Epilogue 209 EPILOGUE More Than Ninety Years Have Elapsed Since

epilogue 209

EPILOGUE

More than ninety years have elapsed since Krom and Bosch first began to investigate the many puzzles which Borobudur posed and continues to pose to the scholarly world. Since then many other scholars have contributed to our knowledge of the monument. The various theories that have been advanced to explain the etymology of the name Borobudur, to reconstruct its alleged originally intended architectural shape, to identify the iconographic system of its Bud- dhist pantheon, or to unravel the mystery of the multifaceted symbolism of the monument—to name only a few of the many diverse topics—could easily fill a small library. What almost all of these theories have in common, however, is that Borobudur’s magnificent bas-reliefs, to the identification of which Krom and Bosch have made such significant contributions, do not seem to have played a substantial role in most of these theories. It has been the principal aim of the present study to establish, to the extent possible at the present time, the meaning of those reliefs of the second, third, and fourth galleries of Boro- budur which illustrate passages from the Gandavyūha and verses of the Bhadracarī. Most scholars will agree with the words of Alfred Foucher, quoted earlier (p.149), that the identification of the reliefs should be our first priority after we have duly admired their beauty. At the same time, however, it will be evident that the identification of all individual reliefs—if that elusive goal should ever be reached—can never be the ultimate purpose of our investigation. We should never be satisfied to limit our role to that of a mere bystander, who peeks over the shoulder of the sculptors to check on their faithful adherence to the letter of the scripture they were asked to illustrate. The identification of the reliefs should be only a first step on the path towards a better understanding of the function, symbolism and meaning of Borobudur. In his lectures Professor Bosch used to call Borobudur an “apple of discord”. And indeed, as soon as we begin to consider what kind of guidance its masterpieces of relief sculpture can provide us in our search for the original function, meaning, and symbolism of the monument, we run the risk of getting lost in a baffling maze of conflicting theories. During the past century, scholars have waged heated debates on such diverse topics as the alleged original design of the upper terraces, on the original placement and significance of the unfinished Buddha of the central stūpa, and on the symbolic or technical reasons for covering up the base of the monument. Some of the scholarly contributions to our knowledge of Borobudur have opti- mistically claimed to have discovered the key to “one of the last secrets of Borobudur” (Lévi 1931), or even to have solved “the secret of Borobudur” (Boeles 1985). It would perhaps be more realistic not to aspire to solve all at once the many remaining puzzles and unanswered questions concerning the different aspects of a monument as complex and multifaceted as Borobudur. In a study devoted first and foremost to the Gandavyūha and Bhadracarī reliefs it would instead seem more useful to focus first on one fundamental question concerning the bas-reliefs. That is whether there is anything in those reliefs, or in the text passages they illustrate, that either lends support to or contradicts any of the various theories concerning Borobudur that have been advanced over the years. This would seem to be the most prudent course to take since the content and meaning of Borobudur’s 1460 narrative reliefs played rarely—if ever—a significant role in the discussion of these topics. 210 epilogue

1) The Scriptural Resources of the Architects of Borobudur

Before we can accept such limitations to the scope of our enquiry, a practical question should first be considered. In the extensive scholarly literature on Borobudur a vast range of Buddhist scriptures in several different languages, dating from widely differing periods and gathered from widely separated parts of the Buddhist world, has been marshaled in efforts to explain certain architectural features of Borobudur and its pantheon of Buddhas. The imaginative pioneering studies by Paul Mus (1933-1935) demonstrate how inspiring and stimulating such an approach can be. However, we should never lose sight of the fact that we often have no certainty at all, nor any tangible, visual proof, that these scriptures were all actually known to the Buddhist community of Borobudur. To make matters worse, legitimate doubts have been raised as to whether some of these texts—especially those of an esoteric character—were known in Java, or even predate Borobudur. There is an obvious alternative to such a sweeping search for clues to the unresolved mys- teries of Borobudur in the numerous and diverse scriptures of Buddhism. A narrower, but also more sharply focused approach is to start with the scrutiny of those texts of which it can be demonstrated with unquestionable certainty that they were known to the Buddhist community of Borobudur. These texts include, of course, all scriptures, which are illustrated in the narrative bas-reliefs that decorate the walls and balustrades of the monument. They include the Karmavibhanga, the Lalitavistara and the various—unfortunately, still largely unidenti- fied—collections of jātakas and avadānas, which have been illustrated on the lower galleries of the monument. From early times on, episodes from the life of the Buddha of the type recounted in the Lali- tavistara, and the stories from previous lives of the Bodhisattva (jātakas) have been a primary source of inspiration for the decoration of stūpas of widely differing architectural shape, style, and date in South and Southeast Asia. At Borobudur themes from the Karmavibhanga, the Gandavyūha, and the Bhadracarī were added to this originally more limited repertoire of suitable texts. This expansion of themes may have been without precedent in the Buddhist world. The only other, considerably later example that comes immediately to mind is that of the murals and sculptures of the Tabo monastery in Spiti (Himachal Pradesh, 11th century c.e.), inspired by the Lalitavistara and the Gandavyūha (Klimburg-Salter, 1997). The elevated location on Borobudur, reserved for the illustrations of the Gandavyūha and the Bhadracarī, is a clear indication that these texts were held in the highest esteem in ancient Java. They probably were thought to embody the essence of the beliefs of the Buddhist community of Borobudur. The most obvious course for us to adopt would be, therefore, to investigate first of all whether these texts contain clues to a better understanding of the architectural shape, the ritual function, and the religious symbolism of Borobudur. For art historians this task has now been greatly facilitated by the excellent translations by Dōi, Cleary, Ehman, and Ijiri, of the Gandavyūha and the entire Avatamsaka- sūtra. Due to these scholars both texts have now become accessible to a readership far beyond the narrow circle of scholars special- ized in Sanskrit or Chinese and Tibetan Buddhist literature. However, the early history of the transmission of the Flower Ornament Scripture (Avatamsaka-sūtra), the complete text of which has only been preserved in Chinese and Tibetan translations, has only recently become a topic of investigation (Nattier 2007). We should not take for granted, therefore, that not only the contents of its final chapter, the Gandavyūha, but also those of the entire Avatamsaka-