Part 8

Of course the Upasampadā, or admission to full monkhood (described Mahā-vagga I. 76), was a more formal ceremony. A conclave (Saṅgha) of at least ten monks was required. The candidate had to appear before them, but was first instructed by some competent and learned monk as to the nature of the rite and the questions he would have to answer. This instructor also directed him to choose some other monk competent to act as his Upādhyāya (upajjhāya) or teacher for five years after his admission, and made him provide himself with an alms-bowl and with the usual yellow monkish vestments. Then his first instructor presented himself before the conclave and informed them that the candidate was ready to be admitted. Thereupon the novice came forward, adjusted his upper garment so as to cover the left shoulder, bowed down before the feet of the assembled monks, seated himself on the ground, and, raising his joined hands, asked three times for admission to the full monkhood, thus:—‘I entreat the Saṅgha for full monkhood (Upasampadā), have compassion on me and uproot me (ullumpatu mām) from the world,’ repeated thrice.

Thereupon he was questioned [not, as in our Ordination Service: ‘Are you inwardly moved by the Holy Spirit to take upon you this office?’ Not: ‘Will you apply all your diligence to frame and fashion your own life and that of your family so as to be wholesome examples?’ but] thus:—Are you free from leprosy, boils, consumption, fits, etc. Are you a male? Are you a free man and not in the royal service? Are you free from debts? Have you the consent of your parents? Are you full twenty years old? Have you an alms-bowl and vestments? What is your name? What is your teacher’s name?

If the answers were satisfactory the candidate was admitted. After admission no prayer was pronounced [such as in our Ordination Service: ‘We beseech Thee, merciful Father, send on Thy servant Thy heavenly blessing that he may be clothed with righteousness’[40]]; but he was informed that he was to trust to only four Resources (nissaya), and to abstain from four chief forbidden acts (akaraṇīyāni). These four Resources and four Prohibitions were then communicated to him thus:—

First the four Resources as follow:—(1) Broken morsels given in alms for food; (2) Rags from a dust-heap for clothes; (3) Roots of trees for an abode; (4) Liquid putrefying excreta of cows for medicine. Note, however, that, in practice, indulgences (atirekha-lābha) were in all four cases allowed; such as, better food when it happened to be given, or when invited to dinner by rich laymen; linen, cotton, or woollen garments, if dyed yellow and in three pieces (but only one change was allowed); houses, huts, or caves to dwell in, when not itinerating; ghee, honey, or molasses when out of health (Mahā-v° I. 30. 4).

Next the four chief Prohibitions (compare the Ten Prohibitions, p. 78), viz.:—(1) Unchastity and sexual acts of any kind; (2) Taking anything not given, even a blade of grass; (3) Killing any living thing, even an ant, or worm, or plant; (4) Falsely claiming the extraordinary powers of a perfected saint (uttarimanussa-dhamma. Mahā-v° I. 78. 2).

Clearly there were great temptations to gain celebrity by claiming such powers, or else this fourth prohibition would not have terminated the ceremony.

So soon as a man was admitted to full monkhood, he went through a five years’ course of instruction in the entire doctrine and discipline, under the preceptor (Upādhyāya, Āćārya) who had been previously chosen and was required to be of at least ten years’ standing.

This was a modification of the Brāhmanical rule that a student (Brahma-ćārī) should study under his preceptor for thirty-six years, or less, until he knew the Veda.

The full Buddhist monk had in theory to dwell under trees or in huts formed of leaves (pāṇ-sālā = paṇṇa-sāla = parṇa-ṡālā); but practically he resided in collections of simple mud or brick tenements, in cells, or in rows of caves hewn out of rocky hills. At any rate, collections of monastic dwellings, called Vihāras[41], were his usual abode during Vassa (or the rainy season, see p. 82); and at such times he had fellow-monks (saddhivihārika) living in companies around him, or in the same monastery.

Strict discipline was supposed to be enforced, and yet there was no central authority, no Chief Hierarch, no Archbishop whom he was bound ‘reverently to obey.’

Offences against the four forbidden acts were called Pārājikā āpatti, ‘offences meriting expulsion from the community of monks (Saṅgha).’

Then there were thirteen Saṅghādisesā āpatti, as well as certain Dukkata or less serious offences, requiring only confession before the Saṅgha, and dealt with by a Saṅgha-kamma, or act of a conclave of monks imposing some penance. There were penances (Prāyaṡ-ćitta) for lying, prevarication, abusive language, destroying vegetable or animal life, etc. (see Pātimokkha, Pāćittiyā dhammā, and pp. 62, 84). The following practices were also incumbent on all monks:—

(1) The wearing vestments given by laymen (not purchased) and consisting of three lengths of yellow-coloured rags; or, if entire lengths of cotton cloths were given, the saleable value had to be destroyed by tearing them into at least three pieces, and then sewing them together; (2) The owning no possessions except the three cloths, a girdle, bowl, razor, needle, and water-strainer to prevent the swallowing of animalculæ; (3) The living only on food collected in a wooden bowl by daily going from house to house, but without ever asking for it; (4) The eating at mid-day the one meal so collected and at no other time; (5) The fasting on four prescribed days; (6) The abiding in one spot for three or four months during Vassa, ‘the rains’ (from middle of June to middle of October), when itineration would involve trampling on vegetable and insect life; (7) The refraining from a recumbent posture under all circumstances; (8) The visiting cremation-grounds for meditation on the corruption of the body.

In truth it might almost be said that in every movement and action, in waking and sleeping, in dressing and undressing, in standing and sitting, in going out and coming in, in fasting and eating, in speaking and not speaking, the Buddhist monk had to submit to the most stringent regulations.

It was a noteworthy feature in Buddhist monachism that monks were never allowed to appear in public in a state of even semi-nudity. ‘Properly clad,’ says the Sekhiyā dhammā (4), ‘must the monk itinerate.’ ‘Not nakedness,’ says the Dhamma-pada (141), ‘can purify a mortal who has not overcome desires.’ The monk’s three garments (tićīvara = tri-ćīvara) were an inner one (antara-vāsaka), another wound about the thighs (saṅghāṭī) and an upper robe (uttarāsaṅga) worn loosely and brought round over the left shoulder. This constituted an important distinction between the Buddhist monks and the Jaina and other naked ascetics whose want of decency the Buddha condemned.

The Buddhist monk’s daily life probably began by meditation and by his reciting or intoning (Bhāṇa, Sarabhañña) portions of the Law, or by hearing it recited, followed perhaps by lessons in doctrine, or by discussions or by confessions. Next came itineration for food, followed by the one noon-day meal. Then came rest and further meditation and recitation, while possibly the senior monks preached to laymen. Such preaching took place especially during Vassa. In later times the daily duties included offering flowers, etc., at sacred shrines, and repeating so-called prayers, which were merely forms of words used as charms.

To illustrate the immensely meritorious efficacy of constant recitation of the Law, a story is told of five hundred bats that lived in a cave where two monks daily recited the Dharma. These bats gained such merit by simply hearing the sound that when they died they were all re-born as men and ultimately as gods.

Doubtless quarrels and faults of omission and commission occurred among the monks, especially during their residence together in Vassa (miscalled the Buddhist Lent). We read of six monks named Ćhabbaggiya who were constantly committing offences. Hence a day called Pavāraṇā (Pravāraṇā), ‘invitation,’ was kept at the end of Vassa, when all were invited to assemble for confession and for felicitation, if harmony had been preserved.

An important part of every monk’s duties was confession on Uposatha (Upavasatha) or fast-days (miscalled the Buddhist sabbaths)—which were kept at first on two days in each month, at full and new moon (corresponding to the Darṡa and Paurṇamāsa days of Brāhmanism), and afterwards also at the intermediate days of quarter-moon. On these four Uposatha days the Pātimokkha or general confession (p. 62) was recited. The confession was by monks to each other, not by laymen to monks, though the four days were also observed by laymen, and we know that Aṡoka enjoined periodical ceremonies, and expression of sorrow for sins on the part of all his subjects. Such confession did not cause remission of sin or absolution in our sense, but only release from evil consequences by penances (p. 62).

We have learnt, then, that Buddhist monks were not under irrevocable vows. They undertook to obey rules of discipline, but took no actual vows—not even of obedience to a superior. Buddhist monkhood was purely voluntary, so that all were free to come and go. It had nothing hereditary about it like the rank of a Brāhman.

We have also learnt, that the term ‘priest’ is not suitably applied to Buddhist monks. For true Buddhism has no ecclesiastical hierarchy, no clergy, no priestly ordination; no divine revelation, no ceremonial rites, no prayer, no worship in the proper sense of these terms. Each man was a priest to himself in so far as he depended on himself alone for internal sanctification.

Evidently, too, all Buddhist monks were integral parts of one organic whole. It is true that in the end they were collected in various monasteries, each of which practically became an independent Saṅgha (each under one Head). But in theory all were parts of one and the same brotherhood, which was republican and communistic in its constitution. And this word Saṅgha cannot be correctly rendered by ‘church,’ if by that term is meant an ecclesiastical body with legislative functions, embracing clergy and _laity_ united in a common faith and under one Head; for as founded by the Buddha, it was not this. It was simply a vast fraternity intended to embrace all monks of the four quarters (ćaturdiṡa) of the world, from the Buddha himself and the perfected Arhat (p. 133), to every monk of the lowest degree, but not a single layman. Indeed in its highest sense the Saṅgha comprised only true Nirvāṇa-seeking monks who had entered the paths of true sanctification (p. 132).

And here observe that, notwithstanding the stigma attached to unmarried women in India, Gautama in the end permitted an Order of Nuns (Pāli Bhikkhunī) and female novices (Sāmaṇerī, p. 47). The Ćulla-vagga (X. I. 3) relates how women were indebted to the intercession of a monk, Gautama’s cousin Ānanda, for permission to form an Order, and how Mahā-prajāpatī, the Buddha’s nurse (p. 24), became the first nun; yet when Ānanda first asked: ‘How are we monks to behave when we see women?’ Gautama replied: ‘Don’t see them.’ ‘But if we should see them, what are we to do?’ ‘Don’t speak to them.’ ‘But if they speak to us, what then?’ ‘Let your thoughts be fixed in deep meditation’ (Sati upaṭṭhāpetabbā. Mahā-parin° V. 23).

Clearly the Buddha was originally a misogynist as well as a misogamist, and wished his followers to be misogynists also. Even when he had been induced to admit the justice of the plea for women’s rights, he placed his nuns under the direction of monks. They could only be admitted by monks, and were subject to the male Order in all matters of discipline. They were under eight special obligations, one of which was to rise up in the presence of a monk, even if a novice.

The Buddha’s exhortation to the first nun is noteworthy:—‘Whatsoever, O Gotamī (Mahā-prajāpatī), conduces to absence of passion, to absence of pride, to wishing for little and not for much, to seclusion and not to love of society, to earnest effort and not to indolence, to contentment and not to querulousness, verily that is the true doctrine’ (Ćulla-v° X. 5).

It was certainly a great gain for a woman when she was permitted to become a nun (or a Therī); for, as a nun, she could even attain Arhatship. This is clearly laid down in Ćulla-vagga X. 1. 3. 4. No woman, however, could attain to Buddhahood without being born as a man, so that it could scarcely be said that in Buddha there is ‘neither male nor female.’

Such, then, was the monachism which constituted the very pith and marrow of Buddhism. All truly enlightened disciples of Buddha were monks or nuns.

Let us not forget, however, that in practice Buddhism admitted lay-brothers, lay-sisters, married householders and working-men, as necessary adjuncts.

Yet they were only appendages. Of course the Buddha knew very well that it was not possible to enforce celibacy on all his followers. He knew that having prohibited his monks from making or taking money or holding property, they would have to depend on lay-associates and householders for food, clothing, and habitation, and that, if every layman were to become a monk, there would be no work done, no food produced, no children born, and in time no humanity—nay, no Buddhism—left.

Universal monkhood, in short, might have been a consummation to be aimed at in some Utopia; but was practically unattainable. In fact Gautama had to take the world as he found it, and the very idea of a world perpetuating itself—according to his own theory of a constant succession of birth, decay, and reproduction—implied that a youth, on reaching manhood, married, had children, worked and earned a livelihood for their support. He could not impose this burden on others.

Besides, the generality of people were in Gautama’s day what they are in India now-a-days—bent on early marriage, and resolute in working hard for a livelihood. Even Manu only enjoined celibacy on young religious students and on old men, though there were occasional cases of perpetual (naishṭhika) Brahma-ćārins.

Without doubt, celibacy in instances of extraordinary sanctity has always commanded respect in India; but in no country of the world has married life been so universally honoured. It is not very likely, then, that the following sentiments, enunciated by the Buddha, could have met with general approval:—

‘A wise man should avoid married life (abrahma-ćariyam) as if it were a burning pit of live coals’ (Dhammika-Sutta 21).

‘Full of hindrances is married life, defiled by passion. How can one who dwells at home live the higher life in all its purity?’ (Tevijja-Sutta 47).

And in reality Buddha’s anti-matrimonial doctrines _did_ excite opposition. The people murmured and said, ‘He is come to bring childlessness among us, and widowhood, and destruction of family-life.’ Indeed, the two facts—first, that the foundations of Buddhism were not laid (as those of Christianity notably are), on the hallowed hearth of home and on the sacred rock of family-life with its daily round of honest work; and—secondly, that the precept enjoining monkhood and abstinence from marriage was not combined with any organized ecclesiastical hierarchy under a central government, are sufficient to account for the circumstance that Buddhism never gained any real stability in India.

No doubt lay-brethren were always welcomed; but they were bound to Buddhism by very slender ties in regard to dogma, and were only expected to conform to the simplest possible code of morality.

Probably the only form of admission for a layman was the repetition of the 24 syllables of the three-refuge (tri-ṡaraṇa) formula:—‘I go for refuge to the Buddha, his Law and his Order’ (p. 78). It was of course understood that he was to abstain from the five gross sins (p. 126), but he was already bound to do so by the rules of Hindū caste and family-religion. The chief test of his Buddhism was his readiness to serve the monks. It was for this reason, I think, that lay-adherents were not called, as might have been expected, Ṡrāvakas, ‘Hearers,’ but simply Upāsakas, ‘Servers,’ and in the case of women Upāsikās. They could not be called disciples of Buddha in the _truest sense_, unless they entered his monastic Order.

Of course the majority of Buddhist householders never cared to do this. Their chief religion consisted in giving food and clothing, earned by daily toil, to the monks[42]. If they failed in this, there was only one punishment. They were forbidden the privilege of giving at all, and so of accumulating a store of merit. No monk was allowed to ask them for a single thing. Of course, too, the majority of Buddhist householders were worldly-minded; they were no believers in ultra-pessimistic views of life. They looked for a life in some heaven, not Nirvāṇa. Yet in theory all laymen might enter the paths of sanctification (p. 132), and thousands of earnest men are said to have done so[43].

A layman’s progress, however, towards Arhatship, except through monkhood and abandoning the world, was almost hopelessly barred. At page 264 of the Milinda-pañha it is implied that an earnest layman might become an Arhat, even while still a layman, but he had either to enter monkhood or else to pass away in Pari-nirvāṇa (p. 140) at the moment of becoming so.

The best proof of the truth of this view of the matter is, that after a layman had attached himself to the Buddha, the Law, and the Order, he was not required to undergo any initiatory ceremony, like baptism, or to receive any stamp of membership, or to assume a peculiar dress, or to give up all belief in his family religion, or caste-customs. In short, he did not as a lay-brother break entirely with Hindūism.

That universal tolerance was of the very essence of Buddhism is indicated by Aṡoka’s twelfth edict:—‘The beloved of the gods honours all forms of religious faith—there ought to be reverence for one’s own faith and no reviling of that of others.’ Compare p. 126.

Nor did Gautama himself ever set an example of intolerance. He never railed at the Brāhmans. He treated them with respect, and taught others to do so; and even adopted the title Brāhmaṇa for his own saints and Arhats (Dhamma-pada 383-423).

What he opposed was priestcraft and superstition, not Brāhmanism; as indeed other reformers had done before him. Probably the great receptivity of Buddhism was one of the causes that led to its decay in India.

Yet Gautama’s victory over one of the most inveterate propensities in human nature—the tendency to seek salvation through a mediatorial caste of priests—was a wonderful achievement. This is proved by the fact that his followers in other countries became re-entangled in a network of priestcraft, even more enslaving than that out of which he had rescued them.

Koeppen, Rhys Davids, and other writers have well shown that the Buddhism of Tibet, with its Pope-like grand Lāmas—its cardinals and abbots, monks and mendicant friars, nuns and novices, canonized saints and angelic hosts, temples and costly shrines, monasteries and nunneries, images and pictures, altars and relics, robes and mitres, rosaries and consecrated water, litanies and chants, processions and pilgrimages, confessions and penances, bell-ringing and incense—is in everything, except doctrine, almost a counterpart of the Romish system. How little could the Buddha have foreseen such a development of his brotherhood of monks, whose chief duties were meditation and itineration!

And what is to be said of the present condition of the Buddhist monkhood? Do we see anywhere evidences of that enlightenment of mind which Buddhism claims as its chief characteristic?

When I was travelling in Ceylon, I met a few learned monks, but the majority seemed to me idle, ignorant, and indifferent.

In Burma the monks are called Pungīs (Phongies), and are a little more active. Every youth in Burma is supposed for a time to inhabit a monastery.

In Tibet the monks are called Lāmas (a lower title being Gelong) and constitute a large proportion of the population. They are slaves to gross superstitions. Some are mere devil-charmers, a belief in the power of evil spirits being the chief religion of the people.

In China the monks are called Ho-shang (or Ho-sang). They constitute the only section of the population who have a right to be called Buddhists, though, after all, they are mere pseudo-Buddhists. Professor Legge informs me that he has known a few learned men among them, and learned works have been written by them. But the general testimony of Europeans in China is that the mass of the monks there are simply drones, or aimless dreamers, who go through their repetitions by rote. Almost all are conspicuous for apathy, inertness, and a vacant idiotic expression of countenance.

Clearly we have in their condition an example of the fact that even moral restraint, if carried to the extreme of extinguishing all the natural affections and desires, must inevitably be followed by a Nemesis. Surely we have in these monkish fraternities an illustration of the truth that any transgression of the laws of nature, common-sense, and reason—any suppression of the primary instincts of humanity, must in the end incur the penalty attached to every violation of the eternal ordinances of God.

LECTURE V. _The Philosophical Doctrines of Buddhism._

One of the most noteworthy points in the early history of Buddhistic thought is that while Gautama Buddha denied the existence of Brahmā as a personal Creator, and repudiated the Veda and all Vedic sacrifices and ceremonial observances, he at the same time made the philosophical teaching of the Brāhmans the point of departure for his own peculiar philosophical teaching.

Another noteworthy point is that while Buddhism was undoubtedly a modification of philosophical Brāhmanism, the latter was also modified by an interchange with Buddhistic ideas.

It may certainly be questioned whether Gautama himself, in the early stages of his career, ever caused much offence to the most orthodox Brāhmans by the free expression of his opinions. He did not spare either his criticism or sarcasm, but it is well known that the Brāhmans were not only tolerant of criticism; they were equally critical themselves, and delighted in controversial discussions, as they do to this day.

In the Tevijja-Sutta an account is given of a discussion in which, though Gautama expressed himself strongly, he does not seem to have excited any wrath in his opponent—a Brāhman named Vāsettha.

The argument attributed to the Buddha is so remarkable that a portion of it may be given here:—

‘Then you say, Vāsettha, that not one of the Brāhmans, or of their teachers, or of their pupils, even up to the seventh generation, has ever seen Brahman (the God of the Brāhmans) face to face. And that even the Ṛishis of old, the utterers of the ancient verses, which the Brāhmans of to-day so carefully intone and recite precisely as they have been handed down—even they did not pretend to know or to have seen where or whence or whither Brahman is. So that the Brāhmans versed in the three Vedas have forsooth said thus: “To a state of union with that which we know not and have not seen, we can show the way and can say: ‘This is the straight path, this is the direct way which leads him who acts according to it, into a state of union with Brahman[44].’”

‘Now what think you, Vāsettha? Does it not follow, this being so, that the talk of the Brāhmans, versed though they be in the three Vedas, is foolish talk?