The Pāṃsukūlacīvara ! Towards an Anthropology of a Trans-Traditional Buddhist Robe ! ! ! !

! ! ! ! ! Faculty of Arts and Philosophy

SIMON BULTYNCK ! ! ! ! The Pāṃsukūlacīvara ! Towards an anthropology of a trans-traditional Buddhist robe ! ! ! !

Master’s dissertation submitted to obtain the degree of Master of Asian Languages and Cultures

! 2016 ! ! ! ! ! Supervisor! ! Prof.!dr.!Ann!Heirman! ! ! ! Department!of!Languages!and!Cultures! ! Dean! ! Prof.!dr.!Marc!Boone! Rector! ! Prof.!dr.!Anne!De!Paepe! ! ! !

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! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! while striving for death’s army’s rout the ascetic clad in rag-robe clout got from a rubbish heap, shines bright mārasenavighātāya as mail-clad warrior paṃsukūladharo yati in the fight. sannaddhakavaco yuddhe ! khattiyo viya sobhati this robe the world’s great teacher wore, pahāya kāsikādīni leaving rare Kási cloth varavatthāni dhāritaṃ and more; yaṃ lokagarunā ko taṃ of rags from off paṃsukūlaṃ na dhāraye a rubbish heap who would not have tasmā hi attano bhikkhu a robe to keep? paṭiññaṃ samanussaraṃ ! yogācārānukūlamhi minding the words paṃsukūle rato siyāti he did profess ! when he went ! ! into homelessness, ! let him to wear ! such rags delight ! as!one!! ! in!seemly!garb!bedight.*! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! !

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Abstract

Superlatives in academics are scarce; in humanities they are almost taboo. And yet it is probably fair to say that one of the most significant robes of all Buddhist monastic attire is the pāṃsukūlacīvara. Often poorly translated as ‘robe from the dust-heap’, this trans- tradition monastic type of dress, patched from cast-off rags, has been charged with dubious symbolism and myth throughout Buddhist literature. This thesis aims to bridge the gap between anthropological and text-critical research on the topic and to further widen both the scope of its study. So far, text-critical scholarship on the pāṃsukūlacīvara has namely mainly focused on the topic through the glasses of its critics. Inspired by and drawing from anthropological fieldwork, this thesis aims instead to look at the pāṃsukūlacīvara through the glasses of its wearers. For one part, I have focused on discussions in Buddhist literature on some practical aspects as the making and maintenance of the pāṃsukūlacīvara, while for the other part I have explored its connotations to asceticism, authenticity and death in both primary Buddhist sources and anthropological scholarly venues. This approach clearly highlights a number of interesting aspects that help explain how and why pāṃsukūlika monks from different strands, both historically and today, aim to visually distinguish themselves from the ‘ordinary’ Bud- dhist monastic identity. Providing on top, a concrete interview schedule, this thesis, moreover, paves the way––or at least hopes to do so––to fieldwork beyond South- and Southeast Asia, to which anthropological research on the topic remains yet confined.

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Foreword

Some say your library is the window to whom you are; you are the books you read. I should perhaps start burning some. But if so, I would regret the reader not finding, among the authors in the bibliography to this thesis, the French semiotician Roland Barthes (1915 – 1980) and the German cultural critic Walter Benjamin (1892 – 1940). Both were intrigued by everyday images and products of popular culture and sought, in yet different historical, philosophical and cultural contexts, to analyse them. Barthes in specific was interested in the hidden ‘meanings’ behind these cultural phenomena and illustrated that, whereas we often take latter for granted, in nature they are not. This foreword is not so much about dedicating my thesis to these men, as it is meant to be an eulogy to the pursuit of understanding what connects us all, in the utmost ‘worldly’ matters academic scholarship has long not given the attention it deserves.

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Acknowledgements

Throughout this thesis I have extensively drawn from the most recent Princeton Diction- ary of Buddhism (2014), as well as the Encyclopedia of Monasticism (2000), for names, terminology, dates and background information of all kinds. In those cases where both Pāli and Sanskrit terms are present, I have tried to provide them. Likewise, I have tried to provide the corresponding Chinese terms, when dealing specifically with Chinese Bud- dhism. With the exception of citing primary sources in Pāli or Sanskrit, I consistently use the Sanskrit terms pāṃsukūlacīvara and pāṃsukūlika instead of the similarly commonly cited Sanskrit alternatives with palatal ‘ś’ (pāṃśukūlacīvara and pāṃśukūlika) and the Pāli equivalents with short ‘a’ (paṃsukūlacīvara and paṃsukūlika). Further, I have chosen to rely on the Sanskrit denomination bhikṣu to refer to both the ‘coenobitical’ monk in the strict sense of the word and the wandering Buddhist ‘mendicant’. Deducing mainly from explicit reservations against women engaging in the ascetic practices that the pāṃsukūlacīvara is inextricably associated with, I generally only speak of bhikṣus and deliberately not of bhikṣuṇīs. I must apologize for having not dug deeper into this topic; more research could certainly be done on this issue and I can only encourage others to do so. To conclude, I will spare the reader a catalogue of poetical expressions of grati- tude, but there is one person that deserves a special word of thanks and that is my friend Ling Jing. She has been extremely patient with me and of great help to translate the idiomatic interview questions presented in this thesis.

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List of abbreviations

A. trans. W. Adamek 2007 alt. alternatively AN Aṅguttara Nikāya. See: ed. PTS. Ba Bodhisattvacaryāvatāra. See: ed. & trans. L. de la Vallée Poussin, 1907. BJT ed. Sri Lanka Tripiṭaka Project Chin Chinese CBETA Chinese Buddhist Electronic Text Association C.R. trans. C.A.F. Rhys Davids 1899-1921. DB Da Biqiu Sanqian Weiyi (Chin. ). See: T.1470. DN Dīghanikāya, ed. T.R. and trans. C.R. 1899-1921. DTX Da Tang xiyu ji (Chin. ). See: T.2087 DhgVin Dharmaguptakavinaya. See: T.1428. DWBS Dunwu wushang banruo song (Chin. ). See: trans. W. Adamek, 2007. The letter S refers to the Dunhuang Manuscripts of the Stein Collection of the British Library. E. trans. Rev. N. R. M. Ehara, et al. 1961 EB79 Encyclopaedia of Buddhism, ed. J. Dhīrasakera, 1979. EB04 Encyclopaedia of Buddhism, ed. R. E. jr. Buswell, 2004. L. trans. Lamotte, E. MaVin Mahāsāṃghikavinaya. See: T.1425. Mn Majjhimanikāya. See: ed. PTS. Mn Milindapañha. See: ed. PTS. Mpps *Mahāprajñāpāramitāśāstra. See: T.1509 Msn Mahāsīhanādasutta. See: ed. PTS. MssVin Mūlasarvāstivādavinayavastu. See: T.1448 and ed. N. Dutt, 1984 [1942]. N Ñāṇamoli 1995 Ñ Ñāṇamoli 2010

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Nks Nikāyasaṅgrahava. See: ed. E. Wickremasinghe. P. Pāli pl. plural PDB Princeton Dictionary of Buddhism, ed. R. E. jr. Buswell & D. S. jr. Lopez PTS Pāli Text Society Spp *Śāriputraparipṛcchā (Chin. ). See: T.1465. Skt. Sanskrit SQ. secondary question Vp Vimalaprabhā. See: ed. J. Upadhyaya, 1986. Vm *Vimuttimagga. See: T.1648, tr. Rev. N. R. M. Ehara, et al. 1961. Vsm Visuddhimagga. See: ed. PTS. WZY Wutai shan zan yiben (Chin. ). See: ed. and trans. Mary A. Cartelli, 2013 (The letter P. refers to the Dunhuang Manuscripts of the Pelliot Collection of the Biblothèque Nationale, Paris). T. Taishō Shinshū Daizōkyō. Citations refer to text number, volume and page number, and register (a, b or c). Th. trans. Thanissaro Bhikkhu 2013 Tib. Tibetan T.R. ed. T. W. Davids 1890-99 Q. Question XSZ Xu Gaoseng Chuan (Chin. ). See: T.2060.

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List of Images

Rag!wearer!of!Wutaishan(picture by the author, Aug. 2, 2014)….………………………………p. iii !

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Table of Contents

Abstract(...... (vii! Foreword(...... (viii! Acknowledgements(...... (ix! List(of(abbreviations(...... (x! List(of(Images(...... (xii! Table(of(Contents(...... (xiii! Introduction(...... (15! Methodological(considerations(...... (22! 1! Terminology(...... (30! 2! The(making(of(pāṃsukūla(robes(...... (33! 2.1! What(&(Where?(...... (33! 2.2! *Pāṃsukūlaticīvara?(...... (37! 2.3! How?(...... (38! 2.3.1! Sewing!pattern!...... !38! 2.3.2! Practical!requirements!and!tools!...... !39! 2.3.3! Dyeing!the!robe!...... !40! 2.4! When?(...... (41! 2.5! Why?(...... (42! 3! The(maintenance(of(pāṃsukūla*robes(...... (44! 3.1! Washing(&(clean(s)ing(...... (45! 3.2! Washing(pāṃsukūla*rags(...... (45! 3.3! Washing(pāṃsukūla*robes(...... (46! 3.4! Mending(...... (48! 3.5! Transmission(and(duration(of(use(...... (50! 4! Asceticism(...... (52! 4.1! Dhutaṅga(or(dhūtaguṇa(practices(...... (54! 4.1.1! The!philosophical!detour!...... !55! 4.2! Forest(monks(and(extraYreligious(motives(...... (68! 4.3! The(paradox(of(purity(...... (71! 4.4! From(practice(to(myth(...... (74! 5! Authenticity:(a(prototypical(identity(...... (81!

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6! Death,(pollution(and(power(...... (84! 7! A(flexible(identity?(...... (87! Conclusion(...... (88! Bibliography(...... (92!

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Introduction

A popular sūtra in the *Mahāprajñāpāramitāśāstra recounts the former births of one of the chief nun disciples of Śākyamuni Buddha, Utpalavarṇā. We are told how she used to be an actress in a former life; she memorized lines, put on various costumes and performed for small audiences. Once, in jest, she dressed up like a novice and unsuspecting- ly donned ‘the Buddhist robe’. As a result, the sūtra recounts, Utpalavarṇā was reborn a nun during the time of the Kāśyapa Buddha.1 When towards the end of his life, the Japa- nese monk Dōgen Zenji (1200 – 1253) cited the story of Utpalavarṇā, in a lecture presented at the Fukakusa Monastery, he stated:

There is more merit in seeing the buddha robe, hearing the teaching of it, and making offerings to it than in presiding over the billion worlds.2

In Buddhist literature, the robe not infrequently serves as the ultimate emblem of ‘the’ Buddhist monastic identity.3 As one of the minimal ‘belongings’ (Skt. pariṣkāra, P. parikkhāra) a Buddhist monastic is said to be permitted, few other Buddhist objects have, as a matter of fact, been invested with so much power and symbolism other than ‘the’ Buddhist robe.4 Taking the robe became the metaphor par excellence for entering the

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! * Vsm. II.22 [PTS, p. 64] (Ñ., p. 60). 1 See: ‘Sūtra on the Former Birth of Nun Utpalavarṇā’ (*Utpalavarṇābhikṣuṇījātakasūtra), Mpps XXII.161b (L., p. 662). – The Kāśyapa Buddha (Skt., P. Kassapa) is one of the Buddhas of the past, preceding the Śākyamuni Bud- dha of our time, according to Buddhist tradition. Within the auspicious cosmological eon we are said to live in at present (Skt. bhadrakalpa, P. bhaddakappa), Kāśyapa is said to have been the third, Śākyamuni the fourth and Maitreya (Skt., P. Metteya) the yet-to-come fifth Buddha (See: PDOB, p. 409, 425). 2 See: ‘The Power of the Robe’ (Kesa Kudoku ), translated by: Tanahashi 1999, p. 78. 3 Note that ‘taking the robe’––cf. the English expression ‘throwing off the cowl’––became the metaphor par excellence for taking the monastic vows and entering the Buddhist Saṃgha (Skt., P. saṅgha) in the narrow sense of the ordained community of Buddhist monastics, as Lynne Hume (2013, p. 5) among others. 4 The list of “minimal possessions of food, shelter and clothing that Buddhist monks and nuns were permitted to possess as “requisites” for their physical survival”, the PDOB (p. 629) points out, varies in content and length. There are longer lists of eight, thirteen and even eighteen requisites, perhaps indeed “reflecting the increasing needs of a large and mainly sedentary monastic community”. However, a “list of four such requisites is commonly found in the Vinaya literature” (a body of texts regulating the lives of, mainly, fully or-

! 15! ! ordained Buddhist community or Saṃgha (Skt., P. saṅgha); while passing it on from teacher to pupil came to be seen, within certain strands, as “proof of spiritual lineage”.5 It would seem that Buddhist monastics gave due consideration to their distinctive appearance from a very early date, and watched with perennial vigilance over the boundaries of their visual identity.6 ‘Buddhist Studies’ is––or better: has become––a vast field of interdisciplinary scholarship that focuses on a multifarious phenomenon that “spans millennia in time and continents in expanse”, as Jonathan Silk has put it, and is commonly labelled as ‘Buddh- ism’.7 Over the last few decades, this field has drastically changed its methods and spec- tacles. As a rule, it has excited the interest of an increasing amount of academic disciplines; slowly but surely let go its “quest to comprehend Buddhist culture in its entirety” and it more and more opened its eyes for previously, often completely ignored aspects of ‘Buddhism’.8 Dress for instance only came to the attention of Buddhist scholars, from the late second half of the 20th century, following the remarks of social anthropologists as Cordwell & Schwarz, who noted that:

Compared to other dimension of human behavior, we […] are relatively silent about the meaning and function of dress and adornment. While we rigorously analyze kinship, language, and movement, clothes are usually ignored and rarely given systematic consideration. In contrast, the natives who are the subject of our queries are generally very cognizant of how they and others are dressed. Clothing and adornment are universal features of human behavior and an examination of what they reveal, and attempt to conceal, contributes to our knowledge about the fabric of cultures and to our understanding of the threads of human nature.9

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! dained Buddhist monastic). This list comprises a robe (Skt. & P. cīvara), an alms bowl (Skt. pātra, P. patta), a bed (Skt. śayanāsana) and “medicine to cure illness (glānapratyayabhaiṣajya).” 5 Tanabe 2004, p. 734. 6 Wijayaratna (1990, p. 32) points out that one of the presumably oldest stata of the various Vinayas we possess, the Pāṭimokka (P., Skt. Prātimokṣa), boasts already more rules concerning clothing, than for example food or housing. At least 19 (of the 30) Nissaggiya Pācittiya and 7 (of the 92) Suddha Pācittiya rules concern the monk’s habit, he indicates. In the Mahāvagga or “Great Chapter” of the Pāli Vinayapiṭaka, he further argues, at least 3 (of the 10) chapters are moreover devoted to clothing. 7 Silk 2008, p. 3. 8 I will speak of dress as defined by Eicher & Roach-Higgins (1992, p. 15) as “an assemblage of modifications of the body and/or supplements to the body displayed by a person in communicating with other human beings”. 9 Throughout this thesis will speak of ‘Buddhologists’ and ‘Buddhology’ as defined by Frank Hoffman (2000, pp. 225-226) who discriminates it from the interdisciplinary field of ‘Buddhist studies’, within which it may, “some specific sense or another” unfold. Hoffman distinguishes between four types of Buddhology: “Buddhology as hermeneutics, Buddhology as exegesis, Buddhology as ontology and Buddhology as the study of attributes of the Buddha (Buddhalogy)”. The type of Buddhology I will be referring to in this thesis is ‘Exegetical Buddholo- gy’ mainly, which Hoffman describes as follows: “As currently practiced in the writing of dissertations within academe, Buddhology makes use of present-day exegetical techniques and modern scholarly methods. […] It involves the application of critical scholarship to Buddhist texts by translating and/or making interpretative

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Whether it was the legacy of Cordwell & Schwarz or a more general ‘awakening’ at the time, one of the first ‘Buddhologists’ perhaps to focus explicitly on dress was the German Sinologist, founder of the Cahiers d’Extrême Asie and pioneering scholar on Dao- ism, Anna Katharina Seidel (1938 – 1991). Seidel, who moved to Paris and later Japan, was “neither a Sanskritist nor a Buddhologist in the strict (and often narrow) sense” as Robert Duquenne remembers her, but someone extremely interested in the “social, material, and literary implications of Buddhism”.10 At the beginning of the 1980’s, Seidel drew attention to the significant symbolism of the ‘transmission of the robe’ (J. Den’e) in especially Chan/Zen Buddhism, where the robe serves

as the primary means of asserting the passing on of one’s teaching lineage, something that was traced all the way back to the Buddha (or at least to the founder of Chinese Chan, Bodhidharma).11

Seidel’s article has remained unpublished up until now, but four years after Seidel passed away, however, the French scholar Bernard R. Fauré published an article in the eight volume of Seidel’s Cahiers d'Extrême-Asie, bilingually entitled––in the style of the journal––Quand l'habit fait le moine: The Symbolism of the kāsāya in Sōtō zen (1995).12 Encour- aged by “many lively discussions” on the topic with Seidel, Fauré pursued the study of the robe’s symbolism in Chan/Zen Buddhism in its entirety.13 As one of the leading Buddhologists to do so, Fauré raised the following questions:

Why was it precisely the robe that was chosen as the symbol of the Dharma [i.e. Buddhist ‘teachings’], among other symbols or relics? How does it differ from these other symbols? How did it come to occupy such a central place in Buddhist imagination?14

Struck by the abundance of textual data on the topic, Fauré’s article laid the foundations for a text-critical study of the historic significance of ‘the robe’ in Buddhist literature and culture. Five years after the publication of Fauré’s article, and focussing on China instead of Japan, John Kieschnick published an article on The Symbolism of the Monk’s Robe in China (1999). Kieschnick’s interest in Buddhist material culture had already manifested itself in his work on The Eminent Monk: Buddhist Ideals in Medieval Chi- nese Hagiography (1997), and would most prominently reveal itself later in his extensive in-depth study on The Impact of Buddhism on Chinese Material Culture (2003), which included much of his article on the symbolism of the robe. !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! commentaries on them. Thus, Buddhology in this sense is a descendant of philology. This type of Buddhology can be understood as philology applied to Buddhist texts.” 10 Duquenne 1992, p. 108. 11 Strong 2007, p. 218. 12 See: Faure 1995. 13 Faure 1995, p. 337 & EB04, p. 734. 14 Faure 1995, p. 337.

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Ever since the 1970’s, an increasing amount of social anthropologists had meanwhile, as urged by Cordwell & Schwarz, turned to dress as a particular ‘identity’ marker and a means through which the human species actively and deliberately defined itself “in terms of sameness and difference to the various subjects of one’s environment”.15 More generally, anthropologist began to approach ‘identity’ more as “an explanatory force”, than as something “to be explained”.16 How do we see and define ourselves? How do we see and define ‘others’? How do ‘others’ see and define themselves? And ultimately, what makes people think of themselves as personally or socially different from ‘others’ while at the same time sharing certain ‘affinities’ with yet ‘others’? One of the very first anthropologists to focus specially on a particular type of Bud- dhist dress was the French anthropologist François Bizot. Ten years after being released from his captivity under the Khmer Rouge regime, Bizot published an article in 1981, entitled Le Don de Soi-Même, in which focussed on a specific Buddhist dress in Cambodian Buddhism: the pāṃsukūlacīvara.17 Without really knowing, Bizot had touched upon one of a robe Buddhologists considered to be part of an evaporated tradition: a robe that was not representative of a specific Buddhist strand, but of a specific, trans-traditional Bud- dhist identity. It certainly wasn’t the case that in Buddhist literature the pāṃsukūlacīvara did not occur, but where it did, it was particularly vague and taciturn about this trans- traditional ‘identity’. To begin with, its name itself is already rather dubious. As a compound, it consists of pāṃsukūla (Skt., alt. pāṃśukūla or P. paṃsukūla) and cīvara (Skt. & P.). Cīvara is the generic term used in Buddhist literature “to refer broadly to the different items of clothing ap- proved for the use of the monks and nuns.”18 For male Buddhist monastics (Skt. bhikṣus, P. bhikkhus) in particular, one sometimes speaks of the ‘triple robe’ (Skt. tricīvara, P. ticīvara), consisting of: an inner robe (Skt. antarvāsas, P. antaravāsaka); an upper robe (Skt. uttarāsaṃga, P. uttarāsaṅga); and a double or larger outer robe (Skt. saṃghāṭī, P. saṅghāṭī).19 Pāṃsukūla, in turn, is itself another compound consisting of pāṃsu and kūla and literally translates as ‘dust-heap’. Hence, at least literally speaking, the

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 15 Maes 2015, p. 1. 16 Fearon 1999, p. 1. – Fearon has argued that despite the centrality of the concept in especially social sciences, ‘identity’ has remained a rather polysemous, ambiguous term. This might be due to the fact that identity is ultimately a matter of definition itself, and not just a definition of ‘something’ but of the slippery “notion of an individual or collective self” (Maes 2015, p. 1). We know of cultures “without knowledge of other traditions”, as Jonathan Silk (Silk 2008, p. 3) has argued, that they don’t have “names for [their] native tradition”. And so it would seem that acquaintance with or notion of a contextual ‘other’ seems conditional to the slippery notion of the ‘self’. 17 See : Bizot 1981 – also cited in: Strong . 18 EB97, p. 183. 19 PDOB, p. 922 - For female Buddhist monastics (Skt. bhikṣuṇīs, P. bhikṣuṇīs), one sometimes speaks of a ‘five- fold robe’ (Skt. & P. pañcacīvara) as they are allowed two other robes in addition to the ‘triple robe’, namely: a vest or bodice (saṅkacchā) and a bathing cloth (udakasāṭikā).

! 18! ! pāṃsukūlacīvara denotes a robe made of textile or rags found in public places, commonly translated into English as of ‘rag robes’. To the present day, neither anthropological fieldwork, nor text-critical research on the pāṃsukūlacīvara agrees on what pāṃsukūlacīvara is––not to mention yet the discussion over its place and significance in Buddh-ism’ (cf. infra). What Buddhist literature tends to agree on however is the negative definition of the pāṃsukūlacīvara: it is not a robe made of textile obtained from the laity (Skt. *gṛhapaticīvara, P. gahapaticīvara). As a matter of fact, the two are contrasted in a tradition that is brought back all the way to Śākyamuni Buddha, who is said to have worn these two types of robes in chronological order, namely the pāṃsukūlacīvara first and later, a robe made of cloth that was given to him by his noble physician Jīvaka Komārabhacca, who seemed concerned about the un- sanitariness of the Buddha’s ‘rag robe’.20 Śākyamuni is however not the only one who is said to have worn the pāṃsukūlacīvara. His predecessors too, and in particular Mahākāśyapa, are said to have worn paṃsukūla robes. Despite this, the pāṃsukūlacīvara is further only cited in Buddhist literature in list of both Buddhist and acclaimed non-Buddhist ascetic practices. All of these lists include practices that affect bodily needs such as eating, drinking and sleeping and include a practice known as pāṃsukūlika, i.e. the making and wearing of robes patched from rags found in public places. Put at its mildest, ‘asceticism’ is not particularly supported by the bulk of Buddhist literature and so what we know about the pāṃsukūlacīvara, other than that the Buddhas of the past, some eminent monks and Buddhist Saints would have worn it, is rather limited to the broader discussion of ‘asceticism’. As a matter of fact, not until fieldwork observations of social anthropologists as Tambiah (1976, 1982, 1984), Carrithers (1979, 1983) and Bizot (1981)––to name but a few––urged Buddhologist to question the place and significance of pāṃsukūlika monks––as they are called––in a historic Buddhist context, the pāṃsukūlacīvara and its wearers were basically considered to be part of a tradition that had either been extremely marginal or ceased to exist over the course of time. This view has been widely opposed by modern Buddhologists––most prominently among which are Ray (1994), Schopen (2003, 2005), Freiberger (2006) and Witkowski (2013)––who have widely illustrated the contrary and once more corroborat- ed the often-found dichotomy between Buddhist text and practice (cf. infra). What has not followed this discussion, unfortunately, is a study of the peculiar identity of the monks making and wearing pāṃsukūlacīvara both historically and today. The existence of a pāṃsukūlika tradition in South- and Southeast-Asia may have urged Buddhologists to revise its place in Buddhist history, it has––with the exception of Ray (1994) perhaps––neither encouraged Buddhologists to focus on anything else but it criticism in Buddhist literature, nor has encouraged anthropologists to inquire into its existence and prominence in other parts of the Buddhist world. As Strong already noted:

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 20 See: Findly 2003, pp. 116-117; Wijayaratna 1990, p. 34; Witkowski 2013, p. 19

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Too often, the ascetic practices in general and the pāṃśukūlika practices in particular have been studied from the perspective of the town-dwelling monks, who tolerated but did not follow them, rather than from the perspective of the forest- dwelling monks, who advocated and maintained them.21

We do find, however, enough textual data to assume, as both Schopen and Witkowski has illustrated, that a great bigger deal of Buddhist monastics donned the pāṃsukūlacīva- ra than Buddhist literature would let us to believe. More than that, I myself––at the time even unaware of anthropological research on the topic in modern-age South- and Southeast Asia––was stimulated to write this thesis, having met four monks, about two years ago, in Wutaishan (China), who wore ‘rag robes’. It is in the fundamental belief of this thesis that further interdisciplinary research on the topic in both a historical and contemporary context, may only be fruitful to a broader understanding of not only the pāṃsukūlacīvara, but also the scholarly debates that are involved in it. As already Marc Bloch (1886 – 1944) remarked:

Misunderstanding of the present is the inevitable consequence of ignorance of the past. But a man may wear himself out just as fruitlessly in seeking to understand the past, if he is totally ignorant of the present.22

This thesis aims to be a springboard for a full anthropology of the pāṃsukūlacīvara. As a trans-traditional, both historic and modern-age ‘identity’ marker, the pāṃsukūlacīvara asks to be studied in its entirety. Without making any compromises, this thesis aims to do so by focussing on a number of different aspects of the pāṃsukūlacīvara. Drawing from Theravāda and Mahāyāna primary sources, and combining anthropological and textual research on the topic, this thesis highlights where our understanding of the pāṃsukūlacīvara in its entirety still misses depth. For the first part of this thesis, I have decided to focus on aspects of the pāṃsukūlacīvara on which textual material remains either vague or scarce. I have provided a concrete interview schedule with questions in both English and Chinese, which may serve as a text-historical backup for further anthropological research on the topic in Chinese Buddhism, which remains unavailable in English, German or French academic venues. In chapter 1 of this thesis, I will focus on commonly used terminology used for the pāṃsukūlacīvara in Chinese literature and speech. Moreover I will discuss the question whether it is, after all, appropriate to speak of the pāṃsukūlacīvara with regards to the monks I witnessed in Wutaishan. In chapter 2, I will discuss practical details, found in Buddhist literature, to make the pāṃsukūlacīvara. This will give us more insight into a number of practical aspects, such as: Which kind of textiles are said to be permitted and where might one obtain them? What does the pāṃsukūlacīvara consists of in

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 21 Strong 1994, p. 72. 22 Bloch 1954/1941-49, p. 43.

! 20! ! terms of the tricīvara? How should these robes be made (sewn)? Which tools might be used to do so? Should these robes be dyed or not? Is there a specific time to do make them? And last but not least: Why does one make them? Further, in chapter 3, I will focus on the maintenance of the pāṃsukūlacīvara. Should the robes, or at least the rag, be washed before use? Should one mend them and could mended gahapaticīvara become pāṃsukūlacīvara? And also, is there a tradition of passing on pāṃsukūlacīvara from teacher to pupil as proof of spiritual lineage? It is impossible to uncover the entire intertextual discourse that goes behind the pāṃsukūlacīvara. But from the bulk of available Buddhist literature (both canonical and extra-canonical sources) three symbolic connotations stand out. First of all, there is ‘asceticism’; secondly, there is what I would like to call ‘authenticity’; and thirdly, there is ‘death’. For the second part of this thesis, then, I have focused on these three connotations. It will be up to the reader to judge which insights this yields, but it is in my firm belief that this approach will help us understand the pāṃsukūlika tradition more from within. In the fourth chapter to this thesis I will namely focus in more depth on asceticism, to which the pāṃsukūlacīvara is ultimately linked. What other ascetic practices does the pāṃsukūlacīvara connote? For whom were these practices designed? What purposes did these ‘ascetic’ practices serve within Buddhist soteriology? And what do some rhetorical myths about the pāṃsukūlacīvara tell us if we read them differently? Next, in chapter 5 to this thesis, I will dwell for a short while on alleged historical fig- ures to have engaged in asceticism, or at least donned the pāṃsukūlacīvara? I will ex- plore how these accounts may have served or serve as another motive to wear the pāṃsukūlacīvara than the merits to gain from its undertaking as an ascetic practice. What does the idea that the Buddhas of the past, and at first also Śākyamuni, wore the pāṃsukūlacīvara, tell us other than that it is considered the most ‘authentic’ of all Bud- dhist robes? And what does this imply with regards to Buddhist doctrine? In chapter 6 then, I will focus shortly on the pāṃsukūlacīvara’s associations to ‘death’. Rather than a single type of pāṃsukūlacīvara, the śmāśānika robe, or rag robe made of shrouds found on burial mounds, seems to be specific for a tradition of monks //// between the deceased and the living? How does their ‘cross-dressing with the death’–– whether or not just symbolically––as Gregory Schopen has termed it, lends the pāṃsukūlacīvara a special connotations (or even reputation) that gives him a different complexion: one that is not only ‘gruesome’ perhaps, but also extremely powerful? Last but not least, I will, in chapter 7, deal with the question whether both historically and/or today a sudden identity switch is possible? Unlike tattoos or headdresses, clothes may namely fairly easily be changed. This raises the question whether the pāṃsukūlacīvara, and especially the śmāśānika robe, are and always have been representative for a fixed or rather flexible identity?

! 21! !

Methodological considerations

In presenting the histories, development, belief systems, and ritual patterns of specific religious groups, scholarship has often privileged the official level of religiosity to the detriment and total neglect of alternative, dissonant, and resurgent voices.23

In relative terms, the interdisciplinary field of Buddhist Studies is a rather recent field of scholarship. All too often however, it has continued to build at large on assumptions made about Buddhism by much earlier orientalists, who––despite their incredible efforts––privileged canonical and early ‘scriptures’ over extra-canonical, vernacular or more recent texts. As a matter of fact latter were simply beyond their interests. And even in those startling cases where the texts they privileged brought to light some ‘alternative, dissonant, or resurgent voices’, they generally neglected them, negated them without any substantial basis or simply sought to rhyme them with the consistent assumptions they had deduced that far. A wonderful example, in this respect and with special regards to this thesis, is the Pāli-English dictionary of the Pāli Text Society (PTS) that was founded by Thomas Wil- liam Rhys Davids (1843 – 1922). Long before anthropologists began to lend an ear to the ‘unprivileged level’ of Buddhist religiosity, early Buddhology would unconscientiously pull out the weeds it considered ‘harmful’ to the understanding of Buddhist history in the illusion of wie es eigentlich gewesen. So, when expounding for instance a series of ascetic practices, collectively know as the dhutaṅgas (alt. dhūtaguṇas), the dictionary argues that, although a ‘paracanonical’ text known as the Milindapañha “devotes a whole book (chap. VI) to the glorification of these 13 dhutaṅgas”, “there is no evidence that they were ever widely adopted” since these practices are simply “not enjoyed in the Vinaya”.24 The all-dominating authority attributed here to the Pāli Vinaya over a ‘paracanonical’ text––i.e. a text that is neither apocryphal, nor canonical––is striking, all the more since the individual practices it includes, among which the making and wearing of the pāṃsukūlacīvara, regularly do occur in Vinaya texts. Vinaya literature is a mountainous ‘basket’ (Skt. & P. piṭaka) of canonical Buddhist literature regulating the lives of, mainly, fully ordained bhikṣus and bhikṣuṇīs. We are for-

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 23 Adogame et. al, p. 9. 24 Davids & Stede 1921-25, p. 383 (also cited in: Schopen 1997, p. 187). - The Milindapañha (literally: ‘Questions of Milinda’) is a dialogical Pāli text recording the conversation between the Kashmiri Buddhist monk Nāgasena and the Greek-Bactrian king Menander (Milinda), who raises questions about Buddhism. The text was presumably composed in northern India in Sanskrit or Prakrit originally, around the beginning of the Common Era. See: PDOB, p. 542.

! 22! ! tunate to possess the Vinaya of the Theravāda tradition, preserved in Pāli, and five other Vinaya traditions of early Buddhist schools––into which the Buddhist community or Saṃgha (Skt., P. saṅgha) split––preserved in Chinese translations mainly.25 For one part, Vinaya literature enumerates disciplinary rules and penalties imposed on the violation of these rules. This part is known as pāṭimokkha (P., Skt. prātimokṣa). For the other two parts (P. vibhaṅga & kandhaka), it elaborates which specific occasions and incidents brought the Buddha to formulate each of these myriads of rules and, respectively, a number of separate sections on various topics.26 Given the scarcity of other historical sources and discussing, like no other genre within Buddhist literature, practical details on the lives of the monastic community (Skt. saṃgha, P. saṅgha), Vinaya literature truly serves as one of the major sources for the study of early Buddhist history. The key- question is however: How do we read the Vinaya; how do we, to paraphrase Harunaga Isaacson’s witticism, ‘distinguish the probable from the possible’ in these texts? Growing anthropological research on Buddhism from the 1970’s brought to light a dichotomy between Buddhist text and practice that was hard to deny. As the social anthropologist Martin Southwold, in 1983, remarked for instance:

We think that Buddhism must be essentially and criterially the teaching of its alleged founder, because that is how we think of Christianity; and we think that Buddhist scriptures must be the key to Buddhism, because that is how we think, under the influence of Protestantism, of the place of the Christian scriptures in our own religion. […] The fundamental error in the study of Buddhism has been to approach it from the side of belief, doctrine, rather than of practice.27

As one among many anthropologists, Southwold noted that his fieldwork observations in Sri Lankan Buddhism did not tally with popular theories made about Buddhism by his academic forefathers. The issue at stake was twofold. First and foremost, it would seem that for all too long, Buddhist literature––and Vinaya literature in particular––had “been taken as descriptions of the way monks and nuns actually behaved.”28 Yet, being far from prescriptive, normative texts, the Vinaya literature does, as a matter of fact, not infrequently provide “evidence of precisely the opposite”, as Jan Nattier has put it.29 One of the things Buddhist literature continuously harps on, for instance, is that the Buddhist doctrinal system sets forth the Middle Way (Skt. madhyamāpratipad, P.

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 25 The Mūlasarvāstivādavinaya has been preserved in Chinese, Tibetan and partly Sanskrit, the others (Mahīśāsa- ka-, Dharmaguptaka-, Sarvāstivāda- and the Mahāsāṃghikavinaya) exclusively in Chinese. See: Deeg 1999, p. 184. 26 PDOB, p. 975. 27 Southwold 1983, p. 6, cited in: King 1999, p. 70. 28 Nattier 2003, p. 63. 29 Id. – Nattier (ibid, p. 67) expounds how for instance common “statements of the type “One should not believe X” or “One should not do Y”” have “with surprisingly frequency” been taken as prescriptive depictions of the life of Buddhist monastics, whereas it actually is clear that “there must have been some reason for the author to argue against them”.

! 23! ! majjhimāpaṭipadā) to liberation between the ‘extremes’ of “indulging in sensual pleasures” on the one hand and “of practicing severe asceticism” on the other hand.30 But why, indeed, would Buddhist author-editors continue to depict ‘Buddhism’ as such, if it were not as “a rhetorical tool” against such, apparently occurring extremes, as Oliver Freiberger among others has argued?31 Secondly, Buddhist literature would seem to represent only a particular part of Bud- dhist monasticism, carrying the self-acclaimed “burden of the book” (ganthadhura) and practicing “a (more) active laity-oriented lifestyle” in contrast to those carrying the “burden of meditative insight” (vipassanādhura) and living a more secluded life in the forest.32 Although Buddhist literature is not reticent about the latter, a too prescriptive reading of Buddhist literature led early scholars to believe that both vocations were not just mutually exclusive, but historically successive in time. One particular scholar that nourished this idea to become an established ‘fact’ among Buddhist scholars was the German sociologist Max Weber (1864 – 1920). Following The Protestant Ethic and the Spirit of Capitalism (1905), Weber turned to Asian religions and pursued his “connection between religion and economic rationalization”.33 In The Reli- gion of India: The Sociology of Hinduism and Buddhism (1919), Weber namely claimed that:

Buddhism presents itself as a product of the time of urban development, of urban kingship and the city nobles.34

Drawing from Oldenberg’s and Mr. and Mrs. Rhys Davids’s works and translations of Pāli texts, Weber observed a fundamental change in the development of the Buddhist religion: the soteriological (salvation-oriented) practices and beliefs transmitted from a ‘charismatic figure’ (the Buddha) to early groups of wandering disciples, became rou- tinized and

Buddhist renunciants began to develop modes of organization, operation, and teaching that were unprecedented in Buddhism up to that point.35

Prior to this transition, Weber argued, the Buddhist religion had been characterised by ‘wandering mendicants’ practicing what he called ‘other-worldly’ asceticism (ausser- weltliche Askese), seeking only individual salvation and lacking “a parish organization of the laity”.36 Hence, this transition was to be seen as a rational, economic urge that came from outside the Saṃgha and could guarantee (read: explain) the success and continua-

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 30 Freiberger 2006, p. 235 – see in particular the Dharmacakrapravartanasūtra. 31 Ibid., p. 250. 32 Bretfeld 2015, p. 335 & Tambiah 1984, p. 2. 33 Morrison 2006, p. 281. 34 Weber 1958, p. 204. 35 Ray 1994, p. 24. 36 Weber 1958, p. 233.

! 24! ! tion of the religion, which––as the Pāli Vinaya aims to leave no doubt about––was in the hands of an increasing number of lay followers and donors.37 Weber’s “presumptions about the social location of the ascetic practitioner”––the other-worldly religious figure––set the tone for further scholarship.38 Backed-up by a de- scriptive reading of the Pāli Vinaya, he had provided an explanation for the ‘two-tiered model of Buddhism’ of forest-dwelling mendicants (P. araññavāsis) on the one hand, and fully settled, organised town-dwelling monastics (P. gāmavāsis) on the other hand. He had put them in a linear, chronological sequence of ‘advanced institutionalisation’, thereby reducing or banning self-centred asceticism, and Buddhist mendicants withdrawing from this world, to a pre- or proto-historical stage in the development of the Buddhist religion. Seemingly forgetting that Max Weber’s “famous characterization of early Buddhism as an other-worldly religion” is in fact based on the “portrait of Buddhism and Buddhist history that was created by nineteenth-century European Indologists” 39, many scholars––even those profoundly aware of the normative character of Vinaya texts––have continued to either explicitly or tacitly repeat these ideas and to build onto Weber’s model as a circulus in probando.40 Perhaps the most pressing problem is that this kind of circular reasoning––drawing from early scriptures to design a general theory, which is then tested on the basis of the exact same scriptures––has closed and continues to close the eyes of many Buddhist scholars to look for counterarguments of this ostensible, one-way and absolute ‘developmental transition’. Over the last few years however, enough scholarly research has indicated that the beginning of a coenobitical Buddhist order did certainly not mark the end of a wandering Buddhist ‘mendicants’, nor did it put a stop to the acclaimed highly-individualistic ascetic practices that they are, still often, exclusively associated with. Ever since the 1960’s, an increasing number of scholars from various disciplines has made great con- tributions to our understanding of the ‘two-tiered model’ and have shed more light on the either neglected or contested place and social position of Buddhist ascetics.41 This thesis positions itself within this ‘paradigm shift’ in Buddhist scholarship and aims to contribute to a broader and better understanding of the place and position of ‘asceticism’ and ‘forest monks’ in ‘Buddh-ism’ by taking, as Nicholas Witkowski has done, the pāṃsukūlacīvara as the most distinctive marker of their identity as a case study. As mentioned before, it is in the fundamental belief of this thesis that, to do so,

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 37 For a more detailed summery of Weber’s explanatory model, see: Ray 1994, pp. 24-28 (also cited in Witkow- ski 2013, pp. 12-15); as well as Scott 2009, pp. 19ff. 38 Witkowski 2013, p. 12. 39 Scott 2009, p. 11. 40 Witkowski 2013, pp. 14-15 has listed a number of these scholars. 41 See o.a.: Tambiah (1976, 1982, 1984), Carrithers (1979, 1983), Ray (1994), Schopen (2003, 2005), Freiberger (2006) and Witkowski (2013).

! 25! ! understanding of the present may only contribute to our understanding of the past and vice versa. As Raimon Panikkar (1918 – 2010), predating the critique of Edward Said’s Orientalism (1978), already metaphorically argued:

no botanist can claim to know a seed until he knows the plant that grows up from that seed.42

‘Hands-on’ experts will have to judge what valuable insights this yields, but for all too long Buddhist scholarship has simply ignored the plant in favour of the seed. Hence, drawing from available texts on the topic, with the above-mentioned remarks in mind, I have aimed to provide a concrete interview schedule for the study of modern-day pāṃsukūlika monks. Designing such a schedule requires as many methodological considerations as does conducting the interview itself. It goes without saying perhaps that I have opted for qualitative-data research, which distinguishes itself from quantitative data by number of features and outcomes. As a rule, qualitative-data research tends to provide more depth and detail about a certain case. As a ‘division of labour’, Silverman has argued, “it falls to qualitative researchers to give ‘insight’ into people’s subjective states” as opposed to the objective structures studied in quantitative research.43 Because of a rather small number of cases studied, as well as its open character and depth, making widespread claims and systematic comparisons is however difficult. One method of qualitative data gathering that may “provide context to other data” and offer “a more complete picture” of a certain phenomenon, is the in-depth interview.44 This can be very time consuming however (conducting the interview, transcribing it afterwards and analysing the results) and the quality of the research depends at large on the researcher’s skills. Much easier and far less time consuming is to gather a number of texts (i.e. data on hand) and to analyse them. It seems beyond dispute to me however that in-depth research interviews, inquiring about the notions and understandings of our subjects in question themselves, could provide at least equally important data to the study of both historical and modern phenomenon of pāṃsukūlika, and along with it the more general study of diversity and identity. Such would be the surplus value of further investigation on the topic, to which this thesis aims to pave the way. It should be clear that this does not imply that other qualitative methods such as textual and visual data analysis (of e.g. internet forums and visual im- agery in modern-age Buddhism) would not be a welcome addition. Prior to designing the interview schedule, there are a number of questions to be asked, which I will here, at last, briefly elucidate. To start with, there are four types of in-depth interviews: structured, semi-structured, unstructured and multimodal interviews. The type of research interview that I will maintain throughout this thesis is !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 42 Panikkar 1999, p. 64. 43 Silverman 2004, p. 292. 44 Boyce & Neale 2006, p. 3.

! 26! ! known as the semi-structured interview. Contrary to unstructured interviews, which “do not reflect any preconceived theories”, the questions in this thesis interview schedule are based on existing research on the topic.45 Still, unlike fully structured interviews the questions of this type of questionary remain relatively open. This allows both the interviewer and the interviewee “to diverge in order to pursue an idea or response in more detail.” Moreover, as Gill et al. state:

The flexibility of this approach, particularly compared to structured interviews, also allows the discovery or elaboration of information that is important to the participants but may not have previously been thought of as pertinent by the research team.46

In other words, the questions of a semi-structured interview are primarily designed to guide the interview, to make it easier for the interviewee to participate and “to yield as much information about the study phenomenon as possible”.47 In the 1940s focus groups emerged as a sibling of in-depth interviews and a popular tool for qualitative research. It proved to be very successful to the social sciences and soon came into vogue after World War II. Ever since, its popularity has ebbed and flowed and developed a love-hate relationship with different sciences.48 A focus group can be defined as:

a group discussion on a particular topic organised for research purposes […] [which may] generate information on collective views, and the meaning that lie behind those views.49

Focus groups can therefore provide interesting information that may not be obtained from individual interviews, where interaction on certain beliefs and notions with other respondents is absent. The other side of the coin however, is that respondents in focus groups may not want to talk about certain aspects of the studied phenomenon in a group environment––as might be true for the study of the pāṃsukūlacīvara, for whatever reasons. Moreover, individual interviews might be preferred to focus groups if one wants to distinguish “individual (as opposed to group) opinions” about a certain phenomenon, as Boyce & Neale have argued.50 It is for these reasons that I prefer interviews to focus groups in this early stage of research on the topic. It needs not to be said however that the data collected from these individual interviews may pave the way to further semi-structured interviews on the topic.

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 45 Gill et. al. 2008, p. 291. 46 Ibid. 47 Ibid. 48 Stewart & Shamdasani 2015, p. 1. 49 Gill et al. 2008, p. 291. 50 Boyce & Neale 2006, p. 3.

! 27! !

Further, a number of scholars have argued that it might be better “to start with questions that participants can answer easily” before inquiring about more difficult or sensitive topics.51 As Gill (et al.) stated:

[t]his can help put the respondents at ease, built up confidence and rapport and often generates rich data that subsequently develops the interview further.52

Obviously, this is particularly relevant to designing the interview schedule. It should be mentioned however that the interview schedule I will present here has taken this comment only partially into account, for the sake of a clear arrangement of subdivided themes. Besides, questions should be neutral, understandable and presented in the local language.53 Questions that may “unduly influence responses” should by all means be avoided;54 as should assumptions based on initial statements, past experiences, or the users appearance (cf. supra).55 Stewart has warned for some notable consequences of unreflectively using the open-question format, which is generally accepted as the ‘gold standard’ of qualitative research.56 But in the context of this paper, this format seems the most proper as it “does not limit answers to the narrow range of choices presented by the closed question.”57 Closed questions, such as “Would you call this type of dress X?” might yield undesirable responses, for respondents may feel for example undeserv- edly embarrassed for their ignorance of a name or tradition that the interviewer seems familiar with and they are not. However, secondary questions can be neutral, i.e. “open in form and structured in content terms”, but inviting the respondent “to talk about specific elements”.58 It is not only wise, but also important to have a somewhat clear profile in mind of what stakeholders will be selected for the research interview. I would like to suggest interviewing not exclusively those monks who are, on the basis of their appearance, taken for monks engaging in the practice of pāṃsukūlika, for three reasons. First of all, the process of selecting ‘probable’ pāṃsukūlika monks, presupposes by definition exactly the type of knowledge that is subject to this research. One might argue that in-depth research is by nature hard to generalize and that therefore this bias might not have a tremendous influence on the eventual outcome. Yet I would like to insist that if such potential pitfalls could be avoided, they should be avoided too. There is another reason why I would like to suggest it wise to interview non- pāṃsukūlacīvara wearing monks as well. Unlike tattoos or headdresses, robes can be fair- !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 51 Gill et al. 2008, p. 291. 52 Id. 53 Stewart & Shamdasani 2015, p. 201 & Boyce & Neale, p. 3. 54 Gill et al. 2008, p. 291. 55 Dervin & Dewdney 1986, p. 6. 56 See: Stewart & Shamdasani 2015, p. 283-95. 57 Dervin & Dewdney 1986, p. 4. 58 Id.

! 28! ! ly easily changed. It is striking how little attention has been drawn to this fact within identity studies, whereas it challenges the whole idea of a clear-cut identity, let alone the assumptions for making any selection on a visual basis. The idea is however not a mere hypothesis. When I met one of the rag wearers in Wutaishan again, later the same day, he did not appear in the same tattered attire he had been wearing a few hours before. The smears on his head had as well vanished from sight, as had his dog. There might be several reasons for this sudden ‘identity switch’. A matter of further investigation, this is moreover an exemplary sensitive question that the respondent might want to answer only in a private conversation and not in a focus group (cf. supra). Thirdly, there might be monks being familiar with the modern practice of pāṃsukūli- ka to only a very limited extent. For example it might be possible that they are unable to give correct details about the making of these robes, since they might not engage in the practice themselves. Yet when it comes to the identity of pāṃsukūlika monks, their notions are all the more valuable. To conclude, before conducting the interview, the interviewee must be informed about the purpose of the interview, why he has been chosen as a stakeholder and how long the interview might take. At the end he should be thanked for his time and cooper- ation and asked if there’s anything they would like to add.59

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 59 Boyce & Neale 2006, p. 12.

! 29! !

1 Terminology

Forgoing a study that aims to understand the pāṃsukūlacīvara in its entirety as a ‘trans- traditional’ Buddhist type of dress, it seems wise to expound some commonly used terminology to refer to this particular type of dress. As I have already explained in the in- struction to this thesis, the term pāṃsukūlacīvara is a compound consisting of pāṃsukūla and cīvara. In Buddhist translations of canonical literature, the pāṃsukūlacīvara has been translated into Tibetan as phyag dar khrod kyi chos gos and into Chinese as fensao yi Undone from the addendums chos gos and yi, which both literally translate as ‘clothing’ or ‘robes’, the terms phyag dar khrod and fensao stay close the literal translation of pāṃsukūla: phyag dar khrod almost literally translates as ‘dust-heap’ as well, whereas fensao translates as ‘discarded’ or ‘excrement-cleaning’. Unlike quite some nondescript translations of culture-bound phenomena, with which Chinese or Tibetan translators every now and then happened to be unfamiliar, these terms and a perusal of Tibetan and Chinese Buddhist literature indicate that––whether at least on the basis of texts or as a palpable object––it is fair to say that both Chinese and Tibetan Buddhist author- editors seemed familiar with this particular type of dress, known in Indian Buddhist sources as the pāṃsukūlacīvara. Besides the term pāṃsukūlacīvara, one often comes across the term pāṃsukūlika, which, as we will further see, designates both the monks making and wearing these robes and the (ascetic) practice of making and wearing these robes. So far Buddhologists have––apart from specific types of rag robes60––mainly focussed on these terms.61 Anthropological fieldwork in South and Southeast Asia has touched upon this robe either in relation to a tradition of forest monks, whom are still referred to as pāṃsukūlikas, or in relation to an eponymous chant in Buddhist funeral rites.62 I will further elucidate more specifically what is understood as by these terms. Yet a first thing I would like to draw the attention to in the study of the pāṃsukūlacīvara as a ‘trans-traditional’ type of Buddhist dress, is the fact that such an attempt would be wide of the mark if it did not first examine what other terms there might be to denote this type of dress, its wearers and ‘practice’ and even terms that denote types of pāṃsukūla !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 60 See: Schopen 2007. 61 In a recent paper on the practice of pāṃsukūlika in middle period Indian Buddhism through Chinese vinaya texts, Nicholas Witkowski (2013), for instance, also focussed on the translation of fensao. 62 See: Tambiah (1976, 1982, 1984), Carrithers (1979, 1983), Langer (2012) and Davis (2012).

! 30! ! robes as a subset (such as robes made from rags found on burial mounds, as I will further elucidate). Not only would anthropological research on the topic try in vain perhaps to gather data on something the interviewee is only familiar with under a different name, but also could knowledge of such terms allow for new textual findings, in for example extra-canonical, vernacular Buddhist texts and even modern-day Buddhist internet forums. In modern Chinese Buddhism, for instance, one also speaks of baina yi : a more colloquial designation that actually comes closer to the English translation of ‘tattered’ robes, to which I was pointed by dr. Kuan Guang.63 To gather more information on possible other commonly used Chinese terminology, as I will focus on here, it seems interesting to inquire a group of stakeholders about this in a dialectological fashion. This means that, in order to avoid putting any words into the interviewee’s mouth, the interviewee is presented an image of a rag-robe wearer, as I have provided in the appendix to this thesis. It goes without saying that all stakeholders should, in accordance with the principle of equal conditions, at all times be presented the exact same image. Further, it seems wise to consult a mixed group of stakeholders, including not only pāṃsukūlika monks but also lay followers, and other Buddhist monastics. Inquiring stakeholders specifically at a pilgrim site as Wutaishan may, moreover, yield a very high number of different answers as such places attract Buddhists from all parts of the world. Two questions present themselves in this respect:

Q1.1 HOW WOULD YOU (THE INTERVIEWEE) NAME THE ATTIRE SEEN IN THESE PICTURES?

(

Q1.2 DO YOU KNOW OF ANY OTHER TERMINOLOGY?

Lastly, we may inquire, without going too much into detail at this point, why prefer- ence is given to either one of these. If the answer to Q1.2 is negative, Q1.3 is simply not applicable.

Q1.3 WOULD YOU SAY ANY OF THESE IS TO BE PREFERED? WHY IS THAT?

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 63 Kuan Guang, personal communication, April 9, 2015.

! 31! !

Mapping of such inquiries may provide new terminology academics have previously been unfamiliar with and/or make it even possible to discern possible local differences.

! 32! !

2 The making of pāṃsukūla robes

On top of Mount Wutai is a flower, The monks sometimes come here to dye their robes. They dye their robes a red sandalwood, And vow they will always be monks in this turbid world.

2 )64

As mentioned above, the pāṃsukūla robe owes its name to the origins of the textile used for its making. As I have also already hinted at, its making is considered an ‘ascetic practice’. Texts vary on what this practice implies and what types of rag robes are allowed, but all of them tend to agree on what pāṃsukūlika is not: it is the ‘refusal or non- acceptance of offerings by householders’ which reflects the monk’s ‘independence of others’.65 I will use this negative or antonymic definition throughout this paper for what is being understood as the pāṃsukūlacīvara (pl. pāṃsukūlacīvarāni): that is ‘robes that are not made out of a single piece of cloth that is provided by householders’ (cf. infra). Since we are dealing with a type of dress that appears to be inseparable from its making, it might be a difficult thing to detach questions regarding identity from questions concerning the making of these robes and vice versa. Yet by focussing on rather practical aspects first, as Gill et al. have argued, we might gain the interviewee’s confidence before moving on to the more ‘sensitive’ questions of identity.66 It is for this reason too that I will discuss questions regarding who is making these robes together with other questions of identity later on, even though, as one might raise objection to, those engaging in the practice of pāṃsukūlika might differ from those wearing pāṃsukūla robes.

2.1 What & Where?

Said to be an ‘ascetic’ practice, as I will later discuss, the locus classicus for the pāṃsukūlacīvara is a list of ascetic practices known as the dhūtaguṇas. A standardised and !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 64 WZY P. 2348 (C., p. 131.) 65 See for instance Vm. T.32 No. 1648, p. 404 c15-24 (E., p. 27): […] , 66 See: Gill et al. 2008, p. 291.

! 33! ! widely cited version of this list can be found in the Visuddhimagga or “The Path of Puri- ty”, a text composed around the fifth century CE by the Sinhalese exegete Buddhaghoṣa. Nicholas Witkowski has keenly noted that the definition of pāṃsukūlika (the practice of making pāṃsukūlacīvara from rags) as given in the Visuddhimagga, is in fact twofold. As a matter of fact, this seems to be the very nature of tattered robe rather than a particular- ity of the text itself. On the one hand, the tattered robe is defined by what Witkowski labelled “the locale in which the monk is undertaking the practice”, i.e. the place where one is allowed to obtain rags. On the other hand, it is defined by the state of ‘filthiness’, or condition, in which these rags are found. Indeed, this bifurcation between the condition and the origins of the fabric can account for an interesting, recurring characteristic that can also be observed the Visuddhimagga, which allows the following rags:67

(1) fabric from a cemetery [sosānikaṃ], (2) fabric from a shop [pāpaṇikaṃ], (3) a cloth from a street [rathiyacoḷaṃ], (4) a cloth from a midden [saṅkāracoḷaṃ], (5) one from a childbed [sotthiyaṃ], (6) an ablution cloth [nhānacoḷaṃ], (7) a cloth from a washing place [titthacoḷaṃ], (8) one worn going to and returning from (the charnel ground) [gatapaccāgataṃ], (9) fabric scorched by fire [aggiḍaḍḍhaṃ], (10) one gnawed by cattle [gokhāyitaṃ], (11) one gnawed by ants [upacikākhāyitaṃ], (12) one gnawed by rats [undūrakhāyitaṃ], (13) one cut at the end [antacchinnaṃ], (14) one cut at the edge [dasācchinnaṃ], (15) one carried as a flag [dhajāhaṭaṃ], (16) a robe from a shrine [thūpacīvaraṃ], (17) an ascetic’s robe [samaṇacīvaraṃ], (18) one from a consecration [ābhisekikaṃ], (19) one produced by supernormal power [iddhima- yaṃ], (20) one from a highway [panthikaṃ], (22) one borne by the wind [vātāhaṭaṃ], (23) one presented by deities [devadattiyaṃ], (24) one from the sea [sāmuddiyanti].68

Similar lists occur in other texts, although they vary in content and length and, as I have said already, vary considerably on what pāṃsukūlika implies. It is precisely the way in which these texts differ from another, that provides interesting insights into the minds of its authors and editors, who ultimately watched over such matters of definition by constantly negotiating what was worth upholding and/or adding. Such pieces of information are the ultimate reflection of the “ever-changing social and material context” to which Buddhism has always been subject, and corroborate once more that the practice of pāṃsukūlika––and basically everything, from doctrinal to disciplinary matters and material culture––differed not only from one place to another, but also from time to time.69

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 67 Note for example the difference between (9) “fabric scorched by fire” (condition) and (1) “fabric from a cemetery” (locale). 68 Vsm. II.15 [PTS, p. 62] (Ñ., p. 58) - Note that Witkowski (2013) only speaks of 19 acceptable types of cloth. 69 Kieschnick 1997, p. 17.

! 34! !

A particularly interesting text that shows many resemblances with the Visuddhimag- ga, is the *Vimuttimagga.70 Originally a Pāḷi treatise attributed to Upatissa, the text is only extant in Chinese, into which it was translated in 505 CE. 71 Interestingly, the *Vimuttimagga distinguishes between dirt rags that are ‘ownerless’ ( wuzhu) and dirt rags that are ‘thrown away by people’ (shiren suo qi).72 There seems to be discussion in the Vinayas to what extent we may interpret the latter. In the Dhar- maguptakavinaya, for instance, we read:

At that time, there was a monk from a good family, who was in an alleyway of a city picking up filthy old fabric to make a saṃghāṭī robe from a waste pile of excrement and garbage. Then a householder in Śrāvastī felt pity and threw a bunch of fine fabric on the waste pile of excrement in the alleyway for the monk. A serv- ant was sent to watch over the clothes and did not allow others to take the material. Then there was a group of monks walking eyes down. When they entered the village the person protecting the material said, “Venerables, why don’t you look around?” The monks were afraid and didn’t dare pick them up. The monks told the Buddha and the Buddha said, “If it is [set aside] for the monk, I permit it.”73

Here, the Buddha allows his band of monks ‘fine fabric’ (hao yi 1) provided by a householder, to make pāṃsukūlacīvarāni “if it is [set aside] for the monk”. This account is rather problematic as it overthrows exactly the kind of negative definition of pāṃsukūlacīvara texts usually agree on. As a matter of fact, it brings down the demarcation line between pāṃsukūlacīvara and robes made of ‘cloth provided by householders’ (gahapaticīvara) which should just as well be cut and sewn again before wearing. The only means, by which the robes in the above quoted passage differ from gahapaticīvara, as Witkowski states, is that they are not donated directly to the monks, but placed on a dust-heap (ce shang ).74

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 70 It remains a matter of debate whether or not there is a ‘direct genealogical relationship’ between the *Vimuttimagga and the Visuddhimagga. For details see: Skilling Vimuttimagga and Abhayagiri (1994), Crosby Histo- ry versus Modern Myth: the Abhayagirivihāra, the Vimuttimagga and yogāvacara Meditation (1999) & Anālayo The Treatise on the Path to Liberation () and the Visuddhimagga (2009) - cited in: Bretfeld 2005, p. 329. 71 EB04 pp. 974 & 982. 72 Vm T.32 No. 1648, p. 404 c19. 73 DhgVin T.22 No. 1428, p. 849 b25-c3. 74 Witkowski, Nicholas (2013). Op cit., p. 27.

! 35! !

Anthropological research on the topic in South and Southeast Asia has widely indicated that these days ‘rag robes’ are often made of ‘fine fabric’ donated by the laity.75 The robes I witnessed in Wutaishan however, as can be seen on the photo (on p. iii.) in this thesis, were in contrast clearly ‘rag robes’ or at least dirty robes that were mended and full of smears and wholes. Summing up, several questions present themselves with regards to what materials can be used for the making of pāṃsukūla robes:

Q2.1 HOW WOULD YOU DEFINE THESE ROBES IN A PRACTICAL SENSE?

Q2.2 WHAT DISTINGUISHES THESE ROBES FROM OTHER BUDDHIST ROBES IN A PRACTICAL SENSE?

((,

Q2.3 WHAT MATERIALS ARE THESE ROBES GENERALLY MADE OF?

SQ2.4 DO YOU KNOW OF ANY OTHER MATERIALS USED?

Q2.5 WHERE DOES ONE OBTAIN THESE MATERIALS?

Q2.6 ARE ALL TYPES OF FABRIC ALLOWED? WHAT TYPES OF FABRIC ARE ALLOWED AND WHAT TYPES AREN’T?

,.(

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 75 See: Davis 2012 and Langer 2012.

! 36! !

Q2.7 CAN ROBES BE MADE FROM RAGS PROVIDED BY THE LAITY?

(

2.2 *Pāṃsukūlaticīvara?

So far, I have discussed what the pāṃsukūlacīvara can be made of. Another question is, what the garb, i.e. the complete dress, consists of in terms of tricīvara (Chin. sanyi )? Whereas I have earlier discussed the generic definition of the (ideal) monk’s attire as the threefold robe, we know that it was or at least became common to wear more than three robes. In a “lengthy letter to Buddhist brothers in China”, Kieschnick writes, “the seventh-century Chinese pilgrim to India”, Yijing , remarked that even “in India monks kept more than just three robes.”76 One may be inclined to assume that wearing more than three robes became acceptable as Buddhism spread towards regions with different climatic conditions, as has often been given, along with cultural differences, as an explanation for the considerate diversity of Buddhist robes.77 As another ascetic practice (cf. infra) monks wearing only a single robe, however, were not infrequently “singled out for special praise”.78 As an ascetic practice, pāṃsukūlika is the ‘rejection of offerings by householders’, while ‘the observance of the three robes’, as the afore-mentioned *Vimuttimagga explains, is the ‘rejection of extra robes’ (duan zhang yi).79 As an ascetic practice, this raises the question how many individual robes the pāṃsukūla dress ideally comprises in total? And, moreover, whether it is the whole outfit that should be made out of rags, or just the outer robe or saṅghāṭi, as the image on pg. iii suggests.

Q3.1 HOW MANY INDIVIDUAL ROBES DOES THIS OUTFIT COMPRISE IN TOTAL?

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 76 Kieschnick 1997, p. 16 & 30. 77 See a.o. : Kieschnick (1997, 1999, 2003); Tanabe (2004); Hume (2013) among others. 78 Kieschnick 1997, pp. 16 & 30. 79 Vm T.32 No. 1648, p. 404, c5.

! 37! !

Q3.2 SHOULD THE WHOLE OUTFIT BE MADE OF RAGS, INCLUDING THE UNDER ROBES?

2.3 How?

Having collected ( shi) those types of affordable ‘ownerless’ dirt-rags, the *Vimuttimagga continues, rags must further be ‘cut ( jian), washed (huan) dyed ( ran), pieced together (yanji) and sewn to completion (caifeng chengjiu) before they can be used as pāṃsukūlacīvarāni’.80 We know from the bulk of Buddhist canonical narratives that its author-editors were extremely concerned with questions re- lating to identity. Introductory stories in which members of the Buddhist monastic order are taken for either heretics or householders enjoying the pleasures of senses are numerous.81 The monastic disciplinary codes do not spare us any details on how robes should therefore be dyed, washed and sewn and what materials and tools can be used to do so. I will first discuss questions concerning the cutting and sewing of robes, secondly the tools used to do so and thirdly the process, along with the required materials, of washing and dying.

2.3.1 Sewing pattern

Tradition holds that the Śākyamuni Buddha asked his disciple Ānanda to design a sewing pattern for gahapaticīvarāni. Based the rice fields of Magadha (P. magadhak- hettaṃ), these were to be divided into ‘small pieces and rows’ and ‘outside boundaries and cross boundaries’ (P. acchibaddhaṃ pāḷibaddhaṃ mariyādabaddhaṃ siṅghāṭaka- baddha'nti).82 If we may believe the Pāḷi accounts, the Buddha could not have been more fortunate with such a well-versed tailor of a disciple; Ānanda came up with three de- signs of a different size that should homogenize the distinctive dress of the monastic order; the saṅghāṭi or outer robe was divided in “vertical columns, always odd in number, and edged by a binding.”83 The smallest one comprised 5 columns, the medium-size !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 80 Vm T.32 No. 1648, p. 404, c21. 81 For an interesting survey of metonymical denominations used by authors of the Pāḷi vinaya in reference to their ‘proximate others’ see Maes 2015. 82 MaVin 8.345 (BJT, p. 708.36) - retrieved from: http://gretil.sub.uni-goettingen.de/ 83 Tanabe 2004, p. 731.

! 38! ! one 7 columns, and the largest one 9 columns.84 Whether cloth was obtained from the dust-heap or from householders did not matter; either rag cloth or kaṭhina cloth (cf. infra) needed be washed, dyed, and cut to useful rectangular shapes.85 This might be, because the patchwork motif was maintained in gahapaticīvara in the first place, to ‘remind us’, to quote Heirman, “of rags found on a dust heap, symbolising detachment from wealth.”86 The question presents itself if such vicious symbolism should be pursued by the very robe it symbolized?

Q4.1 IS THERE ANY SPECIFIC DESIGN OR PATTERN TO BE PURSUED? ..0

2.3.2 Practical requirements and tools

For the purpose of cutting and sewing robes, monks and nuns are allowed “small knives (or scissors), needles and thread, and needle cases”.87 We know that some the author-editors of the Vinayas (the vinayadharas) looked down their nose at needles made from ivory for instance, for the same reason they banned the use of silk.88 But times have changed and from Sri Lanka to China, one finds store selling ready-for-use gahapaticīvarāni that come along with a bag and a begging bowl, all neatly packed. There’s no reason to believe and even less reason to expect monks and nuns cutting, dyeing and sewing robes in an orthodox fashion––unless, and this is an important aspect: one expects to gain merit from it:

naitad bhikṣo chedanārham api tv āsīvakārham* / sīvakaṃ kṛtvā dhāraya /

No monk shall gain merit from cutting [textile], for merit though is only in sewing it together. Sew it before you wear it.89

I will discuss the motives to make the pāṃsukūlacīvara as claimed here by the Mūlasarvāstivādavinayavastu, in chapter 4 when dealing with ‘asceticism’. What is important for now, is that one of its main motives, is precisely to be independent of others. As such, we may wonder if those monks engaging in the practice of pāṃsukūlika at pre-

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 84 Ibid., p. 731-2. 85 See also: Heirman 2014, p. 481. 86 Ibid., p. 485. 87 Findly 2003, p. 167. 88 Kieschnick 2003, p. 141. 89 Translated by the author from the MssVin II.52. (D. V1, p. 251) - retrieved from http://gretil.sub.uni- goettingen.de/

! 39! ! sent consider the use of sewing machines and artificial dyes in this respect, for instance, improper and irreconcilable with what the practice of pāṃsukūlika and its practitioner- adherents stand for.

Q4.2 WHICH KIND OF TOOLS ARE USUALLY USED TO MAKE THESE ROBES? ,((

2.3.3 Dyeing the robe

When it comes to dyeing, most Vinayas seem extraordinary communicative and leave no chance for misunderstanding. Ann Heirman has made a comprehensive overview on the peculiarities of several Vinayas regarding the washing and dyeing of Buddhist monastic robes.90 Once more reflecting regional differences, numerous natural dyes (P. ra- jana, Chin. ran) are listed, from tree bark (P. taca, Chin. shupi) and roots (P. mūla, Chin. shugen) to mud (Chin. ni), flowers (P. puppha) and madder (Chin. qiancao).91 The Pāḷi and Dharmaguptakavinaya in particular, dwell elaborately on the topic and explain us down to the smallest detail ‘when a boil is ready for use’, ‘how to monitor a dye’s temperature’, ‘how to dry the robes once completely dyed’ and so on and so forth.92 In the same article, Heirman has undertaken the task of discussing the colour of the monastic robes in various vinaya traditions––a hard row to hoe, that no encyclopaedist has really been bursting to so far. Generally speaking, Heirman notices, “robes should never be multi-coloured; and only certain colours are appropriate.”93 According to a passage in the Mahāsāṃghikavinaya, a band of monks with robes in four colours (. you biqiu zuo si zhong se yi) were summoned by the Buddha to dye them into a single colour (yizhong se) since multi-coloured robes were “not allowed” ( bu ting).94 Yet contrarily to what the editors of the monastic codes suggest, the monks I have seen in Wutaishan wearing bǎinà yī, are wearing robes of brown, blue, yellow, or- ange, white and grey patches. A possible reason for this, I suggest, might be the fact that if pāṃsukūla were cut to nice squares, subsequently washed as the *Vimuttimagga rec- !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 90 Heirman, Ann (2014). Op. cit., pp. 467-488. 91 Ibid. p 474. 92 For all details, see : Heirman, Ann (2014). Op. cit., pp. 474-5. 93 Heirman, Ann (2014). Op. cit. pp. 475. 94 MaVin T.22. No. 1425, p. 455 a3, cited in: Id. – translated by the author.

! 40! ! ommends, and eventually dyed in the same way and colour as gahapaticīvara, they must have been pretty hard to distinguish from latter. If monks (and nuns) would engage in the practice of pāṃsukūlika for the mere reason of its reputed merit and have no aspira- tions to a visually distinctive ‘identity’ communicating their ‘ascetic lifestyle’, this might have worked. But just as the normative monastic may not want to be seen for an ascetic, the monk “who even from within the monastic community was considered an ascetic”, to quote Kieschnick, may not to want to be taken for normative.95 This is but a careful hypothesis that might be hard to refute though, but even harder to prove. At least we may learn from our respondents, what they think.

Q4.3 SHOULD RAGS BE DYED?

SQ4.4 WHY IS THAT?

2.4 When?

Tradition holds, that as the Buddha allowed gahapaticīvarāni, a special Kaṭhina ceremony was institutionalised at the end of the three-month rainy season (P. vassāvāsa), where lay donors could give new robe material to the Buddhist community or saṅgha.96 This could as well be done on the day after Pavāraṇā, Findly remarks, “a yearly ritual in which all monastic misunderstandings and lapses are laid aside”.97 As it appears in canonical narratives, the gathering of pāṃsukūla materials is not such a product of its time. But out of general curiosity, i.e. rather than field-testing textual data, we may ask our respondents if there is after all a specific time for making these robes?

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 95 Kieschnick 1997, p. 32. 96 See: Matsumura 2007, pp. 351-357. 97 Findly 2003, p. 122.

! 41! !

Q5.1 IS THERE A SPECIFIC TIME FOR MAKING THESE ROBES? ..0(

2.5 Why?

I have already expounded that the practice of pāṃsukūlika seems to have always tightroped between being unarguably (sometimes even fundamentally) Buddhist in nature on the one hand, and constantly flirting with notions of asceticism, to which Bud- dhist institutions were generally extremely hostile, on the other. Schopen has convincingly argued that this awkward relationship might have resulted from the fact that asceticism was “dangerously individualistic, prone to excess, culturally powerful, and not easy to predict: precisely the sort of thing that could create problems for an institution.”98 In terms of decorum, Heirman, following Schopen’s idea of laity’s decisive influence on monastic regulations, has argued, that “[a] clean community is a trustworthy community, worthy of receiving gifts and able to return karmic benefit to the lay society.”99 Yet, despite a prevailing critical stance towards severe ascetic practices in a great deal of canonical Buddhist literature, to quote Freiberger, one can find “passages in the same canonical texts [that] seem to advocate it.”100 Such passages do not repudiate it as ‘soteriological useless’, but extoll those engaging in it instead, and disclose loftily its underlying motives and merits.101 An interesting passage in this respect occurs again in the *Vimuttimagga, according to which one should ‘acquire the benefits of the dhūtaguṇas’ for reasons as:

‘for paucity of whishes’ ( wei yu shaoyu); ‘for contentment with little’ ( wei yu zhizu); ‘for freedom from doubt’ (wei yu wuyi) and the ‘destruction of craving’ (wei yu mie ai); for the desire of increasing vig- orous progress ( ei yu zengzhang yongmeng jingjin); ‘for the sake of using little and not accepting the offerings made to others’ (? wei zi shao ying bu shou wai shi); ‘for solitude’ (wei yu anzhu) and ‘for !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 98 Schopen 1997, p. 63. 99 Heirman 2014, p. 486. 100 Freiberger 2006, p. 243. 101 See: Kieschnick 1997, p 34. – In recent years, Buddhist scholarship has well understood this ambivalence and adjusted to the idea that asceticism might in fact have been “an important part of certain strands of early Mahāyāna Buddhism”, as Witkowski (2013) has argued.

! 42! !

cutting down of clinging and for the protection of moral virtue’ ( wei duan suozhe shouhu jie shan).102

It is clear that for the *Vimuttimagga, the dhūtaguṇas appear to be the externalization or practical continuation of a certain doctrinal persuasion. When inquiring our respondents about their motives, we are likely to yield similar answers, rather than ‘for upholding the tradition’ or ‘to please tourists and pilgrims’. Even in open format, questions involving why might yield answers that are idealistic and may not give a complete picture of the questioned phenomenon; but there seems no other way than to simply ask our respondents impartially why these robes are being made?

Q6.1. WHY ARE THESE ROBES BEING MADE?

Having by all means raised the questions in an open format first, we may weigh the pros and cons against another of switching to closed questions, to test such assumptions. But again I would suggest discussing such matters when inquiring about the peculiar identity of pāṃsukūlika monks and allowance for an identity-switch. For now we might yield some interesting answers by carefully continuing to ask if the practice of making these robes, involves other (ascetic) practices as well.

Q6.2. DOES THE PRACTICE OF MAKING AND WEARING THESE ROBES INVOLVE ANY OTHER PRACTICES?

QS6.3. IS THIS ESSENTIAL OR IS THIS NONCOMMITTAL?

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 102 Vm T.32 No. 1648, p. 404 c23-26 (E., p. 27) – alternative translation by the author for , instead of “for the increase of energy”.

! 43! !

3 The maintenance of pāṃsukūla robes

It never came to his mind to wash off the dirt from his clothes, until those surrounding him could stand it no longer and took the robe from him in order to wash it.103

Another interesting practical aspect is how robes should be taken care of. Comparative Vinaya studies clearly illustrate that the maintenance of robes was of special concern to its author-editors. Not only do we find some very practical details on how to wash robes, dye them or mend them, but also do we stumble upon some interesting beliefs and considerations that underlie their motivations to do so. So far, anthropological research has, to my knowledge, inquired rather little into this topic. Text-critical research, on the other hand, has provided some valuable insights into the maintenance of ‘ordinary’ robes; yet, again, textual details on the maintenance of pāṃsukūla robes in specific remain rather scarce.104 Drawing mainly from textual sources, I will, over the following pages, provide some more specific questions with regards to the maintenance of the robe, which may pave the way to anthropological fieldwork on this particular issue too. As we will see, these questions will at the same time reveal some symbolic connotations already that may help us understand better why certain Buddhist monastics, both historically and today, adopt(ed) a different Bud- dhist ‘identity’. It must be said that in order to incorporate the gathered data, it is im- perative, with special regards to questions presented here, to have a clear profile of the respondents in terms of their relationship with the practices and robes that are the subject of this query.

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 103 XSZ T.50 No. 2060, p. 473 a19-20 – following partly the translation of Kieschnick 1997, p. 32. 104 See in specific: Heirman 2014.

! 44! !

3.1 Washing & clean(s)ing

Let us begin by having a look at rules concerning the washing of the robes. With special regards to the pāṃsukūlacīvara, it seems wise to distinguish the washing of pāṃsukūla robes themselves and the washing of pāṃsukūla rags, which as the *Vimuttimagga among others explains, should precede the dyeing and sewing of the robes (cf. supra).

3.2 Washing pāṃsukūla rags

Various Vinayas agree on it that either ‘old’, ‘new’ or ‘newly received robe material’ should be washed.105 Special attention deserves, as we can image, pāṃsukūla material that is found in the streets, on corpses and so on. Because of their ‘terrible stench’ (hou qi) and the ‘many insects and lice’ (duo shi ) they might contain, they should be washed and dyed, and according to the Dharmaguptakavinaya even perfumed (xiang- xun ).106 When it comes to pāṃsukūla rags obtained from the cemetery (zhongjian yi ), some disciplinary codes, such as the Mūlasarvāstivādavinaya, argue with force- ful arguments that the washing of such rags is not only a practical act, but also an act of ‘cleansing’ as they are believed to be possessed by a magical demon or yakṣa (suochi yao- cha ).107 In the same chapter, the Kṣudrakavastu, of the Mūlasarvāstivādavinaya, it is further explained, that prior to washing them, rags “must be set out in a dense grove (vindhyavana108) for seven to eight days” (ke qi ba ri zhi conglin zhong ). “Only when the wind and the sun have fully blow-dried them” (dai feng ri chui shai yi ), it goes on, “they can be washed and dyed afterwards, and only then they shall be worn” (ranhou huan ran fang ke pi zhu ). Gregory Schopen has uttered the pertinent question if such instructions can be taken as historical or must be seen a powerful, rhetorical tool to curb and marginalize practices as pāṃsukūlika, by repeatedly making them out to be immensely troublesome? His question seems the crux of the matter and challenges once more the credibility of social realities ‘extracted’, as Nattier puts it, from normative texts. It especially urges, I believe,

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 105 See: Heirman 2014, p. 125. 106 DhgVin T.22 No. 1428, p. 711 c14 – also cited in: Heirman 2014, p. 483. 107 MssVin T.24 No. 1451, p. 282 c19 – id. 108 For a full explanation of the term conglin , see: PDOB, p. 197. 109 MssVin T.24 No.1451, p. 282 c26-27 – based on the translation of the remarkably consonant Tibetan version of the text by Schopen 1997, pp. 89f; also cited in: Heirman 2014, p. 483.

! 45! ! on further in-depth fieldwork of the pāṃsukūlacīvara, which may not only brighten up our speculative and narrowed understanding on this particular issue too, but also clarify whether Schopen is right in assuming a dichotomy between text and practice here too. Three questions require further research with regards to the washing of pāṃsukūla rags:

Q6.1 SHOULD RAGS BE WASHED BEFORE THEY ARE USED?

SQ6.2 WHY IS THAT?

Q6.3 HOW SHOULD THESE RAGS BE CLEANED?

3.3 Washing pāṃsukūla robes

In the section above I have discussed the washing of rags, a once-only (rather symbolic) act preceding the making of robes. What I would like to discuss in the following section, is the washing of pāṃsukūla robes. The Vinayas richly discuss how to wash robes, how to prevent them from becoming dirty, where to wash them and what utensils to use, and here, where there seems little to gain from wresting texts, the Vinayas may provide fairly credible accounts, for which I especially refer again to Heirman’s Washing and Dye- ing Buddhist Monastic Robes (2014). Yet I would like to suggest that there might be reasons to believe that monks engaging in the practice of pāṃsukūlika may not (necessarily want to) wash their robes. An interesting genre of texts in this respect, are the Biography of Eminent Monks (gao seng zhuan ), from which the introductory quote to this chapter section stems. These hagiographies, rather than biographies, recount the lives of some deviant monks who violated some Buddhist monastic precepts. One such monk, is the eminent monk Wumen Huikai (1183 – 1260) who is said to ‘refuse to wash his robes until his

! 46! ! fellow monks could no longer bear the smell’.110 At first sight this account suggests that Heirman is right in stating that all monastics “needed to conform to the standard decorum of the saṃgha.”111 In the end, there was no getting away from it, it seems. But what seems to go somewhat unnoticed is that Huikai himself had apparently no intention of doing so. I am taking Huikai as an example and it may well be that the following hypothesis does not tally his personal motives. However, the valuable question presents itself why he did not (want to) wash his robes himself? Could we be overlooking one of the most plausible tempting angles of its particular identity, one of its underlying aspects and/or motives that may not be attested in any texts? Are vinayadharas trying to deter monks from making and wearing them, by alleging that pāṃsukūla robes are ‘impure’ and some even ‘possessed by demons’? Or are these actually notions and identities that the monks making and wearing them intentionally flirt with (cf. infra), and may simply not want to wash off––just like a young boy who has shaken the hand of his fa- vourite soccer player may not want to wash his hand until his mother forces him to? All I am trying to say, is that, whereas washing robes as an act of cleansing, rather than cleaning, may be absolutely desirable and necessary to one, the other may deem it by all means ‘avoidable’ or at least try to postpone it as long as possible. If we understand this, the question if all robes (i.e. including pāṃsukūla robes and even robes made of shrouds) need to be washed at some point in time, gets another dimension: one that is more interested in the will of doing so, than in the act of doing so. Nevertheless, when inquiring into such matters, the questions raised should at all times remain relatively unaffected. Again, three questions present themselves:

Q7.1 SHOULD THE ROBES THEMSELVES BE WASHED CLEAN FROM TIME TO TIME?

SQ7.2 WHY IS THAT?

SQ7.3 HOW SHOULD THESE ROBES BE CLEANED?

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 110 See: Kieschnick 1997, p. 32. 111 Heirman, Ann (2014). Op. cit., p. 482.

! 47! !

3.4 Mending

Also related to the maintenance of robes, is the issue of ‘mending’. In his collection of Mountain poems (shan shi ) that was translated by the American author Bill Porter under his alias Red Pine (Chi Song ), the 14th-century Chan hermit ‘Stonehouse’, or Shizu (1272 – 1352) writes in the last stanza of his poem:

on snow-filled nights a fire is my companion on frost covered dawns I hear a gibbon howl my tattered robe isn’t easy to mend I cut a new patch when clouds roll in.

“When discussing how to clean robes,” Heirman states, “the vinayas frequently mention three standard techniques: washing (huan ), beating (da ) and dyeing (ran ).”113 Interestingly, she mentions in a note, the Sarvāstivāda, Mūlasarvāstivāda- and Mahāsāṃghikavinaya add ‘sewing’ (feng ) to the above-mentioned list of possible cleaning methods.114 What strikes me more these few Vinayas including ‘mending’, is the im- plication that a many a Vinaya tradition does not. Allow me to share some personal findings that seem noteworthy in this respect. More often than once it would come to my ears––either in reply to an informal question ad- dressed to locals about their notions of baina yi, or as a valuable objection to the textual premise of my research topic by two Chinese acquaintances, to whom I owe special thanks for the translation of the interview schedule––that the monks that are the subject of this query ‘simply can’t afford new robes’ and therefore ‘patch their robes every time there is a hole.’ Such notions, I believe, are of equal importance for a full understanding of our studied phenomena in general and I would like to ask readers to remain reflexively aware of it that it is not in our place to wipe them off as ‘inaccurate’ from a textual point of view. Still, the question remains what to do with such notions? We cannot deny them, but neither can we rely on them as substantiated facts: they demand the same scrutiny as all our sources do. Let me explain where and why I deem them of interest and where and why I don’t. The idea that the monks that are the subject of our query would not patch robes from numerous rags found here and there, but patch holes in worn-out robes, as they ‘can’t afford new ones’, in fact tells us more about how these !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 112 See: Red Pine 1999, p. 21-22. 113 Heirman 2014, p. 472. 114 Heirman (2014, p. 472) refers to the SaVin (T.23 No. 1435, p. 114 b29-c3); the MssVin (T.22 No. 1421, p. 23 b27); and the MaVin (T.22 No. 1425, p. 291 c18-19).

! 48! ! monks are perceived than what these monks might actually do––for which I will come back on this when dealing with questions of identity. The reasons I believe such notions do not tell us anything new about, or conflictive with, our textual understanding of the pāṃsukūlacīvara, are as follows. First of all, what seems the by far most obvious affordable type of pāṃsukūla is a worn-out monastic robe itself. Having listed twenty-four affordable types of pāṃsukūla, Buddhaghosa elucidates that “an ascetic’s robe (cf. supra, no. 17 samaṇacīvaraṃ) is one belonging to a bhikkhu” (samaṇacīvaranti bhikkhusantakaṃ), just as a “one from a consecration” (no. 18 ābhisekikaṃ) is “one thrown away at the king’s consecration place” (ābhisekikanti rañño abhisekaṭṭhāne chaḍḍitacīvaraṃ). 115 As such, the definition of pāṃsukūlacīvara would run the risk of becoming to narrow if we limit it to only fully tattered robes. Moreover, as it appears at first glance, robes are either patched or not patched at all. It is at this point, that Vinayas not mentioning feng lead to questions. If the fear of being mistaken for a pāṃsukūla monk surpasses individual fears and reaches the level of an editorial identity-concerned agenda, watching over the representative appearance of its desirably trustworthy community (cf. supra), the ‘absence’ of feng becomes less innocuous. This is but a prudent conjecture, one that requires further scrutiny and a deeper comparative textual analysis. But it is interesting to read, that the 20th-century Nepalese poet, Chittadhar Hṛidaya, in his epic poem Sugata Saurabha, suggests something similar:

Mending robes is all right if they are old; if made of patches A shawl may have two layers, a double shawl four layers, a cloak, as many as needed.116

Suffice it to say that the distinction between fully and partly mended robes appears, whether or not due to deliberate considerations, less significant than the distinction between fully patched robes and robes that are not mended at all. Three questions seem valuable in this respect:

Q8.1 CAN THESE ROBES BE MENDED IN CASE THERE IS A HOLE/TEAR?

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 115 Vsm II.18 [PTS, p. 63] (Ñ., p. 59). - Note that Witkowski (2013, p. 2) therefore translates samaṇacīvaraṃ un- swervingly as “a monk’s robe”. 116 Lewis & Tuladhar 2009, p. 282.

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SQ8.2 CAN ALL ROBES BE MENDED? OR CAN ONLY TATTERED ROBES BE MENDED?

.(,.(

SQ8.3 WHY IS THAT?

3.5 Transmission and duration of use

A third theme that relates to the maintenance of the robe concerns its duration of use and possible ‘transmission’. The idea of ‘lineage’, ‘succession’, or ‘transmission’ (Skt. & P. paraṃparā, Chin. xiangchuan , T. rgyud pa, J. sōden) is one that is popular not only in Buddhist, but also in Hindu, Jaina and Sikh traditions, and can be traced back to a Vedic (guru-śiṣya) tradition of oral succession, which, as Rupert Gethin, among others, has elaborately shown, held a dominant position in the history of early and even middle period Buddhism. 117 In tantric and especially Chan/Zen traditions, the notion of paraṃparā, or the “patriarchal mythos”, as Wendi Adamek described it, has been particularly popular and ‘became a true orthodoxy’.118 As mentioned in the introduction already, the transmission of dharma came to be represented in passing on robes from teacher to disciple (P. cīvaraparaṃparā), resembled in the expression (Chin. yi fa xiangchuan; Jap. ehō sōden). Well known is the story of Bodhidharma, the four-fifth century Indian ‘putative’ founder of the Chan tradition, who, according to eight-century monk Heze Shenhui , passed on his robe to his Chines disciple Huike (487593) “in order to signify that the dharma had passed on from India to new ground.”119 Shenhui, the foremost disciple of the sixth patriarch Huineng (638713) and famous for attacking Shenxiu’s idea of gradual enlightenment or cultivation (jianwu ), wrote the following, in his work titled ‘Verses on the Birthless Wisdom of Sudden Awakening’ (Dunwu wusheng bore song ):

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 117 See: Gethin 1992, pp. 37ff. 118 Adamek 2011, p. 18. 119 Ibid., p. 19.

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The robe serves as verification of the Dharma and the Dharma is the robe lineage. Robe and Dharma are transferred from one [patriarch] to another and are handed down without alteration. Without the robe one does not spread forth the Dharma, without the Dharma one does not receive the robe.120

The idea of a concomitant transmission of both the robe (yi) and the dharma (fa) also fired the imagination of the 7th-century Chinese pilgrim to India, Xuanzang (602664). In his reputed ‘Great Tang Records on the Western Regions’ (Da Tang xiyu ji 9) he reveals how the historical Buddha would have passed on (chuan fa ) his gold-embroidered robe (jin lü jiasha ) to Mahākāśyapa (Mohe jiaye ), who should in turn hand it over to Maitreya, the Future Buddha, on the sacred mountain of Kukkuṭapāda.121 Such paramount lineage, “between the Buddha of our age, Śākyamuni, and the Buddha of the coming age, spanning uncountable years”, demands of course a robe with little more prestige, than the one He had patched before Jīvaka bestowed on Him a robe of Siveyyaka cloth. But in modern days too, the tradition of passing on one’s robe seems to live on not only in popular oral narratives, but also as an effective tradition, as can be seen in the wonderful documentary on the Phuktal monastery in Zangskar by Marianne Chaud, titled Himalaya, Le Chemin du Ciel (2009). Given their particular nature, their plausible connection to a transmission of certain soteriological knowledge and, as suggested above, their singularity in terms of mending; all this certainly suggests that an inquiry into the duration of use and possible transmission of pāṃsukūlacīvarāni is definitely relevant. Two particular questions seem valuable:

Q9.1 CAN THESE ROBES BE TRANSMITTED FROM ONE TO ANOTHER?

SQ9.2 IS THERE ANY REASON FOR DOING SO, PRACTICALLY OR SYMBOLICALLY?

0(.,

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 120 DWBS S.468 (A., p. 19.). 121 DTX T.51 No. 2087, p. 919 b24-c24 (A., p. 19.).

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4 Asceticism

The pāṃsukūlacīvara is ultimately linked to notions of ‘asceticism’. In fact, we may almost certainly assume that it has always been associated with asceticism as the pāṃsukūlacīvara does not only occur in Buddhist lists of ascetic practices (e.g. dhūtaguṇas, niśrayas, āryavaṃśas), but also in similar lists of ‘austerities’ of acclaimed non-Buddhist origin (e.g. duṣkaracaryās). While these lists themselves are fairly well documented, their significance and place in Buddhism remains however much of a con- troversy, as I have highlighted in the introduction already. Deriving from the Greek askèsis, asceticism literally means “training”. As early as the late antiquity, Christians have been using the term to “designate the various practices designed to repress (or redirect) desire (of sexual nature in particular) in order to bring the practitioner closer to salvation.”122 Pertaining to salvation, or in a “Latin-derived English nutshell” ‘soteriology’, is key to and indeed inseparable from the Buddhist philosophy, doctrine, ideology or theory.123 Yet most Buddhists, as I will further argue, do not rely on the austere ascetic practices set forth in the dhūtaguṇas and similar lists. So to designate the latter, one could better speak of “elite asceticism”, a term coined by Patrick Olivelle to describe “extraordinary forms of self-control and self-restraint” carried out by only “a small group of religious virtuosi”.124 Such forms of self-restraining ascetic practices are not restricted to the Buddhist doctrine only, but have its peers among other salvation-oriented religions. Precisely therefore, it is interesting to not only look at ‘elite asceticism’ in a particular context, but also as a cross-cultural, very human phenomenon. Oliver Freiberger, editor of a comparative work on Asceticism and its Critics (2006), has worked out a broad definition to designate this cross-cultural phenomenon. In his book, he sharply defines ‘elite asceticism’ as:

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 122 Witkowski 2013, p. 12. 123 Adamek 2011, p. 5. 124 Olivelle 2011, cited in: Freiberger 2006.

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i) an enduring performance of practices that affect bodily needs (such as eating, drinking, sleeping, etc.) for religious purposes ii) a lifestyle, rather than a mere mode of practice iii) a certain combination of actual practices and a set of beliefs on which the practices are based and which justify them.125

From what will follow in this chapter, it will be clear that ‘asceticism’ is an appropriate designation for the nature of the dhūtaguṇas and other ‘austere’ Buddhist practices. Unlike the term ‘austerities’, elite asceticism, as defined by Freiberger, immediately also sets itself apart from other well-covered Buddhist practices of self-immolation, despite seemingly similar meritorious objectives.126 What is more, is that Freiberger’s definition stresses the importance of the underlying motifs and beliefs, which are of special concern to this thesis chapter. What I would like to do in this chapter section is to look at how asceticism is introduced, defined and pictured in a number of unrelated Buddhist texts. As we will see, these texts take a very equivocal stance towards ‘elite asceticism’: from disapproving and demonizing it in some texts, over thwarting it in other texts, to encouraging and extolling it elsewhere. According to some texts––which may, on that behalf, too often have been trusted somewhat implicitly––this textual ambivalence must be interpreted, as we have seen, as a result of an inner conflict or ‘struggle’ between so-called ‘town monks’ (P. gāmavāsi) and ‘forest Buddhist monastics’ (P. araññavāsi), which, as one such scholar put it a while ago, “tended in various combinations to divide, if not bifurcate, the saṃgha.”127 I have indicated that the debate over the position and significance of asceticism in Buddhism is primarily centred around this ‘two-tiered model of Buddhism’, as it is often known. Much research has been done––and still could be done and should be done––on the place and significance of asceticism in Buddhism, as well as on how gāmavāsīs and araññavāsīs related to each other and strove for distinguished identities, donors, doctrines, etc. and how their mutual and different interests shaped the ‘canon’ as we have it today.128 I cannot not discuss the historical questions that these texts raise. But rather than the historicity of these issues, I am here interested in the doctrinal questions they raise and must have raised to well-read Buddhist author-editors in the past. What is the message, or better: what are the different and common messages we get !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 125 Freiberger 2006, p. 5. - This volume on Asceticism and its Critics (2006) grew from an international conference at Texas University, from September 18-20, 2003, and compiles ten chapters of revised papers from that conference on asceticism in both Asian and European traditions. 126 See for instance Yu 2012, who speaks of “self-inflicted violence” to refer “to culturally sanctioned expressions of sanctity that involve self-mutilation and transfiguration.” (p. 4) Yu too wishes to distinguish between “self-inflicted violence” and “asceticism”, which might lose “its analytic potential”, he agrees on, if used too broadly and applied to too many specific historical contexts (pp. 9-10). 127 Tambiah 1984, p. 2. 128 To name but a few scholars active in this field, see again: Tambiah (1976, 1982, 1984), Carrithers (1979, 1983), Ray (1994), Schopen (2003, 2005), Freiberger (2006) and Witkowski (2013).

! 53! ! about the pāṃsukūlacīvara in its relation or connotation to ‘elite asceticism’ (further: simply asceticsm)? What ‘ascetic’ associations does the pāṃsukūlacīvara call forth? And what might be some of the ‘underlying motifs and beliefs’ that attract(ed) bhikṣus of several strands within Buddhism to engage in this practice and flirt or completely identify with its distinct identity, prior and today?

4.1 Dhutaṅga or dhūtaguṇa practices

Let us begin by having a closer look at what the so-called locus classicus of the dhūtaguṇas, Buddhaghosa’s Visuddhimagga, and its much-aforecited precedent, the *Vimuttimagga, tell us about the pāṃsukūlacīvara. Both texts mention the wearing of paṃsukūla robes as one of the thirteen austere practices a yogin who “aspires to accom- plish excellent good merits”, should follow. 129 More or less literally citing the *Vimuttimagga, the Visuddhimagga sums up the following ‘austerities’:

i. the refuse-rag-wearer’s practice (paṃsukūlikaṅga) ii. the triple-robe-wearer’s practice (tecīvarikaṅga) iii. the alms-food-eater’s practice (piṇḍapātikaṅga) iv. the house-to-house-seeker’s practice (sapadānacārikaṅga) v. the one-sessioner’s practice (ekāsanikaṅga) vi. the bowl-food-eater’s practice (pattapiṇḍikaṅga) vii. the later-food-refuser’s practice (khalupacchābhattikaṅga) viii. the forest-dweller’s practice (āraññikaṅga) ix. the tree-root-dweller’s practice (rukkhamūlikaṅga) x. the open-air-dweller’s practice (abbhokāsikaṅga) xi. the charnel-ground-dweller’s practice (susānikaṅga) xii. the any-bed-user’s practice (yathāsanthatikaṅga) xiii. the sitter’s practice (nesajjikaṅga).130

As the *Vimuttimagga puts it––a bit more conveniently arranged, as it is known for–– there are two practices that involve robes: one should wear rag-robes and only, that is no more than, the three robes. Secondly, there are five teachings connected to food: one should only eat alms; one should regularly go for the alms-round; one should only eat one meal in a single setting; one should restrict the amount of food and not eat after midday. Thirdly, there are five practices that concern residence: one should dwell in a peaceful place (a forest); one should dwell under a tree; one should dwell in an open or a

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 129 Vm (E., p. 27). 130 Vsm II.2 [PTS, p. 59] (Ñ., p. 55).

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‘dewy’ place; one should dwell among the graves and one should dwell any chanced- upon place. And lastly, one should never sit, nor lie down.131 The *Vimuttimagga was composed sometime prior to the Visuddhimagga, which was written during the fifth-century CE.132 Reginald Ray has argued that originally the dhūtaguṇas must have composed “a fund of ascetic conventions” of which various groupings existed, “with, at last, the classical groupings coming to be regarded as the normative ones”.133 In the Theravāda tradition, the thirteen ascetic practices set forth by the Visuddhimagga came to be regarded as the normative; in the Mahāyāna tradition however, the dhūtaguṇas (Chin. toutuo ) generally compose only twelve ascetic practices, omitting the ‘regular alms round’ (piṇḍapātika-aṅga) and ‘measured food’ practice (pattapiṇḍika-aṅga), and including instead the ‘wearing of woollen or felt garments’ (nāma(n)tika).134 Entrenched in manuals on the Path of Purification, the dhūtaguṇas have sometimes been translated as “qualities of shaking off [impurities]” and its practitioners are known in Pāli as dhutavādas or dhutadharas (resp. ‘adherent’ and ‘holders’ of the dhūtaguṇas); in Sanskrit as either dhutadharas again or dhūtaguṇins (dhūtaguṇa- practitioners).135

4.1.1 The philosophical detour

It is clear that the afore-listed dhūtaguṇas comprise practices that affect bodily needs such as eating, drinking and sleeping. Deprived of any philosophical context that is about to follow, it may, moreover, be obvious already that these practices describe a lifestyle or at least demand an enduring observance, rather than a single ‘try-out’. There is no such thing as a quick introduction to ‘Buddhist philosophy’; neither would this thesis allow for anything such, if it at all existed. Undone from the Abhidharma jargon that Buddhaghosa and other rely on to expound the philosophical rationale behind the dhūtaguṇas, I have decided to focus only on part of their exegesis and to limit myself to a basic understanding of it, which I will try to bring in a more ‘universal language’. !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 131 Vm (E., p. 27) & PDOB, p. 1087. 132 PDOB, pp. 974 & 982. 133 Ray 1994, p. 297. 134 Ray 1994, pp. 297-298. - Again, this tiny difference between otherwise almost identical lists, reflects how different socio-cultural contexts and other natural (here climatological) circumstances, ungainsayably shaped and influenced the Buddhist doctrine as it spread from its native country to other regions. As Bapat (1964, p. xxi-xxii, cited in Ray 1994, pp. 307-308) remarked, “The monks living in the cold regions of the Himalayas, Tibet and China, probably thought it necessary to permit the use of a woollen cloth on account of extreme cold in those regions”. On how the “territorial expansion and geographical dispersion of the Buddhist community [to Central Asia, China, Tibet, Mongolia, Korea and Japan] invoked different interpretations of the monastic discipline as well as of the doctrine” (p. 5), I refer in particular to a volume on the Spread of Buddhism, by Heirman & Bumbacher (2007). 135 Ray 1994, p. 295.

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Perhaps due to a post-modern abstention from (over)generalizations in modern academics, I have found no better definition of asceticism that says anything about its rationale as a cross-cultural, very human phenomenon, other than the words of Arthur Schopenhauer (1788 – 1860). It is true that Schopenhauer noticed certain correspond- ences between his theories and Buddhist philosophy. And, as some may be ready to object, it is also true that a comparison of both has all too often led to oversimplified and– –well there it is––overgeneralized statements that have wronged either of them. Never- theless, Schopenhauer’s observations seem in their own right, I believe, extremely valuable, at least in part, for the study of asceticism, both in a specific context and as a cross- cultural phenomenon. Schopenhauer argued that:

Asceticism is […] manifested in voluntary and intentional poverty, which not only arises per accidens, by giving away property to alleviate other people’s suffering, but as a goal in itself, and should serve as a constant mortification of will, so that no satisfaction of wishes, the sweets of life, can excite the will loathed by self- knowledge.136

Such reflections admittedly require a second reading, perhaps even a third or a fourth. But it would seem that they capture some very valuable aspects of asceticism nonetheless. No uncomplicated words could perhaps so adequately capture the nature of asceticism as what Schopenhauer brings together in “voluntary and intentional poverty”. Unlike unwished-for ‘poverty’, asceticism, he argues, is thus observed for some reason: the pursuit of ‘knowledge’ of a certain ‘Truth’, believed to only increase and to nourish the realization of the untruth(s) it loathes, by constantly observing ‘poverty’–– whatever that ‘Truth’ may be and whatever the right ‘knowledge’ of it may yield to the practitioner.137 To make it a bit more comprehensive, I will divide Schopenhauer’s observations over “voluntary and intentional poverty”, which seems to particularly well describe the nature of the dhūtaguṇas; and, next, what I will call ‘motives of religious advancement’, which may rather deviate from Schopenhauer’s words when examined in their broader understanding, but at the same time seem to share some similar views on the role of ‘knowledge’ in particular.138

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 136 Schopenhauer 1819/2010, p. 408 (emphasis added). 137 I consider myself more than unqualified to compare Schopenhauer’s concepts with those found in the texts cited below; and so when comparing his concepts with Buddhist notions, I only do so to come to a more concise and, for the reader, easier-to-understand explanation of the Buddhist philosophical tenet that goes behind the dhūtaguṇas in the following texts. His words simply seem to highlight some valuable aspects of asceticism, on which I will rely to walk through the Buddhist philosophy behind it, not more. 138 Most interestingly, it seems to me, Schopenhauer observes a correlation between (intentional) “poverty” and the ‘right’ “knowledge”, an idea that has been expressed by other authors too. Put differently, the Ameri- can travel writer and novelist, Paul Theroux (2008, p. 17), for instance, writes on the antonym of poverty:

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4.1.1.1 Voluntary and intentional poverty

Indeed, if the dhūtaguṇas had not been voluntary practices, the etiological Buddhist philosophy would have ordered them as the standard prescription or the only effective ‘medicine’ to end the circle of rebirth (S. & P. saṃsāra) and the suffering in this world (S. duḥkha, P. dukkha)––which the bulk of Buddhist scriptures does absolutely not.139 As a matter of fact, both historically and today, only a minority of ‘religious virtuosi’ actually (that is: intentionally) dedicates its lives to the Buddhist ideal of ‘salvation’ and of that minority, an even smaller part relies on ascetic practices, not to mention the dhūtaguṇas. Truth is that we do not exactly know for whom the dhūtaguṇas were actually designed. But while the historical answer to this question remains doubtful, it is clear that their raison d’être is indeed “to make the reclusive, solitary, meditative life possible”.140 As accepted Buddhist practices, said to be “allowed by the Blessed One” (bhagavatā hi […] anuññātāni)141 to quote the Visuddhimagga, that means making a “reclusive, solitary, meditative life” possible within a community that––from a certain point in time on- wards surely––included different lifestyles than the one or more lifestyles set forth by the dhūtaguṇas. 142 Neither do we possess any Buddhist texts from the first few centuries after the Śākyamuni’s death, nor any other substantial facts from that time that could either refute or confirm the Buddhist rhetoric of the Middle Way, between ‘severe asceticism’ and the ‘indulgence of pleasures’. What we know about asceticism in Buddhism is late; but what we know about the Middle Way Doctrine is by no means earlier. It is simply !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! “Luxury is the enemy of observation, a costly indulgence that induces such a good feeling that you notice nothing. Luxury spoils and infantilizes you and prevents you from knowing the world.” 139 For the fact that Buddhism defines what causes ‘suffering’ in this world, and prescribes how we can ‘cure’ from it, the Buddhist doctrine has often been described as ‘etiological’ or ‘pathological’ in nature. 140 Ray 1994, p. 303. 141 Vsm II.95 [PTS, p. 59] (Ñ., p. 55). 142 Judging from both archaeological and epigraphic evidence, Gregory Schopen (2003, pp. 60ff) has suggested that this development (from Buddhist mendicants to coenobitical ‘monastics’) took mainly place between the Mauryan (ca. 322 to 185 BCE) and the Gupta (ca. 320 to 550 CE) empires, a period in which “Buddhist communi- ties” he writes “came to be fully monasticized, permanently housed, landed, propertied, and––to judge by almost any standard––very wealthy”. Schopen’s arguments are that only after the Mauryan empire, around the second century BCE, the first Buddhist monastic complexes “unevenly in both time and geography” start to appear, some of which more elaborate than others. Moreover, he argues, it seems, that “Aśoka himself did not know anything about Buddhist monasteries”. With special regards to the compilation of the Vinayas, Schopen hence deduced that: “If the compilers of various Vinayas considered it “highly important” to con- struct or adjust monastic practices so as to give no cause for complaint to the laity [as already I.B. Horner had remarked] and if considerations of this sort could only have assumed high importance after Buddhist groups had permanently settled down, then, since the latter almost certainly did not occur until well after Aśoka, it would be obvious that all Vinayas that we have are late, precisely as both Wassilieff and Lévi suggested a hundred years ago.” The question remains however, whether or not “considerations of this sort” could indeed “only have assumed high importance after Buddhist groups”…

! 57! ! hard to rhyme both; and so it could be that part of the Buddhist doctrinal system has always eschewed austere asceticism and always underscored the voluntary character of the dhūtaguṇa practices, as the texts we have affirm; or it could be that that was just the outcome of a historical course of events, of certain mendicants taking permanent residence and legitimizing the validity of their alternative vocation.143 What we do know for certain, is that most texts, a bit uncomfortably, explain the voluntary character of the dhūtaguṇas by ascribing them to a specific, ideal type of Bud- dhist monastic, who adopts the reclusive lifestyle of a forest dweller (P. araññavāsi) to pursue the vocation of Practice or the so-called “burden of meditative insight” (P. vipas- sanādhura). I will further expound how the same texts contrast them with more laity- oriented, town-based monastics, pursuing the vocation of Learning or the so-called “burden of the book” (P. ganthadhura), and how the adherents of these two vocations rather fiercely polemized each other’s lifestyles. But focussing here on the voluntary character of the dhūtaguṇas, suffice it to say that the dhūtaguṇas are unanimously said to be non-compulsory practises allowed by the Blessed one, for those who wish to adopt them, in the texts I have here drawn from. One of the earliest texts discussing the dhūtaguṇas is the afore-cited Milindapañha in the introduction. It is interesting to note that much more firmly than its voluntary character, the text stresses the reserved, exclusive nature of the dhūtaguṇas. If it was not to curb such practices, it is clear that the Milindapañha must have understood the difficulty of their observance. In no uncertain words the text glorifies the merits to gain from it, but it just as much claims that those ‘unqualified’ for the dhūtaguṇas or practicing them ‘inappropriately’ (i.e. without the right knowledge or intentions), will be “rejected and dismissed” in this world, and in their next life, “suffer torment in the great Avīci [hell].”144 The difficulty of the dhūtaguṇas must be found in their core essence, Buddhaghosa expounds; what they aim at is what they are all about. Adding to the *Vimuttimagga, Buddhaghosa namely explains that the dhūtaguṇas are essentially all about what they ultimately reject or refuse (patikkhipati) and that they are designed for those seeking, among other things, “fewness of wishes” (appicchatā) and “contentment with little” (santuṭṭihtā).145 The undertaking of the pāṃsukūlika practice, for instance, is not about wearing rag robes, but about refusing “robes from householders” (gahapaticīvaraṃ). So is the tecīvarika practice not about wearing three robes, but about the refusal of a “fourth robe” (catutthakacīvaraṃ); and the piṇḍapātika is not about eating alms, but about rejecting “a supplementary [food] supply” (atirekalābhaṃ), and so on and so forth.

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 143 Note namely, as we will further see, that those texts affirming the voluntary character of the dhūtaguṇa practices were composed in a predominantly permanent, monastic setting. 144 Mp 2:263 (T.R., p. 357) cited in Ray 1994, p. 304. 145 Vsm II.1 [PTS, p. 59] (Ñ., p. 55) & Vm T.32 No. 1648, p. 404 b123 (E., p. 27). For “fewness of wishes”, the Vm. gives shaoyu (), for “contentment with little” zhizu ().

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Before undertaking any of these practices, a dhutadhara maintains to find contentment in the poverty of owning or taking no more than what the practice in question allows.146 This will gain him, in the first place, independence from others, for he does not rely––or relies to the minimum––on them (householders and lay followers in particular), and takes instead only that what the ‘Blessed One has recommended’ for being “valueless, easy to get, and blameless” (appāni ceva sulabhāni ca tāni ca anavajjāni).147 This is what Buddhaghosa calls the “abolition of reliance” (ālayasamugghāta)148 by which the dhūtaguṇas intent, as Reginald Ray remarked, to undercut––as he himself wishes for–– the practitioner’s

psychological dependence on the laity, to eliminate special relationships with particular laity, and to keep obligations to them and thus interruptions to meditation practice to a minimum.149

Summing up we could say that the dhūtaguṇas are, whether due to the historical course of events or from the very beginning of the Buddhist doctrine, ‘voluntary’ practices, designed for those few who considered them useful. As may in fact be obvious from the practices themselves, they aspire ‘fewness of wishes’ and ‘contentment with little’ by rejecting––for reasons I will further elucidate––what is considered ‘undue’. This brings the practitioner, apart from any ‘wholesome’ or ‘meritorious’ acquisitions he might further, or along with that, aim at, first of all independence from others. To conclude and to simultaneously caste already a quick glance at what will follow, not the Middle Way, nor self-mortification, but this kind of ‘poverty’ was for the Tang Chan poet Longya Judun (835 – 923), whom Dōgen cites in his Shōbōgenzō Zuimonki, the Way. “Studying the Way”, he stated,

is above all learning poverty. Study poverty, live in poverty, and immediately you are close to the Way.150

4.1.1.2 Motives of religious advancement

More than once already I have pointed out that the dhūtaguṇas are attributed to a certain type of Buddhist monastic, who would live a more reclusive lifestyle to focus on Buddhist practice and meditation, and whose identity has been the subject of a ‘paper warfare’ between adherents of his such-described vocation and other Buddhist monastics. I have also indicated that there is no historical evidence, whatsoever, to assume

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 146 Thus, the pāṃsukūlika monk, for instance, states prior to his undertaking: “I refuse robes given by householders”. See: Vsm II.14ff (Ñ., pp. 60ff.). 147 Vsm II.21 [PTS, p. 64] (Ñ., p. 60). 148 See: Vsm VIII.245 & 247 [PTS, p. 293] (Ñ., pp. 287-88). 149 Ray 1994, p. 303. 150 Shōbōgenzō Zuimonki, v. 10, cited in: Waddell & Abe 2002, p. 30 f. 72.

! 59! ! that either of these vocations would be more ‘Buddhist’ than the other, nor that both vocations would be mutually exclusive. It is important to realise that “most of our sources (canonical and commentarial)”, as John Strong has remarked, “have, in fact, emerged from the town-monk tradition”, i.e. Buddhist author-editors in a monastic setting. 151 It would seem therefore, that latter did not particularly favour the vocation of the forest monk, let alone ascetic practices. Yet equally important to realise, as Gregory Schopen has pointed out, is the fact that to the author-editors of these sources––among which the authors of the mainstream Vinayas, as well as Buddhaghosa himself––the dhūtaguṇas seem to have been “all but a dead letter” at the time of their compilation.152 Most recently, Sven Bretfeld has argued that hence Buddhaghosa’s Visuddhimagga, must perhaps be seen as

an attempt to resolve the tension between two different types of monks––a minority of meditating hermits and a more “priestly” and scholarly oriented majority––that had developed social distinct features.153

If the adherents of both vocations were as hostile to each other as their ‘paper warfare’ suggests, then Bretfeld’s assumption seems more than valid, precisely because the Visuddhimagga, in sharp contrast to the “other Hīnayāna meditation manuals”, as he himself argues, does not limit itself to a “purely practical manual”, but explains instead “meditation techniques to meditators” through an advanced “canonical exegesis”.154 Be that as it may: it seems wise to keep these remarks and Bretfeld’s theory specifically, constantly in mind, while walking through the dhūtaguṇas’ exegesis. What I aim to do over the following pages is to give some idea of the aspired soteriological and other religious ‘purposes’ that the dhūtaguṇas––characterised by ‘voluntary and intentional poverty’ as we have seen––serve, according to a few and again, unrelated texts. It is important to realise that ‘Buddh-ism’, like all ‘–isms’, is an ideological con- struct in the first place and that, at the end or completion of those ‘Paths to Liberation’ that became recognized as ‘Buddhist’, different strands within this construction, place different ideals.155 Given the scope of this thesis, I have decided to focus here on discussions of the dhūtaguṇa practices in early Theravāda and Mahāyāna Buddhism. Regardless of the vocational alternative certain, (retrospectively156) ‘Mahāyāna’ sūtras began to elevate !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 151 John Strong 1994, p. 72. 152 Schopen 2005, p. 15. 153 Bretfeld 2015, p. 329. 154 Bretfeld 2015, p. 328. 155 For some interesting critiques of the inappropriateness of the reifying constructs of the great ‘-isms’ (Hin- du-‘ism’, Buddh-‘ism’, etc.) and the extrapolation of the monotheistic notion of ‘religion’ itself, see: Smith 1963 and Larson 1995. 156 For some critical remarks on the retrospective Mahāyāna label that these sūtras, and in particular the Ugra- paripṛcchā have been given, see: Nattier 2003.

! 60! ! around the beginning of the first millennium CE, both the early Theravāda and the Mahāyāna tradition namely share some consensual ideas on the validity of the dhūtaguṇas as soteriologically useful practices. In order to understand how manuals of both traditions, setting out the Buddhist Path to respectively Arhatship and Bud- dhahood (cf. infra), turn to the dhūtaguṇa practices, a brief explanation of some fundamental Buddhist concepts seems appropriate here, at least for the layman in the field. Karma (Skt. karman, P. kamma) defines within Buddhism “the intentional activities of body, speech and mind”.157 Simply put, one could say that ‘good’ intentional actions–– for the lack of better words––have ‘wholesome’ consequences, in this life or the proximate, while ‘bad’ intentional actions have ‘unwholesome’ consequences. This principle of causality that lays at the very basis of the Buddhist doctrinal system, and has all- decisive ontological, epistemological as well as soteriological implications, emanates from the core Buddhist philosophical point of departure of “dependent origination” (Skt. pratītyasamutpāda, P. paṭiccasamuppāda). Its basic assumption is the following:

When this is present, that comes to be. From the arising of this, that arises. When this is absent, that does not come to be. From the cessation of this, that ceases.158

Furthermore, central to the Buddhist doctrinal system is the fundamental persuasion that suffering (Skt. duḥkha, P. dukkha) is not only inherent to life, but also to birth itself.159 Like all phenomena, suffering arises in accordance with the concept of ‘dependent origination’, meaning that to cease suffering and the circle of rebirth (Skt. & P. saṃsāra), one has to make sure that there is nothing that can give rise to suffering. What causes suffering, according to the Buddhist doctrinal system, is the absence or lack of the rather polysemous notion of ‘accurate knowledge of all phenomena’ (Skt. vidyā, P. vijjā) and of the notion of causality in particular (Skt. & P. moha). The human mind is namely ‘polluted’ and ‘clouded’ by so-called ‘defilements’ or ‘afflictions’ (Skt. kleśa, P. kilesa), which manifest themselves as ‘mental obstacles’ that hinder the right knowledge.160

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 157 Lusthaus 2003, p. 111. 158 imasmiṃ sati idaṃ hoti, imassuppādā idaṃ uppajjati. imasmiṃ asati idaṃ na hoti, imassa nirodhā idaṃ nirujjhati - See: PDOB, p. 669. 159 Note that duḥkha literally means “insecure” and in fact applies, as Kate Crosby (p. 17) points out, “as much to pleasant and happy experiences as to negative ones.” So, whether pleasant, neutral and unpleasant, objects and experiences are said to be duḥkha or ‘insecure’ in the sense “that they cannot last so cannot be relied upon.” 160 See: Bodhi 2005, pp. 145ff.

! 61! !

Following this aetiology of suffering, Buddhism prescribes more than one way to attain Realization and therewith, end the suffering that is inherent to life.161 Both the retrospectively ‘Theravāda’ and early ‘Mahāyāna’ manuals that I will focus on here somehow ‘reduce’ their Paths to Realization to the “purification”162 (P. visuddhi) and the “perfection”163 (Skt. pāramitā) of Wisdom (Skt. prajñā, P. paññā). As we will see, their manuals namely depart from––or are even organized according to––two, interrelated tripartite Buddhist divisions that mnemonically recapitulate the ‘multileveled’ consensual basis of the Path to Realization.164 The first one explains how Learning (Skt. paryāpti, P. pariyatti) is the conditional basis for Practice (Skt. pratipatti, P. paṭipatti), which is, in turn, “indispensable”, as Gombrich puts it, for Realization (Skt. prativedanā, P. paṭivedha).165 In other words, it states that Learning and Practice are not two different vocations, but two successive stadia on the Path to Realization. This will be of special interest to us, when discussing later whether ‘forest monks’ and ‘town monks’ pursued different vocations that were mutually exclusive or not. The second tripartite division is known as the ‘Threefold Training’ (Skt. triśikṣā, P. tisikkhā). Following the adequate translation of Dan Lusthaus, it comprises:

i. behavioural discipline (Skt. śīla, P. sīla) ii. mental training through meditation (Skt. & P. samādhi) iii. cognitive acuity (Skt. prajñā, P. paññā).166

The ‘Threefold Training’ is said to define what Buddhist Practice specifically involves; as Lusthaus put it, it forms “the bedrock of Buddhist Practice”.167 This means, that the

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 161 Note that I speak of Realization and not of ‘Enlightenment’, as which it is still better known and often understood in English literature, after the translations of the German Orientalist Max Müller (1823 – 1900). On the use of word ‘Enlightenment’ in the history of Buddhology, see: Cohen 2006, p. 3 & Scott 2009, p. 8. 162 Rather extremely unusually, as Bretfeld (2015, p. 322) has argued, Buddhaghosa goes as far to gloss Nirvāṇa (Skt., P. nibanna)––literally “blowing out”––as the ultimate purification of seven stages (sattavisuddhi), namely: the purification of virtue (sīla), of mind (citta), of view (diṭṭhi), by overcoming doubt (kankhāvitaraṇa), by knowledge and vision of what is the Path and what is not (maggāmaggañāṇadassana), by knowledge and vision of the course of practice (paṭipadāñāṇadassana), and by (general) knowledge and vision (ñāṇadassana). 163 Along with the development of the vocational alternative of the Bodhisattva, emerged the ideal and an eponymous body of texts of and on the ‘perfection of wisdom’ (Skt. Prajñāpāramitā). The term is a rather polysemous in meaning, but refers here and generally to “a level of understanding beyond that of ordinary wisdom” and especially “the wisdom associated with, or required to achieve, buddhahood” (cf. infra, PDOB, pp. 656-57). 164 Both the *Vimuttimagga and the Visuddhimagga are chapter-wise organized according to the Threefold Training. For details, see: Sukumar Dutt 2008 pp.130-131 & 148-158 (also cited in: Findly 2003 p. 208 n. 25.), as well as Dhammaratana 2011, Bretfeld 2015. 165 See: Gombrich 2009, p. 316. 166 Lusthaus 2003, p. 110. 167 Id. - Moreover, it would recapitulate the Buddhist Eightfold Path to Liberation (Skt. āryāṣṭāṅgamārga, P. aṭṭhaṅgikamagga), by clustering latter’s eight factors. Śīla would comprises: i) right speech (Skt. samyagvāc, P.

! 62! !

Threefold Training is the conditional basis, if we come back to the former division, for Realization. It is important to know that they are not entirely conditional in order, but rather, they are said to be of mutual influence, as any endeavour “to improve in one aspect”, to paraphrase Lusthaus again, automatically involves the improvement of the other two as well.168 Over the following pages we will see how, more specifically, both the *Vimuttimagga and the Visuddhimagga of the Theravāda tradition, and some early Mahāyāna manuals on the Bodhisattva Path, argue that the dhūtaguṇas, are ideal practices to observe the Threefold Training. As such, all of these texts argue that the dhūtaguṇas are soteriological useful practices and it will thus already be clear that the ultimate aim of the practitioner is indeed salvation, i.e. Realization. Backed up with the overview above, let us now walk through the advocacy of these practices in both these manuals in a bit more detail.

- Śīla -

As early as the *Mahāprajñāpāramitāśāstra and the Samādhirājasūtra––a text of “capital importance” to the development of an early school of thought within the Mahāyāna tradition, to the first text is also attributed169––we read that the dhūtaguṇas define the “pure śīla”, which provides “the basis of meditation” (samādhi).170 The *Mahāprajñā- pāramitāśāstra goes even further, stating that meditation “in turn, leads to wisdom” and that ‘Realization’ is thus––as Reginald Ray has interpreted it––“the reward of the [dhūtaguṇas], and the two are related like cause and effect”.171 Although they are said to be of mutual influence, and commended to be practiced at the same time, the three trainings of Buddhist Practice are here, not uncommonly, presented as gradual ‘ad-

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! sammāvācā); ii) right action (Skt. samyakkarmānta, P. sammākammanta); iii) and right livelihood (Skt. samya- gājīva, P. sammājīva). Samādhi would comprises: iv) the right effort (Skt. samyagvyāyāma, P. sammāvāyāma); v) the right mindfulness (Skt. samyaksmṛti, P. sammāsati); vi) and the right contemplation (Skt. samyaksamādhi, P. sammāsamādhi). Finally, Prajñā would comprises: vii) the right view (Skt. samyadṛṣṭi, P. sammādiṭṭhi); viii) and the right intention (Skt. samyaksaṃkalpa, P. sammāsaṅkappa). See: PDOB, pp. 279-280. 168 Lusthaus 2003, p. 110. 169 Gomez & Silk 1989, p. viii. - The *Mahāprajñāpāramitāśāstra is the reconstructed title of the “Treatise on the Great Perfection of Wisdom”, a text only extant in Chinese, known as the Da zhidu lun ( ). Attributed to the second-century founding father of the Madhyamaka philosophy and exegete Nāgārjuna, the text was translated into Chinese between approximately 402 and 406, by the famous Kucha monk Kumārajīva. It must be mentioned that some scholars have raised questions about the authenticity of this text and “speculate that the work was composed by an unknown Central Asian monk [or monks] of the Sarvāstivāda school who had “converted” to Madhyamaka, perhaps even Kumārajīva himself” (PDOB, p. 227). 170 Ray 1994, p. 295. – Note that The Samādhirājasūtra, another dialogical text between Śākyamuni and the bodhisattva Candragupta, dated around the second century CE, on which I will come back, makes similar claims, as Ray also argues. For more details on this text, see: Gomez & Silk 1989. 171 Conze 1975, 170, n. 28, cited in: Ray 1994, p. 295.

! 63! ! vancements’ on the Path to Realization, for which the dhūtaguṇas provide the ideal basis. Buddhaghosa too commences with the discussion of Śīla, as the first of seven stages of purifications (sattavisuddhi) required to attain Nirvāṇa. In an elaborate way, he argues in a similar vein that the dhūtaguṇas are a sure-fire means to purify one’s virtue and to attain the pure Śīla. For the lack of space and for simplicity’s sake, I will limit Buddhaghosa’s exegesis on this particular topic to the discussion of three fundament ‘root-defilements’, to which the variety of kleśas that ‘cloud’ or ‘pollute’ the mind (cf. supra), are frequently reduced in both Theravāda and Mahāyāna Buddhism. This short and again mnemonic list, known as the ‘Three Poisons’ (Skt. triviṣa, Chin. sandu ), or the three ‘Unwholesome Roots’ (Skt. akuśalamūla, P. akusalamūla)172, comprises:

i) greed, attachment or selfish desire (Skt. rāga or lobha, P. lobha); ii) delusion, ignorance or bewilderment (Skt. & P. moha); iii) and hatred, aversion, anger or aggression (Skt. dveṣa, P. dosa).173

In his explanation, Buddhaghosa clarifies how ‘voluntary and intentional poverty’ in combination with ‘the abolition of reliance’ is what makes the dhūtaguṇas, apart from other long-term soteriological objectives they might be aspired for, a meritorious undertaking. To begin with, he explains that all of the dhūtaguṇas, characterised by ‘fewness of wishes’ and ‘contentment with little’, namely “have the function of eliminating cupidity” (loluppaviddhaṃsanarasāni); it is by constantly rejecting a householders’ robe, a fourth robe, lodging etc. ‘that greed naturally subsides’ (rāgo vūpasammatī).174 Secondly, one may subvert delusion, he argues, “by observing moderation even in what is permitted” (kappiyepi mattakāritā sallekhavuttitā).175 And lastly, the ‘abolition of reliance’ attends to it that “hate too subsides in one who dwells there [in solitary places] without coming into conflict” (hissa asaṅghaṭṭiyamānassa viharato dosopi vūpasammatīt).176 Perhaps indeed aiming to rhyme them with the rest of Buddhist soteriology, Bud- dhaghosa––steering no more than a middle course so far on their ultimate, soteriological validity––thus convincingly explains that the dhūtaguṇas are ideal practices to bring about the pure Śīla. And since a purified Śīla is characterised by the ‘Three Wholesome’ roots (Skt. kuśalamūla, P. kusalamūla) of non-attachment (Skt. & P. alobha), non- bewilderment (Skt. & P. amoha) and ‘non-aggression’ (Skt. adveṣa, P. adosa), the dhūtaguṇas can, analogically, only be fruitful. As Buddhaghosa puts it himself: !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 172 PDOB, p. 589, 926, 1066-67 & 1203. 173 PDOB, p. 267, 456-57, 478, 546, 672; Bodhi 2005, pp. 146-147. 174 Vsm II.12 & 86 [PTS, p. 48 & 81] (Ñ., pp. 57-58 & 75). 175 Vsm II.25 [PTS, p. 65] (Ñ., p. 61). 176 Vsm II.86 [PTS, p. 81] (Ñ., p. 75).

! 64! !

All ascetic practices, that is to say, those of trainers, ordinary men, and men whose cankers have been destroyed, may be either profitable or [in the Arahant’s case] indeterminate. No ascetic practice is unprofitable.177

- Samādhi -

Whereas Buddhaghosa places at the completion of his Path (magga) to Purification (visuddhi) the Arahant (P., Skt. arhat)––a being so utterly pure or “devoid of all stains” (sabbamalavirahitaṃ)178 that upon his death he will not be reborn again (and to whom ‘wholesome’ merits are thus “indeterminate”)––some early sūtras, as I have already pointed out, began to elevate a different ‘vocational alternative’. Among these sūtras is the afore-cited Samādhirājasūtra. These texts describe the Path of a Bodhisattva, a being not unknown to pre-Mahāyāna Buddhism but here ‘fleshed out’ and ‘brought into prominence’, to paraphrase Ray179, as a being who upon his death will not be ‘released’ from saṃsāra, but deliberately decides instead, out of great compassion, to be reborn again for the benefit of other sentient beings.180 Without going too much into detail here, it is important to note, that latter––as we have seen in the case of the Samādhirājasūtra already––not entirely surprisingly, consider Śīla the conditional basis for Samādhi. And since, Samādhi provides the appropriate condition or situation for Prajñā, which is the “act of successfully observing” itself, and as we have seen, the gateway to Realization, it should not be surprising either, that both manuals on the Arahant Path and the Bodhi- sattva Path turn to the dhūtaguṇas or at least make mention of them. Jan Nattier has argued that, although in later Mahāyāna Buddhism the Arahant Path eventually came to be labelled as “low” or “debased” (hīna), initially, both the Arahant Path and the Bodhisattva Path, “were still viewed as legitimate, indeed admirable, religious vocations”.181 Nattier argues from an in-depth study of hers on one of the earliest and highly influential sūtras transmitted from India to China (i.e. the second century CE), which instantiated the development of this new vocational ideal of the Bodhisattva, namely the Inquiry of Ugra (Ugraparipṛcchā).182 Since this contrasts with the plausible, underlying agenda of Buddhaghosa, to which Bretfeld has drawn our attention, it seems more than worth mentioning that these early ‘Mahāyāna’ manuals on the Bodhisattva Path, clearly state that they prefer––male not female––bhikṣus over laymen and that they consider “becoming a renunciant”, to quote the Ugraparipṛcchā, “an absolute prerequisite for the attainment of Buddhahood”. 183

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 177 Vsm II.78 (Ñ., p. 73). 178 Vsm I.5 [PTS, p. 2] (Ñ., p. 6). 179 Ray 1994, p. 251. 180 PDOB, p. 134. 181 Nattier 2003, pp. 8 & 174. 182 Nattier 2003, p. 3. 183 Nattier 2003, p. 8.

! 65! !

Now it may be clear that a ‘clouded’ mind is not particularly suited for meditation and more specifically, the ‘cultivation of the mind’ (Skt. & P. bhāvanā), which is here presented as a sine qua non for respectively Buddhahood; but there is more why the dhūtaguṇas would provide the basis for Samādhi, as the texts explain.184 Solitary places and the ‘abolition of reliance’ namely not only attend to the subversion of ‘hate’ or ‘aversion’, as Buddhaghosa argued; they also serve as ideal places, to quote a rather late manual on the Bodhisattva Path, “for performing meditations and philosophical reflections.”185 The manual in question here is the ‘Compendium of Training’ (Śikṣāsamuccaya), by the eighth-century scholar Śāntideva, who, though frequently citing the Ugraparipṛc- chā among other Bodhisattva manuals of earlier date, makes rather “very few direct ref- erences to the dhūtaguṇas” as Susanne Mrozik observed186, and keeps the discussion of the appropriateness of the forest to a reserved, eleventh chapter, entitled “Praise of the Forest” (araṇyasaṃvarṇana).187 It is interesting to note, that later Mahāyāna sūtras on the Bodhisattva Path, such as the Śikṣāsamuccaya, rather saliently, document three types of Bodhisattvas (forest, city and monastery Bodhisattvas), whereas earlier texts, as Reginald Ray has argued from a comparison of these texts, emphasise the “unique normativity” of the Forest Bodhisatt- va.188 Be that as it may, even Śāntideva seems to admit, that the solitary and dangerous places the dhūtaguṇas set forth, not only force the renunciant to face his “craving for self-gratification”, as Mrozik has put it, but also his “fear of death”.189 Hence, such places are not merely indispensable for Samādhi, but also a welcome stimulus to ‘cultivate’ the mind’ (cittaṃ) through training (cittabhāvana), focussing/collecting (ṭhapetab- baṃ/samāhitaṃ), cleansing (paṭivāpeti) and calming (paṭipassaddha) it, which paves the way and creates the right setting for Wisdom.190 Whether or not trying to distance them from such philosophically un-underpinned extremes as ‘attachment to self mortification’ (ātmaklamathānuyoga), which Middle Way classifies as “unworthy” and “vain”191; Buddhaghosa elaborates this idea and applies it to

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 184 See: Nattier 2003, p. 8. 185 Id. 186 Mrozik 2007, p. 102 187 Ray 1994, p. 252. 188 Ray 1994, p. 251. – For example the (Mahā)Ratnakūṭasūtra, the afore-cited Samādhirājasūtra and in particular the Ratnaguṇasaṃcayagāthā, address primarily the forest- or yogin-bodhisattva, who “observes ascetic practices” (dhūtaguṇas), lives “in a mountain cave, in a remote forest, or in isolated woods” and in “dangerous envi- ronments where wild beast roam”. See: Rgs. 21.3, 21.4. & 21.6, cited in: Ray 1994, p. 255. Again, note that the common formation of the dhūtaguṇas, as we have seen, must be dated much later than these texts. 189 Mrozik 2007, p. 102. 190 Lusthaus 2003, p. 114. 191 As such, many texts define the extreme of asceticism. For details, see: Lamotte, p. 1236 f.587. Note, as we will further also see, that the dhūtaguṇas may at Buddhaghosa’s time, and certainly after, have enjoyed great popularity in at least Sri Lanka, and were practiced by a number of followers that were apparently considera-

! 66! ! illustrate the further soteriological usefulness of the dhūtaguṇas, at which the *Mahāprajñāpāramitāśāstra already carefully hinted (cf. infra). He argues, that appropriateness of the dhūtaguṇas must be found in the fact that they allow the practitioner to properly (that is: simultaneously) prosper both Śīla and Samādhi, which mutually influence another and thereby create the ideal conditions for the “purification” of the final Training of Wisdom (Skt. prajñā, P. paññā).

- Prajñā -

We have seen how already the *Mahāprajñāpāramitāśāstra went as far to say that since the dhūtaguṇas provide the ideal basis for Wisdom, Realization would be “the reward of the [dhūtaguṇas]” and the two would be related to each other like “cause and effect”.192 Although the text truly makes such claims, it must be noted however that it also argues that the dhūtaguṇas do in se only lead to “fractions of nirvāṇa”. 193 In no other way, in fact, is the third and final conditional training for Realization, Prajñā, related to the dhūtaguṇas, but in the sense that the dhūtaguṇas would prosper the ‘advancement’ or the ‘purification’ of both Śīla and Samādhi, which are––though of mutual influence–– indispensable for Prajñā. It is this loose relationship, that the *Mahāprajñāpāramitāśāstra hints at. Rather than focussing here on what Wisdom stands for in both manuals, I would like to discuss the role of ‘knowledge’ here, inspired by Schopenhauer words and the words of Paul Theroux in footnote to his words. If some serious abstraction is made, ‘knowledge’ is not just said to be the outcome of a mind freed from mental obstacles and the rigorous cultivation of the mind, but also a prerequisite; we have seen what the Mil- indapañha suggested, awaits the unforwarned practitioner in the great Avīci hell. As it would seem, the conditional ‘knowledge’ for Buddhist practice (cf. Learning), is, in essence, no more than the acknowledgement of a certain ‘Truth’, the acknowledgment of the existence of which ‘knows’ nothing more but that that ‘Truth’ can only be perceived through a certain Path to Liberation. Both the Arahant and the Bodhisattva Path, whose early manuals I have touched upon here, turn to meditation as the key to the Realiza- tion of that ‘Truth’. Again, whatever that ‘Truth’ is and whatever the understanding of it may yield to the practitioner; it seems to be both the Realization of this ‘Truth’ and the acknowledgement of its existence that are, respectively, the pursued objective and the conditional requirement to engage in it. Put differently, it seems that the texts I have drawn from here––like the afore-cited poet Longya Judun––consider the voluntarily and intentionally pursuance of ‘poverty’ either the only, or a very adequate way to the !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! ble enough to frequently mention them and their practices and perhaps even, if Bretfeld is right, to undertake such a reconciliation as Visuddhimagga might have indeed have aimed at (cf. supra). 192 Conze 1975, 170, n. 28, cited in: Ray 1994, p. 295. - Conze’s original words, which are here replaced by the “dhūtaguṇas”, are literally “ascetic practices”. 193 See: Mpps XXXVII.229c (L., p. 1177).

! 67! ! attainment of Realization of a certain ‘Truth’, whose acknowledgement is conditional in itself for the undertaking of this Path to Realization.

* * *

Summing up from what we have seen, the ‘religious advancements’ that can be gained from the observance of the dhūtaguṇas, can be divided over:

i) merit-making purification, which readily translates into wholesome actions and is profitable for whomever; ii) and Realization, which would be, ideally speaking, the ultimate goal of every Buddhist.

4.2 Forest monks and extra-religious motives

As we have seen, at least five of the thirteen dhūtaguṇa practices are concerned with the practitioner’s ‘residence’: an open or dewy place, a forest, a charnel ground, the roots of a tree or any chanced-upon place.194 In the light of pursuing advanced meditation and the cultivation of the mind, it is obvious, as we have also seen, why such places are preferred over others: there are fewer distractions, they urge the practitioner to face both his cravings and fears, and, to quote Ray once again, they keep the laity’s “interruptions to meditation practice to a minimum”.195 One social anthropologist writing on forest monks in modern age Sri Lanka, during the late 1970’s and 80’s, remarked that a dhutadhara is hence, in fact, a ‘double-renouncer’, for he does not only “forgoes the house- hold life”, but “also renounces the relatively comfortable lifestyle of an “ordinary” monk.”196 Moreover we have seen that the dhūtaguṇas are associated with Buddhist Practice, for which Learning was said to be a sine qua non in the texts we have discusses above. As we !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 194 In Indian literature, the ‘forest’ often occurs as the embodiment of ‘nature’, which is “wild”, “unknown” and “unpredictable”, as opposed to the ‘village’, which epitomizes ‘culture’ and is, by contrast, “predictable and subject to known laws” (See: Thapar 2002, p. 56). In the same light we should see the forest-dweller (ara- ññavāsi) not as a necessarily as a ‘hermit’, but as someone living a more secluded life than the so-called ‘town- dweller’ (gāmavāsi) (cf. infra). We know that forest-dwellers took temporary refuge in stone caves and huts, and not uncommonly do Buddhist texts present us a very romanticized picture of such hermitages (See: EOM 90, Thapar 1991). 195 See: Michael Carrithers, The Modern Ascetics of Lanka and the Pattern of Change in Buddhism (1979) and Forest Monks in Sri Lanka (1983), cited in: Bretfeld 2015. 196 Bretfeld 2015, p. 330. For details, Bretfeld refers to Carrithers 1979, pp. 59ff.

! 68! ! have also seen already, Learning and Practice have often been interpreted––both from within and without the Buddhist tradition––as two different “vocations” within Bud- dhism, cf. the “burden of the book” (ganthadhura) vis-à-vis the “burden of meditative insight” (vipassanādhura).197 While certain, modern scholars seriously questions the rigidity of these categories, both vocations have moreover, as I have also indicated more than once, often been attributed to apodictically two types of bhikṣus: an alleged town- based ‘majority’ (gāmavāsīs), practicing “a (more) active laity-oriented” lifestyle, and an alleged forest-dwelling ‘minority’ (araññavāsīs) practicing a highly, self-centred ascetic lifestyle.198 The truth is that we do posses indeed a rich corpus of texts fighting and criticising, in no uncertain words, the lifestyles associated with these two seemingly Janus-faced vocations. But whereas these texts hold very strong views and would suggest indeed a hostile understanding between both, late-20th-century anthropological research in modern Thai, Burmese and Sri Lankan Buddhism, noticed rather a “push and pull between the solitary life of the forest and the communal life of village monasteries”.199 It seems con- vincing or at least plausible, that historically seen too, both vocations were not always considered to be “mutually exclusive” and that “ideally” at least, also historically, a bhikṣu was expected to “combine both vocations”.200 Nevertheless, in the light of uncovering some of the underlying beliefs and extra- religious motives to engage in the dhūtaguṇas and particularly the pāṃsukūlika practice, the town-monk critique of the coenobitical lifestyle of forest monks should not escape our attention. A visually distinctive identity from latter, which the pāṃsukūlacīvara surely provides, might have been an equally important (paired) motive to engage in the dhūtaguṇas, as the merits or the ultimate purity to gain from it. Compared to the multitude of animadversions on the ascetic lifestyle of forest monks, texts criticising with similar vigour the ‘abuses’ and ‘luxurious life’ associated with “sedentary, permanently housed, and institutionalized monasticism” are rather scarce in number. 201 But Gregory Schopen has illuminated some valuable critiques of this kind, in early, often-neglected Mahāyāna sūtras again. Among the things forest monks reproach their fellow, town-based brethren, who claim to pursue the vocation of Learning, are:

monks who are “intent on acquisitions and honors,” […] [who own] cattle, hoses, and slaves and […] are “intent on ploughing and practices of trade”; have wives,

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 197 Bretfeld 2015, p. 335. 198 Bretfeld 2015, p. 335. 199 Fogelin 2015, p. 98. 200 Tambiah 1984, p. 53 (also cited in Fogelin 2015, p. 90). 201 Schopen 2005, p. 15. - This shouldn’t come as a surprise as again “most of our sources (canonical and commentarial) have, in fact, emerged from the town-monk tradition”, as John Strong (1994, p. 72) remarked.

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sons, and daughters; and assert proprietary rights to monasteries and monastic goods.202

We do know that some of these practices were warp and woof all over the Buddhist world and although it is indeed far from the task of the academic study of Buddhism “to judge whose level of renunciation is more Buddhist”203, one shouldn’t be surprised to find out that in some cases indeed, “monastics lived their lives not so differently from the laity.”204 Now, even if the line between those two vocations and types of monks was never as clear-cut as their ‘paper warfare’ suggests; it must lead no doubt that the above-cited lifestyle of town-based monastics must have gouged out the eyes of the double-renouncers aiming, in line with his religious beliefs, at ideally ‘non-attachment’ (alobha), ‘non-bewilderment’ (amoha) and ‘non-aggression’ (adveṣa). A visually distinctive identity and a reserved place to dwell may hence have been equally important aspi- rations to engage in the dhūtaguṇas and to underline one’s opposed devotion to actual ‘purity’ of deeds (cf. infra). Secondly, the distinction between laity-oriented, coenobitical monastics on the one hand, and dhutadharas leading a reclusive, self-centred ascetic lifestyle on the other hand, should not close our eyes either, as it has all too often done, for laity-oriented motives among dhutadharas. Put differently, ‘contentment with little’ and the ‘abolition of reliance’ are and remain ‘ideals’ and as is the case with all ideals, not everyone necessarily lives up to them. We are told that dhutadharas are believed to be “honoured by the gods”, and revered by “humans alike”, as the Milindapañha acknowledges for instance.205 But we know, that more than that––and although one may see the irony in it–– not uncommonly dhutadharas were bestowed special gifts and donations for their undertakings. Surely, certain devoted ones among them refused those206, but others seem to have embraced them with open arms. Historiographical and epigraphic evidence suggest that the dhutadharas of at least Sri Lanka were extremely popular and were rewarded large donations, ranging from “fine clothing, and regular supply of exquisite food”, as the Mahāvaṃsa records, to personal “servants and workmen” and even the building of “large monastic complexes”, perhaps even the so-called “meditation monasteries”.207

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 202 Schopen 2005, p. 15. 203 Scott 2009, p. 26. 204 Yu 2012, p. 52. – Having wives and daughters must perhaps be taken with a pinch of salt; yet, on how our idea of monastic ‘celibacy’ is nonetheless based on a romanticised rhetorical picture of Buddhism, on the other hand, see: Clarke 2013. 205 Milindapañha (351-52 [2: 251-54] and 358-59 [2: 264-65]), cited in Ray 1994, p. 304. 206 Kieschnick (1997, p. 32) points out that in the Biographies of Eminent Monks, silken robes are often refused not only “because of the connotations of decadence associated with the fabric”, but also “because silkworms are killed in the silk-making process”. Clearly, this double motivation reflects how an aspired distinguished identity, from those monastics living ‘too decadent’ lives, goes hand in hand with the ‘noble’ pursuit of a high- er ‘morality’ and the right deeds of body, thought and mind. 207 Bretfeld 2015, p. 336.

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For evident reasons, texts disapprove of aspiring such ‘impure’ and greed-exciting instead of –undermining motives.208 But it would be more than naïve to think that the pot couldn’t call the kettle black; such extra-religious motives may, additionally or solely, have equally been pursued by certain dhutadharas, whether it was for themselves or for others.209

4.3 The paradox of purity

When, in the Cundakammāraputtasutta of the Aṅguttaranikāya in the Pāli Suttapiṭaka, Śākyamuni Buddha is approached by the silversmith Cunda, he asks him: “Cunda, of which rites of purification do you approve?” Cunda, familiar only with the purification rites of the “brahmans of the Western lands” who “worship fire” (aggiparicārikā) and submerge in the waters” (udakorohakā), answers him that he approves with their purification rites.210 After he has clarified some more of their practices, the Buddha explains to him: “Cunda, the purification rites declared by the brahmans of the Western lands... are one thing; the purification in the discipline of the noble ones is something else entirely.” Next, Cunda is invited to carefully lend him an ear and the Buddha explains what real purification (of body, speech and mind, cf. supra) is all about.211 As much as Cundakammāraputtasutta seems about expounding ‘purification’ as understood by the Buddha, it appears to be about setting it apart from the acclaimed ‘quackery’ of Brah- manic rites, which suggest a symbolic correlation between physical and mental ‘purification’.

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 208 Translating from a modern Burmese compendium, the website dhammadāna.org lists “five kinds of motivations” to practice the dhūtaguṇas. It condemns practicing the dhūtaguṇas “out of complete ignorance” and “out of complete madness”, but it also condemns practicing them for “benefitting with the advantages feeding up greed, such as: for receiving a lot of gifts, for being well considered by others, for causing a great venera- tion to arise from others, for attracting disciples to oneself, etc.” See: Dhamma Sāmi. (2007, August 28). The 13 Ascetic Practices. Retrieved from http:/www.en.dhammadana.org/sangha/dhutanga.htm. 209 According to the Cūḷavaṃsa, a later chronicle of Sri Lankan monarchs, during the reign of 9th-century king Sena Ilaṅga “even the mothers of the rag wearing monks were honoured with material rewards” (Bretfeld 2015, p. 336). 210 For a large part, Brahmanical purity is concerned with the impure and how to avoid it or get rid of it. As Michaels (2004, pp. 185ff) has put it, in the light of Mary Douglas’s work: “Purity is avoidance of impurity; impurity is loss of purity.” It must however be pointed out that, as Harper (1964) among others already remarked, Brahmanic norms of purity are in reality “seldom followed strictly” and not infrequently “exposed to scorn”. 211 AN 10.176 [PTS., 263] (Th.), retrieved from Access to Insight (Legacy Edition), 30 May 2016, http://www.accesstoinsight.org/tipitaka/an/an10/an10.176.than.html.

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We have seen how some of the afore-cited texts linked the dhūtaguṇas to the Buddhist ideal of ‘purification’ and convincingly underpinned their soteriological adequacy. While we do know that Buddhist author-editors of a town-monk tradition were keen to harp on cleanliness and decorum and ‘a pure mind in a clean body’212, it is hard to get around it that the dhūtaguṇas in the afore-cited texts somehow deny this motto or at least flirt with rather ‘unclean’ or even ‘polluted’ ‘ascetic bodies’, as we have seen, for the sake of ‘real’ purification (of body, speech and mind), as Susanna Mrozik has also argued.213 Now, both from within the Buddhist tradition and from without, it has been suggested more often than once that ‘self-centred’ asceticism would be at odds with the religious institution of Buddhism, precisely for its ‘lack of decorum’. To take but one example, Steven Collins for instance, considered the ‘conflicting attitudes towards asceticism’ in Buddhist literature––with which he seemed more familiar than with the frequent mentioning of the dhūtaguṇas in canonical texts––due to expectations about their ‘cleanliness’. He remarked the following:

One place where this conflict [of attitudes towards asceticism] can be seen to emerge within Buddhism is in connection with a set of ascetic practices called the dhutaṅga-s. […] The list of thirteen is not found in canonical texts, and the more extravagant practices are certainly marginal and unemphasized. […] [A]lthough the idea (and practice) of such heroic supererogatory asceticism is often accorded great popular acclaim, in the longer term the cleanliness and decorum expected of monks becomes the greater demand.214

We will later see how the ‘more extravagant’ practice of gathering shrouds at burial mounds and cemeteries, for example, to make a special type of pāṃsukūlacīvara, as I have already hinted at, was actually particularly popular, as Gregory Schopen has argued. What seems the problem with Collins assumption––which, again, is here taken as an example––is first of all, that it departs from a superficial, and inaccurate understanding of the place and position of the dhūtaguṇas. Now you could argue, that at least their position and significance is debated, but you cannot say that they are “not found in canonical texts”––such statements require some serious in-depth research and this statement in particular, is simply untrue. Besides that, Collins assumption seems particularly problematic for it seems based on extrapolations from a canonical rhetoric of cleanliness and decorum to a textually underrepresented forest-monk tradition (cf. supra). Which standards of ‘cleanliness and decorum’ are we taking about? And whose standards do these texts represent? Thirdly and lastly, Collin’s assumption, fails, in fact, to explain why the monastic Buddhist institution––whose existence and success, un- !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 212 On concerns and practices of ‘bodily care’ in Buddhist texts, see in particular: Heirman & Torck, 2012. 213 Mrozik 2007, p. 102. 214 Collins 1997, p. 197 - part of it also cited in: Mrozik 2007, p. 102.

! 72! ! gainsayably, depended at large on the economic support of the laity––continued to crit- icize asceticism. If asceticism would lose its “great popular acclaim” as a natural consequence of the fact that it would lack the cleanliness and decorum expected of monk, such criticism would be totally worthless. Moreover, how then to account for the afore- mentioned honours and donations dhutadharas are said to have enjoyed, as both epigraphic and archaeological evidence suggests? Collins even refers to the late-20th-century anthropological research of Carrithers and in particular Jane Bunnag. He cites the work of Bunnag on Thai forest monks, for the following observation:

[S]uch dhutaṅga monks […] are frequently regarded as being on par with tramps, beggars and other kinds of social derelicts.215

Collins is rock-solidly inclined to see Bunnag’s observation as an argument in favour of his theory. The pressing question is however, again, whether a dhutadhara is looked down on because he joins “tramps, beggars and other kinds of social derelicts”; or whether he does so, because he pursues, the ‘abolition of reliance’? Should we think of him as a ‘victim’ of a seized sponsorship, whose far-reaching ascetic practices have taken their financial toll “in the longer term”? Or is it, as Collins seems to miss here–– perhaps not even aware of the soteriological objectives a dhutadhara ideally pursues–– the practitioner being so intent on attaining what he aspires, that he forgets to care about his outer appearance? As a matter of fact, for whom should he? This seems the right occasion to take a look back at the story of the eminent monk Huikai , who refused to wash his robes until his fellow monks could no longer bear the smell and eventually took care of it. At first sight actually, the story of Huikai seems to support Collins’ assumption; even those dhutadharas extensively challenging the rules of cleanliness and decorum, were eventually compelled to give in. Thinking a bit further however, we should ask ourselves what such a message would contribute to a biography (in fact more a hagiography) of an eminent monk, who is admired for his undertakings? It doesn’t take long to realize that the answer is: nothing. The story simply served another purpose, namely to illustrate how excessively devoted Huikai was to a different kind of ‘purity’––the only kind of ‘purity’, to come back to the Cundakammāraputtasutta, really matters in the end. Does that mean that Collins’ assumption is totally worthless? No. But there are other reasons why the monastic institution of Buddhism, as we may assume, could look at asceticism with Argus’ eyes. For example, as Schopen has argued, it is “dangerously individualistic, prone to excess, culturally powerful, and not easy to predict.”216 Such assumptions seem, more than concerns about ‘purity’––a concept still not entirely vali-

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 215 Bunnag 1973, p. 54, cited in: Collins 1997, p. 197. 216 Schopen 2007, p. 63.

! 73! ! dated within the study of East and South Asian in fact217––to account for the conflicting attitudes towards asceticism. Moreover they come closer to the observations of Leslie Gunawardana, who argued, in a study on Buddhist monasticism in ninth- to thirteenth- century Sri Lanka, that:

The devotion of the Āraññika [forest] monks to the austere life in the forest sharply contrasted with the ease and comfort of the life of the residents of the large monasteries at the capital. It is even possible that the growth and the popularity of the Āraññika sect reflects a reaction to this change in the way of life of the Buddhist monk. To the lay population the Āraññika monk represented the closest approximation to the ideals of religious life.218

In sum, as a result of the practices they observe, dhutadharas approximate extremes of cleanliness and decorum that do not particularly tally with those consistently harped on by Buddhist-editors of a predominant town-monk tradition. In fact, being utterly devoted to the ideal of ‘purification’ almost naturally involves the negligence of such standards, which, contrary to such assumptions as Collins’ perhaps, might still gain the practitioner recognition and a good deal of respect, despite his pursuit to undercut the reliance on others. Other aspects of asceticsm, such as the fact that it is, in contrast, “culturally powerful”, as Schopen has argued,219 may explain much more why Buddhist author-editors continued criticising it––which does not mean that cleanliness and decorum were of no concern to them, but in a rhetorical light. Having said that, I would like to now have a final look at some other lists of ascetic practices, in which the dhūtaguṇas occur, as well as some mythical accounts surrounding them that echoed all over the Buddhist world.

4.4 From practice to myth

When the Chinese pilgrims Faxian and Xuanzang arrived in India in respectively the fifth and the first half of the seventh century, they both reported the “pres- ence of followers of Devadatta”, who “adhered to the austere practices he had recommended to the Buddha.”220 Yijing too, the eighth-century pilgrim who spend more

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 217 Nicholas Jaspert (2015, pp. 1-15) points out that in an ‘Asian’ context in general, the category of ‘purity’ not infrequently seems to play a far less considerable role than in, for example, Islam, Judaism and Christianity for example, especially “as a demarcation device, as a tool to draw boundaries and exclude the other”. 218 Gunawardana 1979, p. 316, cited in: Bretfeld 2015, p. 337. 219 Schopen 2007, p. 63. 220 PDOB, p. 234.

! 74! ! than twenty years in India and South Asia221, is said to associate certain Indian ‘sectari- ans’ with Buddha’s bad-tempered cousin.222 It would seem that all three of them were familiar with the persistent rumours of Devadatta, the canonical embodiment of everything evil, as already William Woodville Rockhill speculated in 1884.223 Being indeed, in a remarkable way, never absent when something doctrinal is contested in early Bud- dhism, Devadatta has a rather good deal on his slate. Worse comes to worst: he is not just a forest monk, but he is introduced as the first one to practice austere asceticism among saṃgha members.224 Together with to two other lists of ascetic practices, the ‘austerities’ practiced by Devadatta are listed, among other places, in the first division of the Pāli Suttapiṭaka, the Dīghanikāya. Before having a closer look at the iconic practices of Devadatta, which seem the subject of a conceivably rhetorical myth, it seems wise to draw the attention to these two other lists of ascetic practices of a presumed historical significance. Both these lists comprise four practices similarly marked by intentional and voluntary poverty. The first one is known as the ‘Four Noble Families’ (P. ariyavaṃsa, Skt. āryavaṃśa) and comprises:

i) contentment with any robe (cīvara); ii) contentment with any alms food (piṇḍapāta); iii) contentment with any place for sitting and lying (senāsana); iv) and finding delight and pleasure in abandoning and meditation (pahānārāmo pahānarato bhāvanārāmo bhāvanārato).225

The second list is known as the nissayas (P., Skt. niśrayas), and sums up four similar practices, namely:

i) to sleep only at the foot of trees (rukkhamūlasenāsana); ii) to live only by begging food (piṇḍiyālopabhojana); iii) to wear only clothes made from cast-off rags (paṃsukūlacīvara); iv) and to use as medicine only cow’s urine (pūtimuttabhesajja).226

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 221 “For a concise and useful route description” of his travels, and those Faxian and Xuanzang, Heirman & Torck (2012, pp. 14 & 23 n. 45) refer to: Tansen Sen, “The Travel Records of Chinese Pilgrims Faxian, Xuanzang, and Yijing,” Education about Asia 11, no. 3 (2006). 222 Boucher (2008, p. 48) points out that he does not do so in his travel records, but that he does “extensively” do so “in a commentarial note to his translation of a karmavācanā text from the Mūlasarvāstivāda-vinaya.” 223 See: Rockhill 1884, p. 83, cited in: Deeg 1999, p. 183. 224 Freiberger 2006, p. 243. 225 DN 3:224-25 (C.R.; V3, p. 217), cited in: Ray 1994: 294 226 Following the translation of Ray 1994: 294. For the Pāli terminology, see: PDOB (p. 593).

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It is important to know that, at an early time in the history of Buddhism, latter seems to have played “a pivotal role”, Ray remarks, in the ordination ceremony.227 Partly overlapping with the ariyavaṃsa and nissayas, the list of ascetic practices as- cribed to Devadatta, then, comprises:

i) living as a forest-dweller (āraññaka), not in the neighbourhood of a village; ii) living as a beggar for alms (piṇḍapātika), instead of accepting invitations; iii) wearing rag robes (paṃsukūlika), instead of accepting a robe from a householder; iv) living at the root of a tree (rukkhamūlika), not under a roof; v) avoiding fish and meat (macchamaṃsa).228

Tradition has it, that the first Buddhist schism––be it only a temporary one––goes back to Devadatta.229 Demanding a more austere and stricter lifestyle for all bhikṣus, Devadatta would have tried to persuade his cousin, the Buddha, to quote Deeg, “to hand the leadership of the saṅgha over to him”. 230 Obviously, his request was turned down. However so doggedly intent on splitting the saṃgha, tradition goes, Devadatta continued to pursue his megalomania and finally succeeded in taking the leadership over five hundred forest monks that were on his side. All Vinayas state that it did not take long however, before the Saṃgha was reunited again––thanks to the efforts of Buddha’s noble disciples Śāriputra and Maudgalyāyana (Pāli: Moggallāna), who brought back Devadatta’s five hundred adherents. 231 Yet, the ambassador of the above-cited austerities had forever been brought into disrepute, as had the type of monk allying with this ‘gangster’. Whereas all the Vinayas, as we have them, agree to this point, there are certain variations among them, concerning the specific list of austere practices that Devadatta would have wished to impose. These variations do not only reflect again internal deviations of expanding religious beliefs, but they also undermine, in fact, their historical credibility. I refer to Max Deeg’s analysis for a broader discussion of the particularities of these texts.232 Given the scope of this thesis however, I will here only take the afore-cited five practices of the Theravāda tradition as a case study to reflect on.

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 227 Ray 1994, p. 294. 228 Freiberger 2006: 241, drawing from: Jean Dantinne, Les Qualités de l’Ascète (Dhūtaguṇa) : Etude Sémantique et Doctrinale, Bruxelles: Editions Thanh-Long, 1991. 229 This is suggested by all the Vinayas as we have them, that is the “Theravādin preserved in Pāli, Mūlasarvāstivādin (MSV) preserved in all three classical Buddhist languages, Sanskrit, Chinese and Tibetan, Mahīśāsaka, Dharmaguptaka, Sarvāstivādin and Mahāsāṃghika in Chinese translations” (Deeg 1999, p. 184). 230 Deeg 1999, p. 184. 231 Freiberger 2006, pp. 241-242; Deeg 1999, pp. 184-185. 232 See: Deeg 1999.

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According to ‘Lesser Chapter’ or Cullavagga of the Pāli Vinayapiṭaka, the Buddha did not assented to Devadatta’s request either. However, rather than refusing it completely, he rejected only the last two practices and allowed the first three of them. To quickly refresh one’s memory, that is:

i) living as a forest-dweller (āraññaka); ii) living as a beggar for alms (piṇḍapātika); iii) wearing rag robes (paṃsukūlika); iv) living at the root of a tree (rukkhamūlika); v) avoiding fish and meat (macchamaṃsa).

Although Oliver Freiberger has argued that the Cullavagga is particularly adversely disposed towards asceticism233, we have no reason to believe that its argument from authority (Buddha’s judgement) on these practices is logically valid, nor fallacious. It would seem though that the author-editors of the Cullavagga were impelled to include, whether they liked it or not, at least three ascetic practices.234 Not entirely surprisingly, all three of these practices are frequently mentioned in a number of widely quoted lists of ascetic practices, some––if not all––of which, we may presume, played a significant role in early Buddhism. More specific, both the piṇḍapātika and pāṃsukūlika practices are cited, in one way or another, in the dhūtaguṇas, ariyavaṃsa and nissayas. If the nissayas played indeed “a pivotal role” in early Buddhist ordination ceremonies, making them not only fundamentally Buddhist, but also hard to enfeeble, then it is beyond doubt why the authors of the Cullavagga, in spite of their disapproval perhaps, were unable to get around them. The question is––and this is most surprisingly here––how a text, like the Cullavagga, could ban such a practice as the ‘tree-root-dweller’s practice’, which both the dhūtaguṇas and the nissayas include? Isn’t the Buddha himself said to have reached Nir- vāṇa under a tree––and not just some random tree, but a rather extremely eye- catchingly aerial-rooted Ficus Religiosa or bodhi tree? How do you, as a Buddhist author- editor, come away with that? There is no evidential basis to argue that the figure of Devadatta would be rather mythical than historical in nature other than the unthinkable amount of evil for which he is put on the pillory and the deviating textual data on, for instance, the practices as- cribed to him. But assuming he is, the Cullavagga would be particularly seminal for prob- ing how Buddhist author-editors aimed to redefine the Buddhist identity. Considering that its authors may indeed have regarded asceticism as “dangerously individualistic, !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 233 Freiberger 2006, pp. 241-242. 234 Note that elsewhere, as Freiberger remarks, the same text, the Cullavagga (Vin II 115, 4-13, cited in: Freiberger 2006, p. 242) contradicts itself here and argues, instead, that “the Buddha forbids wearing rad robes (paṃsukūla), which is considered an offence of wrong-doing (dukkaṭa).”

! 77! ! prone to excess, culturally powerful” and so on; challenging the foundations of the same religion they claimed to profess, must sooner or later have felt as an inevitability they could not evade. I have earlier said that to all of the mainstream Vinayas, among which the above- cited Pāli Vinaya, the dhūtaguṇas and ascetic practices in general, seemed, as Schopen put it, “all but a dead letter” at the time of their compilation. Now, even if these texts never came to the ears of lay followers and donors, these practices seems to have been a source of great concern, considerable enough to inform (or misinform) their assumed readers: bhikṣus in a monastic, permanent setting. Assumptions of this kind are further supported by some other texts, which, in sharp contrast to the texts we have discussed above, argue that the dhūtaguṇas would be soteriologically useless practices, that is: practices not leading to Nirvāna at all, not even fractions of it. The texts in question refer to a bunch of ascetic practices of acclaimed non-Buddhist origin, the duṣkaracaryās. Tradi- tion has it that the Buddha, prior to his Awakening, would have performed these numerous practices without success. Before we have a look at them, it is interesting to draw the attention to what the much afore-cited *Mahāprajñāpāramitāśāstra, which argued that the dhūtaguṇas, at least indirectly, lead to (fractions of) Nirvāna, remarks on the duṣkaracaryās performed by the Buddha:

If the Buddha Śākyamuni had not previously carried out the practices of austerity (duṣkaracaryā) for six years and had limited himself to criticizing them by saying that they were not the Path, nobody would have believed him. This is why he ex- erted himself in practices of austerity more than anyone else; then, when he had realized the Bodhi of the Buddhas, he criticized this path of austerities and everyone believed him.235

Having seen how, for instance, the *Mahāprajñāpāramitāśāstra favours the dhūtaguṇas, but underscores the acclaimed ‘quackery’ of the duṣkaracaryās; would it not be ‘odd’, to put it at its mildest, to find that the duṣkaracaryās comprise in fact certain dhūtaguṇa practices, among which the practice of pāṃsukūlika?236 Listed also in the Mahāyāna Lalitavistara and the Mahāvastu, the Majjhimanikāya of the Pāli Suttapiṭaka, for example, tells us how the Buddha tried out the following garments:

I clothed myself in hemp (sāṇāni), in hemp-mixed cloth (masāṇāni), in shrouds (chavadussāni), in refuse rags (paṅsu-kūlāni), in tree bark (tirīṭāni), in antelope hide (ajināni), in strips of antelope hide (ajinakkhipaṃ), in kusa-grass fabric (kusacīraṃ), in bark fabric (vākacīraṃ), in woodshavings fabric (phalakacīraṃ), in head-hair wool (kesakambalaṃ), in animal wool (vālakambalaṃ), in owls' wings (ulūka-

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 235 Mpps XXXIX.235b (L., p. 1236). 236 For a full analysis of different duṣkaracaryā versions, Freiberger (2006, p. 238) refers to: Dutoit 1905.

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pakkhaṃ). [...] Such, [Sāriputta,] was my asceticism (idaṃ su me Sāriputta tapassitāya hoti).237

Indeed, if the Buddha himself “was not able to attain liberation by performing these practices”, as Freiberger notes, surely “no future Buddhist would be”.238 This seems to be the idea of the *Mahāprajñāpāramitāśāstra too. There is no reason to believe that the paṃsukūlacīvara, which is here indeed, as Findly seems to have hinted at, “also listed as [a robe] of non-Buddhist renunciants”, was historically speaking a Buddhist invention.239 The contrary might well be true and I can only hope that scholars, interested in this field, dig further into this topic in a comparative study. But even if not a Buddhist invention; who would think that the same tradition (and an outnumbering body of texts, as it seems to me) would then––that is, if the duṣkaracaryās were anything historical–– dare to expect that not only Śākyamuni Buddha, but also the ‘Buddha’s of the past’ preferred and exalted, over all other robes, the pāṃsukūlacīvara, which is here simply ridi- culed and identified with ‘antelope hide’ and ‘owls’ wings’? Let us have a look, to conclude, at one such text, with a rather particular message, namely the Brapaṃsukūlānisaṃsam. John Strong, summarizing from Ginette Martini’s French translation, recounts the story as follows:

A rich merchant of Uruvelā had a daughter who died giving birth to her first child, who was stillborn. The merchant then decided to offer some robe material to the Buddha; he took an expensive piece of cloth, wrapped it around the dead foetus and the afterbirth of his daughter, and kept it for seven days. Then he deposited it on the road where he knew the Buddha was due to pass. The Buddha, seeing it, thought, “This is the first paṃsukūla … The Buddhas of the past wore paṃsukūla; I, therefore, will wear one, too.” He picked it up; the decaying foetus and afterbirth fell on the ground, which then shook and trembled to mark what for this tradition was a momentous occasion.240

Strong continues:

There follows an account of the washing, drying and dyeing of the paṃsukūla [robe] by the Buddha with the divine help of the god Indra; and then, as the text puts it, “the Buddha’s old robe disappeared, and he became a paṃsukūlika.” Later, the Buddha exalts the wearing of ragheap robes in no uncertain words: “The paṃsukūla robe,” he declares, “is the best. It is while wearing it that the Buddhas

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 237 For the translation, see: Ñāṇamoli 1995, p. 173; for the Pāli terminology, see: The Majjhima Nikāya in Dutoit 1905, p. 42-43. 238 Freiberger 2006, p. 242. 239 Findly 2003, p. 162 n 67. 240 Strong 1994: 72, translating from the edition and French translation of: G. Martini 1973: 67-76.

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have liberated all creatures… O monks, I wear the paṃsukūla robe; you should do likewise.”241

I will come back to this text in the second section of this chapter, to which it seems to have paved the way. To conclude here, it seems conceivable, given the ambivalent attitude towards asceticism over the whole of Buddhist scriptures or even within the same text, as we have seen, that the dhūtaguṇas and in particular the type of dress that served as a denomination––if not a ‘term of abuse’242––for its practitioners, were mythified as a deliberate, rhetoric strategy to legitimize a deviating lifestyle. Although this is salient, for the fact that it contrasts with other texts in which it is frequently stated that not only Śākyamuni Buddha, but also the Buddhas of the past, wore and exalted the pāṃsukūlacīvara; this is not startling either. As we have seen, the pāṃsukūlacīvara is namely cited in various lists of ascetic practices and thus ultimately linked to ‘asceticism’, which the monastic institution, at least from a later date, did not ‘accept’ as a valid Path to Liberation. Over the following pages, I will discuss the Brapaṃsukūlānisaṃsam and texts convey- ing a similar message in more depth. I can already tell that I won’t solve the mystery on the historical questions that this textual ambiguity raises again. But what I will do, is look at these texts to examine another plausible motive to engage in the dhūtaguṇas and/or don the pāṃsukūlacīvara.

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 241 Strong 1994: 72, translating from the edition and French translation of: G. Martini 1973: 67-76. 242 Bretfeld (2015, p. 329 n. 24) speaks of a ‘designation’ with “possibly disrespectful undertones”.

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5 Authenticity: a prototypical identity

I concluded the previous chapter section on the pāṃsukūlacīvara’s association with ‘asceticism’, with a text with a rather sensational plot, the Brapaṃsukūla-ānisaṃsam. Two things are worth special mentioning about this text. To begin with, the genre of texts to which this text belongs (the ānisaṃsā genre) is generally “better known to ordinary Buddhists than the texts of the canon” and remains popular among them to this day.243 It is an extra-canonical Jātaka-subgenre, mostly preserved “in a mixture of Pali and vernacular language”, illustrating the advantages to be gained from “doing good deeds”–– here, more specifically, the virtue gained from ‘generosity’ by giving alms and donations (Skt. & P. dāna).244 Secondly, it should be argued here, that we must not forget that a predominant Western interest in the biography of Śākyamuni Buddha is not representative for the early Buddhist tradition itself. As a matter of fact, and as the Brapaṃsukūlānisaṃsam clearly illustrates, the early tradition seemed rather “intent on demonstrating [Śākyamuni’s] similarity to the buddhas of the past rather than his uniqueness”.245 The idea that Śākyamuni and other Buddhas of the past wore ‘rag robes’ is however not restricted to extra-canonical literature only, but also circulates in conical literature––the bulk of which, again, has come down to us from a ‘town monk tradition’. In- terestingly, also these texts state, as John Strong has summarized it, that Śākyamuni:

during his career, is said to have worn at least two different kind of robes: a set of “dust-heap robes” (pāṃśukūla) characteristic of the ascetically inclined “forest tradition” of monks, and a set of magnificent, costly robes made of expensive cloth, more typical, perhaps, of the “town monk tradition”.246

Not entirely surprisingly, it would seem that unlike the extra-canonical Brapaṃsukūlānisaṃsam however, Buddhist canonical literature is rather sympathetic !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 243 Crosby 2013, p. 30 & Strong 1994, p. 310 n. 87. 244 Norman 1983, p. 178. – On the significance of dāna in early Buddhism and its foundational value for the success of the religion, see: Findly 2003. 245 PDOB (p. 149) 246 Strong 2007, p. 216.

! 81! ! towards the transition to more elaborate robes obtained from the laity. In the Cīvarakkhandhaka of the Pāli Vinayapiṭaka, for instance, we are told how Śākyamuni adopted more elaborate robes and allowed them for those who preferred them to pāṃsukūla robes. What the chapter seems particularly keen on is to legitimize this transition; it suggests a causal relationship between the wearing of rag robes and the Bud- dha falling ill. Cured by his noble court physician, Jīvaka Komārabhacca, the Buddha is presented expensive Siveyyaka cloth of unsurpassed beauty and quality in this world, which incites him to amend that the ordained community may chose between robes made of material donated by householders (gahapaticīvara) and the ‘traditional’ rag robes (pāṃsukūlacīvara). Another interesting legend in this respect is the transmission of the “patriarchal robe” from the Buddha to his disciple Mahākāśyapa as a kind of ‘talisman’.247 According to some accounts Mahākāśyapa, who would have inclined towards asceticism, would have exchanged his soft robe patched of fine rags for Śākyamuni’s rough, hempen pāṃsukūlacīvara. Thus, the Buddha came to wear more ‘elaborate’ robes, while Mahākāśyapa came to inherit Śākyamuni’s ‘authentic’ robe.248 According to some traditions, Mahākāśyapa did not pass this robe on to his own Dharma heir (Ānanda), but kept it to pass it on to the Future Buddha Maitreya. The seventh-century monk Shenhui however––who was the Dharma heir of the sixth patriarch of Chan Buddhism––claimed that this robe was

given by Bodhidharma [the first patriarch of Chinese Chan Buddhism] to his Chi- nese disciple Huike in order to signify that the Dharma had passed from India to new ground.249

Within few generations, Shenhui had made it a Chan orthodoxy that, as earlier cited:

The robe serves as a verification of the Dharma and the Dharma is the robe lineage. Robe and Dharma are transferred from one [patriarch] to another and are handed down without alteration. Without the robe one does not spread forth the Dharma, without the Dharma one does not receive the robe.250

It is clear that the pāṃsukūlacīvara has been invested with some other powerful symbolism, than its mere connotations to asceticism. From a robe that goes back to the Buddhas of the past to at least the first and most ‘authentic’ robe of Śākyamuni Buddha, the pāṃsukūlacīvara fired the imagination, particularly of those in need of legitimation for deviating interpretations of the Buddhist doctrine, as the early Southern School of Chan Buddhism. As they interpreted it, the pāṃsukūlacīvara namely embodied a proto-

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 247 See: Seidel (forthcoming), Fauré 1995 & Adamek 2007. 248 Strong 2007, p. 217ff. 249 Adamek 2007, p. 19. 250 DWBS S.468 (A., p. 19).

! 82! ! typical Buddhist identity, one profoundly iconic for the ‘unaffectedly authentic’ Bud- dhist philosophy––and perhaps even monastic regulations predating the laity’s influence (cf. again the ‘abolition of reliance’). Such a symbolic and powerful message might not only have appealed to those in need of legitimation however, but also to whomever wished to identify with either Śākyamuni, his disciple Mahākāśyapa or Buddhas of the past. As Adamek puts it:

Placing such importance on a robe may seem materialistic for a teaching based on realization of one’s own buddha nature, just as the idea of patriarchy seems to run counter to the emphasis on one’s own nonmediated access to the truth. Yet it has a symbolic force that resonates across cultures. Throughout the world, “inaliena- ble possessions,” often textiles, were passed down through the generations as representations of the continuity and authority of the family who held them.251

In the study of the pāṃsukūlacīvara as the embodiment of an aspired identity, these notions and myths deserve our special attention. The idea of prototypical identity and its most iconic ambassadors might be as alluring as the meritorious objectives that may underlie the practitioners engagement to make and wear rag robes.

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 251 Adamek 2007, p. 20.

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6 Death, pollution and power

In the second chapter to this thesis we have seen how the Visuddhimagga lists twenty- four types of affordable rags. Among these were, as the Brapaṃsukūlānisaṃsam seemed to denote, ‘cloth used for childbirth’ (sotthiyaṃ) as well as ‘ablution cloth’ (nhānacoḷaṃ), but also ‘textile obtained from the cemetery’ (sosānikaṃ). As it does, in fact, for each individual dhūtaguṇa practice, the Visuddhimagga divides the practice of pāṃsukūlika, and the twenty-four rag types it allows, over three gradational categories of difficulty. It states:

i) the ‘ordinary’ practitioner (mudu pāṃsukūlika) utilises rags that have been “placed at his feet”; ii) the ‘intermediate’ practitioner (majjhima pāṃsukūlika) utilises only those rags “set out by a donor for the monk to retrieve at some later point”; iii) and the ‘noble’ practitioner (ukkaṭṭha pāṃsukūlika) utilises only rags taken from a charnel ground.252

Over the last two decades, a number of scholars have argued that far from utterly “marginal and unemphasized”, as Steven Collins––incredulously perhaps––seemed inclined to believe (cf. supra); the more ‘extravagant’ practice of “cross-dressing with the dead”, as Schopen has titled it, prevails much of Buddhist literature.253 As a matter a fact, a perusal of Buddhist literature (canonical and extra-canonical) would indicate that the practice of pāṃsukūlika mainly connotes ‘flirtations’ with the dead and śmāśānika monks ‘frequenting the cemeteries’.254 A plausible explanation for this might be that pāṃsukūlika monks were more than forest monks, also ritual specialists in Buddhist funeral traditions.

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 252 Vsm II.20 [PTS, p. 64] (Ñ., p. 60) in combination with Witkowski 2013, p. 5 & Dhamma Sāmi. (2007, August 28). The 13 Ascetic Practices. Retrieved from http:/www.en.dhammadana.org/sangha/dhutanga.htm. 253 See: Schopen 2007. 254 See: Witkowski 2013, pp. 29ff.

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We have earlier seen how the pāṃsukūlacīvara occurs in a list known as the niśrayas, which is believed to have played a pivotal role in the early Buddhist ordination ceremony. Specialist in the field of Buddhist rituals and their origins have argued the pāṃsukūlacīvara, to quote Erik Davis, “rests at the heart of the Theravādan Buddhist funeral of Southeast Asia” and continues to live on in the “ritual imagination” of modern- day South Asia.255 I have earlier indicated that the Visuddhimagga is particularly late; in fact it dates back to nearly a millennium after Śākyamuni’s parinirvāṇa (Skt., P. parinibbāna) or physical death. Still, at the time of writing, Buddhaghosa seems to argue that the utterly dedicated pāṃsukūlika monk dons a patchwork quilt made entirely of shrouds collected from charnel grounds––“a decidedly mixed message”, indeed, if “you are what you wear”.256 When it comes to dead, most of us indeed “feel concern and anxiety” and a kind of fear that “strongly resembles the fear of contagion.”257 Such feelings are not unknown to Buddhists either. Yet, while certain Buddhist author-editors seem to have been at least ‘suspicious’––to put it at its mildest––about pāṃsukūlika monks collecting rags from corpses and charnel grounds258, this attitude does not necessarily exclude another. As George D. Bond noted:

Death has a paradoxical status in Theravāda Buddhism for it stands both at the heart of the human predicament and at the solution to that predicament.259

As is the case with a big deal of ‘taboos’ and fears, fearlessly flirting with what others fear or shun is extremely powerful. Exploiting this idea perhaps, the pāṃsukūlika monk seemed to have served––and still serves in South-east Asia––as a

ritual specialists capable of negotiation relations between living and dead, and thus performing a salutary role in the context of the cemetery.260

Drawing from both textual research and fieldwork in respectively Sri Lanka and Cambodia, Rita Langer and Davis observed that monk wearing ‘cemetery robes’–– “whether they are genuinely former shrouds or not”––are believed to possess “magico- technical” powers over the deceased and specifically ‘malevolent spirits’.261 Their robes serve as proof of their “triumphant conquest of death”, which they claim, or are be-

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 255 Davis 2012, p. 59. See also: Langer 2007 & 2012. 256 Schopen 2007, p. 67. 257 Davis 2012, p. 60. 258 Schopen (2007) has widely discussed the various origins of pāṃsukūla cloth and how different Vinayas argue against some of them, in particular shrouds (Skt. śavavastra). 259 Bond 1980, p. 237, cited in: Davis 2012, p. 61. 260 Witkowski 2013, p. 30. 261 Davis 2012, pp. 65 & 76.

! 85! ! lieved, to have overcome: they are “dead men” themselves, who, “like the spirits of the dead, must survive on gifts from the living.”262 Coming back to Bold’s words, their ‘cross-dressing with the dead’ seems to underline both their ability to see the solution to the human predicament and to communicate, for those who can’t, with malevolent spirits, which makes them as much indispensable and powerful as perhaps ‘gruesome’. Connoted to not only ‘asceticism’ but also ‘death’, it surprises less and less why the pāṃsukūlacīvara has been the subject of a canonical ‘paper warfare’ over its identity. Scholars in the field, such as Langer and Davis, will have to judge what insights the modern tradition of ‘cemetery monks’ wearing pāṃsukūla robes in an eponymous ceremony, yet it is clear that this special connotation to ‘death’ might both explain its contested identity and serve as a conceivable third motive to engage in the practice of pāṃsukūlika. More than that, it seems conceivable that the position of a ‘ritual master’ is a flexible identity, rather than a fixed and identity. This, we might have to take into account when discussing, last but not least, the rigidity of the pāṃsukūlika identity.

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 262 Davis 2012, pp. 62 & 63.

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7 A flexible identity?

An interesting aspect of clothes is that, unlike tattoos or headdresses, they can be fairly easily changed. When about two years ago, I met up for dinner with one of the ‘rag robe’ monks I had met earlier that day, he was dressed like all other ‘ordinary’ monks in Wu- taishan. I began to wonder why it was that I had seen him, and others, earlier that same day with robes that were clearly patched from rags. Had I been fooled? Was this part of a put-up job to attract pilgrims and tourist and to present them the illusion they wanted to witness that Wutaishan had stood the test of time and was still home to some very dedicated monks? Or was something else going on? Did Buddhist law prohibit monks to leave the monastery like that? Or was it perhaps even governmental? I could not sur- pass my curiosity but I did not dare ask the monk in question, why he had donned a different robe. The question that lingers however, is why did he? And was he the only one? Did this only happen in modern-age Wutaishan? Or is this something that has been given very little attention in Dress and Identity Studies, whereas it actually questions its point of departure: How rigid are the identities we study? We have seen how social anthropological seriously questioned the rigidity of the ‘two-tiered model’; perhaps, the ‘forest monk’ and the ‘town monk’ were not as mutually exclusive as their ‘paper warfare’ suggests. We have seen how ritual specialists have shed more light on a particular connotation of the pāṃsukūlacīvara; perhaps, this particular type of Buddhist dress was initially or in some cases a ceremonial service dress only. Whatever it may be, much more research can still be done on this issue and I can only hope to have excited the interest of some willing to do so.

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Conclusion

Having brought together primary and secondary sources that deal either specifically or indirectly with the pāṃsukūlacīvara, this thesis has provided a wide analysis of scholarly discussions on the topic. While neither a monographic work, nor a single encyclopaedia entry has thus far approached the topic in its entirety however, there seem to be sources in plenty that allow doing so. It has been the underlying aim of this thesis to bring these sources together, in the fundamental belief that a general understanding of all these sources may tell us something about the ‘identity’ of the monks making and wearing these robes from within their tradition. So far, text-critical scholarship had namely mainly––if not only––focussed on the textual criticism of their identity, while anthropological research on the topic had confined itself to the study of pāṃsukūlika monks in South- and Southeast Asia only. In line with Bloch’s argument, this thesis departed from the idea that the study of the pāṃsukūlacīvara in its entirety should take both research on the present and research on the historical pāṃsukūlacīvara into account. Coming back to also Panikkar’s metaphor, it claims that it might not only be wise, but is also necessary to study several plants of the same seed that have developed in a different ‘environment’. Encouraged by a personal encounter with modern-day ‘rag wearers’ in Wutaishan, I have tried to pave the way in this thesis to further anthropological research on the topic in specifically China, but also beyond. Obviously, such anthropological research will have to indicate whether or not it is fair to lump together the pāṃsukūlika traditions of China and of South- and Southeast Asia. Yet, this thesis has illustrated, as has Nicholas Witkowski, that Vinaya literature clearly suggests that there may be reason to assume so. A first thing this thesis has drawn the attention to is the ‘name’ of the pāṃsukūla- cīvara. What other denominations are there? Language changes rapidly and knowledge of the various names circulating for this trans-traditional type of dress is not only vital to further anthropological research, but also to possible, further text-critical scholarship. As we have seen, in Chinese the pāṃsukūlacīvara is sometimes referred to as either fensao or baina yi.

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Next, this thesis has focussed on a number of practical aspects of the pāṃsukūlacīvara into which anthropological research has made few enquiries to my knowledge, and on which textual material remains rather scarce. In chapter 2, I have discussed practical details on the making of the pāṃsukūlacīvara. We have seen how different Vinaya traditions revealed sometimes similar, sometimes different, but generally little information about such aspects. Given the general consensus that pāṃsukūlika monks belong to a textually underrepresented tradition, as we have further seen, this is not surprising. Hence, whereas further text-critical comparative scholarship of Vinaya, law-making instructions on the making and wearing of rag robes may reveal some minor scholarly, regional and cultural differences, it may again merely tell us something about how pāṃsukūlika monks were perceived by others. Anthropological inquiries into these issues, may, by contrast, perhaps highlight a dichotomy between text and practice again, and tell us more about how pāṃsukūlika monks themselves actually flesh out their identity. The same applies to the discussion of the maintenance of the pāṃsukūla robe, which I have discussed in chapter 3. Yet, here we already observed some symbolic ‘connotations’ which its wearers might have aspired and/or still aspire. Whether they intentionally flirt with it, or are criticized by their fellow brethren who believe them to do so, pāṃsukūlika monks connote to ‘filthiness’ and even worse, ‘disease’ and ‘death’, by the simple fact that they don robes made of rags found on burial mounds and in other public places. Again, whereas law-making Vinaya literature insists on the washing of these rags and robes in general, the question rises what, from the side of practice, is considered appropriate. Origin might also be understood in another sense. Transmission of the robe from teacher to pupil may symbolise the transmission or lineage of the Dharma. We have further in this thesis seen, how in Chan Buddhism, the pāṃsukūlacīvara in particular became the object of the epic transmission of the Buddha to his disciple Mahākāśyapa. Several Buddhist Saints and Eminent monks are said to have worn rag robes too. This raises the question, if their robes had another symbolic value that made them especially worth transmitting and mending. From the bulk of Buddhist literature three major connotations stand out that seem to constitute much of the identity of the pāṃsukūlika monks. What it means to be a pāṃsukūlika at a specific place and time, obviously depends a lot on what it means not to be a pāṃsukūlika at that time and even more perhaps, on the acquaintance with the connotations I have focussed on in this thesis. Again, however, it has been the aim of this thesis to understand the pāṃsukūlika tradition from within, not from without. What, truly, did and do pāṃsukūlika monks aspire? In what aspects do they deviate from ‘ordinary’ monks, and most particularly why do they do so? To begin with, we have seen that the pāṃsukūlacīvara is ultimately linked to asceticism. The making and wearing of pāṃsukūla robes is listed among other practices in lists of ascetic practices affecting bodily needs such as eating, drinking and sleeping. More than once I have indicated that the place and significance of these lists in Buddhism is contested. It is possible that those

! 89! ! monks opposing these practices feared ‘asceticism’, as we have seen, to be culturally powerful among other things. Less likely it seems, was asceticism only the envy of the laity on whose support major Buddhist institutions have always depended. The contrary seems to have been true at certain points in time in especially South- and Southeast Asia, as we have seen, where pāṃsukūlika monks were even––and perhaps even para- doxically––bestowed luxurious gifts. But also in China did such ascetic practices earn monks a good deal of respect. This may have been an important alluring aspect of the pāṃsukūlacīvara, apart from the meritorious objectives it might have been worn for. As we have seem, the ascetic practices to which the making and wearing of pāṃsukūlacīvara belongs, are namely contextualised in Buddhist soteriology as practices that help the practitioner to come closer to realization. Seclusion seems to have been a major prerequisite according to the manuals setting out these paths to realisation through asceticism, which explains why the pāṃsukūlacīvara has further mainly been attributed to a tradition of forest monks as opposed to more, laity-oriented town monks. It is however not clear, and perhaps even far from likely, that such alternative vocational ‘paths’ were mutually exclusive with other lifestyles and so the question raises, as I have further in this thesis discussed, to what extent the pāṃsukūlika identity is a flexible one in many a sense? Moreover, we have seen, in chapter 5, how even those myths swarming around the pāṃsukūlacīvara that may have been created to blacken it, reveal a most notable symbolic connotation about it at the same time. From being a robe worn by the Buddhas of the past to a robe worn at least by Śākyamuni Buddha initially, the pāṃsukūlacīvara, elsewhere listed among practices of acclaimed non-Buddhist origin, is said to be an eons- old, if not the ‘authentic’ Buddhist robe. We have seen how in the legitimation of the Southern School of Chan Buddhism, Shenhui claimed that its first patriarch, Bodhi- dharma, was the legitimate heir of the Buddha’s pāṃsukūlacīvara and hence also of the Dharma. It leads no doubt that its relationship to the Buddhas of the past and the ‘authentic’ Buddhist tradition may have inspired certain monks to make and wear rag robes instead of ordinary robes, apart from the merits or the respect to gain from doing so. Finally then, the pāṃsukūlacīvara connotes notions of ‘death’. As a matter of fact, as we have seen, a favoured type of pāṃsukūlacīvara is the rag robe patched from shrouds. This particular connotation might either have been aspired for its ‘powerful’ symbolism, or, as ritual specialists indicate, have been worn by monks serving as negotiators between the living and the diseased in Buddhist funeral rites. This again, raises the question whether the pāṃsukūlika identity is hence a rigid or a flexible one. In sum, the pāṃsukūlacīvara is more than a robe: it is a practice, a way of life, an identity and a vehicle of signs to which not only ordained Buddhists, but also lay followers may have attached and still attach great value. Understanding the contested identity of its wearers through their glasses may only help us to better understand their signifi-

! 90! ! cance in Buddhism. At least, it is clear that pāṃsukūlika monk has both historical and modern significance. Anthropological research on funeral rites in South- and Southeast Asia convincingly urge us to abandon the idea that the pāṃsukūlika monk would be a selfish, self-centred ascetic monk, withdrawing from the world for the sake of his own salvation. Further text-critical and anthropological research might still bring to light a number of aspects of the pāṃsukūlacīvara that have previously been overlooked, for reasons elucidated in this thesis. Only by investigating into their possible historical significance too, rather than denying it from a prescriptive reading of Buddhist literature, may we come to a broader understanding of this particular robe, as well as why monks of various traditions, both historically and today identified with it. And that is not where it stops; familiarity with this particular robe may help art historians too, for instance, in the study of Buddhist images to understand its symbolism. Last but not least, my educational background has forced me to concentrate on Indi- an and Chinese Buddhism only. Yet Tibetan Buddhism, where yogis as Milarepa and Tsongkhapa are said to have worn pāṃsukūla robes as well, allows for further investigation as do other regions, as Japan, with a long Buddhist tradition. As mentioned in the Acknowledgement of this thesis too, I have further, given the strong reservations against women engaging in ascetic practices in the manuals I have focussed on here, ignored the possibility of also bhikṣuṇīs wearing and making pāṃsukūla robes. This issue too, may further be examined by both text-critical, historical researchers and anthropologists in the field.

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