OUTLINES
OF
MAHAYANA BUDDHISM
BY
DAISETZ TEITARO SUZUKI
CHICAGO
THE OPEN COURT PUBLISHING COMPANY
1908
PREFACE.
The object of this book is twofold: (1) To refute the many wrong opinions which are entertained by Western critics concerning the fundamental teachings of Mahâyâna Buddhism; (2) To awake interest among scholars of comparative religion in the development of the religious sentiment and faith as exemplified by the growth of one of the most powerful spiritual forces in the world. The book is therefore at once popular and scholarly. It is popular in the sense that it tries to expose the fallacy of the general attitude assumed by other religionists towards Mahâyânism. It aims to be scholarly, on the other hand, when it endeavors to expound some of the most salient features of the doctrine, historically and systematically.
In attempting the accomplishment of this latter object, however, the author makes no great claim, because it is impossible to present within this prescribed space all the data that are available for a comprehensive and systematic elucidation of the Mahâyâna Buddhism, whose history began in the sixth century before the Christian era and ran through a period of more than two thousand years before it assumed the form in which it is at present taught in the Orient. During this long period, the Mahâyâna doctrine was elaborated by the best minds that India, Tibet, China, and Japan ever produced. It is no wonder then that so many diverse and apparently contradictory teachings are all comprised under the general name of Mahâyâna Buddhism. To expound all these theories even tentatively would be altogether outside the scope of such a work as this. All that I could or hoped to do was to discuss a few of the most general and most essential topics of Mahâyânism, making this a sort of introduction to a more detailed exposition of the system as a whole as well as in particular.
To attain the first object, I have gone occasionally outside the sphere within which I had properly to confine the work. But this deviation seemed imperative for the reason that some critics are so prejudiced that even seemingly self-evident truths are not comprehended by them. I may be prejudiced in my own way, but very frequently I have wondered how completely and how wretchedly some people can be made the prey of self-delusion.
The doctrinal history of Mahâyâna Buddhism is very little known to Occidental scholars. This is mainly due to the inaccessibility of material which is largely written in the Chinese tongue, one of the most difficult of languages for foreigners to master. In this age of liberal culture, it is a great pity that so few of the precious stones contained in the religion of Buddha are obtainable by Western people. Human nature is essentially the same the world over, and whenever and wherever conditions mature we see the same spiritual phenomena; and this fact ever strengthens our faith in the universality of truth and in the ultimate reign of lovingkindness. It is my sincere desire that in so far as my intellectual attainment permits I shall be allowed to pursue my study and to share my findings with my fellow-beings.
In concluding this prelude, the author wishes to say that this little book is presented to the public with a full knowledge of its many defects, to revise which he will not fail to make use of every opportunity offered him.
Daisetz T. Suzuki.
CONTENTS.
[(1) The Mahâyâna and Hînayâna Buddhism.] [Why the Two Doctrines?]—[The Original Meaning of Mahâyâna.]—[An Older Classification of Buddhists.]—[Mahâyâna Buddhism defined.]
[(2) Is the Mahâyâna Buddhism the genuine teaching of Buddha?] [No Life Without Growth.]—[Mahâyânism a Living Religion.]
[(3) Some Misstatements about the Mahâyânism.] [Why Injustice Done to Buddhism.]—[Examples of Injustice.]—[Monier Monier-Williams.]—[Beal.]—[Waddell.]
[(4) The Significance of Religion.] [No Revealed Religion.]—[The Mystery.]—[Intellect and Imagination.]—[The Contents of Faith vary.]
[Chapter I. A General Characterisation of Buddhism.]
[No God and No Soul.]—[Karma.]—[Avidyâ.]—[Non-âtman.]—[The Non-âtmanness of Things.]—[Dharmakâya.]—[Nirvâna.]—[Intellectual Tendency of Buddhism.]
[Chapter II. Historical Characterisation of Mahâyânism.]
[Sthiramati’s Conception of Mahâyânism.]—[Seven Principal Features of Mahâyânism.]—[Ten Essential Features of Mahâyânism.]
[Chapter III. Practice and Speculation.]
[Relation of Feeling and Intellect.]—[Buddhism and Speculation.]—[Religion and Metaphysics.]
[Chapter IV. Classification of Knowledge.]
[Three Forms of Knowledge.]—[Illusion.]—[Relative Knowledge.]—[Absolute Knowledge.]—[World-Views founded on the three Forms of Knowledge.]—[Two Forms of Knowledge.]—[Transcendental Truth and Relative Understanding.]
[Chapter V. Bhûtatathâtâ (Suchness).]
[Indefinability.]—[The “Thundrous Silence.”]—[Suchness Conditioned.]—[Questions Defying Solution.]—[The Theory of Ignorance.]—[Dualism and Moral Evil.]
[Chapter VI. The Tathâgata-Garbha and the Âlaya-vijnâna.]
[The Garbha and Ignorance.]—[The Âlaya-vijñâna and its Evolution.]—[The Manas.]—[The Sâmkhya Philosophy and Mahâyânism.]
[Chapter VII. The Theory of Non-âtman or Non-ego.]
[Âtman.]—[Buddha’s First Line of Inquiry.]—[The Skandha.]—[King Milinda and Nâgasena.]—[Ananda’s Attempts to Locate the Soul.]—[Âtman and the “Old Man.”]—[The Vedântic Conception.]—[Nâgârjuna on the Soul.]—[Non-âtman-ness of Things.]—[Svabhâva.]—[The Real Significance of Emptiness.]
[Definition.]—[The Working of Karma.]—[Karma and Social injustice.]—[An Individualistic View of Karma.]—[Karma and Determinism.]—[The Maturing of Good Stock and the Accumulation of Good Merits.]—[Immortality.]
[God.]—[Dharmakâya.]—[Dharmakâya as Religious Object.]—[More Detailed Characterisation.]—[The Dharmakâya and Individual Beings.]—[The Dharmakâya as Love.]—[Later Mahâyânists’ View of the Dharmakâya.]—[The Freedom of the Dharmakâya.]—[The Will of the Dharmakâya.]
[Chapter X. The Doctrine of Trikâya.]
[The Human and the Super-human Buddha.]—[An Historical View.]—[Who was Buddha?]—[The Trikâya as Explained in the Suvarna-Prabhâ.]—[Revelation in All Stages of Culture.]—[The Sambhogakâya.]—[A Mere Subjective Existence.]—[Attitude of Modern Mahâyânists.]—[Recapitulation.]
[Chapter XI. The Bodhisattva.]
[The Three Yânas.]—[Strict Individualism.]—[The Doctrine of Parivarta.]—[Bodhisattva in “Primitive” Buddhism.]—[We are all Bodhisattvas.]—[The Buddha’s Life.]—[The Bodhisattva and Love.]—[The Meaning of Bodhi and Bodhicitta.]—[Love and Karunâ.]—[Nâgârjuna and Sthiramati on Bodhicitta.]—[The Awakening of the Bodhicitta.]—[The Bodhisattva’s Pranidhâna.]
[Chapter XII. Ten Stages of Bodhisattvahood.]
[Gradation in our Spiritual Life.]—[Pramuditâ.]—[Vimalâ.]—[Prabhâkarî.]—[Arcismatî.]—[Sudurjanâ.]—[Abhimukhî.]—[Dûrangamâ.]—[Acalâ.]—[Sâdhumatî.]—[Dharmameghâ.]
[Nihilistic Nirvâna not the First Object.]—[Nirvâna is Positive.]—[The Mahâyânistic Conception of Nirvâna.]—[Nirvâna as the Dharmakâya.]—[Nirvâna in its Fourth Sense.]—[Nirvâna and Samsâra are One.]—[The Middle Course.]—[How to Realise Nirvâna.]—[Love Awakens Intelligence.]—[Conclusion.]
[Appendix, Hymns of Mahâyâna Faith.]
INTRODUCTION.
1. THE MAHÂYÂNA AND THE HÎNAYÂNA
BUDDHISM.
The terms “Mahâyâna” and “Hînayâna” may sound unfamiliar to most of our readers, perhaps even to those who have devoted some time to the study of Buddhism. They have hitherto been induced to believe that there is but one form of Buddhism, and that there exists no such distinction as Mahâyânism and Hînayânism. But, as a matter of fact, there are diverse schools in Buddhism just as in other religious systems. It is said that, within a few hundred years after the demise of Buddha, there were more than twenty different schools,[1] all claiming to be the orthodox teaching of their master. These, however, seem to have vanished into insignificance one after another, when there arose a new school quite different in its general constitution from its predecessors, but far more important in its significance as a religious movement. This new school or rather system made itself so prominent in the meantime as to stand distinctly alone from all the other schools, which later became a class by itself. Essentially, it taught everything that was considered to be Buddhistic, but it was very comprehensive in its principle and method and scope. And, by reason of this, Buddhism was now split into two great systems, Mahâyânism and Hînayânism, the latter indiscriminately including all the minor schools which preceded Mahâyânism in their formal establishment.
Broadly speaking, the difference between Mahâyânism and Hînayânism is this: Mahâyânism is more liberal and progressive, but in many respects too metaphysical and full of speculative thoughts that frequently reach a dazzling eminence: Hînayânism, on the other hand, is somewhat conservative and may be considered in many points to be a rationalistic ethical system simply.
Mahâyâna literally means “great vehicle” and Hînayâna “small or inferior vehicle,” that is, of salvation. This distinction is recognised only by the followers of Mahâyânism, because it was by them that the unwelcome title of Hînayânism was given to their rival brethren,—thinking that they were more progressive and had a more assimilating energy than the latter. The adherents of Hînayânism, as a matter of course, refused to sanction the Mahâyânist doctrine as the genuine teaching of Buddha, and insisted that there could not be any other Buddhism than their own, to them naturally the Mahâyâna system was a sort of heresy.
Geographically, the progressive school of Buddhism found its supporters in Nepal, Tibet, China, Corea, and Japan, while the conservative school established itself in Ceylon,[2] Siam, and Burma. Hence the Mahâyâna and the Hînayâna are also known respectively Northern and Southern Buddhism.
En passant, let me remark that this distinction, however, is not quite correct, for we have some schools in China and Japan, whose equivalent or counterpart cannot be found in the so-called Northern Buddhism, that is, Buddhism flourishing in Northern India. For instance, we do not have in Nepal or in Tibet anything like the Sukhâvatî sects of Japan or China. Of course, the general essential ideas of the Sukhâvatî philosophy are found in the sûtra literature as well as in the writings of such authors as Açvaghoṣa, Asanga, and Nâgârjuna. But those ideas were not developed and made into a new sect as they were in the East. Therefore, it may be more proper to divide Buddhism into three, instead of two, geographical sections: Southern, Northern, and Eastern.
Why the two Doctrines?
In spite of this distinction, the two schools, Hînayânism and Mahâyânism, are no more than two main issues of one original source, which was first discovered by Çâkyamuni; and, as a matter of course, we find many common traits which are essential to both of them. The spirit that animated the innermost heart of Buddha is perceptible in Southern as well as in Northern Buddhism. The difference between them is not radical or qualitative as imagined by some. It is due, on the one hand, to a general unfolding of the religious consciousness and a constant broadening of the intellectual horizon, and, on the other hand, to the conservative efforts to literally preserve the monastic rules and traditions. Both schools started with the same spirit, pursuing the same course. But after a while one did not feel any necessity for broadening the spirit of the master and adhered to his words as literally as possible; whilst the other, actuated by a liberal and comprehensive spirit, has drawn nourishments from all available sources, in order to unfold the germs in the original system that were vigorous and generative. These diverse inclinations among primitive Buddhists naturally led to the dissension of Mahâyânism and Hînayânism.
We cannot here enter into any detailed accounts as to what external and internal forces were acting in the body of Buddhism to produce the Mahâyâna system, or as to how gradually it unfolded itself so as to absorb and assimilate all the discordant thoughts that came in contact with it. Suffice it to state and answer in general terms the question which is frequently asked by the uninitiated: “Why did one Buddhism ever allow itself to be differentiated into two systems, which are apparently in contradiction in more than one point with each other?” In other words, “How can there be two Buddhisms equally representing the true doctrine of the founder?”
The reason is plain enough. The teachings of a great religious founder are as a rule very general, comprehensive, and many-sided: and, therefore, there are great possibilities in them to allow various liberal interpretations by his disciples. And it is on this very account of comprehensiveness that enables followers of diverse needs, characters, and trainings to satisfy their spiritual appetite universally and severally with the teachings of their master. This comprehensiveness, however, is not due to the intentional use by the leader of ambiguous terms, nor is it due to the obscurity and confusion of his own conceptions. The initiator of a movement, spiritual as well as intellectual, has no time to think out all its possible details and consequences. When the principle of the movement is understood by the contemporaries and the foundation of it is solidly laid down, his own part as initiator is accomplished; and the remainder can safely be left over to his successors. The latter will take up the work and carry it out in all its particulars, while making all necessary alterations and ameliorations according to circumstances. Therefore, the rôle to be played by the originator is necessarily indefinite and comprehensive.
Kant, for instance, as promoter of German philosophy, has become the father of such diverse philosophical systems as Jacobi’s, Fichte’s, Hegel’s, Schopenhauer’s, etc., while each of them endeavored to develop some points indefinitely or covertly or indirectly stated by Kant himself. Jesus of Nazareth, as instigator of a revolutionary movement against Judaism, did not have any stereotyped theological doctrines, such as were established later by Christian doctors. The indefiniteness of his views was so apparent that it caused even among his personal disciples a sort of dissension, while a majority of his disciples cherished a visionary hope for the advent of a divine kingdom on earth. But those externalities which are doomed to pass, do not prevent the spirit of the movement once awakened by a great leader from growing more powerful and noble.
The same thing can be said of the teachings of the Buddha. What he inspired in his followers was the spirit of that religious system which is now known as Buddhism. Guided by this spirit, his followers severally developed his teachings as required by their special needs and circumstances, finally giving birth to the distinction of Mahâyânism and Hînayânism.
The Original Meaning of Mahâyâna.
The term Mahâyâna was first used to designate the highest principle, or being, or knowledge, of which the universe with all its sentient and non-sentient beings is a manifestation, and through which only they can attain final salvation (mokṣa or nirvâna). Mahâyâna was not the name given to any religious doctrine, nor had it anything to do with doctrinal controversy, though later it was so utilised by the progressive party.
Açvaghoṣa, the first Mahâyâna expounder known to us,—living about the time of Christ,—used the term in his religio-philosophical book called Discourse on the Awakening of Faith in the Mahâyâna[3] as synonymous with Bhûtatathâtâ, or Dharmakâyâ,[4] the highest principle of Mahâyânism. He likened the recognition of, and faith in, this highest being and principle into a conveyance which will carry us safely across the tempestuous ocean of birth and death (samsâra) to the eternal shore of Nirvâna.
Soon after him, however, the controversy between the two schools of Buddhism, conservatives and progressionists as we might call them, became more and more pronounced; and when it reached its climax which was most probably in the times of Nâgârjuna and Âryadeva, i.e., a few centuries after Açvaghoṣa, the progressive party ingeniously invented the term Hînayâna in contrast to Mahâyâna, the latter having been adopted by them as the watchword of their own school. The Hînayânists and the Tîrthakas[5] then were sweepingly condemned by the Mahâyânists as inadequate to achieve a universal salvation of sentient beings.
An Older Classification of Buddhists.
Before the distinction of Mahâyânists and Hînayânists became definite, that is to say, at the time of Nâgârjuna or even before it, those Buddhists who held a more progressive and broader view tried to distinguish three yânas among the followers of the Buddha, viz., Bodhisattva-yâna, Pratyekabuddha-yâna, and Çrâvaka-yâna; yâna being another name for class.
The Bodhisattva is that class of Buddhists who, believing in the Bodhi (intelligence or wisdom), which is a reflection of the Dharmakâya in the human soul, direct all their spiritual energy toward realising and developing it for the sake of their fellow-creatures.
The Pratyekabuddha is a “solitary thinker” or a philosopher, who, retiring into solitude and calmly contemplating on the evanescence of worldly pleasures, endeavors to attain his own salvation, but remains unconcerned with the sufferings of his fellow-beings. Religiously considered, a Pratyekabuddha is cold, impassive, egotistic, and lacks love for all mankind.
The Çrâvaka which means “hearer” is inferior in the estimate of Mahâyânists even to the Pratyekabuddha, for he does not possess any intellect that enables him to think independently and to find out by himself the way to final salvation. Being endowed, however, with a pious heart, he is willing to listen to the instructions of the Buddha, to believe in him, to observe faithfully all the moral precepts given by him, and rests fully contented within the narrow horizon of his mediocre intellect.
To a further elucidation of Bodhisattvahood and its important bearings in the Mahâyâna Buddhism, we devote a special chapter below. For Mahâyânism is no more than the Buddhism of Bodhisattvas, while the Pratyekabuddhas and the Çrâvakas are considered by Mahâyânists to be adherents of Hînayânism.
The Mahâyâna Buddhism Defined.
We can now form a somewhat definite notion as to what the Mahâyâna Buddhism is. It is the Buddhism which, inspired by a progressive spirit, broadened its original scope, so far as it did not contradict the inner significance of the teachings of the Buddha, and which assimilated other religio-philosophical beliefs within itself, whenever it felt that, by so doing, people of more widely different characters and intellectual endowments could be saved. Let us be satisfied at present with this statement, until we enter into a more detailed exposition of its doctrinal peculiarities in the pages that follow.
It may not be out of place, while passing, to remark that the term Mahâyânism is used in this work merely in contradistinction to that form of Buddhism, which is flourishing in Ceylon and Burma and other central Asiatic nations, and whose literature is principally written in the language called Pâli, which comes from the same stock as Sanskrit. The term “Mahâyâna” does not imply, as it is used here, any sense of superiority over the Hînayâna. When the historical aspect of Mahâyânism is treated, it may naturally develop that its over-zealous and one-sided devotees unnecessarily emphasised its controversial and dogmatical phase at the sacrifice of its true spirit; but the reader must not think that this work has anything to do with those complications. In fact, Mahâyânism professes to be a boundless ocean in which all form of thought and faith can find its congenial and welcome home; why then should we make it militate against its own fellow-doctrine, Hînayânism?
2. IS THE MAHÂYÂNA BUDDHISM THE GENUINE
TEACHING OF THE BUDDHA?
What is generally known to the Western nations by the name of Buddhism is Hînayânism, whose scriptures as above stated are written in Pâli and studied mostly in Ceylon, Burma, and Siam. It was through this language that the first knowledge of Buddhism was acquired by Orientalists; and naturally they came to regard Hînayânism or Southern Buddhism as the only genuine teachings of the Buddha. They insisted, and some of them still insist, that to have an adequate and thorough knowledge of Buddhism, they must confine themselves solely to the study of the Pâli, that whatever may be learned from other sources, i.e., from the Sanskrit, Tibetan, or Chinese documents should be considered as throwing only a side-light on the reliable information obtained from the Pâli, and further that the knowledge derived from the former should in certain cases be discarded as accounts of a degenerated form of Buddhism. Owing to these unfortunate hypotheses, the significance of Mahâyânism as a living religion has been entirely ignored; and even those who are regarded as best authorities on the subject appear greatly misinformed and, what is worse, altogether prejudiced.
No Life Without Growth.
This is very unfair on the part of the critics, because what religion is there in the whole history of mankind that has not made any development whatever, that has remained the same, like the granite, throughout its entire course? Let us ask whether there is any religion which has shown some signs of vitality and yet retained its primitive form intact and unmodified in every respect. Is not changeableness, that is, susceptibility to irritation the most essential sign of vitality? Every organism grows, which means a change in some way or other. There is no form of life to be found anywhere on earth, that does not grow or change, or that has not any inherent power of adjusting itself to the surrounding conditions.
Take, for example, Christianity. Is Protestantism the genuine teaching of Jesus of Nazareth? or does Catholicism represent his true spirit? Jesus himself did not have any definite notion of Trinity doctrine, nor did he propose any suggestion for ritualism. According to the Synoptics, he appears to have cherished a rather immature conception of the kingdom of God than a purely ideal one as conceived by Paul, and his personal disciples who were just as illiterate philosophically as the master himself were anxiously waiting in all probability for its mundane realisation. But what Christians, Catholics or Protestants, in these days of enlightenment, would dare give a literal explanation to this material conception of the coming kingdom?
Again, think of Jesus’s view on marriage and social life. Is it not an established fact that he highly advocated celibacy and in the case of married people strict continence, and also that he greatly favored pious poverty and asceticism in general? In these respects, the monks of the Medieval Ages and the Catholic priests of the present day (though I cannot say they are ascetic and poor in their living) must be said to be in more accord with the teaching of the master than their Protestant brethren. But what Protestants would seriously venture to defend all those views of Jesus, in spite of their avowed declaration that they are sincerely following in the steps of their Lord? Taking all in all, these contradictions do not prevent them, Protestants as well as Catholics, from calling themselves Christians and even good, pious, devoted Christians, as long as they are consciously or unconsciously animated by the same spirit, that was burning in the son of the carpenter of Nazareth, an obscure village of Galilee, about two thousand years ago.
The same mode of reasoning holds good in the case of Mahâyânism, and it would be absurd to insist on the genuineness of Hînayânism at the expense of the former. Take for granted that the Mahâyâna school of Buddhism contains some elements absorbed from other Indian religio-philosophical systems; but what of it? Is not Christianity also an amalgamation, so to speak, of Jewish, Greek, Roman, Babylonian, Egyptian, and other pagan thoughts? In fact every healthy and energetic religion is historical, in the sense that, in the course of its development, it has adapted itself to the ever-changing environment, and has assimilated within itself various elements which appeared at first even threatening its own existence. In Christianity, this process of assimilation, adaptation, and modification has been going on from its very beginning. As the result, we see in the Christianity of to-day its original type so metamorphosed, so far as its outward appearance is concerned, that nobody would now take it for a faithful copy of the prototype.
Mahâyânism a Living Faith.
So with Mahâyânism. Whatever changes it has made during its historical evolution, its spirit and central ideas are all those of its founder. The question whether or not it is genuine, entirely depends on our interpretation of the term “genuine.” If we take it to mean the lifeless preservation of the original, we should say that Mahâyânism is not the genuine teaching of the Buddha, and we may add that Mahâyânists would be proud of the fact, because being a living religious force it would never condescend to be the corpse of a by-gone faith. The fossils, however faithfully preserved, are nothing but rigid inorganic substances from which life is forever departed. Mahâyânism is far from this; it is an ever-growing faith and ready in all times to cast off its old garments as soon as they are worn out. But its spirit originally inspired by the “Teacher of Men and Gods” (çâstadevamanuṣyânam) is most jealously guarded against pollution and degeneration. Therefore, as far as its spirit is concerned, there is no room left to doubt its genuineness; and those who desire to have a complete survey of Buddhism cannot ignore the significance of Mahâyânism.
It is naught but an idle talk to question the historical value of an organism, which is now full of vitality and active in all its functions, and to treat it like an archeological object, dug out from the depths of the earth, or like a piece of bric-à-brac, discovered in the ruins of an ancient royal palace. Mahâyânism is not an object of historical curiosity. Its vitality and activity concern us in our daily life. It is a great spiritual organism; its moral and religious forces are still exercising an enormous power over millions of souls; and its further development is sure to be a very valuable contribution to the world-progress of the religious consciousness. What does it matter, then, whether or not Mahâyânism is the genuine teaching of the Buddha?
Here is an instance of most flagrant contradictions present in our minds, but of which we are not conscious on account of our preconceived ideas. Christian critics vigorously insist on the genuineness of their own religion, which is no more than a hybrid, at least outwardly; but they want to condemn their rival religion as degenerated, because it went through various stages of development like theirs. It is of no practical use to trouble with this nonsensical question,—the question of the genuineness of Mahâyânism, which by the way is frequently raised by outsiders as well as by some unenlightened Buddhists themselves.
3. SOME MISSTATEMENTS ABOUT THE
MAHÂYÂNA DOCTRINES.
Before entering fully into the subject proper of this work, let us glance over some erroneous opinions about the Mahâyâna doctrines, which are held by some Western scholars, and naturally by all uninitiated readers, who are like the blind led by the blind. It may not be altogether a superfluous work to give them a passing review in this chapter and to show broadly what Mahâyânism is not.
Why Injustice is done to Buddhism.
The people who have had their thoughts and sentiments habitually trained by one particular set of religious dogmas, frequently misjudge the value of those thoughts that are strange and unfamiliar to them. We may call this class of people bigots or religious enthusiasts. They may have fine religious and moral sentiments as far as their own religious training goes; but, when examined from a broader point of view, they are to a great extent vitiated with prejudices, superstitions, and fanatical beliefs, which, since childhood, have been pumped into their receptive minds, before they were sufficiently developed and could form independent judgments. This fact so miserably spoils their purity of sentiment and obscures their transparency of intellect, that they are disqualified to perceive and appreciate whatever is good and true and beautiful in the so-called heathen religions. This is the main reason why those Christian missionaries are incapable of rightly understanding the spirit of religion generally—I mean, those missionaries who come to the East to substitute one set of superstitions for another.
This strong general indictment against the Christian missionaries, however, is by no means prompted by any partisan spirit. My desire, on the contrary, is to do justice to those thoughts and sentiments that have been working consciously or unconsciously in the human mind from time immemorial and shall work on till the day of the last judgment, if there ever be such a day. To see what these thoughts and sentiments are, which, by the way, constitute the kernel of every religion, we must without any reluctance throw off all the prejudices we are liable to cherish, though quite unknowingly; and keeping always in view what is most essential in the religious consciousness, we must not confound it with its accessories, which are doomed to die in the course of time.
Examples of Injustice.
As specimen of injustice done to the Mahâyâna Buddhism by Christian critics, we quote the following passages from Monier-William’s Buddhism, Waddell’s Buddhism in Tibet, and Samuel Beal’s Buddhism in China, all of which are representative works each in its own field.
Monier Monier-Williams.
Monier Monier-Williams is a well-known authority on Sanskrit literature, and his works in this department will long remain as a valuable contribution to human knowledge. But, unfortunately, as soon as he attempts to enter the domain of religious controversy, his intellect becomes piteously obscured by his preconceived ideas. He thinks, for instance, that the principal feature of Mahâyânism consists merely in amplifying the number of Bodhisattvas, who are contented, according to his view, with their “perpetual residence in the heavens, and quite willing to put off all desires for Buddhahood and Parinirvana.” (P. 190.)
This remark is so absurd that it will at once be rejected by any one who has a first-hand knowledge of the Mahâyâna system, as even unworthy of refutation, but Monier-Williams takes special pains to give to his characterisation of the Mahâyâna doctrine a show of rational explanation. “Of course,” says he, “men instinctively recoiled from utter self-annihilation, and so the Buddha’s followers ended in changing the true idea of Nirvana and converting it from a condition of non-existence into a state of lazy beatitude in celestial regions (!), while they encouraged all men—whether monks or laymen—to make a sense of dreamy bliss in Heaven (!), and not total extinction of life, the end of all their efforts.” (P. 156.)
This view of the Buddhist heaven as interpreted by Monier-Williams is nothing but the conception of the Christian heaven colored with paganism. Nothing is more foreign to Buddhists than this distinguished Sankritist’s interpretation of celestial existence. The life of devas (celestial beings) is just as much subject to the law of birth and death as that of men on earth. What consolation would there be for the Mahâyânists striving after the highest principle of existence, only to find themselves transmigrated to a celestial abode, that is also full of sorrows and sufferings? Always working for the welfare of their fellow-creatures, the Bodhisattvas never desire any earthly or heavenly happiness for themselves. Whatever merits, according to the law of karma, there be stored up for their good work, they do not have any wish to enjoy them by themselves, but they will have all these merits turned over (parivarta) to the interests of their fellow-beings. This is the ideal of Bodhisattvas, i.e., of the followers of Mahâyânism.
Beal.
Samuel Beal who is considered by Western scholars to be an authority on Chinese Buddhism, referring to the Mahâyâna conception of Dharmakâya,[6] says in his Buddhism in China (p. 156): “We can have little doubt, then, that from early days worship was offered by Buddhists at several spots, consecrated by the presence of the Teacher, to an invisible presence. This presence was formulated by the later Buddhists under the phrase, ‘the Body of the Law’, Dharmakâya.”
Then, alluding to Buddha’s instruction that says after his Parinirvana the Law given by him should be regarded as himself, Beal proceeds to say: “Here was the germ from which proceeded the idea or formula of an invisible presence: teaching and power of the Law (Dharma) represented the Dharmakâya or Law-Body of Buddha, present with the order, and fit for reverence.”
To interpret Dharmakâya as the Body of the Law is quite inadequate and misleading. To the Hînayânists, there is nothing beside the Tripitaka as the object of reverence, and, therefore, the notion of the Body of the Law has no meaning to them. The idea is distinctly Mahâyânistic, but Beal is not well informed about its real significance as understood by the Buddhists. The chief reason of his misinterpretation, as I judge, lies in his rendering dharma by “law”, while dharma here means “that which subsists,” or “that which maintains itself even when all the transient modes disappear,” in short, “being,” or “substance.” Dharmakâya, therefore, would be a sort of the Absolute, or Essence-Body of all things. This notion plays such an important rôle in Mahâyânism that an adequate knowledge of it is indispensable to understand the constitution of Mahâyânism as a religious system.
Waddell.
Let us state one more case of misrepresentation by Western scholars of the Mahâyâna Buddhism. Waddell, author of Buddhism in Tibet, referring to the point of divergence between the so-called Northern Buddhism and the Southern, says (pp. 10-11): “It was the theistic Mahâyâna doctrine which substituted, for the agnostic idealism and simple morality of Buddha, a speculative theistic system with a mysticism of sophistic nihilism in the background.”
And again: “This Mahâyâna [meaning Nâgârjuna’s Mâdhyamika school] was essentially a sophistic nihilism, or rather Parinirvana, while ceasing to be extinction of life, was converted a mystic state which admitted of no definition.”
It may not be wrong to call Mahâyânism a speculative theistic system in a wide sense, but it must be asked on what ground Waddell thinks that it has in its background “a mysticism of sophistic nihilism”. Could a religious system be called sophistry when it makes a close inquiry into the science of dialectics, in order to show how futile it is to seek salvation through the intellect alone? Could a religious system be called a nihilism when it endeavors to reach the highest reality which transcends the phenomenality of concrete individual existences? Could a doctrine be called nihilistic when it defines the absolute as neither void (çûnya) nor not-void (açûnya)?
I could cull some more passages from other Buddhist scholars of the West and show how far Mahâyânism has been made by them a subject of misrepresentation. But since this work is not a polemic, but devoted to a positive exposition of its basic doctrines, I refrain from so doing. Suffice it to state that one of the main causes of the injustice done to Buddhism by the Christian critics comes from their preconceptions, of which they may not be aware, but which all the more vitiate their “impartial” judgments.
4. THE SIGNIFICANCE OF RELIGION.
Those misconceptions about Buddhism as above stated induce me to digress in this introductory part and to say a few words concerning the distinction between the form and the spirit of religion. A clear knowledge of this distinction will greatly facilitate the formation of a correct notion about Mahâyânism and will also help us duly to appreciate its significance as a living religious faith.
By the spirit of religion I mean that element in religion which remains unchanged throughout its successive stages of development and transformation: while the form of it is the external shell which is subject to any modification required by circumstances.
No Revealed Religion.
It admits of no doubt that religion, as everything else under the sun, is subject to the laws of evolution, and that, therefore, there is no such thing as a revealed religion, whose teachings are supposed to have been delivered to us direct from the hands of an anthropomorphic or anthropopsychic supernatural being, and which, like an inorganic substance, remains forever the same, without changing, without growing, without modifying itself in accord with the surrounding conditions. Unless people are so blinded by a belief in this kind of religion as to insist that its dogmas have suffered absolutely no change whatever since its “revelation,” they must recognise like every clear-headed person the fact that there are some ephemeral elements in every religion, which must carefully be distinguished from its quintessence which remains eternally the same.
When this discrimination is not observed, prejudice will at once assert itself, inducing them to imagine that the religion in which they were brought up with all its truths and superstitions is the only orthodox religion in the world, and all the other religions are nothing else than heathenism, idolatry, atheism, apostasy, and the like. This attitude of such religionists, however, serves only to betray their own narrowness of mind and dimness of spiritual insight. No one who desires to penetrate into the innermost recesses of the human heart and who longs to feel the fullest meaning of life, should foster in himself in the least degree a disposition of bigotry.
The Mystery.
Religion is the inmost voice of the human heart that under the yoke of a seemingly finite existence groans and travails in pain. Mankind, from their first appearance on earth, have never been satisfied with the finiteness and impermanency of life. They have always been yearning after something that will liberate them from the slavery of this mortal coil, or from the cursed bondage of metempsychosis, as Hindu thinkers express it. This something, however, on account of its transcending all the principles of separation and individuation, which characterise the phenomena of this mundane existence, has always remained as something indefinite, inadequate, chaotic, and full of mystery. And, according to different degrees of intellectual development in different ages and nations, people have endeavored to invest this mysterious something with all sorts of human feelings and intelligence. Most of modern scientists are now content with the hypothesis that the mystery is unfathomable by the human mind, which is conditioned by the law of relativity, and that our business here, moral as well as intellectual, can be executed without troubling ourselves with this ever-haunting problem of mystery;—this doctrine is called agnosticism.
But this hypothesis can in no wise be considered the final sentence passed on the mystery. From the scientific point of view, the maxim of agnosticism is excellent, as science does not pretend to venture into the realm of non-relativity. Dissatisfaction, however, presents itself, when we attempt to silence by this hypothesis the last demand of the human heart.
Intellect and Imagination.
The human heart is not an intellectual crystal. When the intellect displays itself in its full glory, the heart still aches and struggles to get hold of something beyond. The intellect may sometimes declare that it has at last laid its hand on what is demanded by the heart. Time passes on, and the mystery is examined from the other points that escaped consideration before, and, to the great disappointment of the heart, the supposed solution is found to be wanting. The intellect is baffled. But the human heart never gets tired of its yearnings and demands a satisfaction ever more pressingly. Should they be considered a mere nightmare of imagination? Surely not, for herein lies the field where religion claims supreme authority, and its claim is perfectly right.
But religion cannot fabricate whatever it pleases; it must work in perfect accord with the intellect. As the essential nature of man does not consist solely in intellect, or will, or feeling, but in the coördination of these psychical elements, religion must guard herself against the unrestrained flight of imagination. Most of the superstitions fondly cherished by a pious heart are due to the disregard of the intellectual element in religion.
The imagination creates: the intellect discriminates. Creation without discrimination is wild: discrimination without creation is barren. Religion and science, when they do not work with mutual understanding, are sure to be one-sided. The soul makes an abnormal growth at one point, loses its balance, and is finally given up to a collapse of the entire system. Those pious religious enthusiasts who see a natural enemy in science and denounce it with all their energy, are, in my opinion, as purblind and distorted in their view, as those men of science who think that science alone must claim the whole field of soul-activities as well as those of nature. I am not in sympathy with either of them: for one is just as arrogant in its claim as the other. Without a careful examination of both sides of a shield, we are not competent to give a correct opinion upon it.
But the imagination is not the exclusive possession of religion, nor is discrimination or ratiocination the monopoly of science. They are reciprocal and complementary: one cannot do anything without the other. The difference between science and religion is not that between certitude and probability. The difference is rather in their respective fields of activity. Science is solely concerned with things conditional, relative, and finite. When it explains a given phenomenon by some fixed laws which are in turn nothing but a generalisation of particular facts, the task of science is done, and any further attempt to go beyond this, i.e., to make an inquiry into the whence, whither, and why of things, is beyond its realm. But the human soul does not remain satisfied here, it asks for the ultimate principle underlying all so-called scientific laws and hypotheses. Science is indifferent to the teleology of things: a mechanical explanation of them appeases its intellectual curiosity. But in religion teleology is of paramount importance, it is one of the most fundamental problems, and a system which does not give any definite conception on this point is no religion. Science, again, does not care if there is something beyond or outside its manifold laws and theories; but a religion which does not possess a God or anything corresponding to it, ceases to be so, for it fails to give consolation to the human heart.
The Contents of Faith vary.
The solution of religious problems, as far as they fall within the sphere of relative experience, is largely a matter of personal conviction, determined by one’s intellectual development, external circumstances, education, disposition, etc. The conceptions of faith thus formulated are naturally infinitely diversified; even among the followers of a certain definite set of dogmas, each will understand them in his own way, owing to individual peculiarities. If we could subject their conceptions of faith to a strict analysis as a chemist does his materials, we should detect in them all the possible forms of differentiation. But all these things belong to the exterior of religion and have nothing to do with the essentials which underlie them.
The abiding elements of religion come from within, and consist mainly in the mysterious sentiment that lies hidden in the deepest depths of the human heart, and that, when awakened, shakes the whole structure of personality and brings about a great spiritual revolution, which results in a complete change of one’s world-conception. When this mysterious sentiment finds expression and formulates its conceptions in the terms of intellect, it becomes a definite system of beliefs, which is popularly called religion, but which should properly be termed dogmatism, that is, an intellectualised form of religion. On the other hand, the outward forms of religion consist of those changing elements that are mainly determined by the intellectual and moral development of the times as well as by individual esthetical feelings.
True Christians and enlightened Buddhists may, therefore, find their point of agreement in the recognition of the inmost religious sentiment that constitutes the basis of our being, though this agreement does by no means prevent them from retaining their individuality in the conceptions and expressions of faith. My conviction is: If the Buddha and the Christ changed their accidental places of birth, Gautama might have been a Christ rising against the Jewish traditionalism, and Jesus a Buddha, perhaps propounding the doctrine of non-ego and Nirvâna and Dharmakâya.
However great a man may be, he cannot but be an echo of the spirit of the times. He never stands, as is supposed by some, so aloof and towering above the masses as to be practically by himself. On the contrary, “he,” as Emerson says, “finds himself in the river of the thoughts and events, forced onward by the ideas and necessities of his contemporaries.” So it was with the Buddha, and so with the Christ. They were nothing but the concrete representatives of the ideas and feelings that were struggling in those times against the established institutions, which were degenerating fast and menaced the progress of humanity. But at the same time those ideas and sentiments were the outburst of the Eternal Soul, which occasionally makes a solemn announcement of its will, through great historical figures or through great world-events.
* * *
Believing that a bit of religio-philosophical exposition as above indulged will prepare the minds of my Christian readers sincerely to take up the study of a religious system other than their own, I now proceed to a systematical elucidation of the Mahâyâna Buddhism, as it is believed at present in the Far East.
CHAPTER I.
A GENERAL CHARACTERISATION OF BUDDHISM.
No God and no Soul.
Buddhism is considered by some to be a religion without a God and without a soul. The statement is true and untrue according to what meaning we give to those terms.
Buddhism does not recognise the existence of a being, who stands aloof from his “creations,” and who meddles occasionally with human affairs when his capricious will pleases him. This conception of a supreme being is very offensive to Buddhists. They are unable to perceive any truth in the hypotheses, that a being like ourselves created the universe out of nothing and first peopled it with a pair of sentient beings; that, owing to a crime committed by them, which, however, could have been avoided if the creator so desired, they were condemned by him to eternal damnation; that the creator in the meantime feeling pity for the cursed, or suffering the bite of remorse for his somewhat rash deed, despatched his only beloved son to the earth for the purpose of rescuing mankind from universal misery, etc., etc. If Buddhism is called atheism on account of its refusal to take poetry for actual fact, its followers would have no objection to the designation.
Next, if we understand by soul âtman, which, secretly hiding itself behind all mental activities, direct them after the fashion of an organist striking different notes as he pleases, Buddhists outspokenly deny the existence of such a fabulous being. To postulate an independent âtman outside a combination of the five Skandhas[7], of which an individual being is supposed by Buddhists to consist, is to unreservedly welcome egoism with all its pernicious corollaries. And what distinguishes Buddhism most characteristically and emphatically from all other religions is the doctrine of non-âtman or non-ego, exactly opposite to the postulate of a soul-substance which is cherished by most of religious enthusiasts. In this sense, Buddhism is undoubtedly a religion without the soul.
To make these points clearer in a general way, let us briefly treat in this chapter of such principal tenets of Buddhism as Karma, Âtman, Avidyâ, Nirvâna, Dharmakâya, etc. Some of these doctrines being the common property of the two schools of Buddhism, Hînayânism and Mahâyânism, their brief, comprehensive exposition here will furnish our readers with a general notion about the constitution of Buddhism, and will also prepare them to pursue a further specific exposition of the Mahâyâna doctrine which follows.
Karma.
One of the most fundamental doctrines established by Buddha is that nothing in this world comes from a single cause, that the existence of a universe is the result of a combination of several causes (hetu) and conditions (pratyaya), and is at the same time an active force contributing to the production of an effect in the future. As far as phenomenal existences are concerned, this law of cause and effect holds universally valid. Nothing, even God, can interfere with the course of things thus regulated, materially as well as morally. If a God really exists and has some concern about our worldly affairs, he must first conform himself to the law of causation. Because the principle of karma, which is the Buddhist term for causation morally conceived, holds supreme everywhere and all the time.
The conception of karma plays the most important rôle in Buddhist ethics. Karma is the formative principle of the universe. It determines the course of events and the destiny of our existence. The reason why we cannot change our present state of things as we may will, is that it has already been determined by the karma that was performed in our previous lives, not only individually but collectively. But, for this same reason, we shall be able to work out our destiny in the future, which is nothing but the resultant of several factors that are working and that are being worked by ourselves in this life.
Therefore, says Buddha:
“By self alone is evil done,
By self is one disgraced;
By self is evil left undone,
By self alone is he purified;
Purity and impurity belong to self:
No one can purify another.”[8]
Again,
“Not in the sky
Nor in the midst of the sea,
Nor entering a cleft of the mountains,
Is found that realm on earth
Where one may stand and be
From an evil deed absolved.”[9]
This doctrine of karma may be regarded as an application in our ethical realm of the theory of the conservation of energy. Everything done is done once for all; its footprints on the sand of our moral and social evolution are forever left; nay, more than left, they are generative, good or evil, and waiting for further development under favorable conditions. In the physical world, even the slightest possible movement of our limbs cannot but affect the general cosmic motion of the earth, however infinitesimal it be; and if we had a proper instrument, we could surely measure its precise extent of effect. So is it even with our deeds. A deed once performed, together with its subjective motives, can never vanish without leaving some impressions either on the individual consciousness or on the supra-individual, i.e., social consciousness.
We need not further state that the conception of karma in its general aspect is scientifically verified. In our moral and material life, where the law of relativity rules supreme, the doctrine of karma must be considered thoroughly valid. And as long as its validity is admitted in this field, we can live our phenomenal life without resorting to the hypothesis of a personal God, as declared by Lamarck when his significant work on evolution was presented to Emperor Napoleon.
But it will do injustice to Buddhism if we designate it agnosticism or naturalism, denying or ignoring the existence of the ultimate, unifying principle, in which all contradictions are obliterated. Dharmakâya is the name given by Buddhists to this highest principle, viewed not only from the philosophical but also from the religious standpoint. In the Dharmakâya, Buddhists find the ultimate significance of life, which, when seen from its phenomenal aspect, cannot escape the bondage of karma and its irrefragable laws.
Avidyâ.
What claims our attention next, is the problem of nescience, which is one of the most essential features of Buddhism. Buddhists think, nescience (in Sanskrit avidyâ) is the subjective aspect of karma, involving us in a series of rebirths. Rebirth, considered by itself, is no moral evil, but rather a necessary condition of progress toward perfection, if perfection ever be attainable here. It is an evil only when it is the outcome of ignorance,—ignorance as to the true meaning of our earthly existence.
Ignorant are they who do not recognise the evanescence of worldly things and who tenaciously cleave to them as final realities; who madly struggle to shun the misery brought about by their own folly; who savagely cling to the self against the will of God, as Christians would say; who take particulars as final existences and ignore One pervading reality which underlies them all; who build up an adamantine wall between the mine and thine: in a word, ignorant are those who do not understand that there is no such thing as an ego-soul, and that all individual existences are unified in the system of Dharmakâya. Buddhism, therefore, most emphatically maintains that to attain the bliss of Nirvana we must radically dispel this illusion, this ignorance, this root of all evil and suffering in this life.
The doctrine of nescience or ignorance is technically expressed in the following formula, which is commonly called the Twelve Nidânas or Pratyayasamutpada, that is to say Chains of Dependence:
(1) There is Ignorance (avidyâ) in the beginning; (2) from Ignorance Action (sanskâra) comes forth; (3) from Action Consciousness (vijñâna) comes forth; (4) from Consciousness Name-and-Form (nâmarûpa) comes forth; (5) from Name-and-Form the Six Organs (ṣadâyâtana) come forth; (6) from the Six Organs Touch (sparça) comes forth; (7) from Touch Sensation (vedanâ) comes forth; (8) from Sensation Desire (tṛṣnâ) comes forth; (9) from Desire Clinging (upâdâna) comes forth; (10) from Clinging Being (bhâva) comes forth; (11) from Being Birth (jati) comes forth; and (12) from Birth Pain (duḥkha) comes forth.
According to Vasubandhu’s Abhidharmakoça, the formula is explained as follows: Being ignorant in our previous life as to the significance of our existence, we let loose our desires and act wantonly. Owing to this karma, we are destined in the present life to be endowed with consciousness (vijñâna), name-and-form (nâmarûpa), the six organs of sense (ṣadâyâtana), and sensation (vedanâ). By the exercise of these faculties, we now desire for, hanker after, cling to, these illusive existences which have no ultimate reality whatever. In consequence of this “Will to Live” we potentially accumulate or make up the karma that will lead us to further metempsychosis of birth and death.
The formula is by no means logical, nor is it exhaustive, but the fundamental notion that life started in ignorance or blind will remains veritable.
Non-Atman.
The problem of nescience naturally leads to the doctrine usually known as that of non-Atman, i.e., non-ego, to which allusion was made at the beginning of this chapter. This doctrine of Buddhism is one of the subjects that have caused much criticism by Christian scholars. Its thesis runs: There is no such thing as ego-soul, which, according to the vulgar interpretation, is the agent of our mental activities. And this is the reason why Buddhism is sometimes called a religion without the soul, as aforesaid.
This Buddhist negation of the ego-soul is perhaps startling to the people, who, having no speculative power, blindly accept the traditional, materialistic view of the soul. They think, they are very spiritual in endorsing the dualism of soul and flesh, and in making the soul something like a corporeal entity, though far more ethereal than an ordinary object of the senses. They think of the soul as being more in the form of an angel, when they teach that it ascends to heaven immediately after its release from the material imprisonment.
They further imagine that the soul, because of its imprisonment in the body, groans in pain for its liberty, not being able to bear its mundane limitations. The immortality of the soul is a continuation after the dismemberment of material elements of this ethereal, astral, ghost-like entity,—very much resembling the Samkhyan Lingham or the Vedantic sûkṣama-çârîra. Self-consciousness will not a whit suffer in its continued activity, as it is the essential function of the soul. Brothers and sisters, parents and sons and daughters, wives and husbands, all transfigured and sublimated, will meet again in the celestial abode, and perpetuate their home life much after the manner of their earthly one. People who take this view of the soul and its immortality must feel a great disappointment or even resentment, when they are asked to recognise the Buddhist theory of non-âtman.
The absurdity of ascribing to the soul a sort of astral existence taught by some theosophists is due to the confusion of the name and the object corresponding to it. The soul, or what is tantamount according to the vulgar notion, the ego, is a name given to a certain coördination of mental activities. Abstract names are invented by us to economise our intellectual labors, and of course have no corresponding realities as particular presences in the concrete objective world. Vulgar minds have forgotten the history of the formation of abstract names. Being accustomed always to find certain objective realities or concrete individuals answering to certain names, they—those naïve realists—imagine that all names, irrespective of their nature, must have their concrete individual equivalents in the sensual world. Their idealism or spiritualism, so called, is in fact a gross form of materialism, in spite of their unfounded fear for the latter as atheistic and even immoral;—curse of ignorance!
The non-âtman theory does not deny that there is a coördination or unification of various mental operations. Buddhism calls this system of coördination vijñâna, not âtman. Vijñâna is consciousness, while âtman is the ego conceived as a concrete entity,—a hypostatic agent which, abiding in the deepest recess of the mind, directs all subjective activities according to its own discretion. This view is radically rejected by Buddhism.
A familiar analogy illustrating the doctrine of non-âtman is the notion of a wheel or that of a house. Wheel is the name given to a combination in a fixed form of the spokes, axle, tire, hub, rim, etc.; house is that given to a combination of roofs, pillars, windows, floors, walls, etc., after a certain model and for a certain purpose. Now, take all these parts independently, and where is the house or the wheel to be found? House or wheel is merely the name designating a certain form in which parts are systematically and definitely disposed. What an absurdity, then, it must be to insist on the independent existence of the wheel or of the house as an agent behind the combination of certain parts thus definitely arranged!
It is wonderful that Buddhism clearly anticipated the outcome of modern psychological researches at the time when all other religious and philosophical systems were eagerly cherishing dogmatic superstitions concerning the nature of the ego. The refusal of modern psychology to have soul mean anything more than the sum-total of all mental experiences, such as sensations, ideas, feelings, decisions, etc., is precisely a rehearsal of the Buddhist doctrine of non-âtman. It does not deny that there is a unity of consciousness, for to deny this is to doubt our everyday experiences, but it refuses to assert that this unity is absolute, unconditioned, and independent. Everything in this phenomenal phase of existence, is a combination of certain causes (hetu) and conditions (pratyaya) brought together according to the principle of karma; and everything that is compound is finite and subject to dissolution, and, therefore, always limited by something else. Even the soul-life, as far as its phenomenality goes, is no exception to this universal law. To maintain the existence of a soul-substance which is supposed to lie hidden behind the phenomena of consciousness, is not only misleading, but harmful and productive of some morally dangerous conclusions. The supposition that there is something where there is really nothing, makes us cling to this chimerical form, with no other result than subjecting ourselves to an eternal series of sufferings. So we read in the Lankâvatâra Sûtra, III:
“A flower in the air, or a hare with horns,
Or a pregnant maid of stone:
To take what is not for what is,
’Tis called a judgment false.“In a combination of causes,
The vulgar seek the reality of self.
As truth they understand not,
From birth to birth they transmigrate.”
The Non-Atman-ness of Things.
Mahâyânism has gone a step further than Hînayânism in the development of the doctrine of non-âtman, for it expressly disavows, besides the denial of the existence of the ego-substance, a noumenal conception of things, i.e., the conception of particulars as having something absolute in them. Hînayânism, indeed, also disfavors this conception of thinginess, but it does so only implicitly. It is Mahâyânism that definitely insists on the non-existence of a personal (pudgala) as well as a thingish (dharma) ego.
According to the vulgar view, particular existences are real, they have permanent substantial entities, remaining forever as such. They think, therefore, that organic matter remains forever organic just as much as inorganic matter remains inorganic; that, as they are essentially different, there is no mutual transformation between them. The human soul is different from that of the lower animals and sentient beings from non-sentient beings; the difference being well-defined and permanent, there is no bridge over which one can cross to the other. We may call this view naturalistic egoism.
Mahâyânism, against this egoistic conception of the world, extends its theory of non-âtman to the realm lying outside us. It maintains that there is no irreducible reality in particular existences, so long as they are combinations of several causes and conditions brought together by the principle of karma. Things are here because they are sustained by karma. As soon as its force is exhausted, the conditions that made their existence possible lose efficience and dissolve, and in their places will follow other conditions and existences. Therefore, what is organic to-day, may be inorganic to-morrow, and vice versa. Carbon, for instance, which is stored within the earth appears in the form of coal or graphite or diamond; but that which exists on its surface is found sometimes combined with other elements in the form of an animal or a vegetable, sometimes in its free elementary state. It is the same carbon everywhere; it becomes inorganic or organic, according to its karma, it has no âtman in itself which directs its transformation by its own self-determining will. Mutual transformation is everywhere observable; there is a constant shifting of forces, an eternal transmigration of the elements,—all of which tend to show the transitoriness and non-âtman-ness of individual existences. The universe is moving like a whirl-wind, nothing in it proving to be stationary, nothing in it rigidly adhering to its own form of existence.
Suppose, on the other hand, there were an âtman behind every particular being; suppose, too, it were absolute and permanent and self-acting; and this phenomenal world would then come to a standstill, and life be forever gone. For is not changeability the most essential feature and condition of life, and also the strongest evidence for the non-existence of individual things as realities? The physical sciences recognise this universal fact of mutual transformation in its positive aspect and call it the law of the conservation of energy and of matter. Mahâyânism, recognising its negative side, proposes the doctrine of the non-âtman-ness of things, that is to say, the impermanency of all particular existences. Therefore, it is said, “Sarvam anityam, sarvam çûnyam, sarvam anâtman.” (All is transitory, all is void, all is without ego.)
Mahâyânists condemn the vulgar view that denies the consubstantiality and reciprocal transformation of all beings, not only because it is scientifically untenable, but mainly because, ethically and religiously considered, it is fraught with extremely dangerous ideas,—ideas which finally may lead a “brother to deliver up the brother to death and the father the child,” and, again, it may constrain “the children to rise up against their parents and cause them to be put to death.” Why? Because this view, born of egoism, would dry up the well of human love and sympathy, and transform us into creatures of bestial selfishness; because this view is not capable of inspiring us with the sense of mutuality and commiseration and of making us disinterestedly feel for our fellow-beings. Then, all fine religious and humane sentiments would depart from our hearts, and we should be nothing less than rigid, lifeless corpses, no pulse beating, no blood running. And how many victims are offered every day on this altar of egoism! They are not necessarily immoral by nature, but blindly led by the false conception of life and the world, they have been rendered incapable of seeing their own spiritual doubles in their neighbors. Being ever controlled by their sensual impulses, they sin against humanity, against nature, and against themselves.
We read in the Mahâyâna-abhisamaya Sûtra (Nanjo, no. 196):
“Empty and calm and devoid of ego
Is the nature of all things:
There is no individual being
That in reality exists.“Nor end nor beginning having
Nor any middle course,
All is a sham, here’s no reality whatever:
It is like unto a vision and a dream.“It is like unto clouds and lightning,
It is like unto gossamer or bubbles floating
It is like unto fiery revolving wheel,
It is like unto water-splashing.“Because of causes and conditions things are here:
In them there’s no self-nature [i.e., âtman]:
All things that move and work,
Know them as such.“Ignorance and thirsty desire,
The source of birth and death they are:
Right contemplation and discipline by heart,
Desire and ignorance obliterate.“All beings in the world,
Beyond words they are and expressions:
Their ultimate nature, pure and true,
Is like unto vacuity of space.”[10]
The Dharmakâya.
The Dharmakâya, which literally means “body or system of being,” is, according to the Mahâyânists, the ultimate reality that underlies all particular phenomena; it is that which makes the existence of individuals possible; it is the raison d’être of the universe; it is the norm of being, which regulates the course of events and thoughts. The conception of Dharmakâya is peculiarly Mahâyânistic, for the Hînayâna school did not go so far as to formulate the ultimate principle of the universe; its adherents stopped short at a positivistic interpretation of Buddhism. The Dharmakâya remained for them to be the Body of the Law, or the Buddha’s personality as embodied in the truth taught by him.
The Dharmakâya may be compared in one sense to the God of Christianity and in another sense to the Brahman or Paramâtman of Vedantism. It is different, however, from the former in that it does not stand transcendentally above the universe, which, according to the Christian view, was created by God, but which is, according to Mahâyânism, a manifestation of the Dharmakâya himself. It is also different from Brahman in that it is not absolutely impersonal, nor is it a mere being. The Dharmakâya, on the contrary, is capable of willing and reflecting, or, to use Buddhist phraseology, it is Karunâ (love) and Bodhi (intelligence), and not the mere state of being.
This pantheistic and at the same time entheistic Dharmakâya is working in every sentient being, for sentient beings are nothing but a self-manifestation of the Dharmakâya. Individuals are not isolated existences, as imagined by most people. If isolated, they are nothing, they are so many soap-bubbles which vanish one after another in the vacuity of space. All particular existences acquire their meaning only when they are thought of in their oneness in the Dharmakâya. The veil of Mâya, i.e., subjective ignorance may temporally throw an obstacle to our perceiving the universal light of Dharmakâya, in which we are all one. But when our Bodhi or intellect, which is by the way a reflection of the Dharmakâya in the human mind, is so fully enlightened, we no more build the artificial barrier of egoism before our spiritual eye; the distinction between the meum and teum is obliterated, no dualism throws the nets of entanglement over us; I recognise myself in you and you recognise yourself in me; tat tvam asi. Or,
“What is here, that is there;
What is there, that is here:
Who sees duality here,
From death to death goes he.”[11]
This state of enlightenment may be called the spiritual expansion of the ego, or, negatively, the ideal annihilation of the ego. A never-drying stream of sympathy and love which is the life of religion will now spontaneously flow out of the fountainhead of Dharmakâya.
The doctrine of non-ego teaches us that there is no reality in individual existences, that we do not have any transcendental entity called ego-substance. The doctrine of Dharmakâya, to supplement this, teaches us that we all are one in the System of Being and only as such are immortal. The one shows us the folly of clinging to individual existences and of coveting the immortality of the ego-soul; the other convinces us of the truth that we are saved by living into the unity of Dharmakâya. The doctrine of non-âtman liberates us from the shackle of unfounded egoism; but as mere liberation does not mean anything positive and may perchance lead us to asceticism, we apply the energy thus released to the execution of the will of Dharmakâya.
The questions: “Why have we to love our neighbors as ourselves? Why have we to do to others all things whatsoever we would that they should do to us?” are answered thus by Buddhists: “It is because we are all one in the Dharmakâya, because when the clouds of ignorance and egoism are totally dispersed, the light of universal love and intelligence cannot help but shine in all its glory. And, enveloped in this glory, we do not see any enemy, nor neighbor, we are not even conscious of whether we are one in the Dharmakâya. There is no ‘my will’ here, but only ‘thy will,’ the will of Dharmakâya, in which we live and move and have our being.”
The Apostle Paul says: “For as in Adam all die, even so in Christ shall all be made alive.” Why? Buddhists would answer, “because Adam asserted his egoism in giving himself up to ignorance, (the tree of knowledge is in truth the tree of ignorance, for from it comes the duality of me and thee); while Christ on the contrary surrendered his egoistic assertion to the intelligence of the universal Dharmakâya. That is why we die in the former and are made alive in the latter.”
Nirvâna.
The meaning of Nirvâna has been variously interpreted by non-Buddhist students from the philological and the historical standpoint; but it matters little what conclusions they have reached, as we are not going to recapitulate them here; nor do they at all affect our presentation of the Buddhists’ own view as below. For it is the latter that concerns us here most and constitutes the all-important part of the problem. We have had too much of non-Buddhist speculation on the question at issue. The majority of the critics, while claiming to be fair and impartial, have, by some preconceived ideas, been led to a conclusion, which is not at all acceptable to intelligent Buddhists. Further, the fact has escaped their notice that Pâli literature from which they chiefly derive their information on the subject represents the views of one of the many sects that arose soon after the demise of the Master and were constantly branching off at and after the time of King Açoka. The probability is, that Buddha himself did not have any stereotyped conception of Nirvana, and, as most great minds do, expressed his ideas outright as formed under various circumstances; though of course they could not be in contradiction with his central beliefs, which must have remained the same throughout the course of his religious life. Therefore, to understand a problem in all its apparently contradictory aspects, it is very necessary to grasp at the start the spirit of the author of the problem, and when this is done the rest will be understood comparatively much easier. Non-Buddhist critics lack in this most important qualification; therefore, it is no wonder that Buddhists themselves are always reluctant to accede to their interpretations.
Enough for apology. Nirvâna, according to Buddhists, does not signify an annihilation of consciousness nor a temporal or permanent suppression of mentation[12], as imagined by some; but it is the annihilation of the notion of ego-substance and of all the desires that arise from this erroneous conception. But this represents the negative side of the doctrine, and its positive side consists in universal love or sympathy (karunâ) for all beings.
These two aspects of Nirvâna, i.e., negatively, the destruction of evil passions, and, positively, the practice of sympathy, are complementary to each other; and when we have one we have the other. Because, as soon as the heart is freed from the cangue of egoism, the same heart, hitherto so cold and hard, undergoes a complete change, shows animation, and, joyously escaping from self-imprisonment, finds its freedom in the bosom of Dharmakâya. In this latter sense, Nirvâna is the “humanisation” of Dharmakâya, that is to say, “God’s will done in earth as it is in heaven.” If we make use of the terms, subjective and objective. Nirvâna is the former, and the Dharmakâya is the latter, phase of one and the same principle. Again, psychologically, Nirvâna is enlightenment, the actualisation of the Bodhicitta[13] (Heart of Intelligence).
The gospel of love and the doctrine of Nirvâna may appear to some to contradict each other, for they think that the former is the source of energy and activity, while the latter is a lifeless, inhuman, ascetic quietism. But the truth is, love is the emotional aspect and Nirvâna the intellectual aspect of the inmost religious consciousness which constitutes the essence of the Buddhist life.
That Nirvâna is the destruction of selfish desires is plainly shown in this stanza:
“To the giver merit is increased;
When the senses are controlled anger arises not,
The wise forsake evil,
By the destruction of desire, sin, and infatuation,
A man attains to Nirvâna.”[14]
The following which was breathed forth by Buddha against a certain class of monks, testifies that when Nirvâna is understood in the sense of quietism or pessimism, he vigorously repudiated it:
“Fearing an endless chain of birth and death,
And the misery of transmigration,
Their heart is filled with worry,
But they desire their safety only.
“Quietly sitting and reckoning the breaths,
They’re bent on the Anâpânam.[15]
They contemplate on the filthiness of the body,—
Thinking how impure it is!“They shun the dust of the triple world,
And in ascetic practise their safety they seek:
Incapable of love and sympathy are they,
For on Nirvâna abides their thought.”[16]
Against this ascetic practise of some monks, the Buddha sets forth what might be called the ideal of the Buddhist life:
“Arouse thy will, supreme and great,
Practise love and sympathy, give joy and protection;
Thy love like unto space,
Be it without discrimination, without limitation.“Merits establish, not for thy own sake,
But for charity universal;
Save and deliver all beings,
Let them attain the wisdom of the Great Way.”
It is apparent that the ethical application of the doctrine of Nirvâna is naught else than the Golden Rule,[17] so called. The Golden Rule, however, does not give any reason why we should so act, it is a mere command whose authority is ascribed to a certain superhuman being. This does not satisfy an intellectually disposed mind, which refuses to accept anything on mere authority, for it wants to go to the bottom of things and see on what ground they are standing. Buddhism has solved this problem by finding the oneness of things in Dharmakâya, from which flows the eternal stream of love and sympathy. As we have seen before, when the cursed barrier of egoism is broken down, there remains nothing that can prevent us from loving others as ourselves.
Those who wish to see nothing but an utter barrenness of heart after the annihilation of egoism, are much mistaken in their estimation of human nature. For they think its animation comes from selfishness, and that all forms of activity in our life are propelled simply by the desire to preserve self and the race. They, therefore, naturally shrink from the doctrine that teaches that all things worldly are empty, and that there is no such thing as ego-substance whose immortality is so much coveted by most people. But the truth is, the spring of love does not lie in the idea of self, but in its removal. For the human heart, being a reflection of the Dharmakâya which is love and intelligence, recovers its intrinsic power and goodness, only when the veil of ignorance and egoism is cast aside. The animation, energy, strenuousness, which were shown by a self-centered will, and which therefore were utterly despicable, will not surely die out with the removal of their odious atmosphere in which egoism had enveloped them. But they will gain an ever nobler interpretation, ever more elevating and satisfying significance; for they have gone through a baptism of fire, by which the last trace of egoism has been thoroughly consumed. The old evil master is eternally buried, but the willing servants are still here and ever ready to do their service, now more efficiently, for their new legitimate and more authoritative lord.
Destruction is in common parlance closely associated with nothingness, hence Nirvâna, the destruction of egoism, is ordinarily understood as a synonym of nihilism. But the removal of darkness does not bring desolation, but means enlightenment and order and peace. It is the same chamber, all the furniture is left there as it was before. In darkness chaos reigned, goblins walked wild; in enlightenment everything is in its proper place. And did we not state plainly that Nirvâna was enlightenment?
The Intellectual Tendency of Buddhism.
One thing which in this connection I wish to refer to, is what makes Buddhism appear somehow cold and impassive. By this I mean its intellectuality.
The fact is that anything coming from India greatly savors of philosophy. In ancient India everybody of the higher castes seems to have indulged in intellectual and speculative exercises. Being rich in natural resources and thus the struggle for existence being reduced to a minimum, the Brahmans and the Kṣatriyas gathered themselves under most luxuriously growing trees, or retired to the mountain-grottoes undisturbed by the hurly-burly of the world, and there they devoted all their leisure hours to metaphysical speculations and discussions. Buddhism, as a product of these people, is naturally deeply imbued with intellectualism.
Further, in India there was no distinction between religion and philosophy. Every philosophical system was at the same time a religion, and vice versa. Philosophy with the Hindus was not an idle display of logical subtlety which generally ends in entangling itself in the meshes of sophistry. Their aim of philosophising was to have an intellectual insight into the significance of existence and the destiny of humanity. They did not believe in anything blindly nor accept anything on mere tradition. Buddha most characteristically echoes this sentiment when he says, “Follow my teachings not as taught by a Buddha, but as being in accord with truth.” This spirit of self-reliance and self-salvation later became singularly Buddhistic. Even when Buddha was still merely an enthusiastic aspirant for Nirvâna, he seems to have been strongly possessed of this spirit, for he most emphatically declared the following famous passage, in response to the pathetic persuasion of his father’s ministers, who wanted him to come home with them: “The doubt whether there exists anything or not, is not to be settled for me by another’s words. Arriving at the truth either by mortification or by tranquilisation, I will grasp myself whatever is ascertainable about it. It is not mine to receive a view which is full of conflicts, uncertainties, and contradictions. What enlightened men would go by other’s faith? The multitudes are like the blind led in the darkness by the blind.”[18]
To say simply, “Love your enemy,” was not satisfactory to the Hindu mind, it wanted to see the reason why. And as soon as the people were convinced intellectually, they went even so far as to defend the faith with their lives. It was not an uncommon event that before a party of Hindu philosophers entered into a discussion they made an agreement that the penalty of defeats should be the sacrifice of the life. They were, above all, a people of intellect, though of course not lacking in religious sentiment.
It is no wonder, then, that Buddha did not make the first proclamation of his message by “Repent, for the kingdom of heaven is at hand,” but by the establishment of the Four Noble Truths.[19] One appeals to the feeling, and the other to the intellect. That which appeals to the intellect naturally seems to be less passionate, but the truth is, feeling without the support of intellect leads to fanaticism and is always ready to yield itself to bigotry and superstition.
The doctrine of Nirvâna is doubtless more intellectual than the Christian gospel of love. It first recognises the wretchedness of human life as is proved by our daily experiences; it then finds its cause in our subjective ignorance as to the true meaning of existence, and in our egocentric desires which, obscuring our spiritual insight, make us tenaciously cling to things chimerical; it then proposes the complete annihilation of egoism, the root of all evil, by which, subjectively, tranquillity of heart is restored, and, objectively, the realisation of universal love becomes possible. Buddhism, thus, proceeds most logically in the development of its doctrine of Nirvâna and universal love.
Says Victor Hugo (Les Misérables, vol. II): “The reduction of the universe to a single being, the expansion of a single being even to God, this is love.” When a man clings to the self and does not want to identify himself with other fellow-selves, he cannot expand his being to God. When he shuts himself in the narrow shell of ego and keeps all the world outside, he cannot reduce the universe to his innermost self. To love, therefore, one must first enter Nirvâna.
The truth is everywhere the same and is attained through the removal of ignorance. But as individual disposition differs according to the previous karma, some are more prone to intellectualism, while the others to sentimentality (in its psychological sense). Let us then follow our own inclination conscientiously and not speak evil of others. This is called the Doctrine of Middle Path.
CHAPTER II.
HISTORICAL CHARACTERISATION OF
MAHÂYÂNISM.
We are now in a position to enter into a specific exposition of the Mahâyâna doctrine. But, before doing so, it will be well for us first to consider the views that were held by the Hindu Buddhist thinkers concerning its characteristic features; in other words, to make an historical survey of its peculiarities.
As stated in the Introduction, the term Mahâyâna was invented in the times of Nâgârjuna and Âryadeva (about the third or fourth century after Christ), when doctrinal struggles between the Çrâvaka and the Bodhisattva classes reached a climax. The progressive Hindu Buddhists, desiring to announce the essential features of their doctrine, did so naturally at the expense of their rival and by pointing out why theirs was greater than, or superior to, Hînayânism. Their views were thus necessarily vitiated by a partisan spirit, and instead of impartially and critically enumerating the principal characteristics of Mahâyânism, they placed rather too much stress upon those points that do not in these latter days appear to be very essential, but that were then considered by them to be of paramount importance. These points, nevertheless, throw some light on the nature of Mahâyâna Buddhism as historically distinguished from its consanguineous rival and fellow-doctrine.
Sthiramati’s Conception of Mahâyânism.
Sthiramati[20] in his Introduction to Mahâyânism states that Mahâyânism is a special doctrine for the Bodhisattvas, who are to be distinguished from the other two classes, viz, the Çrâvakas and the Pratyekabuddhas. The essential difference of the doctrine consists in the belief that objects of the senses are merely phenomenal and have no absolute reality, that the indestructible Dharmakâya which is all-pervading constitutes the norm of existence, that all Bodhisattvas[21] are incarnations of the Dharmakâya, who not by their evil karma previously accumulated, but by their boundless love for all mankind, assume corporeal existences, and that persons who thus appear in the flesh, as avatars of the Buddha supreme, associate themselves with the masses in all possible social relations, in order that they might thus lead them to a state of enlightenment.
While this is a very summary statement of the Mahâyâna doctrine, a more elaborate and extended enumeration of its peculiar features in contradistinction to those of Hînayânism, is made in the Miscellanea on Mahâyâna Metaphysics,[22] The Spiritual Stages of the Yogâcâra,[23] An Exposition of the Holy Doctrine,[24] A Comprehensive Treatise on Mahâyânism,[25] and others. Let us first explain the “Seven General Characteristics” as described in the first three works here mentioned.
Seven Principal Features of Mahâyânism.
According to Asanga, who lived a little later than Nâgârjuna, that is, at the time when Mahâyânism was further divided into the Yogâcârya and the Mâdhyamika school, the seven features peculiar to Mahâyânism as distinguished from Hînayânism, are as follows:
(1) Its Comprehensiveness. Mahâyânism does not confine itself to the teachings of one Buddha alone; but wherever and whenever truth is found, even under the disguise of most absurd superstitions, it makes no hesitation to winnow the grain from the husk and assimilate it in its own system. Innumerable good laws taught by Buddhas[26] of all ages and localities are all taken up in the coherent body of Mahâyânism.
(2) Universal love for All Sentient Beings. Hînayânism confines itself to the salvation of individuals only; it does not extend its bliss universally, as each person must achieve his own deliverance. Mahâyânism, on the other hand, aims at general salvation; it endeavors to save us not only individually, but universally. All the motives, efforts, and actions of the Bodhisattvas pivot on the furtherance of universal welfare.
(3) Its Greatness in Intellectual Comprehension. Mahâyânism maintains the theory of non-âtman not only in regard to sentient beings but in regard to things in general. While it denies the hypothesis of a metaphysical agent directing our mental operations, it also rejects the view that insists on the noumenal or thingish reality of existences as they appear to our senses.
(4) Its Marvelous Spiritual Energy. The Bodhisattvas never become tired of working for universal salvation, nor do they despair because of the long time required to accomplish this momentous object. To try to attain enlightenment in the shortest possible period and to be self-sufficient without paying any attention to the welfare of the masses, is not the teaching of Mahâyânism.
(5) Its Greatness in the Exercise of the Upâya. The term upâya literally means expediency. The great fatherly sympathetic heart of the Bodhisattva has inexhaustible resources at his command in order that he might lead the masses to final enlightenment, each according to his disposition and environment. Mahâyânism does not ask its followers to escape the metempsychosis of birth and death for the sake of entering into the lethargic tranquillity of Nirvâna; for metempsychosis in itself is no evil, and Nirvâna in its coma is not productive of any good. And as long as there are souls groaning in pain, the Bodhisattva cannot rest in Nirvâna; there is no rest for his unselfish heart, so full of love and sympathy, until he leads all his fellow-beings to the eternal bliss of Buddhahood. To reach this end he employs innumerable means (upâya) suggested by his disinterested lovingkindness.
(6) Its Higher Spiritual Attainment. In Hînayânism the highest bliss attainable does not go beyond Arhatship which is ascetic saintliness. But the followers of Mahâyânism attain even to Buddhahood with all its spiritual powers.
(7) Its Greater Activity. When the Bodhisattva reaches the stage of Buddhahood, he is able to manifest himself everywhere in the ten quarters of the universe[27] and to minister to the spiritual needs of all sentient beings.
These seven peculiarities are enumerated to be the reasons why the doctrine defended by the progressive Buddhists is to be called Mahâyânism, or the doctrine of great vehicle, in contradistinction to Hînayânism, the doctrine of small vehicle. In each case, therefore, Asanga takes pains to draw the line of demarcation distinctly between the two schools of Buddhism and not between Buddhism and all other religious doctrines which existed at his time.
The Ten Essential Features of Buddhism.
The following statement of the ten essential features of Mahâyânism as presented in the Comprehensive Treatise on Mahâyânism, is made from a different standpoint from the preceding one, for it is the pronunciamento of the Yogâcâra school of Asanga and Vasubandhu rather than that of Mahâyânism generally. This school together with the Mâdhyamika school of Nâgârjuna constitute the two divisions of Hindu Mahâyânism.[28]
The points enumerated by Asanga and Vasubandhu as most essential in their system are ten.
(1) It teaches an immanent existence of all things in the Âlayavijñâna or All-Conserving Soul. The conception of an All-Conserving Soul, it is claimed, was suggested by Buddha in the so-called Hînayâna sûtras; but on account of its deep meaning and of the liability of its being confounded with the ego-soul conception, he did not disclose its full significance in their sûtras; but made it known only in the Mahâyâna sûtras.
According to the Yogâcâra school, the Âlaya is not an universal, but an individual mind or soul, whatever we may term it, in which the “germs” of all things exist in their ideality.[29] The objective world in reality does not exist, but by dint of subjective illusion that is created by ignorance, we project all these “germs” in the Âlayavijñâna to the outside world, and imagine that they are there really as they are; while the Manovijñâna (ego-consciousness) which is too a product of illusion, tenaciously clinging to the Âlayavijñâna as the real self, never abandons its egoism. The Âlayavijñâna, however, is indifferent to, and irresponsible for, all these errors on the part of the Manovijñâna.[30]
(2) The Yogâcâra school distinguishes three kinds of knowledge: 1. Illusion (parikalpita), 2. Discriminative or Relative Knowledge (paratantra), and 3. Perfect Knowledge (pariniṣpanna).
The distinction may best be illustrated by the well-known analogy of a rope and a snake. Deceived by a similarity in appearance, men frequently take a rope lying on the ground for a poisonous snake and are terribly shocked on that account. But when they approach and carefully examine it, they become at once convinced of the groundlessness of this apprehension, which was the natural sequence of illusion. This may be considered to correspond to what Kant calls Schein.
Most people, however, do not go any further in their inquiry. They are contented with the sensual, empirical knowledge of an object with which they come in contact. When they understand that the thing they mistook for a snake was really nothing but a yard of innocent rope, they think their knowledge of the object is complete, and do not trouble themselves with a philosophical investigation as to whether the rope which to them is just what it appears to be, has any real existence in itself. They do not stop a moment to reflect that their knowledge is merely relative, for it does not go beyond the phenomenal significance of the things they perceive.
But is an object in reality such as it appears to be to our senses? Are particular phenomena as such really actual? What is the value of our knowledge concerning those so-called realities? When we make an investigation into such problems as these, the Yogâcâra school says, we find that their existence is only relative and has no absolute value whatever independent of the perceiving subject. They are the “ejection” of our ideas into the outside world, which are centred and conserved in our Âlayavijñâna and which are awakened into activity by subjective ignorance. This clear insight into the nature of things, i.e., into their non-realness as âtman, constitutes perfect knowledge.
(3) When we attain to the perfect knowledge, we recognise the ideality of the universe. There is no such thing as an objective world, which is really an illusive manifestation of the mind called Âlayavijñâna. But even this supposedly real existence of the Âlayavijñâna is a product of particularisation called forth by the ignorant Manovijñâna. The Manovijñâna, or empirical ego, as it might be called, having no adequate knowledge as to the true nature of the Âlaya, takes the latter for a metaphysical agent, that like the master of a puppet-show manages all mental operations according to its humour. As the silkworm imprisons itself in the cocoon created by itself, the Manovijñâna, entangling itself in ignorance and confusion, takes its own illusory creations for real realities.
(4) For the regulation of moral life, the Yogâcâra with the other Mahâyâna schools, proposes the practising of the six Pâramitâs (virtues of perfection), which are: 1. Dana (giving), 2. Çîla (moral precept), 3. Kṣânti (meekness), 4. Vîrya (energy), 5. Dhyâna (meditation), 6. Prajñâ (knowledge or wisdom). In way of explanation, says Asanga: “By not clinging to wealth or pleasures (1), by not cherishing any thoughts to violate the precepts (2), by not feeling dejected in the face of evils (3), by not awakening any thought of indolence while practising goodness (4), by maintaining serenity of mind in the midst of disturbance and confusion of this world (5), and finally by always practising ekacitta[31] and by truthfully comprehending the nature of things (6), the Bodhisattvas recognise the truth of vijñânamâtra,—the truth that there is nothing that is not of ideal or subjective creation.”
(5) Mahâyânism teaches that there are ten spiritual stages of Bodhisattvahood, viz., 1. Pramuditâ, 2. Vimalâ, 3 Prabhâkarî, 4. Arcismatî, 5. Sudurjayâ, 6. Abhimukhî, 7. Dûrangamâ, 8. Acalâ, 9. Sâdhumatî, 10. Dharmameghâ[32]. By passing through all these stages one after another, we are believed to reach the oneness of Dharmakâya.
(6) The Yogâcârists claim that the precepts that are practised by the followers of Mahâyânism are far superior to those of Hînayânists. The latter tend to externalism and formalism, and do not go deep into our spiritual, subjective motives. Now, there are physical, verbal, and spiritual precepts observed by the Buddha. The Hînayânists observe the first two neglecting the last which is by far more important than the rest. For instance, the Çrâvaka’s interpretation of the ten Çikṣas[33] is literal and not spiritual; further, they follow these precepts because they wish to attain Nirvâna for their own sake, and not for others’. The Bodhisattva, on the other hand, does not wish to be bound within the narrow circle of moral restriction. Aiming at an universal emancipation of mankind, he ventures even violating the ten çikṣas, if necessary. The first çikṣa, for instance, forbids the killing of any living being; but the Bodhisattva does not hesitate to go to war, in case the cause he espouses is right and beneficient to humanity at large.
(7) As Mahâyânism insists on the purification of the inner life, its teaching applies not to things outward, its principles are not of the ascetic and exclusive kind. The Mahâyânists do not shun to commingle themselves with the “dust of worldliness”; they aim at the realisation of the Bodhi; they are not afraid of being thrown into the whirlpool of metempsychosis; they endeavor to impart spiritual benefits to all sentient beings without regard to their attitude, whether hostile or friendly, towards themselves; having immovable faith in the Mahâyâna, they never become contaminated by vanity and worldly pleasures with which they may constantly be in touch; they have a clear insight into the doctrine of non-âtman; being free from all spiritual faults, they live in perfect accord with the laws of Suchness and discharge their duties without the least conceit or self-assertion: in a word, their inner life is a realisation of the Dharmakâya.
(8) The intellectual superiority of the Bodhisattva is shown by his possession of knowledge of non-particularisation (anânârtha).[34] This knowledge, philosophically considered, is the knowledge of the absolute, or the knowledge of the universal. The Bodhisattva’s mind is free from the dualism of samsâra (birth-and-death) and nirvâna, of positivism and negativism, of being and non-being, of object and subject, of ego and non-ego. His knowledge, in short, transcends the limits of final realities, soaring high to the realm of the absolute and the abode of non-particularity.
(9) In consequence of this intellectual elevation, the Bodhisattva perceives the working of birth and death in nirvâna, and nirvâna in the transmigration of birth and death. He sees the “ever-changing many” in the “never-changing one,” and the “never-changing one” in the “ever-changing many.” His inward life is in accord at once with the laws of transitory phenomena and with those of transcendental Suchness. According to the former, he does not recoil as ascetics do when he comes in contact with the world of the senses; he is not afraid of suffering the ills that the flesh is heir to; but, according to the latter, he never clings to things evanescent, his inmost consciousness forever dwells in the serenity of eternal Suchness.
(10) The final characteristic to be mentioned as distinctly Mahâyânistic is the doctrine of Trikâya. There is, it is asserted, the highest being which is the ultimate cause of the universe and in which all existences find their essential origin and significance. This is called by the Mahâyânists Dharmakâya. The Dharmakâya, however, does not remain in its absoluteness, it reveals itself in the realm of cause and effect. It then takes a particular form. It becomes a devil, or a god, or a deva, or a human being, or an animal of lower grade, adapting itself to the degrees of the intellectual development of the people. For it is the people’s inner needs which necessitate the special forms of manifestation. This is called Nirmânakâya, that is, the body of transformation. The Buddha who manifested himself in the person of Gautama, the son of King of Çuddhodâna about two thousand five hundred years ago on the Ganges, is a form of Nirmânakâya. The third one is called Sambhogakâya, or body of bliss. This is the spiritual body of a Buddha, invested with all possible grandeur in form and in possession of all imaginable psychic powers. The conception of Sambhogakâya is full of wild imaginations which are not easy of comprehension by modern minds.[35]
These characteristics enumerated at seven or ten as peculiarly Mahâyânistic are what the Hindu Buddhist philosophers of the first century down to the fifth or sixth century of the Christian era thought to be the most essential points of their faith and what they thought entitled it to be called the “Great Vehicle” (Mahâyâna) of salvation, in contradistinction to the faith embraced by their conservative brethren. But, as we view them now, the points here specified are to a great extent saturated with a partisan spirit, and besides they are more or less scattered and unconnected statements of the so-called salient features of Mahâyânism. Nor do they furnish much information concerning the nature of Mahâyânism as a coherent system of religious teachings. They give but a general and somewhat obscure delineation of it, and that in opposition to Hînayânism. In point of fact, Mahâyânism is a school of Buddhism and has many characteristics in common with Hînayânism. Indeed, the spirit of the former is also that of the latter, and as far as the general trend of Buddhism is concerned there is no need of emphasising the significance of one school over the other. On the following pages I shall try to present a more comprehensive and impartial exposition of the Buddhism, which has been persistently designated by its followers as Mahâyânism.
SPECULATIVE MAHÂYÂNISM.
CHAPTER III.
PRACTISE AND SPECULATION.
Mahâyânism perhaps can best be treated in two main divisions, as it has distinctly two principal features in its doctrinal development. I may call one the speculative phase of Mahâyânism and the other practical. The first part is essentially a sort of Buddhist metaphysics, where the mind is engaged solely in ratiocination and abstraction. Here the intellect plays a very prominent part, and some of the most abstruse problems of philosophy are freely discussed. Speculative followers of Buddhism have taken great interest in the discussion of them and have written many volumes on various subjects.[36] The second or practical phase of Mahâyânism deals with such religious beliefs that constitute the life and essence of the system. Mahâyânists might have reasoned wrongfully to explain their practical faith, but the faith itself is the outburst of the religious sentiment which is inherent in human nature. This practical part, therefore, is by far more important, and in fact it can be said that the speculative part is merely a preparatory step toward it. Inasmuch as Mahâyânism is a religion and not a philosophical system, it must be practical, that is, it must directly appeal to the inmost life of the human heart.
Relation of Feeling and Intellect in Religion.
So much has been said about the relation between philosophy and religion; and there are many scholars who so firmly believe in the identity of religion either with superstitions or with supernatural revelation, that the denial of this assertion is considered by them practically to be the disavowal of all religions. For, according to them, there is no midway in religion. A religion which is rational and yet practical is no religion. Now, Buddhism is neither a vagary of imagination nor a revelation from above, and on this account it has been declared by some to be a philosophy. The title “Speculative Mahâyânism” thus, is apt to be taken as a confirmation of such opinion. To remove all the misconceptions, therefore, which might be entertained concerning the religious nature of Mahâyânism and its attitude toward intellectualism, I have deemed it wise here to say a few words about the relation between feeling and intellect in religion.
There is no doubt that religion is essentially practical; it does not necessarily require theorisation. The latter, properly speaking, is the business of philosophy. If religion was a product of the intellect solely, it could not give satisfaction to the needs of man’s whole being. Reason constitutes but a part of the organised totality of an individual being. Abstraction however high, and speculation however deep, do not as such satisfy the inmost yearnings of the human heart. But this they can do when they enter into one’s inner life and constitution; that is, when abstraction becomes a concrete fact and speculation a living principle in one’s existence; in short, when philosophy becomes religion.
Philosophy as such, therefore, is generally distinguished from religion. But we must not suppose that religion as the deepest expression of a human being can eliminate altogether from it the intellectual element. The most predominant rôle in religion may be played by the imagination and feeling, but ratiocination must not fail to assert its legitimate right in the co-ordination of beliefs. When this right is denied, religion becomes fanaticism, superstition, fata morgana, and even a menace to the progress of humanity.
The intellect is critical, objective, and always tries to stand apart from the things that are taken up for examination. This alienation or keeping itself aloof from concrete facts on the part of the intellect, constantly tends to disregard the real significance of life, of which it is also a manifestation. Therefore, the conflict between feeling and reason, religion and science, instinct and knowledge, has been going on since the awakening of consciousness.
Seeing this fact, intellectual people are generally prone to condemn religion as barring the freedom and obstructing the progress of scientific investigations. It is true that religion went frequently to the other extreme and tried to suppress the just claim of reason; it is true that this was especially the case with Christianity, whose history abounds with regretable incidents resulting from its violent encroachments upon the domain of reason. It is also true that the feeling and the intellect are sometimes at variance, that what the feeling esteems as the most valuable treasure is at times relentlessly crushed by the reason, while the feeling looks with utmost contempt at the results that have been reached by the intellect after much lucubration. But this fatal conflict is no better than the fight which takes place between the head and the tail of a hydra when it is cut in twain; it always results in self-destruction.
We cannot live under such a miserable condition forever; when we know that it is altogether due to a myopia on the part of our understanding. The truth is that feeling and reason “cannot do without one another, and must work together inseparably in the process of human development, since reason without feeling could have nothing to act for and would be impotent to act, while feeling without reason would act tyrannically and blindly—that is to say, if either could exist and act at all without the other; for in the end it is not feeling nor reason, which acts, but it is the man who acts according as he feels and reasons”. (H. Maudsley’s Natural Causes and Supernatural Seemings, p. vii). If it is thus admitted that feeling and reason must co-ordinate and co-operate in the realisation of human ideals, religion, though essentially a phenomenon of the emotional life, cannot be indifferent to the significance of the intellect. Indeed, religion, as much as philosophy, has ever been speculating on the problems that are of the most vital importance to human life. In Christianity speculation has been carried on under the name of theology, though it claims to be fundamentally a religion of faith. In India, however, as mentioned elsewhere, there was no dividing line between philosophy and religion; and every teaching, every system, and every doctrine, however abstract and speculative it might appear to the Western mind, was at bottom religious and always aimed at the deliverance of the soul. There was no philosophical system that did not have some practical purpose.
Indian thinkers could not separate religion from philosophy, practice from theory. Their philosophy flowed out of the very spring of the human heart and was not a mere display of fine intellectuation. If their thinking were not in the right direction and led to a fallacy which made life more miserable, they were ever ready to surrender themselves to a superior doctrine as soon as it was discovered. But when they thought they were in the right track, they did not hesitate to sacrifice their life for it. Their philosophy had as much fire as religion.
Buddhism and Speculation.
Owing to this fact, Buddhism as much as Hinduism is full of abstract speculations and philosophical reflections so much so that some Christian critics are inclined to deny the religiosity of Buddhism. But no student of the science of comparative religion would indorse such a view nowadays. Buddhism, in spite of its predominant intellectualism, is really a religious system. There is no doubt that it emphasises the rational element of religion more than any other religious teachings, but on that account we cannot say that it altogether disregards the importance of the part to be played by the feeling. Its speculative, philosophical phase is really a preparation for fully appreciating the subjective significance of religion, for religion is ultimately subjective, that is to say, the essence of religion is love and faith, or, to use Buddhist phraseology, it is the expression of the Bodhi which consists in prajñâ[37] (intelligence or wisdom) and karunâ (love or compassion). Mere knowledge (not prajñâ) has very little value in human life. When not guided by love and faith, it readily turns out to be the most obedient servant of egoism and sensualism. What Tennyson says in the following verses is perfectly true with Buddhism:
“Who loves not knowledge? Who shall rail
Against her beauty? May she mix
With men and prosper! Who shall fix
Her pillars? Let her work prevail.“But on her forehead sits a fire;
She sets her forward countenance
And leaps into the future chance,
Submitting all things to desire.“Half grown as yet, a child, and vain—
She cannot fight the fear of death.
What is she, cut from love and faith,
But some wild Pallas from the brain“Of demons? fiery-hot to burst
All barriers in her onward race
For power. Let her know her place;
She is the second, not the first.“A higher hand must make her mild,
If all be not in vain, and guide
Her footsteps, moving side by side
With Wisdom, like the younger child.”
But it must be remembered that Buddhism never ignores the part which is played by the intellect in the purification of faith. For it is by the judicious exercise of the intellect, that all religious superstitions and prejudices are finally destroyed.
The intellect is so far of great consequence, and we must respect it as the thunderbolt of Vajrapani, which crushes everything that is mere sham and false. But at the same time we must also remember that the quintessence of religion like the house built on the solid rock never suffers on account of this destruction. Its foundation lies too deeply buried in human heart to be damaged by knowledge or science. So long as there is a human heart warm with blood and burning with the fire of life, the intellect however powerful will never be able to trample it under foot. Indeed, the more severely the religious sentiment is tested in the crucible of the intellect, the more glorious and illuminating becomes its intrinsic virtue. The true religion is, therefore, never reluctant to appear before the tribunal of scientific investigation. In fact by ignoring the ultimate significance of the religious consciousness, science is digging its own grave. For what purpose has science other than the unravelling of the mysteries of nature and reading into the meaning of existence? And is this not what constitutes the foundation of religion? Science cannot be final, it must find its reason in religion; as a mere intellectual exercise it is not worthy of our serious consideration.
Religion and Metaphysics.
The French sociologist, M. Guyau, says in his Irreligion of the Future (English translation p. 10):
“Every positive and historical religion presents three distinctive and essential elements: (1) An attempt at a mythical and non-scientific explanation of natural phenomena (divine intervention, miracles, efficacious prayers, etc.), or of historical facts (incarnation of Jesus Christ or of Buddha, revelation, and so forth); (2) A system of dogmas, that is to say, of symbolic ideas, of imaginative beliefs, forcibly imposed upon one’s faith as absolute verities, even though they are susceptible of no scientific demonstration or philosophical justification; (3) A cult and a system of rites, that is to say, of more or less immutable practices regarded as possessing a marvelous efficacy upon the course of things, a propitiatory virtue. A religion without myth, without dogma, without cult, without rite, is no more than that somewhat bastard product, ‘natural religion,’ which is resolvable to a system of metaphysical hypotheses.”
M. Guyau seems to think that what will be left in religion, when severed from its superstitions and imaginary beliefs and mysterious rites, is a system of metaphysical speculations, and that, therefore, it is not a religion. But in my opinion the French sociologist shares the error that is very prevalent among the scientific men of to-day. He is perfectly right in trying to strip religion of all its ephemeral elements and external integuments, but he is entirely wrong when he does this at the expense of its very essence, which consists of the inmost yearnings of the human heart. And this essence has no affinity with the superstitions which grow round it like excrescences as the results of insufficient or abnormal nourishment. Nor does it concern itself with mere philosophising and constructing hypotheses about metaphysical problems. Far from it. Religion is a cry from the abysmal depths of the human heart, that can never be silenced, until it finds that something and identifies itself with it, which reveals the teleological significance of life and the universe. But this something has a subjective value only, as Goethe makes Faust exclaim, “Feeling is all in all, name for it I have none.” Why? Because it cannot objectively or intellectually be demonstrated, as in the case with those laws which govern phenomenal existences,—the proper objects of the discursive human understanding. And this subjectivity of religion is what makes “all righteousnesses as filthy garments.” If religion deprived of its dogmas and cults is to be considered, as M. Guyau thinks, nothing but a system of metaphysics, we utterly lose sight of its subjective significance or its emotional element, which indeed constitutes its raison d’être.
* * *
Having this in view we proceed to see first on what metaphysical hypothesis speculative Mahâyâna Buddhism is built up; but the reader must remember that this phase of Mahâyânism is merely a preliminary to its more essential part, which we expound later under the heading of “Practical Mahâyânism,” in contradistinction to “Speculative Mahâyânism.”
CHAPTER IV.
CLASSIFICATION OF KNOWLEDGE.
Three Forms of Knowledge.
Mahâyânism generally distinguishes two or three forms of knowledge. This classification is a sort of epistemology, inasmuch as it proposes to ascertain the extent and nature of human knowledge, from a religious point of view. Its object is to see what kind of human knowledge is most reliable and valuable for the annihilation of ignorance and the attainment of enlightenment. The Mahâyâna school which has given most attention to this division of Buddhist philosophy is the Yogâcâra of Asanga and Vasubandhu. The Lankâvatarâ and the Sandhinirmocana and some other Sûtras, on which the school claims to have its doctrinal foundation, teach three forms of knowledge. The sûtra literature, however, as a rule does not enter into any detailed exposition of the subject; it merely classifies knowledge and points out what form of knowledge is most desirable by the Buddhists. To obtain a fuller and more discursive elucidation, we must come to the Abhidharma Pitaka of that school. Of the text books most generally studied of the Yogâcâra, we may mention Vasubandhu’s Vijñânamâtra with its commentaries and Asanga’s Comprehensive Treatise on Mahâyânism. The following statements are abstracted mainly from these documents.
The three forms of knowledge as classified by the Yogâcâra are: (1) Illusion (parikalpita), (2) Relative Knowledge (paratantra), and (3) Absolute Knowledge (pariniṣpanna).
Illusion.
Illusion (parikalpita), to use Kantian phraseology, is a sense-perception not co-ordinated by the categories of the understanding; that is to say, it is a purely subjective elaboration, not verified by objective reality and critical judgment. So long as we make no practical application of it, it will harbor no danger; there is no evil in it, at least religiously. Perceptual illusion is a psychical fact, and as such it is justified. A straight rod in water appears crooked on account of the refraction of light; a sensation is often felt in the limb after it has been amputated, for the nervous system has not yet adjusted itself to the new condition. They are all illusions, however. They are doubtless the correct interpretation of the sense-impressions in question, but they are not confirmed by other sense-impressions whose coördination is necessary to establish an objective reality. The moral involved in this is: all sound inferences and correct behavior must be based on critical knowledge and not on illusory premises.
Reasoning in this wise, the Mahâyânists declare that the egoism fostered by vulgar minds belongs to this class of knowledge, though of a different order, and that those who tenaciously cling to egoism as their final stronghold are believers in an intellectual fata morgana, and are like the thirsty deer that madly after the visionary water in the desert, or like the crafty monkey that tries to catch the lunar reflection in the water. Because the belief in the existence of a metaphysical agent behind our mental phenomena is not confirmed by experience and sound judgment, it being merely a product of unenlightened subjectivity.
Besides this ethical and philosophical egoism, all forms of world-conception which is founded on the sandy basis of subjective illusion, such as fetichism, idolatry, anthropomorphism, anthropopsychism, and the like, must be classed under the parikalpita-lakṣana as doctrines having illusionary premises.
Relative Knowledge.
Next comes the paratantra-lakṣana, a welt-anschauung based upon relative knowledge, or better, upon the knowledge of the law of relativity. According to this view, everything in the world has a relative and conditional existence, and nothing can claim an absolute reality free from all limitations. This closely corresponds to the theory advanced by most of modern scientists, whose agnosticism denies our intellectual capability of transcending the law of relativity.
The paratantra-lakṣana, therefore, consists in the knowledge derived from our daily intercourse with the outward world. It deals with the highest abstractions we can make out of our sensuous experiences. It is positivistic in its strictest sense. It says: The universe has only a relative existence, and our knowledge is necessarily limited. Even the highest generalisation cannot go beyond the law of relativity. It is impossible for us to know the first cause and the ultimate end of existence; nor have we any need to go thus beyond the sphere of existence, which would inevitably involve us in the maze of mystic imagination.
The paratantra-lakṣana, therefore, is a positivism, agnosticism, or empiricism in its spirit. Though the Yogâcâra Buddhists do not use all these modern philosophical terms, the interpretation here given is really what they intended to mean by the second form of knowledge. A world-conception based on this view, it is declared by the Mahâyânists, is sound as far as our perceptual knowledge is concerned; but it does not exhaust the entire field of human experience, for it does not take into account our spiritual life and our inmost consciousness. There is something in the human heart that refuses to be satisfied with merely systematising under the so-called laws of nature those multitudinous impressions which we receive from the outside world. There is a singular feeling, or sentiment, or yearning, whatever we may call it, in our inmost heart, which defies any plainer description than a mere suggestion or an indirect statement. This somewhat mystic consciousness seems despite its obscureness to contain the meaning of our existence as well as that of the universe. The intellect may try to persuade us with all its subtle reasonings to subdue this disquieting feeling and to remain contented with the systematising of natural laws, so called. But it is deceiving itself by so doing; because the intellect is but a servant to the heart, and so far as it is not forced to self-contradiction, it must accommodate itself to the needs of the heart. That is to say, we must transcend the narrow limits of conditionality and see what indispensable postulates are underlying our life and experiences. The recognition of these indispensable postulates of life constitutes the Yogâcâra’s third form of knowledge called pariniṣpanna-lakṣana.
Absolute Knowledge.
Pariniṣpanna-lakṣana literally means the world-view founded on the most perfect knowledge. According to this view, the universe is a monistico-pantheistic system. While phenomenal existences are regulated by natural laws characterised by conditionality and individuation, they by no means exhaust all our experiences which are stored in our inmost consciousness. There must be something,—this is the absolute demand of humanity, the ultimate postulate of experience,—be it Will, or Intelligence, which, underlying and animating all existences, forms the basis of cosmic, ethical, and religious life. This highest Will, or Intelligence, or both may be termed God, but the Mahâyânists call it religiously Dharmakâya, ontologically Bhûtatathâtâ, and psychologically Bodhi or Sambodhi. And they think it must be immanent in the universe manifesting itself in all places and times; it must be the cause of perpetual creation; it must be the principle of morality. This being so, how do we come to the recognition of its presence? The Buddhists say that when our minds are clear of illusions, prejudices, and egotistic assumptions, they become transparent and reflect the truth like a dust-free mirror. The illumination thus gained in our consciousness constitutes the so-called pariniṣpanna, the most perfect knowledge, that leads to Nirvâna, final salvation, and eternal bliss.
World-views Founded on the Three
Forms of Knowledge.
The reason will be obvious to the reader why the Yogâcâra school distinguishes three classes of world-conception founded on the three kinds of knowledge. The parikalpita-lakṣana is most primitive and most puerile. However, in these days of enlightenment, what is believed by the masses is naught else than a parikalpita conception of the world. The material existence as it appears to our senses is to them all in all. They seem to be unable to shake off the yoke of egoistic illusion and naïve realism. Their God must be transcendent and anthropopathic, and always willing to meddle with worldly affairs as his whim pleases. How different the world is, in which the multitudes of unreflecting minds are living, from that which is conceived by Buddhas and Bodhisattvas! Hartmann, a German thinker, is right, when he says that the masses are at least a century behind in their intellectual culture. But the most strange thing in the world is that, in spite of all their ignorance and superstitious beliefs, the waves of universal transformation are ever carrying them onward to a destination, of which, perhaps, they have not the slightest suspicion.
The paratantra-lakṣana advances a step further, but the fundamental error involved in it is its persistent self-contradictory disregard for what our inmost consciousness is constantly revealing to us. The intellect alone can by no means unravel the mystery of our entire existence. In order to reach the highest truth, we must boldly plunge with our whole being into a region where absolute darkness defying the light of intellect is supposed to prevail. This region which is no more nor less than the field of religious consciousness is shunned by most of the intellectual people on the plea that the intellect by its very nature is unable to fathom it. But the only way that leads us to the final pacification of the heart-yearnings is to go beyond the horizons of limiting reason and to resort to the faith that has been planted in the heart as the sine qua non of its own existence and vitality. And by faith I mean Prajñâ (wisdom), transcendental knowledge, that comes direct from the intelligence-essence of the Dharmakâya. A mind, so tired in vainly searching after truth and bliss in the verbiage of philosophy and the nonsense of ritualism, finds itself here completely rested bathing in the rays of divine effulgence,—whence this is, it does not question, being so filled with supramundane blessings which alone are felt. Buddhism calls this exalted spiritual state Nirvâna or Mokṣa; and pariniṣpanna-lakṣana is a world-conception which naturally follows from this subjective, ideal enlightenment.[38]
Two Forms of Knowledge.
The other Hindu Mahâyânism, the Mâdhyamika school of Nâgârjuna, distinguishes two, instead of three, orders of knowledge, but practically the Yogâcâra and the Mâdhyamika come to the same conclusion.[39]
The two kinds of knowledge or truth distinguished by the Mâdhyamika philosophy are Samvṛtti-satya and Paramârtha-satya, that is, conditional truth and transcendental truth. We read in Nâgârjuna’s Mâdhyamika Çâstra (Buddhist Text Society edition, pp. 180, 181):
“On two truths is founded
The holy doctrine of Buddhas:
Truth conditional,
And truth transcendental.“Those who verily know not
The distinction of the two truths.
Know not the essence
Of Buddhism which is meaningful.”[40]
The conditional truth includes illusion and relative knowledge of the Yogâcâra school, while the transcendental truth corresponds to the absolute knowledge.
In explaining these two truths, the Mâdhyamika philosophers have made a constant use of the terms, çûnya and açûnya, void and not-void, which unfortunately became a cause of the misunderstanding by Christian scholars of Nâgârjuna’s transcendental philosophy. Absolute truth is void in its ultimate nature, for it contains nothing concrete or real or individual that makes it an object of particularisation. But this must not be understood, as is done by some superficial critics, in the sense of absolute nothingness. The Mâdhyamika philosophers make the satya (transcendental truth) empty when contrasted with the realness of phenomenal existences. Because it is not real in the sense a particular being is real; but it is empty since it transcends the principle of individuation. When considered absolutely, it can neither be empty nor not-empty, neither çûnya nor açûnya, neither asti nor nâsti, neither abhâva nor bhâva, neither real nor unreal. All these terms imply relation and contrast, while the Paramârtha Satya is above them, or better, it unifies all contrasts and antitheses in its absolute oneness. Therefore, even to designate it at all may lead to the misunderstanding of the true nature of the Satya, for naming is particularising. It is not, as such, an object of intellectuation or of demonstrative knowledge. It underlies everything conditional and phenomenal, and does not permit itself to be a particular object of discrimination.
Transcendental Truth and Relative
Understanding.
One may say: If transcendental truth is of such an abstract nature, beyond the reach of the understanding, how can we ever hope to attain it and enjoy its blessings? But Nâgârjuna says that it is not absolutely out of the ken of the understanding; it is, on the contrary, through the understanding that we become acquainted with the quarter towards which our spiritual efforts should be directed, only let us not cling to the means by which we grasp the final reality. A finger is needed to point at the moon, but when we have recognised the moon, let us no more trouble ourselves with the finger. The fisherman carries a basket to take the fish home, but what need has he to worry about the basket when the contents are safely on the table? Only so long as we are not yet aware of the way to enlightenment, let us not ignore the value of relative knowledge or conditional truth or lokasamvṛttisatya as Nâgârjuna terms it.
“If not by worldly knowledge,
The truth is not understood;
When the truth is not approached,
Nirvâna is not attained.”[41]
From this, it is to be inferred that Buddhism never discourages the scientific, critical investigation of religious beliefs. For it is one of the functions of science that it should purify the contents of a belief and that it should point out in which direction our final spiritual truth and consolation have to be sought. Science alone which is built on relative knowledge is not able to satisfy all our religious cravings, but it is certainly able to direct us to the path of enlightenment. When this path is at last revealed, we shall know how to avail ourselves of the discovery, as then Prajñâ (or Sambodhi, or Wisdom) becomes the guide of life. Here we enter into the region of the unknowable. The spiritual facts we experience are not demonstrable, for they are so direct and immediate that the uninitiated are altogether at a loss to get a glimpse of them.
CHAPTER V.
BHÛTATATHÂTÂ (SUCHNESS).
From the ontological point of view, Paramârtha-satya or Pariniṣpanna (transcendental truth) is called Bhûtatathâtâ, which literally means “suchness of existence.” As Buddhism does not separate being from thought nor thought from being, what is suchness in the objective world, is transcendental truth in the subjective world, and vice versa Bhûtatathâtâ, then, is the Godhead of Buddhism, and it marks the consummation of all our mental efforts to reach the highest principle, which unifies all possible contradictions and spontaneously directs the course of world-events. In short, it is the ultimate postulate of existence. Like Paramârtha-satya, as above stated, it does not belong to the domain of demonstrative knowledge or sensuous experience; it is unknowable by the ordinary processes of intellectuation, which the natural sciences use in the formulation of general laws; and it is grasped, declare the Buddhists, only by the minds that are capable of exercising what might be called religious intuition.
Açvaghoṣa argues, in his Awakening of Faith for the indefinability of this first principle. When we say it is çûnya or empty, on account of its being independent of all the thinkable qualities, which we attribute to things relative and conditional, people would take it for the nothingness of absolute void. But when we define it as a real reality, as it stands above the evanescence of phenomena, they would imagine that there is something individual and existing outside the pale of this universe, which, though as concrete as we ourselves are, lives an eternal life. It is like describing to the blind what an elephant looks like; each one of them gets but a very indistinct and imperfect conception of the huge creature, yet every one of them thinks he has a true and most comprehensive idea of it.[42] Açvaghoṣa, thus, wishes to eschew all definite statements concerning the ultimate nature of being, but as language is the only mode with which we mortals can express our ideas and communicate them to others, he thinks the best expression that can be given to it is Bhûtatathâtâ, i.e., “suchness of existence,” or simply, “suchness.”
Bhûtatathâtâ (suchness), thus absolutely viewed, does not fall under the category of being and non-being; and minds which are kept within the narrow circle of contrasts, must be said to be incapable of grasping it as it truly is. Says Nâgârjuna in his Çâstra (Ch. XV.):
“Between thisness (svabhâva) and thatness (parabhâva),
Between being and non-being,
Who discriminates,
The truth of Buddhism he perceives not.”[43]
Or,
“To think ‘it is’, is eternalism,
To think ‘it is not’, is nihilism:
Being and non-being,
The wise cling not to either.”[44]
Again,
“The dualism of ‘to be’ and ‘not to be,’
The dualism of pure and not-pure:
Such dualism having abandoned,
The wise stand not even in the middle.”[45]
To quote, again, from the Awakening of Faith (pp. 58-59): “In its metaphysical origin, Bhûtatathâtâ has nothing to do with things defiled, i.e., conditional: it is free from all signs of individualisation, such as exist in phenomenal objects: it is independent of an unreal, particularising consciousness.”
Indefinability.
Absolute Suchness from its very nature thus defies all definitions. We cannot even say that it is, for everything that is presupposes that which is not: existence and non-existence are relative terms as much as subject and object, mind and matter, this and that, one and other: one cannot be conceived without the other. “It is not so (na iti)[46],” therefore, may be the only way our imperfect human tongue can express it. So the Mahâyânists generally designate absolute Suchness as Çûnyatâ or void.
But when this most significant word, çûnyatâ, is to be more fully interpreted, we would say with Açvaghoṣa that “Suchness is neither that which is existence nor that which is non-existence; neither that which is at once existence and non-existence, nor that which is not at once existence and non-existence; it is neither that which is unity nor that which is plurality; neither that which is at once unity and plurality, nor that which is not at once unity and plurality.”[47]
Nâgârjuna’s famous doctrine of “The Middle Path of Eight No’s” breathes the same spirit, which declares:
“There is no death, no birth, no destruction, no persistence,
No oneness, no manyness, no coming, no departing,”[48]
Elsewhere, he expresses the same idea in a somewhat paradoxical manner, making the historical Buddha a real concrete manifestation of Suchness:
“After his passing, deem not thus:
‘The Buddha still is here,’
He is above all contrasts,
To be and not to be.“While living, deem not thus:
‘The Buddha is now here.’
He is above all contrasts,
To be and not to be.”[49]
This view of Suchness as no-ness abounds in the literature of the Dhyâna school of Mahâyânism. To cite one instance: When Bodhi-Dharma[50], the founder of the Dhyâna sect, saw Emperor Wu of Liang dynasty (A.D. 502-556), he was asked what the first principle of the Holy Doctrine was, he did not give any lengthy, periphrastic statement after the manner of a philosopher, but laconically replied, “Vast emptiness and nothing holy.” The Emperor was bewildered and did not know how to take the words of his holy adviser. Naturally, he did not expect such an abrupt answer, and, being greatly disappointed, ventured another question: “Who is he, then, that stands before me?” By this he meant to repudiate the doctrine of absolute Suchness. His line of argument being this: If there is nothing in the ultimate nature of things that distinguishes between holiness and sinfulness, why this world of contrasts, where some are revered as holy, for instance, Bodhi-Dharma who is at this very moment standing in front of him with the mission of propagating the holy teachings of Buddha? Bodhi-Dharma, however, was a mystic and was fully convinced of the insufficiency of the human tongue to express the highest truth which is revealed only intuitively to the religious consciousness. His conclusive answer was, “I do not know”.[51]
This “I do not know” is not to be understood in the spirit of agnosticism, but in the sense of “God when understood is no God,” for in se est et per se conceptur. This way of describing Suchness by negative terms only, excluding all differences of name and form (nâmarûpa) to reach a higher kind of affirmation, seems to be the most appropriate one, inasmuch as the human understanding is limited in so many respects; but, nevertheless, it has caused much misinterpretation even among Buddhists themselves, not to mention those Christian Buddhist scholars of to-day, who sometimes appear almost wilfully to misconstrue the significance of the çûnyatâ philosophy. It was to avoid these unfortunate misinterpretations that the Mahâyânists frequently made the paradoxical assertion that absolute Suchness is empty and not empty, çûnya and açunya, being and non-being, sat and asat, one and many, this and that.