Part 23

Then the monk-priest proceeds to the preaching-chamber, in the middle of which is a chair with a cushion. He takes his seat, and, holding a screen before his face to prevent his attention being distracted, commences his recitations. The people sit on the floor—the men on one side, the women and children on the other. First he repeats the three-refuge formula (p. 78) and the five prohibitions (p. 126), the people repeating after him. Next he recites some favourite passage from the discourses of Buddha, the one generally selected being the Nidhi-kāṇḍa Sutta (see p. 129). If any listener interposes a remark, or hints that he does not understand, the priest explains the meaning. The people then make obeisance and depart.

The monk-priest next repeats to himself the appointed Pirit for the first day of Vassa—namely, the Maṅgala-sutta, Ratna-sutta, and Karaṇīya-metta-sutta (see p. 318), after which he retires to rest for a few hours. Rising before daybreak, he meditates on the virtues of Buddha, on goodwill towards all living beings, on the impurities of the body, and on death, walking up and down in his own chamber, or in any place suitable for perambulation. Next he goes to the temporary chapel, and prostrating himself before the shrine, says, ‘I worship continually all the relic-shrines, the sacred Bodhi-tree, and the images of Buddha. I reverence the three jewels’ (see p. 175). He then arranges his offering of flowers, and places these with a small portion of his morning meal on the altar. His meal being concluded, he teaches the children of the villagers, or he prepares for the mid-day and evening preaching (baṇa).

These preachings are generally well attended, especially on the four Poya days (p. 257). On the new-moon and full-moon days, the priest must go to the nearest monastery and join in the Pātimokkha (see p. 84); and on the full-moon day, which terminates the three months of Vassa, he must go there again as before, but on that occasion, addressing the assembled monks, he must say:—‘Venerable Sirs, I have duly finished the Vassa; if you have any doubt about it, speak, and tell me in what I have erred.’ If no one speaks he is held to have fulfilled his duties faultlessly. Then returning and taking with him a second priest, the two together perform the Rātri-baṇa or mid-night service, which concludes the ceremonies of Vassa. Two pulpits, made of four upright posts, supporting small platforms, are erected, and the people from the neighbouring villages, dressed in their holiday attire, attend in large numbers. These nocturnal recitations are commonly continued for about five hours.

Some account should next be given of the ceremony called Pirit, which is performed in Ceylon and Burma during Vassa, and also at other times. The name Pirit is corrupted from the Pāli _paritta_, which again is supposed to be connected with Sanskṛit paritrā or paritrāṇa, ‘protection[140].’ We must premise that this ceremony had its origin in the fear of evil spirits and demons everywhere prevalent in the East (see p. 218); but it must be borne in mind that Buddhism recognizes no order of beings, called demons, created by God, and eternally separate in nature from men.

Demons are beings who are regarded as created by men, rather than by God; for they may have been men in their last state of existence and may become men again (see p. 122). They are, however, represented as cherishing spiteful and malevolent feelings against the superior race to which they once belonged; and all kinds of safeguards and counteracting influences are thought to be needed to protect human beings from their malignity.

This is quite in keeping with the Hindū theory, which holds that when a man addicted to any particular vice dies, his evil nature never dies, but assumes another personality and lives after him as a demon. And this applies equally to women, so that the resulting demons may be of either sex, and the female is held to be more spiteful than the male.

The most effective of all safeguards against the machinations of such malignant beings, is believed to be the recitation or intoning of the Buddha’s Law, and especially of the Sutta (Sūtra) division of it already described (p. 62). And of this division there are choice portions—twenty-nine in number[141]—supposed to possess greater prophylactic potency than other portions. Collectively, they constitute what is called the Pirit, and of these, three are most commonly recited:—the Maṅgala-sutta, the Ratna-sutta, and the Karaṇīya-metta-sutta. Part of the first of these has been already given (at p. 129 of this volume).

Part of the second or ‘Jewel’ Sutta (translated by Childers) runs thus:—

‘All spirits here assembled,—those of earth and those of air,—let all such be joyful; let them listen attentively to my words.

‘Therefore hear me, O ye spirits; be friendly to the race of men; for day and night they bring you their offerings, therefore keep diligent watch over them.

‘Whatsoever treasure exists here or in other worlds, whatsoever glorious jewels in the heavens, there is none like Buddha.

‘Buddha is this glorious jewel. May this truth bring prosperity! There is nought like this doctrine. The Law is this glorious jewel. May this truth bring prosperity!

‘The disciples of Buddha, worthy to receive gifts, the priesthood is this glorious jewel. May this truth bring prosperity!

‘Their old karma is destroyed, no new karma is produced. Their hearts no longer cleaving to future life, their seed of existence destroyed, their desires quenched, the righteous are extinguished like this lamp. The priesthood is this glorious jewel. May this truth bring prosperity! Ye spirits here assembled—those of earth and those of air—let us bow before Buddha—let us bow before the Law—let us bow before the Monkhood.’

Part of the third or Karaṇīya-metta-sutta runs as follows:—

This is what should be done by him who is wise in seeking his own good. Contented and cheerful, not oppressed with the cares of this world, not burdened with riches, tranquil, discreet, not arrogant, not greedy for gifts, let him not do any mean action for which others who are wise might reprove him. Let all creatures be happy and prosperous; let them be of joyful mind. Let no man in any place deceive another, nor let him be harsh towards any one; let him not, out of anger or resentment, wish ill to his neighbour. As a mother, so long as she lives, watches over her child, her only child, so among all beings let boundless goodwill prevail. Let goodwill without measure, impartial, unmixed with enmity, prevail throughout the world, above, below, around.

The Rev. D. J. Gogerley witnessed the performance of a great Pirit ceremony in Ceylon (Hardy’s Monachism, p. 240). Taking his account and that of Mr. Dickson, I have compiled the following brief description of the Mahā-baṇa Pirit, ‘great Pirit recitation’:—

So soon as the sun has set crowds of people arrive at the Recitation-Hall, bringing oil-lamps made out of cocoanut-shells. The Hall is decorated, and a canopy, shaped like a pagoda, is erected over the pulpits, which are placed on a raised platform. When darkness supervenes a blaze of light illuminates the Hall. A relic of the Buddha is deposited on the platform, and a sacred thread is fastened round the Hall, one extremity of it being brought close to the relic and to the Reciters. On the morning of the next day, the recitations begin. One of the Reciters repeats the three-refuge formula, and the five commandments (see pp. 78, 126). Then incense is burnt round the platform, and the musicians outside the Hall strike up a lively air. Next, the formula of ‘the twelve successive causes of existence’ (see p. 102) is intoned, and a hymn of victory chanted.

The recitation of the Pirit continues uninterruptedly, day and night, for seven days. Twenty-four priests are employed, two of whom are constantly seated on the platform and engaged in reciting. Moreover three times in each day—at sunrise, mid-day, and sunset—they all assemble together and chant in chorus. Of course, when the recitation of the Suttas constituting the Pirit is concluded, it is recommenced, and in this way all the Suttas are recited again and again. On the morning of the seventh day a messenger is sent to a neighbouring temple to invite the attendance of the gods. Then by a stretch of the imagination certain of the gods and spirits are believed to answer the summons, and on their supposed arrival, the protective Suttas are chanted more energetically than ever till the morning of the eighth day, when a benediction concludes the ceremony, and offerings of robes are made to the priest-reciters.

We now pass on to Tibet and Mongolia.

The ceremonies of admission to the monkhood in those countries do not deviate sufficiently from the practices just described to require special notice.

With regard, however, to the dress of Lāmistic monks after their admission to the Order, the ancient rule, as we have seen, obliged them to wear only three garments of a dirty yellowish colour, made out of rags, or picked up in cemeteries or on dust heaps. But the necessities of a colder climate have compelled the Lāmas to increase their official vestments, and the higher Lāmas sometimes wear bright silken robes enriched with ornament. The law is sufficiently obeyed by putting a patch or two at one corner.

A full equipment is supposed to consist of an under vestment, a sort of tunic worn over it, a mantle, a kind of scarf worn over the left shoulder, a loose robe brought round over the same shoulder, and a cap[142]. The right shoulder is rarely bare, as it generally is in Southern Buddhist countries.

The colour of these six articles of clothing, especially of the cap, is yellow or red, according to the sect to which a monk belongs.

The cap is an important mark of sectarian difference, and is of various forms, and when it has five points, has been compared to a bishop’s mitre, but the five points really denote the five Dhyāni-Buddhas and their Bodhi-sattvas.

Part of every full monk’s equipment in Tibet is a peculiar instrument, made of bronze or other metal, and called a Dorje (Sanskṛit Vajra, ‘a thunderbolt’), the employment of which for religious objects is peculiar to Northern Buddhism. It is shaped like the imaginary thunderbolt of the gods Indra and Ṡiva—that is, it consists of a short bar, about four inches long, the two extremities of which swell out in globular form, or like small oval cages formed of hoops of metal. The original Dorje is supposed to have fallen direct from Indra’s heaven, and to have been preserved in a monastery near Lhāssa, called Sera pp. 278, 442. According to another legend, the original instrument belonged to Gautama Buddha himself, and on his passing away into non-existence, transported itself through the air from India into Tibet. The consecrated imitations of it are innumerable. Their primary use is for exorcising and driving away evil spirits, especially in the performance of ceremonies and repetition of prayers—the instrument being then held between the fingers and thumb and waved backwards and forwards, or from side to side.

The efficacy of the Dorje in securing good fortune and warding off evil influences of all kinds is supposed to be of wide application. The idea was really borrowed from Ṡaivism or from the Tantra system, introduced through Nepāl by the Red sect. It is easy to understand the enormous power supposed to belong to a priesthood which claimed to be the wielders of a formidable thunderbolt, sent to them directly from heaven.

No wonder that the original Dorje preserved at the Sera monastery has become an object of actual worship. According to M. Huc, countless pilgrims prostrate themselves before it; and at the New Year’s festival, on the 27th day of the first month, it is carried in procession with great pomp to Lhāssa,—to the two centres of Lāmism—Potala and Lā brang. On its way there, the mystical implement is adored by the whole population, male and female (ii. 221).

Below is an engraving of a Dorje which I brought from Dārjīling.

It should be mentioned that the fierce Bodhi-sattva Vajra-pāṇi (see p. 201 of this volume) is represented holding a similar Dorje in his right hand in his character of subduer of evil spirits. In some representations the evil demons are denoted by serpents.

Another important part of a full monk’s equipment in Tibet is the Prayer-bell (called Drilbu) employed at the performance of daily religious ceremonies, and rung to accompany the repetition and chanting of prayers, or to fill up the intervals of worship. It often has half a Dorje as a handle, or the handle is ornamented with various mystical symbols carved on it. The object of ringing bells during worship is to call the attention of the beings who are worshipped, or to keep off evil spirits by combining noise with the waving of the Dorje in the handle.

The bell here represented was brought by me from Dārjīling.

The bells used in Burma are described at p. 526.

Other religious implements used by novices and lay-brethren, as well as by full monks, are prayer-wheels, prayer-cylinders, rosaries, amulets (see p. 358), drums (see p. 385), and the Phurbu or Phur-pa (pp. 351, 352).

As to the daily religious services and ceremonies performed by Monks in Tibet and Mongolia, these, of course, are far more ritualistic than in southern Buddhist countries. It has already been explained (at pp. 202, 225) that certain abstract essences or mystical forms of the Buddha, called Dhyāni-Buddhas, were imagined to exist, and these had their concrete energizing vice-gerents called Bodhi-sattvas—beings who received adoration as if they were actually gods. In Tibet the Bodhi-sattva Avalokiteṡvara, and the canonized reformer Tsong Khapa, and other supposed saints, became prominent objects of religious worship. Then, in process of time, a complicated ceremonial was developed, which, as we shall see (p. 338), has much in common with the ritual of Roman Catholic Christianity.

The language employed in the religious services of the Lāmistic Hierarchy, whether in Tibet, Mongolia, or in the Lāma monasteries of China and Manchuria, is Tibetan. In fact, Tibetan is to the Lāmistic Church what Latin is to the Romish. It is the sole orthodox language of religion and religious ceremonial.

According to Koeppen, only one Mongolian Lāma-monastery (and that established at Peking) has the right to perform religious services in Mongolian instead of in Tibetan[143].

Dr. Edkins, however, states that there is a temple (called Fa-hai-si) near the hunting-park, in which the Manchu language is employed instead of Tibetan. (Chinese Buddhism, p. 406.)

Without doubt the acquisition of some knowledge of the Tibetan language is incumbent on every Lāma. Nevertheless, few, except in Tibet, really understand it. They simply repeat the usual prayers and formularies mechanically[144].

It appears that the Lāmistic priests assemble three times a day to go through the prescribed ritual—at sunrise, at mid-day, and at sunset. We read that, before commencing the service, they enter the temple or hall of worship in procession and seat themselves on low seats in long rows. These are placed the whole length of the hall, from the entrance-door to the altar, being divided in the middle by a passage. At the further extremity, close to the altar, are two raised thrones for the Head Lāmas—a five-cushioned one on the right for the Abbot and a three-cushioned one for the Vice-Abbot.

When all have seated themselves, the choir-master or precentor gives a signal with a bell. Then the prayer-formularies are recited or chanted, certain passages out of the Law are intoned and certain litanies sung, sometimes in loud tones, accompanied by noisy music or by clapping of hands, and generally in unison, though occasionally verses are sung alternately with responses.

Then at other times a sentence of the Law is repeated by each monk in turn; or a chant is set up consisting of such words as: Praise be to the Buddha! or praise be to some Bodhi-sattva! followed by a recital of all his names, titles, and epithets; or mystical sentences and syllables are ejaculated. The result is said to be a chaos of voices and a deafening confusion of sounds.

The chief instruments used in the services are a spiral shell, a long trumpet of copper or brass (sometimes more than ten feet long), a large drum, flutes, cymbals, and horns—the last being sometimes made of the thigh-bones of human beings[145].

The ritual is imposing, and still more so when a living Buddha is present. It has been described by M. Huc, and I here give the substance of his account[146].

In front of the chief idol, and on a level with the altar, is a gilded seat for the living Buddha or Grand Lāma of the Monastery. The whole space of the temple, from one end to the other, is occupied by long low seats almost level with the ground, stretching right and left of the Grand Lāma’s throne. These are covered with carpets, a vacant space being left between each row for the Lāmas to pass and repass. When the hour of prayer is come, a Lāma, whose office it is to summon the choir, places himself in front of the grand entrance of the temple and blows with all the force of his lungs into a conch-shell trumpet, the sound of which is audible for a league round. This effectually rouses the Lāmas and calls them together. Each then takes his mantle and official hat of ceremony, and repairs to the interior court. The trumpet sounds again, and when its note is heard for the third time, the great door is suddenly thrown open; the living Buddha enters, and takes his seat in front of the image on the altar. Then the Lāmas, after depositing their red boots in the vestibule, advance towards him barefoot, and adore him by three prostrations. This done, they seat themselves on the long seats according to their dignity, cross-legged and face to face. As soon as the director of the ceremonies has given the signal by tinkling a little bell, everyone murmurs the prescribed prayers, unrolling the formularies on his knees. After this recitation, there is profound silence for a minute. Then the bell is again rung, and a hymn or chant in two choruses begins. The Tibetan prayers, ordinarily arranged in verses, and written in metrical style, are well adapted to harmony; but sometimes at certain pauses indicated by the rubric, the Lāma musicians execute a strain in little accord with the gravity of the psalmody. The result is a stunning noise of bells, cymbals, drums, tambourines, conch-shells, trumpets, and pipes. Each musician sounds his instrument with a sort of fury, and each strives to outdo his neighbour in the noise he can produce. (Huc’s Travels, i. 88, abridged.)

One important element in some Tibetan religious services is the consecration and distribution of holy water and grain by the chief Lāmas.

Perfumes, too, are burnt, and censers containing incense are swung backwards and forwards during the ceremonies.

Then, again, some Lāmistic ceremonials include the drinking of tea poured into little cups, kept in the breast-pockets of the monks’ robes, and replenished two or three times during the service.

Sir Richard Temple (Journal, ii. 208) thus describes a tea-drinking ceremonial at which he was present, at the monastery of Pemyangchi in Sikkim (see p. 298 of these Lectures).

The priests and monks, some thirty-five in all, were drawn up in full robes to receive us. Then the officials of the monastery were introduced—the steward, the rod-bearer, the deputy master, and lastly, the master. A procession was quickly formed, which we followed into the chapel, where they all took their accustomed seats, while we sat on places prepared for us. The interior of the chapel seemed an odd place for this, but we were told that it was the correct ceremonial. A chant was begun, which lasted some ten minutes, as a sort of grace, and then tea was handed round—first to us, next to the priests, and lastly to the monks. A short chant followed, and then the procession preceded us out of the chapel.

In the picture which accompanies Sir Richard’s description, all the monks have head-coverings, some of which are like caps or hats of a high sugar-loaf shape, while others have several points like episcopal mitres (see p. 321).

The monks of Sikkim are generally of the Dugpa sect[147], and wear red caps (see pp. 273, 298).

When Dr. Watt was in Ladāk, he was present at a service performed by a number of monks belonging to both sects, who seemed to fraternize very amicably. All the monks of the red sect took up a position on one side of the chapel, while those of the yellow sect ranged themselves on the opposite side. The two sects entered together, as usual, in procession, and part of the ceremonial—as in that witnessed by Sir Richard Temple—consisted in drinking tea from little cups taken from the folds of their robes, and put back again, to be again taken out and replenished; and this, too, without interrupting the continuous repetition of prayers, chants, and formularies[148].

M. Huc also describes a ‘Tea-general’ ceremony after morning service in a temple. Each monk drinks in silence, carefully placing his scarf before his cup, as if to prevent the sight of the apparent incongruity of drinking tea in such a sacred spot (ii. 57).

Another instance of tea-drinking as an element in Lāmistic ceremonial, occurs in Mr. Sarat Chandra Dās’ highly interesting account of the ceremony of his presentation to the Dalai Lāma at the palace-monastery of Potala, in Lhāssa, on June 10, 1882. I venture to give the substance of it in an abbreviated form and not quite literally[149].

An account of other presentations both to the Dalai Lāma and Tashi Lāma will be given in a future Lecture (see pp. 439, 444, 447).

Early in the morning I was informed of the arrival of Chola Kusho, who was ready to take me to Potala for presentation to the Dalai Lāma. We sallied forth on horseback, with three bundles of incense-sticks in our hands, and a roll of scarves in our breast-pockets, chanting as we went along certain hymns, and particularly the mystic ‘Om maṇi padme Hūm.’ In the street we saw a calf sucking milk, and several women fetching water in our direction. My companions were delighted at these auspicious omens. Arrived at the eastern gateway of Potala, we dismounted, and walked up a long hall, on two sides of which were two rows of prayer-wheels, put there to be twirled, on going in and coming out.

A young monk now came down to conduct us, and we ascended slowly, looking only on the ground before us. The several ladders which conducted us from one story to another were steep, and placed in dark halls. I counted five, which took us as far as the ground-floor of the Red palace. Half-a-dozen ladders still remained to be scaled.

At about eight we reached the top, and there found a number of monks anxiously awaiting an interview with his Holiness. A seat was pointed out to me. A monk sat near me, and smilingly observed that it must have been on account of the sins of my former life that I was born in India, where there is no living Buddha.

From the top of the Red palace we enjoyed a grand panorama of Lhāssa and its suburbs. Shortly afterwards some Lāmas of high rank, dressed in loose yellow mantles, arrived. They entered the hall of reception one after another in solemn array. We remained outside in anxious suspense, fixing our eyes on the entrance door, and expecting to be summoned to his Holiness’ presence.