga-mahāyānottaratantraśāstra (hereafter referred to as the RGV), a text with which the AFM's author may well have been familiar. I do not intend this as a criticism of Professor Lai's research—the parallels he finds between Chinese thought regarding hsin and nien prior to the period of the Six Dynasties and the elucidation of these notions in the AFM deserve serious attention. I simply would like to show that similar parallels—if not direct textual influences—exist between the AFM and the Indian-composed RGV, so that there is no compelling reason to conclude that the AFM theory of mind (hsin) and thoughts (nien) demonstrates Chinese authorship. (Grosnick, "Cittaprakṛti and Ayoniśomanaskāra in the Ratnagotravibhāga," 35–36)
Critical Buddhism was inevitable. That it was given voice by prominent Japanese scholars noted for their work in non-East Asian Buddhism was also inevitable. That it has provoked strong, even hostile, reactions was inevitable as well. Inevitable means that the causes and conditions that gave rise to Critical Buddhism can be analyzed and understood to show that it has a context, a history, and a necessity. Critical Buddhism is necessary. Thinking about what arises through causes and conditions, especially in terms of how that impacts on cultural and social realities, is a principal component of both Critical Buddhism and Buddhism properly practiced.
This essay will examine some—but certainly not all—of the factors that have contributed to Critical Buddhism. Some arguments and observations will be offered that, while not retellings from the writings of the Critical Buddhists, run parallel to them. These parallels, which I offer as supplements, recast some of their arguments and focus on issues and areas germane to their undertaking. After discussing the inevitability of Critical Buddhism in the context of twentieth-century Japanese Buddhist scholarship, I will turn to some of the events that took place in China during the seventh and eighth centuries that were decisive for the prevalence in East Asia of the type(s) of Buddhism they criticize. This will be followed by a critique of what has happened to the notion of enlightenment in East Asian Buddhism, particularly in the Ch’an and Zen traditions, with reference to the problem of hongaku (original enlightenment) and the authority of lineage transmission. Then, stepping back into a wider context, I will suggest that, far from being the idiosyncratic, misguided departure depicted by its detractors, Critical Buddhism is the inevitable revisiting of a theme that has been central to Buddhism since its onset. All the above points concern inevitabilities: the trajectory and accomplishments of Japanese scholarship in this century coupled with the crisis of Buddhism in the modern world; the decisive historical events that have established a pervasive ideological underpinning in East Asian Buddhism that Matsumoto and Hakamaya have labeled dhātu-vāda, combined with the exclusion of other, counteracting Buddhist tendencies found elsewhere in the Buddhist world, such as Buddhist logic; the undermining of certain foundational Buddhist notions, such as enlightenment, as a result of or in tandem with the growth of dhātu-vāda ideology; the persistent self-criticism and self-reevaluation that Buddhism has subjected itself to, often glorifying the critique and the critics (Nāgārjuna being the most famous example)—all these points have made it inevitable that Critical Buddhism appear today in Japan (and elsewhere). Finally, while examining an aspect of Matsumoto’s critique of The Record of Lin-chi, I will suggest some tactical distinctions that should be considered by those critical of Critical Buddhism (Lusthaus, "Critical Buddhism and Returning to the Sources," 30–31)
drawn primarily from two of the four major orders of Tibetan Buddhism:
- the old order called Nying-ma-ba,[2] which reached its full development in the fourteenth century with the scholar-yogi Long-chen-rap-jam[3]
- a highly scholastic order called Ge-luk-ba,[4] founded by the fourteenth century scholar-yogi Dzongka-ba.[5]
Long-chen-rap-jam was born in 1308 Do-drong[6] in south central Tibet, received ordination at Samyay[7] Monastery, and studied the doctrines of both the old and new schools. A great scholar, he became abbot of Sam-yay Monastery early in his life but retired from that position to live in the mountains. Receiving the full corpus of the teachings of the Old Translation School of Nying-ma, he wrote prolifically, and even when he was exiled for a decade to Bhutan for his closeness with the opponents of the ruling power, he established and restored monasteries.[8]
Dzong-ka-ba was born in 1357 in the northeastern province of Tibet called Am-do,[9] now included by the occupying Chinese Communists not in the Tibetan Autonomous Region but in Ch'ing-hai Province. He studied the new and old schools extensively, and developed his own tradition called Ge-luk-ba. Dzongka- ba and his followers established a system of education centered especially in large universities, eventually in three areas of Tibet but primarily in Hla-sa, the capital, which in some ways was for the Tibet cultural region what Rome is for the Catholic Church. For five centuries, young men came from all over the Tibetan cultural region to these large Tibetan universities to study (I say "men" because women were, for the most part, excluded from the scholastic culture). Until the Communist takeovers, these students usually returned to their own countries after completing their degrees.
Valley sounds are the long, broad
tongue.
Mountain colors are not other than
the unconditioned body.
Eighty-four thousand verses are
heard through the night.
What can I say about this in the
future?
Let’s take a look at the poem, using the above translation by Kazuaki Tanahashi (Treasury of the True Dharma Eye: Zen Master Dōgen’s Shōbō Genzō [Shambhala, 2012], 86)
Valley sounds are the long, broad tongue. "Valley sounds" are the sounds of a stream.
"Long, broad tongue" refers to the Buddha and his teachings, known as the Dharma. Restated unpoetically: natural phenomena such as streams are capable of expressing the highest truth. (Read entire article here)
First, rejecting all existing forms of Buddhism in Japan as unauthentic, he attempted to introduce and establish what he believed to be the genuine Buddhism, based on his own realization which he attained in Sung China under the guidance of the Zen Master Ju-ching (Nyojō, 1163-1228). He called it "the Buddha Dharma directly transmitted from the Buddha and patriarchs." He emphasized zazen"`UNIQ--ref-00001142-QINU`"'(seated meditation) as being "the right entrance to the Buddha Dharma" in the tradition of the Zen schools in China since Bodhidharma, originating from Śākyamuni Buddha. Yet he strictly refused to speak of a "Zen sect," to say nothing of a "Sōtō sect," that he was later credited with founding. For Dōgen was concerned solely with the "right Dharma," and regarded zazen as its "right entrance." "Who has used the name 'Zen sect'? No buddha or patriarch spoke of a 'Zen sect.' You should realize it is a devil that speaks of 'Zen sect.' Those who pronounce a devil's appellation must be confederates of the devil, not children of the Buddha.",'"`UNIQ--ref-00001143-QINU`"'He called himself "the Dharma transmitter Shamon Dōgen who went to China"'"`UNIQ--ref-00001144-QINU`"'with strong conviction that he had attained the authentic Dharma that is directly transmitted from buddha to buddha, and that he should transplant it on Japanese soil. Thus he rejected the idea of mappo"`UNIQ--ref-00001145-QINU`"', i.e., the last or degenerate Dharma, an idea with wide acceptance in the Japanese Buddhism of his day. It may not be too much to say of Dōgen that just as Bodhidharma transmitted the Buddha Dharma to China, he intended to transmit it to Japan.
Secondly, though Dōgen came to a realization of the right Dharma under the guidance of a Chinese Zen master whom he continued to revere throughout his life, the understanding of the right Dharma is unique to Dogen. With religious awakening and penetrating insight, Dōgen grasped the Buddha Dharma in its deepest and most authentic sense. In doing so, he dared to reinterpret the words of former patriarchs, and even the sutras themselves. As a result, his idea of the right Dharma presents one of the purest forms of Mahayana Buddhism, in which the Dharma that was realized in the Buddha's enlightenment reveals itself most profoundly. All of this, it is noteworthy, is rooted in Dōgen's own existential realization, which he attained in himself through long and intense seeking. Based on this idea of the right Dharma, he not only rejected, as stated above, all existing forms of Buddhism in Japan, but also severely criticized certain forms of Indian and Chinese Buddhism, though, it is true, he generally considered Buddhism in these two countries as more authentic than that in Japan.
The third reason Dōgen is unique in the history of Japanese Buddhism, is because of his speculative and philosophical nature. He was a strict practicer of zazen, who earnestly emphasized shikantaza"`UNIQ--ref-00001146-QINU`"', i.e., just sitting. His whole life was spent in rigorous discipline as a monk. He encouraged his disciples to do the same. Yet he was endowed with keen linguistic sensibility and a philosophical mind. His main work, entitled Shōbōgenzō"`UNIQ--ref-00001147-QINU`"', "A Treasury of the Right Dharma Eye," perhaps unsurpassable in its philosophical speculation, is a monumental document in Japanese intellectual history. In Dōgen, we find a rare combination of religious insight and philosophical ability. In this respect, he may be well compared with Thomas Aquinas, born twenty five years after him.
He wrote his main work, Shōbōgenzō, in Japanese, in spite of the fact that leading Japanese Buddhists until then had usually written their major works in Chinese. Dōgen made penetrating speculations and tried to express the world of the Buddha Dharma in his mother tongue by mixing Chinese Buddhist and colloquial terms freely in his composition. The difficult and unique style of his Japanese writing is derived from the fact that, in expressing his own awakening, he never used conventional terminology, but employed a vivid, personal style grounded in his subjective speculations. Even when he used traditional Buddhist phrases, passages, etc., he interpreted them in unusual ways in order to express the Truth as he understood it. In Dōgen, the process of the search for and realization of the Buddha Dharma and the speculation on and expression of that process are uniquely combined.'"`UNIQ--ref-00001148-QINU`"'
In this paper I shall discuss Dōgen's idea of Buddha nature, which may be regarded as a characteristic example of his realization. (Abe, "Dōgen on Buddha Nature", 28–30)The present paper offers just such crucial material: eight folios from a Sanskrit manuscript of MSABh from Tibet. This is the first part of a series of studies dealing with the subject.
For over thirty years I have been encountering a motif or set of motifs in Japanese culture that is, outside of folklore and the children's story, virtually unheard of in European literature. Japanese literature and theater are rife with stories in which the protagonists are not human but are, rather, plants, trees, animals, or supernatural beings. For many Westerners, such tales seem indicative of some kind of arrested development in the Japanese psyche, as if their culture had failed to become modern or, worse, "grow up."
When I ask my Japanese colleagues about this, most see no problem at all: both Shinto and Buddhism acknowledge that sentience can exist across a broad spectrum of life, from the simplest organic structures to supernatural entities that, though invisible, may direct our lives in ways we still don’t understand. Arguably, the Japanese themselves feel a kinship with these other entities to a degree that many people in Europe or North America do not, though such a sensibility is common among indigenous peoples around the world. As unique as they are, human beings do not occupy any God-given, privileged place in this scheme. Th e word animism is brought out to explain much of this, though the term itself is vaguely used.
I began to realize that a radically different metaphysical construct of the world gives rise to a distinctive poetics and dramaturgy, and that typical EuroAmerican critical tools fail to adequately interpret even Japanese discursive texts, to say nothing of many of their greatest works of poetry, fiction, and drama. (Poulton, "Flowers of Sentience," 20) (Read the entire article here)
Here, we give the tex of the Tattvasańgraha along with the Tattvasańgrahapañjikā in full. Unlike in the previous fragment, our commentary is brief, and due to its fragmentary nature, it is hard to understand. Having the Tattvasańgrahapañjikā next to our text greatly helps in reconstructing and understanding our text. (Harimoto and Kano, introduction, 5)
Notes:
Shakya Chokden articulated his position on other-emptiness in works written during the last thirty years of his life. In those works he advocated both Alīkākāravāda Yogācāra and Niḥsvabhāvavāda Madhyamaka systems as equally valid forms of Madhyamaka, regarding the former as a system of other-emptiness and the latter as a system of self-emptiness. Instead of approaching the two systems as irreconcilable, he presented them as equally valid and effective, emphasized their respective strengths, and promoted one or the other depending on context and audience. Partly for these reasons, his own philosophical outlook does not neatly fall into the categories of other-emptiness or self-emptiness, and placing him squarely into the camp of “followers of other-emptiness” (gzhan stong pa)—as some advocates of later sectarian traditions did—does not do justice to him as a thinker. (Source: DigitalCommons@University of Nebraska - Lincoln)
The present report overviews further findings from the set of miscellaneous texts in Śāradā palm-leaves from Zha lu ri phug. The palm-leaf set was first reported by Kano Kazuo (2008), who utilized nine folios in two photographic images (Sferra Cat. MT 42 II/1& 2) preserved at the Istituto Italiano per l’Africa e l’Oriente (IsIAO) in Rome with the help of Francesco Sferra. We have known on the basis of catalogue descriptions that there are further folio images from the same set preserved in other institutes, viz. the China Tibetology Research Center (中国藏学研究中心, CTRC) and the China Ethnic Library (中国民族图书馆, CEL). In other words, the photographic images of the set have been scattered and separately preserved in the three institutes. Ye Shaoyong and Li Xuezhu have independently paid special attention to these materials and researched them.[1]
It was during a lunch break on 2 August 2012 on the occasion of the 5th Beijing International Seminar on Tibetan Studies at CTRC that the present authors (Ye, Li, Kano) met together and became aware of the fact that we were studying folios from one and the same collection. We quickly decided collaboration by unifying each one’s results and sharing all related materials (As for the CTRC material, we share transcription prepared by Li). After collecting the folios together, we have come to know the number of folios of the set as 87 in total, in which 46 folios are found in CTRC images (Sang De Cat. No. 100, [3], [5] = Luo Cat., 136ff., No. 44, [3], [5]) and 41 are found in CEL images (Wang Cat. No.10, 15, 16, 17). The nine leaves in IsIAO images as reported by Kano (2008) overlap with those in CEL (Wang Cat. 10, 16). These folios contain more than fifteen works, most of which are, unfortunately, incomplete, and the remaining folios are yet to be found. There are also folios yet to be identified among the available ones. In the present report, we shall provide a preliminary survey on the Śāradā folios and an update of the report of Kano (2008) by supplying further identifications. (Ye, Li, and Kano, introduction, 30–31)
Notes
1. See Ye 2012 and Li 2011.Buddha-nature comes to shape a Madhyamaka interpretation of emptiness in a positive light in a way that parallels its place in a Yogācāra interpretation (as a positive foundation of mind and reality). Buddha-nature supplements a Yogācāra theory of mind and reality by offering a positive alternative to a theory of consciousness that otherwise functions simply as the distorted cognitive structure of suffering. It thus is not only the potential for an awakened mind, but the cognitive content of awakening, too.
In Tibet we see the interpretation of buddha-nature converge with Mahāyāna doctrines in structurally parallel ways. Paired with buddha-nature, the doctrine of emptiness in Madhyamaka pivots from a “self-empty” lack of intrinsic nature to an “other-empty,” pure ground that remains. In narratives of disclosure characteristic of the doctrine of buddha-nature, we also see parallel shifts in the foundations of Yogācāra, as grounds of distortion like the basic consciousness, the dependent nature, and self-awareness are reinscribed into a causal story that takes place within a pure, gnostic ground.The Buddha’s statement “all that is conditioned'"`UNIQ--ref-0000034B-QINU`"' is impermanent!”'"`UNIQ--ref-0000034C-QINU`"' is known as one of The “Four Seals,” the cornerstone of all Buddhist traditions. In Buddhist logic this seal became the basis for the equation: “Whatever is conditioned is impermanent and whatever is impermanent is conditioned. Whatever is not conditioned is not impermanent and whatever is not impermanent is not conditioned.”
In Buddhism, the doctrine of the impermanence of conditioned entities is interwoven with the doctrine of causality. The fact that an entity is conditioned by previous causes and moments makes it subject to impermanence. The doctrine of impermanence was further refined into the doctrine of momentariness. This doctrine postulates a process of momentary arising and cessation on the micro level that happens so fast that it is perceived as a continuity.'"`UNIQ--ref-0000034D-QINU`"'
The following presentation will highlight different definitions and classifications of what the terms conditioned and impermanent might mean for a number of selected Tibetan Buddhist masters in their interpretations of the true nature of the mind. Their literary works are invariably based, directly or indirectly, upon Indian Buddhist śāstras translated into Tibetan.
The point of the exploration in general is to facilitate access to the insights of Tibetan Buddhist masters as they are formulated within the framework of a philosophical discussion. A characteristic feature of their statements is that they are not based on intellectual speculation, but on meditative experience.
Here, we will be concerned mainly with the interpretation of statements pertaining to this issue in two Indian śāstras, the Ratnagotravibhāga and the Madhyāntavibhāga, both attributed to Maitreya. However, as we will see, some of our Tibetan authors also draw on Indian works on Buddhist logic, epistemology, and ontology such as Dharmakīrti’s Pramāṇavārttika, Vasubandhu’s Abhidharmakośa, and Asaṅga’s Abhidharmasamuccaya. The latter texts were studied in the monastic colleges of Tibet in the form of simplified manuals that constitute their own literary genre known as “Collected Topics” (Bsdus grwa) and “Classifications of Mind” (blo rigs).'"`UNIQ--ref-0000034E-QINU`"'
In Buddhism, a mind conditioned by “actions” (karmasaṃkleśa) and “defilements” (kleśasaṃkleśa) is by definition a changeable mind—or one could even say—an unstable mind. As different mental factors make their appearance in our minds, our mental states change. Over the course of a day, an ordinary mind experiences many different mental states or factors caused by various defilements. But what should we think about the ultimate nature of the mind?
The mind or mental state in which the ultimate nature of mind is experienced, is considered the goal of the Buddhist path. It is called the enlightened mind, the true nature that is revealed when kleśa (“defilements”) and karma have subsided. This observation leaves us with two fundamental questions: Is this ultimate nature also described as conditioned and impermanent? Second, if this is the case, why is ultimate nature described in such a way? I will return to these questions below.
In order to introduce the selected Tibetan authors and their works, it may be helpful to reiterate that the so-called “Empty in itself'"`UNIQ--ref-0000034F-QINU`"'-Empty of other”'"`UNIQ--ref-00000350-QINU`"' distinction that arose in Tibet is based on different interpretations of the nature of the mind or the so called “buddha-nature.” These interpretations stem from different readings of the seminal text for the presentation of the buddha-nature, the Ratnagotravibhāga (hereafter abbreviated as RGV). The Buddha nature teachings are traditionally associated with the so-called third turning of the wheel of the Dharma, which the “Empty of other” proponents as well as other thinkers assert to be the highest level of the Buddhist teachings, following the division of the Buddha’s teachings provided in the seventh chapter of the Saṃdhinirmocanasūtra into three stages or wheels of doctrine, the first two being classified as provisional and the third and final stage as definitive.'"`UNIQ--ref-00000351-QINU`"'
In the RGV the nature of the mind is described in a way that lends itself to various interpretations. More than fifty commentaries'"`UNIQ--ref-00000352-QINU`"' were written in Tibet based on this śāstra. Some were composed by authors classified as proponents of the “Empty in itself” philosophy and others by proponents of the “Empty of other” philosophy. The latter were often accused of interpreting the RGV’s statements too literally, taking the true nature of the mind to be a truly existent entity which was anathema to the Madhyamaka teachings based on the so-called second turning of the wheel of the Dharma. There was also the question of the qualities attributed to buddha-nature. If it contains qualities (as the RGV says it does) how can it be empty at the same time? The ontological status of the nature of the mind vis-à-vis the nature of emptiness is a central topic much discussed in the Tibetan tradition.
In this article, I will focus on explanations by selected authors, some of which have been classified as proponents of the “empty of other” philosophy. It is by now generally accepted that their works have been underrepresented, if not misrepresented, within the Tibetan scholastic tradition, partly as a consequence of the political persecution of the Jonang school. (Burchardi, "How Can a Momentary and Conditioned Mind Be Integral to Gzhan Stong?, 55–57)Unsurprisingly, the Buddha often expressed his appreciation of trees and other plants. According to one story in the Vinaya monastic code, a tree spirit appeared to him and complained that a monk had chopped down its tree. In response, the Buddha prohibited monastics from damaging trees or bushes, including cutting off limbs, picking flowers, or even plucking green leaves. One wonders what he would say about our casual destruction of whole ecosystems today.
We may also wonder about the larger pattern: why religious founders so often experience their spiritual transformation by leaving human society and going into the wilderness by themselves. Following his baptism, Jesus went into the desert, where he fasted for forty days and nights. Mohammed's revelations occurred when he retreated into a cave, where the archangel Gabriel appeared to him. The Khaggavisana Sutta (Rhinoceros Horn Sutra), one of the earliest in the Pali canon, encourages monks to wander alone in the forest, like a rhinoceros. Milarepa lived and practiced in a cave by himself for many years, as did many Tibetan yogis after him. Today, in contrast, most of us meditate inside buildings with screened windows, which insulate us from insects, the hot sun, and chilling winds. There are many advantages to this, of course, but is something significant also lost?
Although we normally relate to nature in a utilitarian way, the natural world is an interdependent community of living beings that invites us into a different kind of relationship. The implication is that withdrawing into it, especially by oneself, can disrupt our usual ways of seeing and open us up to an alternative experience. Does that also point to why we enjoy being in nature so much? We find it healing, even when we don't understand why or how, but clearly it has something to do with the fact that the natural world offers us a temporary escape from our instrumentalized lives. (Read the entire article here.)
A monk asked Zhaozhou: ‘‘Does a dog have buddha-nature?’’ Zhaozhou replied: ‘‘No.’’
This pithy exchange between an unidentified Buddhist monk and the Tang dynasty Chan master Zhaozhou Congshen (778–897) is perhaps the best-known example of a Chan gong’an, or ‘"public case." Although the passage occurs in a collection of Zhaozhou's sayings supposedly compiled by his disciples, its notoriety is due to a Song dynasty master, Wumen Huikai (1183–1260), who placed this exchange at the beginning of his famous gong’an collection, Gateless Barrier of the Chan Tradition (Chanzong wumen guan, 1228).[1] Wumen’s compilation, consisting of forty-four such exchanges and anecdotes accompanied by Wumen’s comments, is one of the most important works of Chan literature. And as the first case in Wumen’s collection, "Zhaozhou’s dog" became the single most influential gong’an in the Chinese Chan, Korean Son, and Japanese Zen traditions. It is often the first and sometimes the only gong’an assigned to monks, and many traditional commentators claim, following Wumen’s lead, that this single gong’an holds the key to all others.
Wumen’s work was neither the earliest nor the most comprehensive compilation of Chan cases. Indeed, the Gateless Barrier is relatively short and straightforward in comparison to two earlier collections, the Blue Cliff Record of Chan Master Foguo Yuanwu (Foguo Yuanwu Chanshi Biyan lu), published in 1128, and the Congrong Hermitage Record of the Commentaries by Old Wansong on the Case and Verse [Collection] by Reverend Jue of Tiantong [Mountain] (Wansong laoren pingzhang Tiantong Jue heshang songgu Congrongan lu), published in 1224. The cases that
make up these texts are each based on an individual anecdote, verbal exchange, or quandary known as the benze (original edict), to which has been added comments in prose and verse brushed by later masters. Whereas the Gateless Barrier contains forty-four such anecdotes accompanied by a brief comment and verse by Wumen, the Blue Cliff Record and Congrong Hermitage Record each contain one hundred cases including several layers of appended judgments, verses, and interlinear glosses. (The same "original edict" may appear in two or more collections, but the exegesis will invariably differ. More will be said about the structure of these
collections below.) Many more gong’an collections gained currency in China, and the Chan tradition would come to speak of seventeen hundred authoritative cases (although this number was probably not meant to be taken literally). By the end of the Song the gong’an had assumed a central role in the ideological, literary, and institutional identity of the Chan school.
Popular books on Chan and Zen Buddhism present gong’an as intentionally incoherent or meaningless. They are, it is claimed, illogical paradoxes or unsolvable riddles intended to frustrate and short-circuit the intellect in order to quell
thought and bring the practitioner to enlightenment. This understanding of gong’an is allied with a view of Chan as an iconoclastic and anti-intellectual tradition that rejects scripture, doctrine, philosophy, and indeed all forms of conceptual understanding in favor of unmediated or "pure" experience. Gong’an are intended, according to this view, not to communicate ideas so much as to induce a transformative experience. To grasp at the literal meaning of a Chan case is to
miss its point.
Recently scholars have begun to question the instrumental view of Chan that underlies this approach to Chan cases, arguing that it is based on a misreading of the historical and ethnographic record.[2] Chan ranks among the most ritualistic forms of Buddhist monasticism, and a master’s enlightenment is constituted within a prescribed set of institutional and ritual forms.[3] Moreover, the notion that Chan is designed to induce a nonconceptual or pure experience can be traced in part to late nineteenth- and early twentieth-century Japanese intellectuals such as D. T. Suzuki and Nishida Kitarō, who were culling from Western sources, notably William James.[4] The notion that Chan is anti-intellectual and repudiates "words and letters" is belied by the fact that the Chan tradition produced the largest literary corpus of any Buddhist school in East Asia.[5] This corpus consists in large part of "recorded sayings" (yulu) and "records of the transmission of the flame" (chuandenglu) texts—texts recounting the careers and teachings of past patriarchs from which the original edicts were drawn.
Scholars now appreciate that Chan is more complex than early apologists and enthusiasts cared to admit; it is no longer possible to reduce Chan practice and Chan literature to a mere means intended to engender a singular and ineffable
spiritual experience. Accordingly, scholars of Chan gong’an have begun to attend to the institutional context and literary history of the genre,[6] and one scholar has devoted an entire monograph to the folkloric themes that appear in a single case.[7] Be that as it may, little progress has been made in deciphering the doctrinal and exegetical intent of Chan gong’an; it would appear that scholars remain reluctant to treat gong’an as a form of exegesis at all. This reluctance may be due to the enduring legacy of an earlier apologetic mystification of the gong’an literature. The primary objective of this chapter is to demonstrate that such reluctance is misguided and that it is indeed possible to recover the original meaning and doctrinal purport of at least some of the cases. The task is not easy, however, as the cases are philosophically subtle and hermeneutically sophisticated, and the authors of the collections delighted in obscure allusions, clever puns, and deft wordplay. (Sharf, "How to Think with Chan Gong’an," 205–7)
Notes
My thanks to Charlotte Furth and Elizabeth Horton Sharf for their comments and
suggestions on earlier drafts of this chapter and to Ling Hon Lam for his meticulous
editorial attention.
1. T 2005:48.292c20–24. The exchange is also featured in case no. 18 of the Wansong
Laoren pingzhang Tiantong Jue heshang songgu Congrongan lu, T 2004:48.238b21–39a28. Textual details concerning Zhaozhou’s recorded sayings (Zhaozhou Zhenji Chanshi yulu) will be found below.
2. Faure, The Rhetoric of Immediacy and Chan Insights and Oversights; Foulk, "Myth,
Ritual, and Monastic Practice"; Sharf, "The Zen of Japanese Nationalism," "Whose Zen?"
and "Experience."
3. Foulk and Sharf, "On the Ritual Use"; Sharf, "Ritual."
4. Sharf, "Whose Zen?"
5. On the sometimes controversial place of literary endeavors in the Song monastic
institution, see esp. Gimello, "Mārga and Culture"; and Keyworth, "Transmitting the
Lamp," 281–324.
6. See esp. Heine and Wright, eds., The Kōan.
- Hu-jan nien-ch'i, ming wei wu-mingc
- Suddenly a thought rose; this is called ignorance
This idea has baffled many modern scholars as it has traditionally charmed many a Far Eastern Buddhist. What is meant by "suddenly"? What constitutes "thought"? The most recent translator of the AFM, Yoshito Hakeda, has appended this remark to the passage:
- There has been much discussion on the meaning of hu-jan in connection with the origin of ignorance, mainly on the basis of interpretations proposed by Fa-tsang,d (1) that ignorance alone becomes the source of defiled states of being. It is the subtlest; no other state of being can be the origin of this. It is therefore said in the text that ignorance emerges suddenly. (2) Commenting on a quotation from a sūtra, he says "suddenly" means "beginninglessly," since the passage quoted makes clear that there is no other state of being prior to the state of ignorance. (3) The word "suddenly" is not used from the stand point of time, but is used to account for the emergence of ignorance without any instance of inception.
- . . . A monk of Minge China, glosses "suddenly" as pu-chüeh,f which may mean "unconsciously" or "without being aware of the reason."
- . . . If hu-jan is a translation of a Sanskrit word, the original word asasmāt may be posited. Akasmāt means "without reason" or "accidentally."'"`UNIQ--ref-00001DB5-QINU`"'
I have been able to trace a hitherto unidentified quotation in the Ratnagotravibhāga(vrtti) (RGV(V)) to the Tathāgatagarbhasūtra (TGS). The sentence in question occurs in the RGV(V) in the context of the explanation of the three svabhāvas of the dhātu, viz., dharmakāya, tathatā and gotra, the three key terms of verses 1.27-28, which constitute the central section of the RGVV. The quotation is part of the commentary on the third aspect, i.e., gotra, and is placed after the last of the three interpretations of the compound tathāgatagarbha. In this context the dhātu of living beings, i.e., their buddha essence, has
just been declared to mean "cause" (hetu).
Great is the power of memory, exceeding great, O my God—an inner chamber large and boundless (penetrale amplum et infinitum)! Who has plumbed its depths? Yet it is a poer of mine, and apertains unto my nature; nor do I myself grasp all that I am (nec ego ipse capio totum, quod sum). . . . A great admiration rises upon me; astonishment seizes me. And men go forth to wonder at the heights of mountains, the huge waves of the sea, the broad flow of the rivers, the extent of the ocean, and the courses of the stars, and omit to wonder at themselves (et reliquunt se ipsos).
This concern with the memoria, and its function in the human mind, was to be one of the most important spiritual legacies Augustine would leave to the Latin, and especially monastic, Middle Ages. In fact, it would be possible to say without much exaggeration that the entire history of monastic spirituality in the Latin Middle Ages (at least until approximately A.D. 1200) is the record of the development of understanding of the power of memoria. A central reason for this is that memoria was described as a faculty that worked by recalling the human person to the knowledge and intuition that they were created in the image and likeness of God. Thus the words of Genesis 1:26–27 stand at the beginning of an entire spiritual tradition: "God said let us make man in our own image, in the likeness of ourselves. . . . God created man in the image of himself, in the image of God he created him, male and female he created them." Augustine frequently exhorts himself, as in Confessions 7.10, to "return to myself" (redite ad memet ipsum). This was also the continual refrain of the Cistercian author of the twelfth century, William of St. Thierry, in his Golden Epistle, and it serves as one of the themes on which he builds this work. William's treatise, folloing in the path of Augustine, is a call to discover the image and likeness of God in the individual person.
The contributions to this volume were presented at the gzhan stong panel organized by Klaus-Dieter Mathes (University of Vienna) at the Twelfth Seminar of the International Association for Tibetan Studies in Vancouver, Canada, in August 2010. Its full name was "The History of the Rang stong/Gzhan stong Distinction from its Beginning through the Ris-med Movement." The contributors were, besides the organizer, Karl Brunnhölzl (Tsadra Foundation), Anne Burchardi (The University of Copenhagen and The Royal Library of Denmark), Douglas Duckworth (Temple University), David Higgins (University of Vienna), Yaroslav Komarovski (University of Nebraska-Lincoln), and Tsering Wangchuk (University of San Francisco). It is regretted that Karl Brunnhölzl and Douglas Duckworth were unable to include their work in the present publication. (Mathes, introduction, 4–5)
Notes:
1. See Brunnhölzl’s Prajñāpāramitā, Indian "gzhan stong pas," and the Beginning of Tibetan gzhan stong; and Mathes’s "Tāranātha's ‘Twenty-One Differences with Regard to the Profound Meaning’—Comparing the Views of the Two gŹan stoṅ Masters Dol po pa and Śākya mchog ldan," and "The gzhan stong Model of Reality. Some More Material on Its Origin, Transmission, and Interpretation."In this chapter I examine some medieval Buddhist doctrines that, at least on the surface, seem similarly strange and implausible. Indeed, some of the Buddhist notions to be examined below were perplexing to audiences in their own day, much as discussions of brain transplants are perplexing to us today. On the Indian side, I will begin with the notion of nirodha-samāpatti, a meditative state akin to a vegetative coma in which all consciousness has ceased. I will then turn to a class of beings known as “beings without conception” (asaṃjñika-sattvāḥ), denizens of a celestial realm who are devoid of sentience, thought, and consciousness. In both cases, an insentient state seems to be followed by (or gives rise to) a sentient state, which poses serious challenges to the classical Buddhist understanding of karma. On the Chinese side, we will consider the debate over the buddha-nature of insentient objects—can an insentient thing such as a wall or roof tile attain buddhahood and preach the dharma? This doctrine too could be (and was) seen as a threat to the coherence of Buddhist teachings.
Modern scholars tend to approach such doctrines as the products of intelligent but misguided scholastics struggling to make sense of the universe, all the while hobbled by the dictates of tradition, scripture, and a prescientific understanding of the cosmos. They are the proverbial schoolmen calculating how many angels can dance on the head of a pin. But I would suggest another perspective. Such theories, I argue, serve as frames of reference for pondering issues of personal identity, ethical responsibility, sentience, and death. Given that we ourselves are still far from clarity on these issues, and given that we too devise fanciful thought experiments to help gain a conceptual toehold, perhaps it is time to look afresh at what the Buddhists might have been up to.[11] (Sharf, preamble, 144-45)
Notes
11. For an articulate defense of Buddhist scholasticism, along different lines, see Paul John Griffiths, “Scholasticism: The Possible Recovery of an Intellectual Practice,” in Scholasticism: Cross-Cultural and Comparative Perspectives, ed. José Ignacio Cabezón (Albany: State University of New York Press, 1998), 201–35.As a summary of the Trikāya doctrine this is, of course, oversimplified. We are dealing here with a complex theory which underwent many accretions and refinements, as Buddhists continued down through the centuries to speculate on the nature of Buddhahood, on the nature of reality, and on the relationship between them.'"`UNIQ--ref-000014D1-QINU`"' It is hardly surprising, then, that attempts to plot the course of such arcane speculations have not always been entirely successful in reaching a clear consensus, although the arguments advanced, even in recent writing on the subject, do tend to follow similar lines. A good example of this is the authoritative treatment by Nagao, "On the Theory of Buddha-body (Buddha-kāya)," first published in English in 1973.'"`UNIQ--ref-000014D2-QINU`"' Generally Nagao distinguishes three phases: an initial one-body theory, a two-body theory, and the three-body theory elaborated by the Yogācāras. According to him (p. 104), the two-body theory (i.e., rūpa-kāya and dharma-kāya) "became stabilized in a variety of earlier sūtras,'"`UNIQ--ref-000014D3-QINU`"' and in early Mahāyāna sūtras, the Prajñāpāramitā, the Saddharmapuṇḍarīka, and so forth. The rūpa-kāya is the Buddha seen in a human body, while the dharma-kāya is the Buddha's personality seen in the dharma or dharma-nature." Elsewhere (pp. 106–7) Nagao states that the two-body theory was the one held "until the time of the Prajñāpāramitā Sūtra and the time of Nāgārjuna," even though the raw materials for the third body, the saṃbhoga-kāya, were also to hand before the time of Asaṅga and Vasubandhu, as a consequence of the bodhisattva-conccpt and the idea that a bodhisattva's performance of meritorious actions produced a body which was their manifest "reward." Nagao's article contains many valuable observations, but, as we shall see, some of its assertions are rather too imprecise, both chronologically and philosophically, to be of much use in unravelling the early development of the doctrine at issue. Another recent treatment of the subject by Makransky (1989) also describes certain features of the putative earlier two-body theory before the Yogācāras remodelled it (see esp. pp. 51–53), and distinguishes it sharply from the previous Mainstream'"`UNIQ--ref-000014D4-QINU`"' (in this case, Sarvāstivādin) formulations. This analysis, too, is open to question in certain respects, as I shall show. In these and other articles on the subject'"`UNIQ--ref-000014D5-QINU`"' there is a general tendency to postulate a one-body/two-body/three-body progression, in terms of which a single personality is divided into a physical and a "spiritual" body, and then the physical body is further split in two, yielding the final complement of three. Some writers, however, point to the existence of three bodies even in the Pali sources, what one scholar has called the "primitive triad," i.e., pūti- or cātur-mahābhūtika-kāya, mano-maya-kāya, and dhamma-kāya.'"`UNIQ--ref-000014D6-QINU`"' The first is the corruptible physical body formed out of the four elements, while the second is the mind-made body with which the Buddha visits the celestial realms (believed by some to be a forerunner of the saṃbhoga-kāya); the third is the so-called "Dhamma-body." Now, although both these ways of approaching the subject—the assumption of a linear process, and the belief that the Pāli Canon contains an embryonic Trikāya schema—raise certain difficulties, I do not propose in this paper to discuss the evolution of the Trikāya theory in its entirety, since that would be a mammoth undertaking. What I wish to do is address one aspect of it only, viz., the early development of the idea of dharma-kāya, in the hope that clarifying this will open the way to a better understanding of Mahāyāna buddhology as a whole. (Harrison, introduction, 44–46)
Read more here . . .
The earliest masters of this period who quote or refer to the RGV are Maitrīpa (1007/1010-?), Jñānaśrīmitra (ca. 980–1030), and Ratnākaraśānti (late 10th to early 11th century).'"`UNIQ--ref-00001BCF-QINU`"' Maitrīpa was the common disciple of Jñānaśrīmitra and Ratnākaraśānti, and, according to a story in Tibetan documents, rediscovered a Sanskrit manuscript of the RGV in a stūpa in Magadha.
If this rediscovery story is a historical event, Jñānaśrīmitra and Ratnākaraśānti would have received the teaching of the RGV from their common disciple Maitrīpa; but we have no concrete witness to corroborate it.
Maitrīpa’s knowledge of the RGV is attested by a quotation of RGV II. 61b in his Pañcatathāgatamudrāvivaraṇa; he introduces a Nirākāravijñānavādin’s propounding the arising of the Dharmakāya from the Saṃbhogakāya and Nirmāṇakāya, but does not discuss Buddha-nature.'"`UNIQ--ref-00001BD0-QINU`"' In contrast to Maitrīpa, who does not discuss Buddha-nature, we find extensive discussions of the topic in compositions of Jñānaśrīmitra and Ratnākaraśānti.'"`UNIQ--ref-00001BD1-QINU`"' In the present paper, I shall focus on quotations from the RGV in Jñānaśrīmitra’s Sākārasiddhiśāstra and Sākārasaṃgrahasūtra, and on his understanding of the RGV, so as to shed light on the reception of the RGV in the early 11th century. (Kano, introductory remarks, 7–8)
This paper will examine Dge rtse Mahāpaṇḍita’s doxography, considering the way in which he attempts to demonstrate that the Great Madhyamaka of other-emptiness is ultimate within the Buddhist doctrinal history originating from India. According to Dge rtse Mahāpaṇḍita, the Great Madhyamaka of other-emptiness is said to have been the intent of the Last Tuming of the Wheel of the Dharma which is of definitive meaning, teaches the Buddha-nature (tathāgatagarbha), and, as pointed out by Duckworth, "accords with the Great Perfection"'"`UNIQ--ref-0000131C-QINU`"' (rdzogs chen). Dge rtse Mahāpaṇḍita’s gzhang stong view is explicitly taught in the following doxographical texts: the Bde gshegs snying po'i rgyan, the Grub mtha'i rnam gzhag nges don dgongs gsal, the Rton pa bzhi ldan gyi gtam, the first chapter of the Rnying ma rgyud 'bum dkar chag lha'i rnga bo che,'"`UNIQ--ref-0000131D-QINU`"' and the Sangs rgyas gnyis pa'i dgongs pa'i rgyan,'"`UNIQ--ref-0000131E-QINU`"' which is Dge rtse Mahāpaṇḍita's commentary on the Gsang sngags lam gyi rim pa sal ba'i sgron me, a gter ma of Nyang ral Nyi ma 'od zer (1124/1136-1192/1204).
This paper will also suggest that Dge rtse Mahāpaṇḍita should be recognized as a forerunner of the ris med movement in Khams, as supported by the following facts: his view on the Great Madhyamaka of other-emptiness embraces the major practice lineages (sgrub brgyud)—Jo nang pa, Bka' brgyud pa, Sa skya pa, early Dge lugs pa, Rnying ma pa, and Zhi byed—within a single overriding intent of the Buddha’s teachings;'"`UNIQ--ref-0000131F-QINU`"' Dge rtse Mahāpaṇḍita as the teacher of Zhe chen dbon sprul ’Gyur med mthu stobs rnam rgyal, also known as Zhe chen Mahāpaṇḍita (b. 1787), who was a gzhan stong pa,'"`UNIQ--ref-00001320-QINU`"' and who in tum was the teacher of the three masters Kong sprul (1813-99), Mkhyen brtse'i dbang po (1820–2), and Dpal sprul (1808-87).'"`UNIQ--ref-00001321-QINU`"' Dge rtse Mahāpaṇḍita’s Legs bshad gser gyi thur ma, which is his response to the Lta ba'i gsung mgur by Lcang skya Rol pa'i rdo rje (1717-86),'"`UNIQ--ref-00001322-QINU`"' would hint at the seeds of the ris med movement which grew up among the three schools, the Sa skya, Bka' brgyud, and Rnying ma.'"`UNIQ--ref-00001323-QINU`"' With this paper, then, I hope to add to our understanding of the practice lineages of Indo-Tibetan Madhyamaka. (Makidono, introduction, 77–80)
Du III au VII siècle de notre ère, selon la chronologie la plus souvent admise, la pensée bouddhique en Inde a trouvé une expression particulièrement brillante dans l'école dite du Vijñānavāda «doctrine de la connaissance». Les premiers ouvrages ressortissant à cette école en tant que telle peuvent être datés du début du Ill siècle. Au cours de ce siècle et du suivant, elle constitue peu à peu ses thèses, notamment à travers les ouvrages de Maitreya-nātha, d'Asaṅga et de Vasubandhu l'ancien. Je désignerai les développements de cette période sous le nom de Vijñānavāda ancien. Au V siècle, Vasubandhu le jeune cherche à fixer et à synthétiser la doctrine; ses travaux ouvrent la période de ce que j'ai appelé le Vijñānavāda classique, caractérisée par une abondante littérature de commentaires qu'illustrent en particulier les noms de Sthiramati, Dharmapāla et Hiuan-tsang. Le present exposé s'attachera à retracer brièvement l'histoire du Vijñānavāda, puis à exposer la doctrine classique. (May, "La philosophie bouddhique idéaliste," 265)
English Translation:
The Laṅkāvatāra Sūtra consists of ten chapters, named respectively —(1) Rāvaṇādhyeṣaṇā parivarta, (2) Sarvadharmasamuccaya parivarta, (3) Anityatā parivarta, (4) Abhisamaya parivarta, (5) Tathāgata - nityānityatva, (6) Kṣaṇika parivarta, (7) Nairmāṇika parivarta, (8) Māṃsabhakṣaṇa parivarta, (9) Dhāraṇīparivarta, and (10) the Parisamāpti parivarta, which bears no special name.
Throughout the Laṅkāvatāra Sūtra the speaker is Buddha himself. The first chapter of the book is addressed to Rāvaṇa, while the person spoken to in the remaining nine chapters is Mahāmati. Rāvaṇa prayed to Buddha for the solution of two questions, viz. : (1) what is the distinction between dharma and adharma, and (2) how could one pass beyond both dharma and adharma? Buddha’s answers to these questions form the subject-matter of the first chapter. Thereafter 108 questions were asked by Mahāmati, and
Buddha’s answers to these questions form the topics of the remaining nine chapters. (Vidyābhūṣaṇa, para 10–11, 833)
The present paper provides an annotated translation of Sajjana’s Mahāyānottaratantraśāstropadeśa along with a reading text of this Sanskrit work (a critical edition of which is under preparation for publication). I started to work on this text in 2005 when I received a copy of a photographic image of a manuscript containing it from Professor Jikidō Takasaki. I published a study dealing with this manuscript in 2006 (Kano 2006b) and provided a critical edition of the Sanskrit text in my doctoral thesis, submitted to Hamburg University in 2006 (Kano 2006a). I also prepared a preliminary annotated translation of this text in 2006 and gave the draft to Karl Brunnhölzl together with my unpublished doctoral thesis.
It came as a surprise for me to learn that Brunnhölzl copied and published the draft of my translation under his name in his book When the Clouds Part: The Uttaratantra and Its Meditative Tradition as a Bridge between Sūtra and Tantra (Boston/London: Snow Lion, 2014), pp. 461–472. Brunnhölzl (p. 1121, n. 1718) says in his book: “All topical headings are inserted by the translator (corresponding to my outline above). Though my translation sometimes differs from Kano’s, I am indebted to both his translation and his Sanskrit edition of the text with critical apparatus (Kano 2006, 513–35), which in turn owe much to Profs. Schmithausen and Isaacson as well as Dr. Diwakar Acharya.” The fact is, however, that he has in many cases simply copied my earlier work.
Since the translation used by Brunnhölzl was an unpublished draft, my earlier mistakes found their way into his book, inasmuch as that draft was based in turn on an early draft of my Sanskrit edition, which itself contains serious misreadings, especially in verses 3, 6, 7, 8, 9, 11, 12, 13, and 15, along with a number of errors in the interlinear glosses. All his striving to make sense of my misreadings of the Sanskrit have been to no avail; his interpretations and analysis (Brunnhölzl, ibid. pp. 288–300 ) based on these errors need to be fundamentally revised. I have since made improvements to the Sanskrit edition and translation, and this is reflected in the differences between his published translation and the one I offer here.[1] (Kano, preface, 1–2)
Notes
1. I am grateful for a number of suggestions and improvements of my critical edition of Sajjana's Mahāyānottaratantraśāstropadeśa to Prof. Harunaga Isaacson, Prof. Diwakar Acharya, Prof. Lambert Schmithausen, Dr. Pascale Hugon, and all participants of a workshop “From Kashmir to Tibet: A set of proto-Śāradā palm leaves and two works on the Ratnagotravibhāga” held on 21. April 2015 at Österreichische Akademie der Wissenschaften Institut für Kultur-und Geistesgeschichte Asiens. I would like to thank to Dr. David Reigle and Mr. Philip Pierce for much valuable information regarding difficult points of the text and English proof-reading of my translation.The Chan tradition is renowned as the “meditation” school of East Asia. Indeed, the Chinese term chan 禪 (Jpn: zen) is an abbreviated transliteration of dhyāna, the Sanskrit term arguably closest to the modern English word “meditation.” Scholars typically date the emergence of this tradition to the early Tang dynasty (618–907), although Chan did not reach institutional maturity until the Song period (960–1279). In time, Chinese Chan spread throughout East Asia, giving birth to the various Zen, Sŏn, and Thiê`n lineages of Japan, Korea, and Vietnam, respectively. Today these traditions continue to promote, at least in theory, meditation practices, and these have been the subject of considerable scholarly interest.[1]
It may then come as a surprise to learn just how little is known about the meditation techniques associated with the “founders” of this tradition—the masters associated with the nascent (or proto-) Chan lineages of the seventh and eighth centuries. It was during this fertile period—which, following scholarly convention, I will call “early Chan”—that the lineage myths, doctrinal innovations, and distinctive rhetorical voice of the Chan, Zen, Sŏn, and Thiê`n schools first emerged. Although hundreds of books and articles have appeared on the textual and doctrinal developments associated with early Chan, relatively little has been written on the distinctive meditation practices, if any, of this movement.
This essay emerged from an attempt to answer a seemingly straightforward question: what kinds of meditation techniques were promulgated in early Chan circles? The answer, it turned out, involved historical and philosophical forays into the notion of “mindfulness”—a style of meditation practice that has become popular among Buddhists (and non-Buddhists) around the globe. Accordingly, I will digress briefly to consider the roots of the modern mindfulness movement, and will suggest possible sociological parallels between the rise of the Buddhist mindfulness movement in the twentieth century and the emergence of Chan in the medieval period. (Sharf, "Mindfulness and Mindlessness in Early Chan," 933)
Notes
1. The literature is vast; on modern Japanese Zen and Korean Sŏn meditation practice in English see, for example, Buswell 1992, Hori 2000, and Hori 2003. On the history of these practices see Bielefeldt 1988, Buswell 1987, Collcutt 1981, Foulk 1993, and Schlütter 2008.The MPNS-G declares or suggests the non-emptiness of the tathāgata. This is reinterpretation of the pratītyasamutpāda and the śūnyatā idea, and follows the rule of the historical Buddhist hermeneutics. It is especially worthwhile to note that the MBhS, like the Saṃdhinirmocanasūtra in the Vijñāptimātra idea, devaluates the śūnyatā idea as imperfect. This quite negative attitude toward the śūnyatā idea does not appear in any other Indian texts on the tathāgatagarbha idea including the MPNS and the AMS. Aiming at establishing the theory that every sentient being is able to perform religious efforts and become buddha on account of the nonemptiness and the eternalness of the tathāgata, the MBhS must reject any sūtra concerning the śūnyatā idea as imperfect. Though the MPNS is a pioneer in reinterpretation of the the śúnyatā idea, the MPNS cannot devaluate it perfectly because the śūnyatā idea is one of the main backgrounds to the MPNS. The MBhS's decisive attitude toward the śūnyatā idea devaluation becomes possible by having the MPNS as its basis. (Source: UTokyo Repository)
The present state of the discussion may in short be characterized as follows. The traditional view that (1) the Śāstra is a translation of a Sanskrit original and (2) that the translator is Paramārtha, is now generally abandoned.[3] It is also known that the lntroduction is forged.[4] It is further known that the Sanskrit text translated by Śikṣānanda was itself a translation from the extant Chinese version.[5] If so much is accepted, early doubts of Chinese Buddhists concerning the Śāstra gain weight.[6]
Hui-chün, an early seventh century witness, in the passage quoted above p. 156 note 4, speaks of "former" Dāśabhūmikas who forged the Śraddhotpāda. Chi-tsang (549-623) blames Dāśabhūmikas "of a former generation"
that they mistook the eighth vijñāna for Buddha-nature (T. vol. 34 380 b 20 f.). In another place he speaks of "old" Dāśabhūmikas (T. vol. 42 104 c 7). This implies that we have to distinguish between late Dāśabhūmikas (after the arrival of the Mahāyāna-saṁgraha) and early ones (the first and second generations after the translators of the Daśabhūmika Śāstra).[7] Among them, those who belonged to the early generation are said to have forged the Śraddhotpāda Śāstra.[8]
Tokiwa believes in a Chinese author who mainly relied on the Laṅkāvatāra Sūtra both translations of which (Sung and Wei) he amalgamated. This may be correct though I could not find allusions peculiar to Guṇabhadra's (Sung) translation.
Mochizuki has proved that the Chinese author was acquainted not only with the Laṅkāvatāra but with several other texts. He proposes as author T'an-tsun, a disciple of Fa-shang who dictated the Śāstra to his disciple T'an -ch'ien. See below p. 160.
Hayashi Kemmyō, has traced material in Liang Wu-ti's writings and the Pao-tsang lun. Liang Wu-ti believed in immortal souls.[9] The Śraddhotpāda Śāstra contains nothing of that sort. Though influence from that side cannot be excluded, I do not feel this material to be significant enough to permit us to place the author in the South.
Matsunami Seiren believes in Aśvaghoṣa if not as author yet as the spiritual father of the Śraddhotpāda. I have compared his quotations from the Sauṇdarānanda Kāvya etc . which are interesting. But I think we might consider as established that the author of the Śraddhotpāda Śāstra was a Chinese and work upon that assumption.[10] Besides, the main tenets of the Śāstra have not been found in the Kāvya.
I pass by other theories of which I have only heard . Scholars are searching in all directions and undoubtedly will find material unknown to me which will throw even more light on the intricate problem of our text. Meanwhile I shall consider as established that the Śāstra was composed by an early Dāśabhūmika and limit my investigation to the question who this person was. (Liebenthal, "New Light on the Mahāyāna-Śraddhotpāda Śāstra," 155–58)
Notes
1. T. 1666. I have compared the photos of manuscripts mentioned in Giles, Chinese
Manuscripts from Tunhuang, nos. 4318-20, 5771-84. But I found no interesting versions. (No. 5783 seems to be a commentary of the Samyuktābhidharma-sāra!)
2. Of this literature I had at my disposal : P. Demiéville: Sur l'authenlicité du Ta Tch'eng K'i Sin Louen. Bulletin de la Maison Franco-Japonaise, tome II, no. 2 , Tokyo 1929, reprint pp. 1-78 (Demiéville, Authenticité).
Mochizuki Shinkō: Bukkyo daijüen (1935} (Mochizuki, Dictionary).
Same : Daijo Kishinron no Kenkyū (1922) (Mochizuki , Study) .
Same: Kōjutsu Daijō Kishinron (1938} (Mochizuki, Kishinron).
Same : Kokuyaku Issaikyō, Ronshu-bu 5 (1953}. A translation with a detailed outline.
Same : Bukkyō kyōten. seiritsu shiron (1949}, pp. 532–624.
Ui Hakuju: Daijō Kishinron. Tokyo 1936.
Matsunami Seiren: Yugagyoha no taikei lo nendai (Nippon bukkyō gakkai nempō, No. 22) . 1957.
Same: Yugagyoha. no so lo shite no Memyō (Taishō Daigaku kenkyū kiyō, No. 39). 1954 .
Same: Kishinron-shisō no taikei to nendai {Nippon bukkyō gakkai nempō, No. 22) . 1957.
Same: Tensei naru Nanda (Taishō Daigaku kenkyū kiyō, No. 42). 1957.
Hayashi Kemmyō: Kishinron no shin Kenkyū. 1945.
Suzuki D. Teitarō: Awakening of Faith. Chicago l900.
3. Also by Demiéville, see Le Concile de Lhasa (Bibliothèque de l'lnstitut des Hautes Études Chinoises, t. vii, Paris 1952), part 1 p. 57.
4. Though old.
5. Tao-hsüan's note following upon the biography of Hsüan-tsang in Hsü kao-seng chuan T. vol. 50 428 b 27.
6. Cf. Mochizuki, Dictionary 3256b, also Ching-lu T. vol. 55 142a; Chinkai, Sanron gensho Mongiyō [Chinese characters not available] ch. ii (T . 2299 vol. 70 228c) quotes two passages from the Ta-ch'eng ssu-lun hsüan-i [Chinese characters not available] ch. 5 and 10 which, however, are not found in the extant fragmentary version (Hsü-tsang ching I. 74/I). It looks as if ch. 10 of that edition should more correctly be labelled ch. 12. I am translating these quotations: Ch. 5. '"The Śraddotpāda is made by a prisoner-of-war who borrowed the name of Aśvaghoṣa." Ch. 10. "Śraddotpāda. Some say that it is made by Dāśabhūmikas of the North . . . It is not by Aśvaghoṣa Bodhisattva. Former [Chinese characters not available] Dāśabhumikas made it. They borrowed the name (of Aśvaghoṣa) for the headline". The "prisoner -of-war" is perhaps imagination. The "former" Dāśabhūmikas seem to be correct.
7. Cf. my "Notes on the Vajrasamādhi." T'oung Pao vol. xliv, 4-5, pp, 378-382 . I have in this paper discussed several allusions which l had found in the Vajrasamādhi and wish to add one more which I had overlooked. It is the famous half gāthā for which the rākṣasa gives away his body. Cf. T. vol. 9, 733b, c and Nirvāṇa Sūtra, Sheng -hsing p'in [Chinese not available], T. vol. 12 xiv 450a-451b.
8. To say that the Śraddhotpāda Śāstra was forged is perhaps not correct. Aśvaghoṣa may appear in the title as spiritual author as he appears in the biography of T'an-yen dictating, in the shape of a horse, a commentary on the Nirvāṇa Sūtra. He and Nāgārjuna were worshipped as bodhisattvas under the Wei (Daśabhūmika, Introduction). He seems to have a function of inspirator similar to Maitreya. See Demiéville, La Yogācārabhūmi de Saṅgharakṣa, B.E.F.E.O. XLIV, 2. {1954) pp. 377-387, anti cf. T. vol. 50 334c 10 and vol. 8 530b 25 seq.
9. Cf. Mon. nipponica Vlll I–2 pp. 376 seq.
This essay probes the discourses of other-emptiness in the Jonang (jo nang) and Nyingma (rnying ma) traditions. After briefly introducing other-emptiness in the Jonang tradition, the locus classicus for other-emptiness in Tibet, I will contrast the way Mipam (‘ju mi pham rgya mtsho) (1846–1912) positions the discourse of other-emptiness in his interpretative system. I will then demonstrate how Mipam’s portrayal of other-emptiness highlights the way he uses a perspectival means to incorporate a diversity of seemingly contradictory claims that he uses to support his view of ultimate reality as indeterminate. I will argue that an implication of his view is a
non-representational account of language about the ultimate. (Duckworth, introduction, 920)The texts in question are:
1. Chin-kang san-mei ching (Vajrasamādhi) T. 273 vol. 9. (Quoted in the following as Samādhi.) It has three commentaries:
a. The Chin-kang san-mei ching lun, T. 1730 vol. 37 composed by Yüan-hsiao, a Korean, in the second half of the seventh century. This is the only commentary which I have used for this paper in order to correct the original. A very good modern edition has been published by Chou Shu-chia
in Peking 1936.
b. Zokuzōkyō A 55/2-3. Ming.
c. Zokuzōkyō A 55/3. Ch'ing.
2. Chin-kang shang-wei t'o-lo-ni ching, T. 1344 vol. 21. Transl. Buddhaśānta (?). Yüan Wei. 3. Chin-kang ch'ang t'o-lo-ni ching, T. 1345 vol. 21. Transl. Jinagupta (?) (527-604). A second translation of the preceding. These two texts have no relation to the Samādhi.
4. Chin-kang san-nei pen-hsing ch'ing-ching pu-huai pu-mieh ching, T. 644 vol. 15. A probably genuine text, containing 100 samādhis . . . (Liebenthal, opening remarks, 347–48)
[ . . . ]
It seems to me established that
The Samādhi is an agglomeration of several texts, of which we have distinguished:
1. A frame (Text A), probably derived from a sūtra translated in the fifth century or earlier in the North, perhaps in Liang-chou. This seems to have been a Hīnayāna text.
2. A text (B), which contains the verses and part of the prose, composed between 565 and 590 by a teacher of the North, Yeh or P'eng-ch'eng. The author might have been Ching-sung.
It is difficult to say how Text B originally looked. Was it a pamphlet or a collection of gleanings from other texts? Was it written to counteract the propaganda of Hui-ssu?
In order to further clarify these points I propose for study: (1) a careful investigation of the northern tradition from Bodhiruci and Buddhaśānta on to about 590 A.D., (2) searching the Tun-huang fragments for parts of the original Text B, (3) further search for quotations in the texts studied by the teachers of the Northern Ch'i. (Liebenthal, conclusion, 383–86).
(*Chinese characters in the original text and notes unavailable)
Notes
1. Hayashi Taiun: "Bodaidaruma-den no kenkyū", Shūkyō kenkyū IX.iii, Tokyo, May 1932, pp. 62-76.
2. (Chinese text unavailable) A number of versions exist. See below.
3. Daruma no zen-bo to shisō oyobi sono ta, Tokyo 1936 (Suzuki II), a complement to the same author's Shōshitsu isho, Osaka 1935 (Suzuki I).
4. Le Concile de Lhasa (Bibl. de l'Institut des Hautes Études Chinoises vol. VII), Paris 1952, p. 54 n. 2 (Demiéville).
Prof. Hauer has started a series of studies, chiefly dedicated to the critical investigation of Indian religion.[1] We cannot help being very greateful to him for this, because we must acknowledge that the various aspects of Indian religion are not yet studied as they deserve.
I do not need to insist on proving the great importance of this research, which is likely to throw much light on many a problem; chiefly on that of the extent of the influences exercised by the aboriginal element on the evolution of Indian religious thought and Indian civilization in general. The Vedas have a great importance, no doubt,
but it is also true that Indian gods, mythology, practices, theories about sacrifice, etc., are, on the whole, very different from the religious ideas expounded in that famous book. The study of the
last phases of Mahāyāna Buddhism, and of its relation with the Hindu systems proper, will prove of the greatest importance for this kind of research; because it is just in the literature of that period that we find the most important documents of these new conceptions and meet the names of a host of gods, demons and goblins of whom we did not hear before that time.
For this reason I think that Prof. Hauer is quite justified in having started his Series with the study of such an important Mahāyāna text as the Laṅkāvatāra, which contains some very interesting allu- sions to the relation between the Buddha and the gods of Hinduism (cf. e.g., p. 192).
The first of the papers dedicated to our text is chiefly concerned with the refutation of the Sāṅkhya system contained in the Laṅk., X, 546 ff. This section has been translated by the author, as he thinks that it represents the reply of the Mahāyāna to the new claim of the Sāṅkhya to be the doctrine of salvation (p. 5.). This Sāṅkhya is, according to the A., the new exposition of the system as contained in the Sāṅkhyakārikā of Iśvarakṛṣṇna. The chronology of either text seems to support this view. In fact, this refutation is contained in the tenth Chapter of the Laṅk., which is wanting in the first Chinese translation by Guṇabhadra (443 A.D.), while it is found in the second
translation, made by Bodhiruci in the year 513 A.D. On the other hand, we may suppose that the kārikā was composed about 450 A.D. That is true, but I do not think we are allowed to infer from this, that there is any interdependence of this kind between the kārikā and the Xth Chapter of the Laṅk. First of all, the history of the various redactions of this text, represents a very difficult and complex problem. I have compared the three Chinese translations with the Sanskrit original and I already had the opportunity to point out that the text of the Laṅkāvatāra underwent many changes,[1] so that we may safely assume that different redactions of the Laṅk, circulated not only at different times, but also in different places. It is true that the allusion to the Huns, which is found in X, 785, must go back to the first decade of the 7th century A.D., but the fact remains that the Sanskrit text of the Xth Chapter, as it has been handed down to us in the Nepalese manuscripts, looks like a compilation from various sources. Thus it has been enlarged by the insertion of various ślokas already quoted in the preceding chapters in prose.[2] As a rule, all these double verses cannot be found in the translation of Śikṣānanda. This I say in order to show that the problem of the various strata composing the vulgata of the Laṅk, as well as the other concerning the age to which they must be attributed is a very complex one. They can only be solved by the comparative study of the Tibetan and Chinese translations. Therefore it is evident that the chronology based upon any passage of the present text cannot be relied upon as definitive, until the history of the text has been reconstructed. On the other hand, the refutation of the Sāṅkhya system, as contained in X, 558 ff, is neither one of the earliest, nor one of the best. The refutation of the satkāryavāda (Sāṅkhya) as well as of the asatkāryavāda (Vaiśeṣika) forms one of the chief contents of the dogmatical works of Mahāyāna Buddhism. It can be found in the Mahāprajñāpāramitā-Śāstra of Nāgārjuna, in the Śataśāstra of Āryadeva, in the Buddhagotraśāstra attributed to Vasubandhu etc.[1] Nor shall we forget that Vasubandhu and
Diṅnāga refuted at length the Sāṅkhya theories in their Paramārthasaptati and Pramāṇasamuccaya respectively. Moreover, as Diṅnāga himself tells us in his commentary upon the Nyāyamukha, he wrote a book exclusively devoted to refuting the Sāṅkhya system. Shen T'ai, a disciple of Yuan Chwang, who commented upon the Nyāyamukha, tells us that this work was a very large one, as it contained six thousand ślokas.
Therefore I do not think that this criticism of the Sāṅkhya as contained in the Laṅkāvatāra can really throw much light on the history of the controversy between the two systems. In fact, we must acknowledge that the value of the Laṅkāvatāra, as a philosophical hook, is rather limited, although it is of the highest importance for the history of the evolution of the Mahāyāna Buddhologie and "Erlosungslehre."
But I can hardly believe that the passage in question is expressly directed against the Sāṅkhya system. It is only meant to assert the idealistic view which is expounded throughout the book. Kapila, it is true, is referred to by name in the verse X, 558 and in three other places; but Kaṇāda also is quoted in X, 548. . . .
But to which school did the Laṅkāvatāra originally belong? It is in general believed that it represents Yogācāra ideas. But, of course, we cannot learn very much from this mere name, because Yogācāra has certainly a very wide meaning. It is also considered as a synonym of Vijñānavāda, and therefore even the vijñaptimātratā theory of Vasubandhu is put under that same item.
In fact, according to the Chinese tradition the book is considered as one of the six sūtras of the Lakṣaṇa school. But if we read these volumes it will be easy to recognize that, though there are some fundamental notions that can be found all throughout, each text or group of texts presents its own peculiarities.
Notes
1. J. W. Hauer, Das Laṅkāvatāra-Sūtra und das Sāṅkhya (eine vorläufige Skizzeo, Stuttgart, 1927.Id, Die Dhāraṇī im nördlichen Buddhismus und ihre parallelen in der sogennannten Mithrasliturgie. Ibid.
Beitrage zur Indischen Sprachwissenschaft und Religionsgeschichte.
1. See. my Studio comparative fra le tre versioni cinesi ed il testo sanskrito del i capitolo del Laṅkāvatāra, Memorie della R. Accademia dei Lincei, serie v, vol xviii, fasc, 5; and Una nuova edizione del Laṅkāvatāra in Studi Mahāyanici, Rivista di studi Orientali, vol. X.
2. In Studi Mahāyanici, pp. 574 ff., I have given a list of the verses inserted in the text, which have been repeated in the tenth chapter. This fact makes me rather doubtful whether many of the other verses collected there are not taken from some Mahāyāna text belonging to the same current of thought. Prof. Hauer thinks that the first Chapter belongs to the most ancient redaction of the book. I can hardly believe that; in fact, it cannot be found in the translation of Gunabhadra, and it has but very little relation with the rest of the book. On the other hand, I think that the gāthās represent the most ancient nucleus of the book, as it is shown by the numerous Prakritisms that have survived and that the redactors of the present vulgata could not avoid: e.g., desemi, pp. 76, 176, 181; vibhāvento, p. 95 ; vikalpenti, pp. 185 186; nāśenti, p. 190 ; deśyante for deśyamāne, p. 201.
1. For other references see Ui’s, Vaiśeṣika philosophy.
2. See my English translation of the Nyāyamukha in "Materiailen zur Kunde des Buddhismus" edited by Prof. Walleser, Heidelberg, to be published shortly.
Then which text does he depend on to establish his original idea? As the Ratnagotravibhāga is cited most frequently in his bDen gnyis gsal ba'i nyi ma"`UNIQ--ref-00002055-QINU`"', it seems to be the most important text in his great Madhyamaka. I consider his commentary on the Ratnagotravibhāga"`UNIQ--ref-00002056-QINU`"' attributed to Maitreya here'"`UNIQ--ref-00002057-QINU`"'. (Mochizuki, introduction, 111)
through much of this sutra—the way the compilers of this sūtra seem to have perceived the causes and the implications of the decline of the Dharma, that is, what one might, as I have done here, term the "eschatology of the MPNS." I believe this may provide an important key to understanding the entire sūtra, though some of my conclusions are necessarily based on circumstantial evidence. One might also remark here, in passing, that the prominence of the
concept in the MPNS that the scriptural Dharma is, as we shall see, decidedly impermanent stands out in stark contrast to the recurrent idea in the sūtra of the permanence of Buddha. (Hodge, introduction, 1)Everyone who has had at least some glimpses at Buddhism knows that it contains various philosophical theories as well as various spiritual practices. The term ' philosophical theory ' should be understood here in a general sense comprising any attempt to make rational statements about the true nature or the fundamental principles of the totality or some part of the existent, or about those aspects of it of which everyday experience is not aware. In this sense, philosophical theories in Buddhism are, e.g., the doctrine that there is no substantial Self, no ātman; or the doctrine that the whole universe consists of momentary factors, of factors each of which lasts only for the time of an extremely short moment. ' Spiritual practice ', in the case of Buddhism, consists essentially of moral or ethical exercises, and of practices of meditation, deep concentration, or trance. As an example, we may adduce the so-called four 'infinitudes', or 'unlimited ones' (apramāṇa), i.e. the meditative practice of the attitudes of friendliness, compassion, sympathetic joy, and impartiality or equanimity with regard to all living beings. Another example is the 'contemplation of the impure' (aśubhabhāvanā). Here the Yogin, in order to subdue excessive covetousness, contemplates dead bodies in their different stages of decomposition. In this exercise, it is not necessary that the Yogin actually stays at a cemetery for the whole time. He may well continue the exercise at any other place, making use of a special meditative practice in which he is able to visualize those dead bodies he saw previously.
In this article I want to contribute to the solution of the problem of the historical relation of these two elements — philosophical theory and spiritual practice — in Buddhism. Did Buddhism usually start from philosophical theories and afterwards develop corresponding spiritual practices? Or is it more typical for Buddhism that first there are spiritual practices and that philosophical theories are only the result of a subsequent reflection which leads to a theoretical consolidation and generalization of those spiritual practices? (Schmithausen, "On the Problem of the Relation of Spiritual Practice and Philosophical Theory in Buddhism," 235)
au seizième siècle, considérés comme "Trésors nationaux" ou "propriétés culturelles importantes", mais qui ne représentent qu'un dizième du nombre total de portraits connus. Les portraits relevant de ce genre sont assez stéréotypés, et représentent en général un moine assis en sur une chaise haute en position du lotus. Souvent représenté de trois-quarts, mais parfois aussi de face, il est vêtu d'un habit de cérémonie, et tient dans sa main droite un attribut de son autorité, d'ordinaire un bâton, un sceptre ou un chasse-mouches. Certains chinzō représentent aussi le moine assis ou debout dans un
paysage. Enfin, ils comportent généralement un "éloge" en vers et une dédicace.
S'interrogeant sur la fonction religieuse de ces portraits, Griffith Foulk et Robert Sharf sont amenés à remettre en question l'idée que les chinzô servaient à authentifier la transmission de maître à disciple. Une étude approfondie des sources montre que la
particular modes of inquiry and praxis available to most (if not all) humans.
From this second assumption stemmed the idea that humans are predisposed to spiritual awakening, that they, in other words, have within them some germinal capacity (bīja), spiritual affiliation (gotra), element (dhātu), or quintessence (garbha) that is a condition of possibility of this awakening. Alongside these "buddha-nature" concepts developed a family of systematically related gnoseological ideas referring to an abiding, unconditioned (asaṃskṛta) mode of consciousness—variously termed the Mind of awakening (bodhicitta), naturally luminous Mind (prakṛtiprabhāsvaracitta), the nature of mind (citta-dharmatā)—that was identified with the condition of awakening itself, but also viewed as the tacit background whence dualistic mind, that is, the source of all error and obscuration, emerges. Central to this cluster of related ideas was the view that conditions of awakening and delusion are both located within the complex and heterogeneous structure of lived experience itself. In Indian Buddhism, this paradigm found its most detailed and influential expression in the hybridized Yogācāra-Tathāgatagarbha works of Maitreya, the Indian Buddhist Siddha literature and the Buddhist tantras.
In light of the foregoing considerations, the doctrinal history of Buddhism may be regarded as an ongoing attempt to work out precisely what it was that made its founder a buddha or "awakened one" so that such knowledge could be systematically pursued by his followers. That this soteriological imperative has been central to Buddhist philosophical
and psychological investigations from early on is discernible in the long history of attempts to clarify the defining features of consciousness that can be traced back to the systematic analyses of mind and mental factors (citta-caitta) presented in the Abhidhammapiṭaka of the Pali Canon. For, in investigating the nature and structure of consciousness, Buddhist scholars were above all concerned with articulating the conditions necessary for a sentient being (sems can) to become an awakened one, a being in whom (if we follow the Tibetan rendering of "buddha" as sangs rgyas) all cognitive and affective obscurations have dissipated (sangs) so that inherent capacities for knowing and caring (mkhyen brtse nus ldan) can unfold (rgyas).
In Tibet, this soteriologically oriented investigation of consciousness was central to the philosophy of mind that developed within the syncretistic rDzogs chen ("Great Perfection") tradition of the rNying ma ("Ancient Ones") school between the eighth and fourteenth centuries. This philosophy developed around a nexus of core soteriological ideas concerning buddha-nature, the nature of reality, and the nature of mind that served to draw attention to a primordial, nondual mode of being and awareness that usually remains hidden behind the mind's own objectifying and subjectivizing reifications.
A cornerstone of the rDzogs chen philosophy of mind was a basic distinction between dualistic mind (sems) and primordial knowing (ye shes) that was first systematically presented in the seventeen Atiyoga tantras (rgyud bcu bdun) that make up the Heart Essence (snying thig) subclass of the Esoteric Guidance Class (man ngag sde') of rDzogs chen
teachings and are traditionally associated with Vimalamitra. rNying ma historical and biographical works trace this distinction to the teachings of early rDzogs chen masters of the Royal Dynastic Period, in particular the oral transmissions of Vimalamitra (bi ma snyan brgyud), an identification that appears at first glance to be supported by the many passages on the two distinctions found scattered among rNying ma collections such as the Bi ma snying thig, Bai ro rgyud 'bum, rNying ma rgyud 'bum, and dGongs pa zang thal. These teachings often take the form of personal instructions advising the practitioner to discern within the flux of adventitious thoughts and sensations that characterize dualistic mind (sems) an invariant prerepresentational structure of awareness known as primordial knowing (ye shes), open awareness (rig pa), or the nature of mind (sems nyid), from which this turmoil arises. The idea is to directly recognize (ngo sprod) and become increasingly familiar with this abiding condition without confusing it with any of its derivative and distortive aspects. In Klong chen pa's view, this distinction provides an indispensable key to understanding the views and practices that are central to the rDzogs chen tradition.
Although this tradition has attracted increasing interest in recent decades, both popular and academic, there has been little to date in the way of critical study of its philosophical foundations or key doctrinal developments. A noteworthy case in point is the absence of any systematic appraisal of rNying ma ("Ancient Ones") views on the nature of mind that traces their evolution and complex relationships with Indian Cittamātra, Madhyamaka, Pramāṇvāda, and Vajrayāna views. As a step toward at least defining the parameters of this crucial but neglected field of inquiry,
The intent of this paper is to treat this latter concern. It will attempt to describe the basic doctrinal focus of four early Yogācāra texts, suggest the intent of their authors, and draw a hypothesis concerning the lines of development of early Yogācāra as seen in these texts. The texts selected are the Mahāyānasūtrālaṃkāra, the Saṃdhinirmocanasūtra, the Mahāyānābhidharmasūtra, and the Madyāntavibhāgaśāstra. All four texts were composed before the time of the classical formulation of Yogācāra by Asaṅga and Vasubandhu. Although it is not possible to determine with any degree of certitude the temporal relationship among these texts, insight into their doctrinal emphases would help to identify the overall problematic that led the early, pre-Asaṅgan Yogācārins to develop their thinking. (Source Accessed Jan 28, 2020)
attempting to elucidate it much depends upon how one chooses to categorize
Tathagatagarbha as a system, upon the decisions one makes as to which terms,
concepts, argument-patterns and so forth must be present in order for it to be proper
to characterize some text or text-fragment as representing that system. These are
large questions, much too large to enter upon in this paper; my purpose here is
much more limited. I intend to offer a reasonably detailed exposition of a set of
sixteen verses from the ninth chapter of the Mahāyānasūtrâlaṅkāra [MSA] (IX.22-
37). These verses deal, or so the bhāṣya tells us, with the "profundity of the
undefiled realm" (anāsravadhātugāmbhīrya), and they conclude (37) with the only
use of the term tathāgatagarbha in the entire text There is little doubt that this is one
of the few early occurrences of the term in Indian Buddhist texts surviving in
Sanskrit; a relatively detailed study of these verses may perhaps shed some light
upon the historical and doctrinal questions just mentioned.
The systematic question underlying my comments upon these verses throughout will be: what is the relation between the ground of awakening, that which makes it possible, and the fact of awakening, its essential properties?
Wǒnch'ŭk, bCom ldan rig ral and Bu ston understood that ninth consciousness is ultimately the seeds of the eighth consciousness, or else the pure part thereof. In terms of the content of the controversy, gZad ring, bCom ldan rig ral and Bu ston largely follow a common archetype. They introduce the ninth consciousness without mentioning Paramārtha; they refer to tathāgatagarbha doctrine, relying upon a passage from the Samādhirāja-sūtra as their proof-text; and in rejecting the doctrine of ninth consciousness, they propose that ninth consciousness must exist either actually or potentially, and then reject both alternatives. Since these two points cannot be identified in Wǒnch'ŭk's commentary, we can postulate that the controversy between these scholars was an innovative creation and development from within Tibetan Buddhism. Furthermore, it also seems that in the transmission of ninth consciousness doctrine in Tibet, there arose certain distortions (or deviations from Wǒnch'ŭk's theories), such as when gZad ring ascribes the doctrine of ninth consciousness not to Paramārtha, but to Bhavya.
We also must not neglect the fact that the doctrine of ninth consciousness affirmed in these commentaries to the Abhidharmasamuccaya is not completely identical to that described by Tsong kha pa. Comparison with these texts, which constitute the immediate context for his discussion, highlights the fact that in discussing Paramārtha's doctrine of ninth consciousness as it appears in Wonchuk, Tsong kha pa cites Wonchuk's work directly, rather than second-hand (i.e. rather than relying upon predecessors who utilize Wonchuk's exposition); and in refuting the doctrine of ninth consciousness, he attempts to construct proofs on the basis of his own original viewpoint, rather than recycling the arguments of his predecessors. We are surely justified in judging that it was Tsong kha pa's achievement to absorb Wonchuk's commentary for himself, and to attempt to correct the distortions incidental to the transmission of ninth consciousness doctrine in Tibet. (Source Accessed June 16, 2020)
Nevertheless, we can still ask if there might be yet another accessible vantage point from which one could regard Dōgen's Shōbōgenzō as philosophical? This paper will argue that the answer is "yes," there is such a vantage point, so long as one distinguishes what Dōgen writes from how Dōgen writes. For the claim of the paper is that while it remains ambiguous to maintain that his writings exhibit a philosophical system based on content, their form realizes what philosophy is at its core, i.e. reflexivity or philosophy’s inherent self reference.'"`UNIQ--ref-00002078-QINU`"' (Müller, "Philosophy and the Practice of Reflexivity," 545–46)
temporary stains, they are incapable of directly relating to wisdoms inherent enlightened qualities. According to the relevant texts,1 these stains constitute the only difference between normal beings and the awakened ones who have removed the stains and actualized their inherent buddha nature. From the perspective of both the doctrine of tathāgatagarbha in general and shentong in particular, proper Buddhist philosophy and spiritual training in ethics, view, and meditation have as their goal the removal of the stains of karma and afflictive emotions and their subtle tendencies of ignorance so that the
mind's inherent qualities can manifest.
This chapter deals with the corresponding approach in view and meditation taught by the cleric-scholar Jamgön Kongtrul Lodrö Thayé (1813–99). As one of the leading figures in the rimé movement in eastern Tibet, he worked to preserve practice traditions from the various Buddhist lineages of Tibet—in particular, practices from the Nyingma, Kadam, Jonang, Kagyü, and Sakya schools. His work exemplifies the idea that implementing philosophical understanding in meditative training is an essential part of all Tibetan Buddhist traditions. His Immaculate Vajra Moonrays: An Instruction for the View of Shentong, the Great Madhyamaka (abbreviated here as Instruction for the View of Shentong) is but one instance of the integral relationship between philosophical understanding and meditative training. The text guides meditators in a gradual practice that aims to achieve a direct realization of the true nature of mind—buddha nature with all of its inherent qualities. (Draszczyk, 251–52, 2017)
- Notes:
1. For example, the Tathāgatagarbha Sūtra, the Śrīmālādevīsiṃhanāda Sūtra, and the
Ratnagotravibhāga, also referred to as the Uttaratantra Śāstra.2) Rngog lo seems to have used the term bsdus don (or its equivalents) to refer to two kinds of works, namely “topical outline” and “essential meaning,” for he composed two works on the RGV―a brief topical outline and a lengthy essential meaning―which bear titles containing the term bsdus don and its equivalent don bsdus pa, respectively. Among Rngog lo’s available writings, our Khara Khoto manuscript and the Byang chub sems dpa’i spyod pa la ’jug pa’i don bsdus pa offer the only testimony that bsdus don (and its equivalent don bsdus pa) refers to a “topical outline,” as he often uses the term bsdus don to indicate a lengthy “essential meaning” in his other commentarial works. The first usage was common among Tibetan masters during the early and middle phyi dar period, whereas the latter was generally rare. This rare usage is most likely influenced by the piṇḍārtha sub-genre of Indian commentaries.
3) Our manuscript has some serious textual problems, such as missing words, illegible words, syntactic ambiguity, and a missing folio. However, we can solve many of those problems by referring to corresponding sentences in the other two works on the RGV, namely, Rngog lo’s Essential Meaning and Phywa pa’s Topical Outline.
4) The colophon of our manuscript does not tell us when the work was composed or copied. We can only deduce an approximate date of the manuscript to be some time between ca. 1092 (a possible terminus post quem of the composition of the work) and 1374 (the year of the destruction of Khara Khoto). The contents of our manuscript and other relevant works discovered at Khara Khoto show that the Tibetan scholastic tradition of the
establishment of Tibetan Buddhist scholasticism.{2} He founded in Tibet not only the main enduring lineages of logic and epistemology (Tshad-ma: Pramāṇa) studies but also of two other major branches of Mahāyāna Buddhist philosophy and doctrine—those of the Five Dharmas of Maitreya (Byams chos sde Inga) and of the Svātantrika Yogācāra-Madhyamaka.[3] rNgog-lo furthermore trained virtually the entire next generation of important Tibetan scholastics, his "four chief spiritual sons" being: (1) Zhang Tshe-spong-ba, (2) Gro-lung-pa Blo-gros-'byung gnas, (3) Khyung Rin-chen-grags, and (4) 'Bre Shes-rab-'bar. [4] Yet in spite of rNgog's central position in the history of Tibetan philosophical and doctrinal studies, until recently only a very small number of his works were known to survive, and of these the two most extensive and important have remained for decades largely inaccessible outside of Tibet, existing only as isolated xylographs in private collections.[5] Now, however, with the reprinting of two of his major works by the Library of Tibetan Works and Archives, including his very important commentary on the Ratnagotravibhāga described here, some of the seminal contributions of rNgog-lo can at last be easily assessed in the original.[6]
We can find two types of interpretation, i.e., (1) that in accord with the yānatraya doctrine (in the Prajñāpāramitopadeśa, Muktāvalī, and Kusumāñjali), and (2) that in accord with the ekayāna doctrine (in the Sūtrasamuccayabhāṣya and Triyānavyavasthāna). The two positions are clearly contradicting each other. The first interpretation (1) is based on traditional Yogācāra doctrine that admits the gotrabheda doctrine ("differences of spiritual potentials"), while the second (2) premises the Madhyamaka doctrine that does not accept the gotrabheda doctrine on the ultimate level and claims all beings equally have the same potential to become a buddha.
Furthermore, the existence of the diversity between the two interpretations is supported by other doctrinal issues, for instance, two different attitudes toward the understanding of Abhisamayālaṃkāra I.39.
As a conclusion, the doctrinal position in the Sūtrasamuccayabhāṣya and Triyānavyavasthāna is different from that of the Prajñāpāramitopadeśa etc. The aim of the present paper is to show the clear diversity attested in the works attributed to Ratnākaraśānti, which will, hopefully, contribute to solving the question of the authorship of the works, i.e., whether they are composed by one person or not. (Source: Academia.edu)
Śākya Mchog Ldan approaches the buddha-essence inseparable from positive qualities of a buddha in two ways. In some texts, such as the Essence of Sūtras and Tantras, he argues that it has to be identified only as purity from adventitious stains, i.e., the removal of all or some negative qualities that prevent one from directly seeing the buddha-essence. In other texts, such as The Sun Unseen Before, he interprets it as the purity from adventitious stains and the natural purity as it is taught in some sūtras of the Third Wheel of Doctrine and their commentaries. That type of natural purity is understood as the state of natural freedom from all obscurations inseparable from positive qualities of a buddha. Thereby, in this second type of texts, Śākya Mchog Ldan arrives at positing two types of the buddha-essence: relative (kun rdzob, saṃvṛti) and ultimate (don dam, paramārtha). Despite different interpretations of the natural purity, the identification of the buddha-essence as the purity from adventitious stains is present in both.
In his interpretation of the buddha-essence, Śākya Mchog Ldan utilizes the categories of the three levels found in the Sublime Continuum: the impure (ma dag, aśuddha), impure-pure (ma dag dag pa, aśuddhaśuddha, i.e. partially pure) and very pure (shin tu rnam dag, suviśuddha) levels that correspond respectively to the categories of sentient beings, bodhisattvas (understood as ārya bodhisattvas in this context), and tathāgatas.
Śākya Mchog Ldan argues that one becomes a possessor of the buddha-essence free from adventitious stains only on the impure-pure level. In other words, when bodhisattvas enter the Mahāyāna Path of Seeing (mthong lam, darśanamārga) simultaneously with the attainment of the first boddhisattva [sic] ground (byang chub sems pa’i sa, bodhisattavabhūmi) of Utmost Joy (rab tu dga’ ba, pramuditā), they become āryas, i.e. ‘exalted’ or ‘superior’, bodhisattvas, directly realize the ultimate truth (don dam bden pa, paramārthasatya), and thereby for the first time generate an antidote to obscurations of knowables (shes bya’i sgrib pa, jñeyāvaraṇa). They start gradually removing them, and thereby actually see at least a partial purification of stains ‘covering’ the buddha-essence, and its inseparability from at least some positive qualities. Such is not possible for anyone below that level, even for the non-Mahāyāna arhats (i.e., śrāvakas and pratyekabuddhas). Thus, only Mahāyāna āryas have the buddha-essence characterized by the purity from adventitious stains; ārya bodhisattvas have only a part of it, while buddhas have it completely.
Bernard Faure, on the other hand, touches upon the same issue of logocentric and differential trends in Chan in his comprehensive critique of the Chan tradition. Faure's study of this issue has two main problems. First, since his study is a criticism, he shows only what he thinks is the logocentric side of Chan, without providing a constructive study of deconstruction in Chan. Second, he criticizes Magliola for relating his logocentric/differential distinction to the historically well-defined distinction between Northern and Southern Chan. Faure believes that this hasty connection is "counterproductive" (Faure 1993: 225). His own approach, as opposed to Magliola's, is to suggest that it is impossible to identify one school or one figure in the Chan tradition as either logocentric or deconstructive. He asserts that there are "only combinations" of these two types in the Chan tradition (Faure 1993: 225). It appears that this position of "combination only" avoids a one-sided view and the error of jumping to a conclusion. However, by concluding that there are only combinations, Faure turns away from the necessity and possibility of analyzing and identifying individual deconstructive trends in Chan Buddhism, and from the necessity and even the possibility of a coherent reinterpretation and reconstruction of Chan thought. The coherent reinterpretation and reconstruction of Chan thought obviously demands more than a mere criticism. It is true that the thought of one school or one figure may involve elements of two trends; but this fact does not preclude the possibility of its being coherently interpreted as representative of one trend.
Both Indian and Tibetan traditions struggled with the question of the ontological status of Buddha-nature. One finds indeed in some sūtras descriptions of Buddha-nature as permanent and pervading every sentient being, which are also characteristics ascribed by non-Buddhists to the Self (ātman). But if Buddha-nature were to be understood as a permanent entity akin to a Self, how could this teaching be compatible with the standard Buddhist doctrine that everything is impermanent and selfless?
Some Mahāyāna sūtras, such as the Mahāyāna Mahāparinirvāṇasūtra, would offer support for the assimilation of Buddha-nature with a Self. The Mahāyāna Mahāparinirvāṇasūtra is quite explicit in associating the two notions, characterizing in particular the dharmakāya in terms of “perfection of Self” (ātmapāramitā), but warns about the confusion of the “correct” ātman, which is Buddha-nature, with ātman taken in its ordinary sense.1
RGV I.37 and RGVV also speak of the “perfection of Self” as an epithet of the dharmakāya, interpreting however this notion of “Self” (ātman) in the sense of selflessness (nairātmya) or quiescence of conceptual proliferations (prapañca), thus distinguishing Buddha-nature from the notion of a personal, permanent Self (ātman).2
Nevertheless, the RGV does not promote the doctrine of emptiness in the sense that everything is ultimately empty of intrinsic nature. Quite on the contrary, the RGV stresses the real existence of Buddha-nature, and proclaims the superiority of the Buddha-nature doctrine to the emptiness doctrine of the Prajñāpāramitāsūtras.3
The RGV thus on the one hand distinguishes Buddha-nature from the disapproved view of a Self, while on the other hand it admits Buddha-nature as ultimately existent4—an ambiguous viewpoint, and a challenging one for its interpreters. . . .
The present paper deals with a selection of rṄog’s most significant views on the doctrine of Buddha-nature and considers some reactions to his interpretations in the works of his followers. Since the RGV commentaries attributed to two of rṄog’s "four main [spiritual] sons" (sras kyi thu bo bźi), Źaṅ Tshes spoṅ ba Chos kyi bla ma and Gro luṅ pa Blo gros byuṅ gnas,19 as yet remain to be found,20 we will concentrate on the next-earliest available work, a commentary by Phywa pa Chos kyi seṅ ge (1109–1169).21 (Kano, introduction, 249–55)
Notes:
1. The Mahāyāna Mahāparinirvāṇasūtra equates ātman with Buddha-nature (see P 788 tu 105b5 [≈T vol. 12, 407b; 883b]: bdag ces bya ba ni de bźin gśegs paʼi sñiṅ poʼi don to //) and characterizes the dharmakāya (that is, the resultant aspect of Buddha-nature; see below [i]) in terms of “perfection of permanence” (nityapāramitā), “perfection of bliss” (sukhapāramitā), “perfection of Self (ātmapāramitā), and “perfection of purity” (śubhapāramitā) (see P 788 tu 33b3–34a2 [≈T vol. 12, 377c-378a; 862b]).
2. RGVV 31, 13–16: tathāgatas tua punar yathābhūtajñānena sarvadharmanairātmyaparapāramiprāptaḥb / tac cāsya nairātmyam anātmalakṣaṇena yathādarśanam avisaṃvāditatvātc sarvakālam ātmābhipreto nairātmyam evātmetid kṛtvā / yathoktaṃ sthito ʼsthānayogeneti /
(a Schmithausen [1971: 143] corrected tathāgataḥ to tathāgatas tu; b Johnston xvi; c Schmithausen [1971: 143] corrected avisaṃvāditvāt to avisaṃvāditatvāt;d Schmithausen [1971: 143] corrected evātmani to evātmeti)
RGVV 32,9–10: prajñāpāramitābhāvanayākāśopamasattvabhājanalokanairātmya- niṣṭhāgamanād.
See also RGVV 33,8–10: tām eva cāvidyāvāsabhūmiṃ pratītya sūkṣmanimittaprapañca- samudācārayogād atyantam anabhisaṃskārām ātmapāramitāṃ nādhigacchanti.
Schmithausen (1971: 143–144 and 1973: 135) links this sentence to the Madhyamaka view. For instance, the Madhyamakahṛdaya (III.284cd) similarly defines dharmakāya as quiescence of conceptual proliferations (buddhānāṃ dharmakāyo ʼyaṃ prapañcopaśamaḥ śivaḥ).
3. The alternative title of the RGV, mahāyānottaratantra “supreme doctrine of the Mahāyāna," hints to the superiority of the Buddha-nature doctrine to the emptiness doctrine. Cf. RGV I.160: pūrvam evaṃ vyavasthāpya tantre punar ihottare / pañcadoṣaprahāṇāya dhātvastitvaṃ prakāśitam /
4. Cf. RGV I.53, I.165; RGVV 2,11–13.
19. The other two are Khyuṅ rin chen grags and ʼBre śes rab ʼbar. Cf. bKaʼ gdams chos ʼbyuṅ gsal baʼi sgron me, 151.
20. Both A khu Chiṅ Śes rab rgya mtsho and gŹon nu dpal ascribe RGV commentaries to these two authors. (Cf. respectively Tho yig, nos. 11333 and 11339, and rGyud bla me loṅ, 4,23, 574,5.) gŹon nu dpal also lists RGV commentaries by Chos kyi bla ma’s disciple Ñaṅ braṅ pa Chos kyi ye śes (12th century); Phywa pa’s disciple gTsaṅ nag pa brTson ʼgrus seṅ ge (12th century); and Dan ʼbag sMra baʼi seṅ ge (12th century). See gŹon nu dpal, rGyud bla me loṅ, 4,23–24. A khu Chiṅ Śes rab rgya mtsho most
likely copied gŹon nu dpal’s references (see Tho yig nos. 11331, 11334, 11335).
With in the history of Buddhism in East Asia the world of nature gained and retained a high position —something seen as having inherent religious value. This two-part essay reviews aspects of the history of this upward valuation of nature in Chinese and Japanese Buddhism and analyzes the interpretative shifts and changes made necessary by this impulse toward the attribution of increasingly great religious significance to nature. The development is carried as far as the twelfth century in Japan and the poetry of the Buddhist monk Saigyō (1118- 90), poetry which not only itself moved the valorization of nature beyond the point where earlier writers had brought it, but also, since as poetry it gained a position in the public mind and a place in the popular imagination of the Japanese people, historically "fixed" a lasting nexus between Buddhism and nature in the popular consciousness of the Japanese people. Saigyō, therefore, is of great significance in the history of Japanese religion, a fact that has always been implicitly recognized in the Japanese regard for him as Japan's greatest "medieval Buddhist nature poet." His poetry is important not only as literature but also as a document in the history of Japanese religion.
Although in what follows I am more interested in an analysis of Saigyō's verse—in relationship to the Buddhist view of nature—than in details of his life, it is of importance to note here that Saigyō, whose name before he became a monk was Satō Norikiyo, saw his Buddhist vocation as something to be carried out in the mountains rather than in temples and monasteries. Before becoming a monk he had been a military guard in the service of Emperor Toba and a member of an elite corps of palace guards known as the Hokumen no Bushi or "North-facing warriors." But at age twenty-three he relinquished his career in court and became a Buddhist monk . He was at first loosely attached to Shingon and Tendai temples in the vicinity of Heian-kyō or Kyoto and seems to have retained a lifelong attachment to the memory of Kūkai (774-835), the Japanese founder of the Shingon school. But Saigyō's forte lay in his composition of waka or thirty-one-syllable verse and it is in the context of his writing of these verses that we gain an understanding of his vision of nature, Buddhism, and the correlation of these two. For Saigyō the world of nature was the primary world of Buddhist values, and it is this that I wish to investigate in what follows. (LaFleur, "Saigyō and the Buddhist Value of Nature," 93–94)
During his scientific expeditions to India, Nepal, Tibet and Pakistan in the nineteen thirties, forties and fifties, Giuseppe Tucci (1894-1984) had the opportunity of photographing, and in many cases of having someone copy, several important Buddhist works.[1] Subsequently, most of the manuscripts that he photographed or copied entered the collections in Nepalese, Chinese and Pakistani libraries, but others were lost. At present Tucci’s reproductions of some of these manuscripts are the only documentation at our disposal.
The study and cataloguing of the photographs and manuscripts now held in Rome in the Library of the Istituto Italiano per l’Africa e l’Oriente (IsIAO) was begun in 1997 (officially on 12th June 1998) by Claudio Cicuzza and myself. The first results of our work have been published as an appendix to the first version of this paper published in Warsaw in 2000. At that time the scanning of the negatives was still underway, so our list was highly provisional, based mainly on the short titles written on the envelopes of the negatives and on the photographs already printed.
During the last few years, not only it has been possible to correct this list here and there, sometimes with the help of other scholars, as we shall see below, but also to find further manuscripts and photographs of Sanskrit manuscripts that belonged to the Italian scholar –in the IsIAO Library, in the Museo Nazionale d’Arte Orientale ‘Giuseppe Tucci’ (MNAOr) and in a small but important private collection near Rome–and eventually to gather more information regarding the history of Tucci’s expeditions and of the formation of his collection.[2] (Sferra, introduction, 15)
Notes:
1. Certainly Tucci did not photograph the MSS personally, for he declares his complete unfamiliarity with any kind of device, including the camera (“[F]ra me e quale che sia macchina, anche la macchina fotografica, resta un’assoluta incapacità di intesa”, 1996b: 17). Among his companions on the expeditions there was always a person responsible for the photographic
reproductions.
The Triśaraṇasaptati is a small versified work consisting 68 ślokas, the full text of which is preserved only in Tibetan translation. We find two versions (i.e. recensions) of the Triśaraṇasaptati in all the Tanjurs. The two versions are almost the same, having been translated by the same translation team (Atiśa and Rin chen bzang po).
Sorensen translated the Tibetan text into English and added to them six verses (12, 13, 33, 45, 46, and 47) in Sanskrit traced in the form of quotations in other works. Sorensenʼs English translation is for the most part faithful to the Tibetan text. The Tibetan translation itself, when compared with the Sanskrit original, is seen on occasion to be imprecise (see below, "Philological Remarks").
Other quotations from the Triśaraṇasaptati have been found in two passages in the Munimatālaṃkāra: Passage A (Skt. Ms. 7v1-4; Tib. D 82a7-b3; verses 1, 34, 51, 54, 55, 67) in Munimatālaṃkāra chapter 1 (the Bodhicittāloka chapter)'"`UNIQ--ref-00001B8C-QINU`"' and Passage B (Skt. 132r1-3; Tib. D 219a5-b1; 7-9ab, 22-23) in chapter 3 (the Aṣṭābhisamayāloka chapter). When we collate these 11½ verses with the 6 verses independently collected by Sorensen, the total number becomes 17½, which is about 26% of the whole text of the Triśaraṇasaptati. (Kano and Xuezhu, introductory remarks, 4)
Among the distinctive aspects of Shakya Chokden s oeuvre are his several contributions to the history of Buddhist thought. Historical writing in Tibet (chapter 11) was interested above all in important political or religious events, and the lives of the major actors. Doctrinal or intellectual history was generally ignored, no doubt in part be- cause the outlook fostered in the monastic colleges was one of perennialism: the truths revealed in the Buddha s teaching were eternal, and thus exempt from the process of historical change. Knowledgeable scholars were, of course, aware that commentarial and interpretive traditions did have a history of sorts, but this awareness tended to be expressed in their own commentarial notes, not in dedicated doctrinal histories. In Shakya Chokden's writings, however, we find sustained historical essays on Indian and Tibetan traditions of logic and epistemology, and of the Madhyamaka philosophy inspired by Nāgārjuna. The selections given here are drawn from his work on the latter, and may serve as an introductory guide to the philosophical writings included in the remainder of this chapter.
Shakya Chokden's discussion turns on the distinction made by Tibetan thinkers between two types of argument, termed in the present translation "autonomous reason” and "consequence.” The first refers to the method of using positive proof to demonstrate the truth or falsehood of a given proposition. The second, by contrast, only seeks to undermine the propositions advanced by a (real or presumed) opponent by drawing out their untenable consequences, and so is similar to reductio ad absurdum, or “indirect Proof,” in Western systems of logic. This distinction was often considered by Tibetans to he the basis for designating two distinct schools of Madhyamaka philosophy, Svātantrika (Autonomous Reasoning) and Prāsańgika (Consequentialist). MTK (Komarovski, Sources of Tibetan Tradition, 373)
The field of Ch'an studies has seen some very lively disputes over the course of the twentieth century, but there has been general agreement on the proposition that the doctrine of sudden enlightenment represents the highest expression of the doctrinal mainstream of early Chinese Ch’an Buddhism. Although there is some quibbling regarding details and specific interpretations, scholars working in this field often describe the history of the doctrine of sudden enlightenment within Ch’an in terms of three subjects: (1) Hui-neng’s doctrine of sudden enlightenment as shown in his "mind verse" (hsin-chieh) in the Platform Sutra of the Sixth Patriarch (Liu-tsu t'an-ching); (2) Shen-hui’s campaign in opposition to the gradual teaching of the Northern school and in support of the public recognition of Hui-neng as sixth patriarch; and (3) the continuation of the spirit of Hui-neng in the teachings and religious practice of Ma-tsu, Shih-t'ou, and the later Ch’an tradition
Research done in recent years has shown that the traditional interpretations of these three subjects are all substantially incorrect, although the implications of these findings have not yet been fully realized. The history of early Ch'an is in the process o f being thoroughly rewritten, but it is already clear that the doctrine of sudden enlightenment and the dispute between the sudden and gradual teachings should no longer be used as yardsticks by which the religious message of Ch'an and its widespread acceptance in T'ang dynasty China are understood. (McRae, "Shen-hui and the Teaching of Sudden Enlightenment in Early Ch'an Buddhism," 227)
"Buddha-nature" (Japanese, Bussho) has been regarded in the Sōtō sect as one of the three central fascicles of the Shōbōgenzō, together with Genjōkōan and Bendōwa. Dōgen delivered it the tenth month of 1241 to the followers gathered around him at the Kōshō-ji south of Kyoto. The work as we now have it, however, is a considerably revised form of that original text. Although neither the original or revised manuscript exists in Dōgen's holograph, a copy by his disciple Ejō (1198-1280), including Dōgen's later revisions, is preserved in the Eihei-ji. In most editions, Shōbōgenzō Buddha-nature is the third fascicle in the collection, following Genjōkōan and Makahannya-haramitsu.
The idea that sentient beings all possess the Buddha-nature and the possibility of attaining Buddhahood is central to most of the schools of the Mahayana. Yet Dōgen's treatment, reflecting his own unique Zen standpoint, can be said to be apart from all the rest. Strictly adhering to a nondualistic interpretation, he comments on passages from Zen and other Buddhist writings that
have some bearing on this theme. What is most striking about this commentary is the manner in which it gives clear priority to religious meaning over normal grammatical syntax. In more than a few cases Dōgen chooses to read these passages in ways which are dubious, and sometimes even impossible, from a grammatical point of view. But he does it for a definite purpose. It focuses attention on what he feels to be inadequacies in the traditional ways the texts are read, and at the same time it clearly sets forth his own understanding and rectification of those inadequacies based on his religious awakening.
For example, at the very beginning of the work he quotes a passage from the Nirvana Sutra ("Northern" version) well-known to all Buddhists: "All sentient beings without exception have the Buddha-nature". This is the general Mahayana statement, which is emphasized in particular in the Nirvana Sutra. Dōgen goes beyond it, by reading the passage as, "All sentient beings-whole being is the Buddha-nature." This he does by reading the characters shitsuu normally "without exception have, as "whole being (he is aided by the fact that the character u means both "to be," or "being," and "to have"). This changes the traditional emphasis of sentient beings having a Buddha-nature, to stress a standpoint more in keeping with the basic nondualistic Mahayana position: whole being is the Buddha-nature, in which "whole being" means not only sentient beings but all beings. This avoids the duality of subject (sentient beings) and object (the Buddha-nature possessed by them), the duality which regards the Buddha-nature as a potentiality to be actualized in the future, and the duality of means and end, where practice is taken as a means and realization of Buddha-nature the end. Dōgen's reading "whole being is the Buddha-nature" thus indicates the nondualistic oneness of the realizer (whole being) and the realized (Buddha-nature), the simultaneity of Buddha-nature and enlightenment (Buddha), and the identity of practice and attainment. It is the key to his understanding of the Buddha-nature as it is developed in various aspects throughout the rest of the work*
Buddha-nature is the eighth fascicle to appear in this series of translations from Dōgen's Shōbōgenzō which began in May 1971 with Bendōwa. As in the past, we have provided rather extensive footnotes. Their aim is to provide the English language reader a means of better arriving at some understanding of this extremely difficult work, much of which would be incomprehensible without them. We of course do not pretend that they are in any way definitive. They could not be, given the profoundly complicated and suggestive nature of the text. We have attempted, however, to have them exemplify a consistent view of the work as a whole. The edition followed is that of Õkubo Dōshū: Shōbōgenzō (Tokyo: Chikuma, 1971), pp. 14–35. We would like to express our gratitude to Professor Nishitani Keiji for his valuable suggestions.
N.B. In the text, Dōgen quotes passages from Zen and other Buddhist writings at the heads of the various sections. In order to make clear both the way they are normally read and Dōgen's own sometimes peculiar interpretative reading, we have translated them according to the normal reading when the italicized quotation first appears en bloc at the beginning of the sections; then, when Dōgen's different reading makes it necessary, we have generally retranslated the same words as close to his meaning as the English will allow in the following phrase by phrase discussion of the quotation. When this is done the discrepancy between the two renderings is detailed in the footnotes. (Waddell and Abe, introduction, 94–96)
Notes
- See Abe Masao, "Dōgen on Buddha-nature," Eastern Buddhist, IV, I.
The historical approach to Zen in Heinrich Dumoulin's major work, A History of Zen, published over twenty years ago, broke new ground in Western Zen studies. Up to that time Zen publication in the West dealt primarily with interpretive accounts of Zen and translations of Zen or Zen-related texts. I follow here an alternate approach to Zen and seek to place it in the context of one or another aspect of Mahāyāna tradition. One might read Zen in the perspective of Indian Mādhyamika or Yogācāra, or in terms of the Chinese prajñic or Hua-yen doctrinal development. But I would like to place it within the perspective of Tathāgatagarbha thought. (Kiyota, "Tathāgatagarbha Thought," 207)
Humans have long grappled with the question of the nature of our Self, defined here as the ultimate reality inherent to our individual being. Religious traditions can be a great place to look when attempting to understand this aspect of our humanity. Broadly speaking, when contemplating ideas of Self in Buddhism and Hinduism, the relationship between the Buddhist notion of Buddha-nature (tathāgatagarbha) and the Hindu notion of Self (ātman), is an intriguing one: How can we understand them to be similar or different? How do the Buddhist concepts of emptiness (śūnyatā) and mind-only (cittamātra) relate to the concepts of tathāgatagarbha and ātman? Is emptiness contrary to these ideas? Are tathāgatagarbha and the Hindu teaching that ātman is equal to brahman (ultimate reality), both expressions of a non-dualistic state of mind? Although it is commonly taught that Hinduism and Buddhism differ in their understanding of Self, one thing that becomes apparent is that these are not simple questions, perhaps mainly because their answers are contextual. There are many answers that come from many different types of Hindus and Buddhists in various places. For this paper, I will be looking at commentary on the Buddhist text the Mahāyāna Mahāparinirvāṇa sūtra and its use of the concept of a permanent Self and how this relates to emptiness (śūnyatā) and skillful means (upāya). This paper seeks to support my claim that, through skillful means, ātman and anātman (no-Self) are both saying something quite similar—despite the apparent paradoxical nature of this statement—and will look at Buddha-nature in the Mahāparinirvāṇa sūtra as a way to understand and help articulate this thought. (Laughlin, "Tathāgatagarbha and Ātman," 57)
Read more here . . .
Notes:
1. (In title and not shown) This was originally written in 1994; the publisher seems to have fallen into a black hole, so I am putting it out here myself; I have not changed it (other than fonts and some formatting issues) in order to keep the historical in perspective. I think that I still agree with myself, especially with the idea that tathāgatagarbha represents more of a dualism than a monism and thereby leads to ethical problems with the less-than-real (accidental) kleśa.
2. Many of the questions considered here have been treated in David Ruegg's recent publication Buddha-nature, Mind and the Problem of Gradualism in a Comparative Perspective (Delhi: Heritage Publishers 1992); see especially Chapter One.
The concept of the Buddha's real or essential nature is referred to by (or better: rests upon) many different Sanskrit terms - e.g. (tathāgata-)dhātu, (buddha-)gotra, (tathāgata-)garbha, dharmatā, dharma-kāya, buddhatā. Other terms that are closely related are Tathatā, āśraya, prakṛti, prabhāsvara-citta, dharma-dhātu, buddha-jñāna.'"`UNIQ--ref-000020EA-QINU`"' So when we speak of the Buddha-nature (which is how I will abbreviate the more cumbersome 'the Buddha's real or essential nature' from now on), we are tacitly drawing upon some or all of these terms, which have their own ramifications and interrelations, of course. This is a very complex situation and I want to try and clarify it by approaching it from two angles. First, historically, I want to propose that Buddhism in India always had within it three strands which tended to view and understand the Dharma from their own standpoint; these strands are those of śīla, samādhi and prajñā (see p. 262 for details). Secondly, conceptually, I propose a number of what may be called conceptual nets or images (e.g. withinness, foundation, nature/being—see p. 263 for details) that can be applied to the concept of the Buddha-nature, and which (a) tend to hang together as a group, but in addition (b) each of the conceptual nets to a large extent determines the sort of terminology that is used when speaking of the Buddha-nature. Part of my argument is that works like the RGV (and to a lesser degree, the ŚMS) represent a systematization of the different terms (and hence, tacitly, the conceptual nets that give rise to these terms) that were available at the time that the Mahāyāna was growing to maturity.'"`UNIQ--ref-000020EB-QINU`"' This period of the Mahāyāna is usually referred to as the third turning of the Dharma-cakra; it involved a fundamental shift in the axis of Buddhism which led to a bhedābheda philosophy (i.e. the Absolute is both distinct and non-distinct from its attributes). Finally, we look at what the Chinese made of all this. They settled on the term fo hsing to mean 'Buddha-nature', but we find that hsing is used to translate different Sanskrit terms (e.g. prakṛti, gotra, bhāva—see p. 267 for details), and that these Sanskrit terms are themselves translated by other words than hsing (e.g. t'i, shen, chen, shih). In other words, the inherent ambiguities in the Sanskrit terminology are replaced by inherent ambiguities in the Chinese terminology. In addition, because garbha (which nearly always means 'embryo' in Sanskrit) is translated by ts'ang, ( = 'womb'; lit. 'storehouse'), a certain vacuum was created in the Chinese vocabulary which the terms fo hsing and fo hsin ( = buddha-citta) neatly filled. (Rawlinson, introductory remarks, 259–60)
Buddhism, and especially early Buddhism, is known for the anātman (no self) teaching. By any account, this teaching is central to both doctrine and practice from the beginning. Zen Buddhism (Chinese Ch'an), in contrast, is known for its teaching that the single most important thing in life is to discover the 'true self'. Is there a real, or only an apparent, conflict between these two versions of Buddhism? Certainly there is at the least a radical change in the linguistic formulation of the teaching. Examining the two teachings on the linguistic level, we note that the use of the term 'true' in the phrase 'true self' may indicate that we have here a conscious reformation of the place of the term 'self' in the tradition, or perhaps that the use of this phrase in Zen is the product of such a conscious formulation. Thus we may expect, upon investigation, to find an evolution from one teaching to the other, rather than a true doctrinal disparity. The apparent, or linguistic, conflict between the two, however, remains; hence we must also expect to find a doctrinal formulation at some point in this evolution in which the apparent conflict is consciously apprehended and resolved.
That is, Buddhism embraces both the teaching that there is no self and the teaching that the goal of life is to discover the true self. Not only does Buddhism embrace these two formulations, but each in its own context is the central pivot of the teachings of the school or community concerned. Two questions arise here. (1) How can a single tradition affirm both no self and true self? How can the two ideas be reconciled? (This is the philosophical question.) (2) In linking early Buddhism and Zen we are discussing two religious movements separated by approximately 12 centuries and by their development in two vastly different cultures, the Indian and the Chinese. What is there in the course of this development that could account for the transition from talk of no self to talk of true self? (This is the question of intellectual history.) In the present essay I will attempt to show that it is by examining the Buddha nature (fo hsing 佛性) concept and understanding it as a term representing certain actions that these questions may be answered. (King, "The Buddha Nature," 255)
Watsuji Tetsurō (1889-1960) brought Dōgen out of this long period of obscurity with his treatise Shamon Dōgen written between 1919 and 1921.'"`UNIQ--ref-00001D66-QINU`"' Watsuji's contribution, however, is not limited to his introduction of Dōgen to public attention. Instead of treating Dōgen as the founder of the Sōtō School, he presents him as a human being, a person, a man (hito):
- ...it may be justifiable to assert that I opened a gate to a new interpretation of Dōgen. He thereby becomes not the Dōgen of a sect but of mankind; not the founder Dōgen but rather our Dōgen. The reason why I claim it so daringly is due to my realization that his truth was killed by sheer sectarian treatments (Watsuji 1925，p. 160).
This realization grew out of Watsuji’s effort to solve the problem of how a layman like himself could attempt to understand Dōgen's "truth" without engaging in the rigorous training prescribed by the Zen tradition (Watsuji 1925, p , 156). A sectarian would claim that the "truth" must be experienced immediately and that any attempt to verbalize or conceptualize it constitutes falsification. If the immediate experience is the only gateway to the "truth," as the sectarian would claim, why did Dōgen himself write so much? Dōgen believed that it was through writing that his truth was to be transmitted to others. For his own religious training, he singlemindedly concentrated on sitting in meditation; yet he saw no intrinsic conflict between sitting and writing. This is why Dōgen started writing Shōbōgenzō in 1231: so that he might be able to "transmit the
Buddha’s authentic Dharma to those who are misguided by false teachers" (Watsuji 1925, p. 157). Watsuji further quotes from Dogen: "Although it (Shōbōgenzō) might appear to be a mere 'theory,' it still bears indispensable importance for the sake of Dharma" (1925，p. 157). Thus Watsuji claims that his approach, which relies on words and concepts, is a valid alternative to the monk’s subjective pursuit.
According to Dōgen, enlightenment is possible only through rigorous sitting in meditation (kufū zazen) and through the study of Dharma under a master (sanshi monpō). One can encounter Dōgen as a master through his writings, for he answers one’s questions in his works. But one still must practice sitting in meditation. Watsuji insists that meditation can be done in an office or a study as well as in a meditation hall; he even goes so far as to say that perhaps a study may be a more congenial place for this purpose than a meditation hall when many monasteries are no longer concerned with the transmission of the truth but are immersed in secular concerns (1925，p. 158). Therefore, for Watsuji, meditation does not necessarily require the act of entering a monastery.
Of the two prerequisites for the realization of the truth, sitting in meditation is left to the individual. But the other, the pursuit of Dharma under a master, is Watsuji's principle concern. Shamon Dogen is an account of Watsuji's personal encounter with the person of Dōgen as he speaks in his writings, primarily Shōbōgenzō and Shōbōgenzō zuimonki, the latter of which was compiled by Ejō, Dōgen's closest disciple. In Watsuji's treatise, we encounter not only Watsuji as he faced Dōgen but Dōgen himself.
Watsuji’s new methodology considers it central to discover and encounter the person (hito) of Dōgen in his works.'"`UNIQ--ref-00001D67-QINU`"' Many people have followed Watsuji’s methodology. Professor Tamaki Kōshirō of the University of Tokyo, for instance, remarks that not only was he first exposed to Dōgen through Watsuji, but also that he encountered the living Dōgen in Watsuji’s treatise.'"`UNIQ--ref-00001D68-QINU`"'
This writer finds Watsuji's methodology to be particularly applicable to the study of Dōgen. Dōgen himself saw the truth fully embodied in the personhood of his Chinese master, Juching. Dōgen's encounter with this individual was the single
most decisive experience in his life, as is abundantly attested in his writings. Furthermore, Dōgen repeatedly discouraged his disciples from associating with institutionalized Zen. This paper, therefore, is the result of the writer’s attempt to encounter the personhood of Dōgen.
While this writer uses Watsuji’s methodology, the main body of literature that is examined in this paper is the chapter of Dōgen’s Shōbōgenzō devoted to the busshō or Buddha-nature. The reasons for this choice are three. The question that tormented the young monk Dōgen concerned the Buddha-nature. Dōgen's search for the answer to this question took him to the eminent monks of his time: Kōen of Mt. Hiei; Kōin of Miidera temple;
Yōsai of Kenninji temple; Myōzen, who succeeded Yōsai at this first Rinzai Zen monastery in Japan; Wu-chi Liao-pai and finally T'ien-t'ung Ju-ching in Southern Sung China. This pilgrimage spanned a period of over ten years ending in 1225 when he attained enlightenment under Ju-ching’s instruction and solved his question. Thus it is possible to look at Dōgen's formative years as a continuing struggle with the fundamental question he first raised on Mt. Hiei. Secondly, the Buddha-nature chapter is one of the longest of the ninety-two chapters, in the Shōbōgenzō which may suggest Dōgen's particular concern for the subject matter. Lastly, the original manuscript of this chapter, now preserved in Eiheiji temple, bears witness to the fact that Dōgen laboriously revised the chapter a number of times. Study of the Buddha-nature chapter, therefore, can
reasonably be taken as central to understanding Dōgen's life and thought. (Kodera, "The Buddha-nature in Dogen's
Shōbōgenzō," 267–70)
So far, no lifeless universe has been discovered. That is, the occurrence of matter without the occurrence of life is, judging by the available empirical evidence viewed globally, something that does not happen. In every case that matter has been there in any universe, life has occurred—eventually.
I do not mean that there has never been a time, a single snapshot moment or a billion such moments, during which there was only matter but no life. Nor do I mean that there is no part of the universe in which, considered in isolation from all other parts, there is only lifelessness. "In every case that matter has been there in any universe, life has occurred" is true even if there are immense periods of time, considered in isolation, and immense swaths of space, considered in isolation, where there is no life.
The crux of the problem, however, lies in those three words, "considered in isolation." Everything depends on how we divide things up, where our definition of "one thing" begins and ends.
For what I mean when I say that "matter without life has never existed" is that, scientifically speaking, there has never appeared even one particle of any kind of matter found in any non-life-producing universe, considering that universe as a whole. For no non-life-producing universe has yet been discovered. Likewise, there is no lifeless matter in any period of time that is not part of at least one sequence of time that produces life.
All matter that has ever been discovered has existed only in a universe that also contains life, and all lifeless times were part of this sequence of time we are now in, the total sequence of time that produced this life.
No lifeless universe has ever been discovered. Among all the universes that have been discovered so far, there is not even one that is devoid of life. I challenge you or anyone to show me even one particle of matter, or even one moment of time, from a universe without life.
At this point we have merely been speaking empirically about what has so far been discovered. There are very few things that we can know with absolute certainty without relying on empirical contingency. But in fact this is one thing we can know with absolute certainty: no universe will ever be discovered devoid of life.
We can know this for two reasons. The first is perhaps relatively trivial, although some philosophers attach great significance to it. It is that the act of "discovering" itself requires a living being. Ipso facto, wherever any discovering is done, life is also present. Therefore no universe devoid of life can ever be discovered.
The second reason has to do with how we define universe. Th is is the hidden premise of the claims I am making here: it is because we understand the idea of "universe" in a certain way that we can claim, with absolute certainty, that there is no lifeless universe. If the universe is taken in its broadest meaning, which is also its most commonsensical meaning, it means "all that exists." All that exists certainly includes this planet, this solar system, this period of time. The universe in this broadest sense is what includes any more-narrowly construed universes—for example, all alternate universes. If we call the sum total of all possible universes "the universe," then it is obvious that there is no universe but this one, and since this one contains life, no universe can be discovered that is devoid of life. Whatever might be discovered is by definition part of this totality that includes our lives.
All of the above is true even if life exists only once, for a few million years, on one small planet. Even if there was no life for billions of years—and in most of the universe there never has been and never will be life—even if the phenomenon "life" is a peculiar flash that occurs only on planet Earth between the Hadean Eon 4,500 million years ago until 2018 CE, and never arises anywhere ever again, it is still true that there is no universe devoid of life and that there can never be any universe devoid of life.
And yet people often contemplate those vast billions of years and expanses of space and speak of "lifeless matter." This makes sense only if we divide the world in a certain way. That is, it is only because we are in the habit of dividing self and other, or mind and its objects, or—to put it most generally—inside and outside, that it is possible to speak of lifeless matter. Only if any one part of the universe is thought of as an entity truly separate from all other parts can anything be lifeless. The key question is how much of the universe do we consider to be "one thing." Where do we draw the line that divides inside from outside? If "me and that rock" are one thing, that one thing has life, just as "my skin and my fingernails" has life. If me and that rock are separate, then my body has life and the rock has no life.
Mahāyāna Buddhism, particularly that developed in the Madhyamaka school and further elaborated in Tiantai Buddhism, holds that the separation of "inside and outside" is impossible to sustain in any nonambiguous way. These schools generally develop this idea logically by use of reductio ad absurdum arguments that try to demonstrate that any way of drawing common-sense dividing lines to define one object in distinction to another end up being self-contradictory. (Read the entire article here).
Buddhist doctrine refers to entities possessing mind (Skt., citta) as sentient beings (Skt., sattva) and considers them to undergo rebirth through the six realms of existence (hells, hungry spirits, animals, asuras, human beings, heavenly beings). It is because they possess mind that they give rise to the defilements, accumulating the negative karma that is the cause of rebirth. The purpose of Buddhism therefore is to release beings from the suffering associated with rebirth, a condition called liberation (Skt., vimokśa) and nirvana. Mahayana calls it the attainment of buddhahood (Jpn., jōbutsu). There also exist nonsentient beings (Skt., asattva). Since they do not possess mind, they do not undergo the cycle of rebirth and so cannot attain liberation, nirvana, or buddhahood. In principle, therefore, plants, like inorganic substances not possessing "mind," are not understood to undergo rebirth. It is therefore impossible to discuss their attainment of buddhahood. However, when Buddhism entered China, the potential for buddhahood of nonsentient beings became an important subject for debate. Since China had not previously had any concept of sentient beings, no strict distinction was made between sentient and nonsentient, which was why the question of nonsentient buddhahood was taken up. The Jingangbi lun (Diamond Scalpel Treatise) of the sixth Tiantai patriarch, Zhanran (711–82), confronted the issue directly and asserted that nonsentient beings could attain buddhahood. This did not, however, mean that they could aspire to enlightenment, practice, and achieve buddhahood of themselves. Rather, when a sentient being attains buddhahood, the whole environment becomes the Buddha's realm. A sentient being's subjective existence (Jpn., shōhō) arises from past karmic effects and this causes the realm of the environment (Jpn., ehō) to arise. Environment is thus dependent on su