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and their accompanying moods and motivations are expected to shape the
devotees future in such a way that he or she in a future rebirth will
encounter the living presence of the next Buddha. These relic enshrine-
ments are, in addition, memory-sites of a different sort for archeologists
and historians who make use of them as evidence for reconstructing the
history of Buddhism.
Many of the issues related to relic veneration that are highlighted in
this volume are also relevant to sculptures and paintings of the Buddha.
Jacob Kinnards essay, in particular, examines the relationship between
physical objects connected with the bodies of Buddhas (body parts and
things with which they came into physical contact) and physical represen-
tations of Buddhas. There are clearly a number of salient differences
between these two basic ways of representing Buddhas. For example,
relics are typically hidden away in relic monuments or reliquaries and
images are usually open to view. Moreover, the means through which
relics and images are produced and gain authority are quite different. It is
the physical continuity of a bodily relic or relic of use with the body of a
Buddha that defines its venerability. While in practice bodily relics might
seem to proliferate almost without limit, they are in principle numerically
finite and thus subject to a kind of inherent material scarcity. Images are
subject to no such material constraints; they can be manufactured end-
lessly as long as they bear the appropriate iconographical features, and
consequently they lend themselves to different strategies of production
and control. And, as Robert Sharf notes in his chapter, relics and images
have quite different aesthetic qualities.
Despite these important differences, however, relics and images share
a number of striking similarities. First of all, both relics and images are
among the primary material means through which Buddhas continue to be
embodied after their passing away, and thus they fit our general theme
of embodying the Dharma. This fact is reflected in the classic Ther-
avada taxonomy of venerable memorials (cetiyas in Pa\li, caityas in San-
skrit), which differentiates three distinct categories: those containing bod-
ily relics, those defined by relics of use, and those that are
commemorative (a category identified with images); this classification
first appears in the fifth-century CE Pa\li commentaries.
33
Second, some
images contain bodily relics and could thus be classified under more than
one category of material mediation. Even when images do not actually
incorporate bodily relics, they are commonly located within temple com-
plexes alongside relic monuments, and both are typically the focus of
devotional rituals. In this respect, images, like bodily relics and relics of
KEVIN TRAINOR 16
use, lend themselves to defining particular spaces that are associated with
the presence of Buddhas, spaces that evoke and orchestrate devotional
attitudes and behaviors. The study of images alongside relics thus high-
lights some of the distinctive ways in which both Buddhist studies and the
study of religion are increasingly shaped by efforts to rematerialize their
subject matter through a focus on embodiment.
It was in response to some of these interpretive shifts within the dis-
ciplines of religion and Buddhist studies that David Germano and I orga-
nized a multiyear seminar on Buddhist relic veneration under the auspices
of the American Academy of Religion. The seminar met four successive
years during annual AAR conferences beginning in 1994, with fifteen
scholars contributing papers. The present volume is comprised of seven of
those essays in revised form. This volume is, to date, the only extended
analysis of Buddhist relic veneration bringing together contributions from
scholars exploring a broad diversity of Buddhist cultural traditions,
including India (Kinnard), Thailand (Swearer), Tibet (Germano), Japan
(Faure), as well as essays framed primarily in comparative and theoretical
terms (this introduction, Sharf, Strong). The chapters in this text also span
a wide range of historical periods and reflect a variety of theoretical
approaches. While there are many ways these pieces could be thematized
and compared, for instance, on the basis of regional focus, sectarian affil-
iation, or historical period, I will discuss them under the following rubrics:
taxonomies, royal appropriations, performative presences, textualizations,
and comparisons.
TAXONOMIES
The central concern of David Germanos chapter, Living Relics of the
Buddha(s) in Tibet, is the classification of material objects and their rela-
tionship to fundamental Buddhist doctrines on the intrinsic Buddha-nature
of all beings in the Great Perfection (rdzogs chen) tradition of Tibetan
Buddhism. Toward this end, Germano examines texts from the eleventh-
century Seminal Heart (snying thig) tantric literature, as well as the writ-
ings of Longchenpa (kLong chen pa), who systematized the tradition in
the fourteenth century. Germano identifies a general heightening of what
he terms funerary Buddhism as one moves from the early Great Perfec-
tion literature, where funerary practices are aestheticized by rendering
them less corporeal, into later strata of the textual tradition where one
finds elaborate correlations between meditational attainments and a wide
range of embodied physical signs and corporeal remains.
INTRODUCTION 17
These manifestations are ultimately grounded in Seminal Heart teach-
ings about the presence of the Buddha-nature in all things. Germano
details how this Buddha-nature manifests itself within the consciousness
of religious adepts and imprints itself on their bodies, giving rise after
their deaths to small spheres that continue to multiply. These bodily signs
are not merely the continuing presence of departed saints; they are, as
well, manifestations of the ongoing process of religious realization within
the bodies of those striving for enlightenment. Such ideas and practices
should not be regarded as merely the remnants of an ancient textual tradi-
tion; Germano provides anecdotal evidence of their continued relevance to
Tibetan practitioners today. His essay demonstrates the remarkable diver-
sity and centrality of relics in Tibetan Buddhist tradition and the integra-
tion of relic practices with aspects of Buddhist tradition from which they
have often been divorced by Western scholars, including abstract doctri-
nal reflection and meditation.
ROYAL APPROPRIATIONS
Bernard Faures chapter, Buddhist Relics and Japanese Regalia, exam-
ines the role that Buddhist relics played in struggles for political
supremacy in Japan during the fourteenth century. Faures chapter
adopts a broad interpretive framework, exploring the multiple dis-
courses that were centered on Buddhist relics and their attendant rituals
in Japan. He traces, as well, the diverse forms in which relics were phys-
ically manifested, including wish-granting jewels, imperial regalia, and
vital essence.
Faure also provides historical background on the Buddhist relic cult
in China, noting the important role of supernaturals, especially na\gas
(superhuman beings usually depicted as serpents in India and dragons
in East Asia) and their subterranean kingdoms into which relics sub-
merge themselves and later resurface. As the title of his piece suggests,
one important dimension of a relics potency is linked to its oscillation
between invisibility and visibility, isolation and access. Faure also iden-
tifies a number of important dynamics in the Japanese appropriation
and transformation of relics, including their association with fertility,
rain making, and apotropaic powers that could be used to sap the
potency of ones enemies. As he notes, relics in the Japanese context
functioned as floating signifiers whose fluid yet potent associations
could be used strategically for a diversity of political ends according to
the changing circumstances in which Japanese rulers found themselves.
KEVIN TRAINOR 18
His analysis thus illuminates the need to carefully contextualize the sig-
nificance and function of Buddhist relics in terms of local contestations
of power and authority.
PERFORMATIVE PRESENCES
Jacob Kinnards chapter, The Field of the Buddhas Presence, con-
tributes to an understanding of the notion of the Buddhas presence in
images and relics by drawing out the cognitive, affective, and behavioral
force that they exerted on Buddhists living in India during the period of
Pa\la rule (eighth through the eleventh centuries). Drawing upon Pierre
Bourdieus work, he maintains that our efforts to comprehend the presence
of a Buddha image require us to reconstruct, as much as possible, the
material circumstances and the implicit behavioral norms that shaped how
Buddhists identified and interacted with that image. Thus the meaning of
an image is not simply inherent in its aesthetic form, but instead emerges
relationally as a given worshipper interacts with it in a ritualized setting.
Kinnard turns to a number of textual sources, starting with the Pa\ li
canon, in order to reconstruct the layered system of inherited beliefs and
practices that provided the context for recognizing and interacting with
relics and images. These sources point to the religious significance of see-
ing the Buddha during his lifetime and highlight the importance of ritual-
ized remembrance and visualization techniques. He suggests that Buddha
images served not so much to make the Buddha present as to make the
viewer past, that is, to project the viewer back into a time when the Bud-
dha was alive and performing powerful deeds on behalf of those with
whom he interacted. Noting that the field in which devotees interacted with
Buddha images could embody contradictions and tensions, he demon-
strates how an image such as the Asamaha\ pra\ tiha\ rya, depicting the eight
great events in the life of the Buddha, could simultaneously serve as a
memento by means of which a pilgrim called to mind a powerful religious
journey, as a token venerated in lieu of such a journey, and as a physical
embodiment of the Buddhas entire life and collection of teachings.
TEXTUALIZATIONS
Donald Swearers chapter, Signs of the Buddha in Northern Thai Chron-
icles, draws our attention to chronicle texts that have not received ade-
quate scholarly attention in the West. Beginning with an overview of some
of the types of historical sources produced in Thailand, Swearer turns his
INTRODUCTION 19
attention to a particular northern Thai chronicle called The Chronicle of
the Water Basin, which describes the Buddhas travels through that
region, emphasizing in particular a mountain north of Chiang Mai known
today as Doi Chiang Dao, the Mountain of the Abode of the Stars. While
the chronicle itself appears to bring together three distinct kinds of stories,
all three share a common physical referent: the sacred mountain hallowed
by the Buddhas visit in the past, present repository of his material signs,
and future site of the coming righteous world ruler.
The chronicle records that when the Buddha visited the mountain, his
presence there gave rise to a broad range of material signs, including cor-
poreal relics, a footprint, and various images (corresponding to the three
basic categories of devotional memorials recognized in Theravada tradi-
tion). Most striking among the corporeal relics produced during his visit
were relics comprised of substances ordinarily considered highly pollut-
ing. At one point the site where the Buddha urinated became the Holy
Footprint Bathroom Resting Place. In another place, mucous dripping
from the Buddhas nose floated up into a nearby tree and the mucous-cov-
ered leaves were gathered as relics. While the character of the first relic is
somewhat ambiguous, since it could be classed as either a corporeal relic
or a relic of use, the second case suggests that even the Buddhas nasal
effluvia are worthy of veneration.
Swearer concludes his essay by distinguishing three distinctive levels
on which this text constructs the Buddha and his material signs. The first
of these he characterizes as magical or instrumentalist, the second as cos-
mological, and the third as ontological. On the first level direct contact
with the Buddha during his lifetime or later through his material signs
brings worldly blessings and increases ones store of merit. On a second
level the Buddhas presence organizes a cosmic order centered on the
sacred mountain. On a third level the material signs of the Buddha tran-
scend the limits of historical time and serve as the Buddhas living pres-
ence. On this third level, Swearer notes, the Buddha is read from his
material signs and emerges as a living reality.
COMPARISONS
John Strongs chapter, Buddhist Relics in Comparative Perspective:
Beyond the Parallels, examines Buddhist and Christian relic veneration,
identifying a number of differences in how relics function in the two tra-
ditions. His analysis is organized around seven basic themes: approaching
and touching; seeing and experiencing; dioramas and biography; rou-
KEVIN TRAINOR 20
tinization and mass production; collecting and counting; patterns of distri-
bution; and eschatologies.
Illustrating each of these activities with narrative accounts from dis-
parate cultures and historical periods, he develops several working
hypotheses as the basis for further comparative exploration. His tentative
conclusions are as follows: (1) Christian relics are commonly venerated in
very physical terms (e.g., a kiss), while Buddhist relics tend to be mirage-
like (evoking the presence of the Buddhas absence); (2) visions of Chris-
tian relics are granted, while Buddha relics are visualized through the
devotees own efforts; (3) Christian relics evoke Christs incarnation, a
movement from absence to presence, while Buddhist relics represent the
Buddhas whole life story and embody a transition from his presence to
his absence (i.e., his parinirvana); (4) Christian relics tend to proliferate on
the analogy of eucharistic transubstantiation, while Buddhist relics tend to
multiply through a process of textualization; (5) Christian relics are col-
lected as a means of reducing time in purgatory, while Buddhist relics
mutliply in direct proportion to ones accumulated merit; (6) Christian
relics accumulate centripetally at the center, which controls their dissem-
ination (Rome), while Buddhist relics exhibit a tendency toward system-
atic distribution (centrifugality); (7) in the end time, Christian relics
become eternal bodies, while Buddhist relics disappear, embodying
impermanence.
Robert Sharfs chapter, which concludes this volume, adopts a self-
reflexive stance, seeking to illuminate what it is that draws Western schol-
ars to the study of Buddhist relics. He begins his inquiry by reflecting on
Lvy-Bruhls work on primitive mentality, noting that some of the basic
interpretive issues raised by his work are still very much with us. Stated
simply, should the study of diverse cultures proceed on the basis of an
assumed commonality, in particular a shared human rationality, or should
it advance by highlighting the incommensurability of distinct cultures?
As this pertains to the study of Buddhism and, in particular, the study
of relics, Sharf suggests why we may be so enamored of our new view of
Buddhists routinely engaged in relic veneration. Such a representation
goes far to diminish a popular romanticized view of Buddhism as a pure,
rational philosophy and restores to the tradition a quality of otherness as
we envision Buddhists engaged in the sanctification of something utterly
profane and loathesome: the bodies of the dead.
He asserts, moreover, that this fascination with the bones of the Bud-
dha evidenced in the work of some contemporary scholars of Buddhism
extends beyond a concern to improve our understanding of Buddhism and
INTRODUCTION 21
has to do, as well, with some profound existential questions grounded in
our own cultural milieu. While acknowledging that both Buddha images
and bodily relics can be usefully regarded as kindred forms of representa-
tion with many functional similarities, he cautions against a tendency to
treat them as simply equivalent to each other. In contrast to images, which
tend to be aesthetically appealing, relics, as human remains, elicit a
response that can best be described as visceral. At base, Sharf argues,
relics pose fundamental questions about the nature of physical embodi-
ment and the problem of human identity in the face of death. While he
cautions that we must be hesitant to assume that our questions are neces-
sarily those that lie behind the concern for relics manifested by disparate
communities of Buddhists over more than two millennia, we do well to
explore the complex of cultural and personal motivations that give rise to
and inform our study of the subject.
Even if their function can be traced back to Indian and Chinese prece-
dents, in Japan the relics of the Buddha were reinscribed in specific
symbolical or pragmatic and political networks. In particular, the devel-
opment of the theme of the identity between the arra and the
cinta\mani deviated the relic cult from the worship of the Buddha (as
honzon) to that of the Special Worthies (besson), secondary deities
BUDDHIST RELICS AND JAPANESE REGALIA 109
that take the center stage in rituals from the Insei period onward. In this
way, the cult of the relics was put at the center of the Buddhist ideology
of royal power that developed toward that time. They became, as it
were, floating signifiers, and this precisely because of their uncanny
capacity to sink and resurface, after sojourning for a time in the na\ga
palace. Meanwhile, other relicsthe arra of the saintscontinued
their traditional trajectory as cultic objects in monasteries and among
the faithful. They do not seem to have been associated to the cinta\mani
or to the regalia, and if we see the same rhetoric of invisibility at work
in their case, the crypt or the reliquary is not the na\ga palace or its
earthly replicas, the Treasure Houses (ho\zo\), but the stupa. A case in
point is the Peak of the Five Elders (Goro\ho\) at Yo\ko\ji in Noto penin-
sula, a mound where the Zen priest Keizan Jo\kin (12681325) buried
various relics (arra in the strict sense, bones, texts written in blood,
etc.) of the five patriarchs of the So\to\ tradition (including his own pre-
posthumous relics). In the same temple, a Life-Benefitting Stupa
(risho\to\) was erected after the death of Emperor Go-Daigo to receive
some of the relics of the Buddha, which the sho\gun disseminated
throughout the country. This shows that the distinction between the two
types of relics (those of the Buddha, those of the saints or patriarchs),
while generally valid, must in some cases be nuanced. The relics of the
Buddha where circulating in several circles (or rather ellipses) of power
whose real centers were the various incumbent rulers or challengers of
the time (the emperor, the Fujiwara regent, the cloistered emperor, or
the sho\gun) and major Buddhist monasteries (To\ji, Hieizan, or Ten-
ryu\ji). However, the relics also circulated between the periphery of
these circles and their symbolic centers (the Treasure Houses of To\ji,
Sho\ko\myo\-in, Rengeo\-in, etc.) and sometimes broke out of these cir-
cles of power to disseminate among clerics and the faithful. This is for
instance the case of the relics transmitted by Shirakawa-in to the Gion
Consort and Kiyomori, which came to circulate among the nuns of
Hokkeji in Nara and pursued their centrifugal trajectory among the
faithful of the provinces.
NOTES
1. See Bernard Faure, The Rhetoric of Immediacy: A Cultural Critique of
Chan/Zen Buddhism (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1991), 13247; The
Daruma-shu\, Do\gen, and So\to\ Zen, Monumenta Nipponica 42, no. 1 (1987):
2555; Les cloches de la terre: Un aspect du culte des reliques dans le boud-
dhisme chinois, in Bouddhisme et lettrs dans la Chine mdivale, ed. Catherine
BERNARD FAURE 110
Despeux (Paris, 2002); and Dato, Ho\bo\girin, fasc. 8, Paris: Adrien Maison-
neuve, 2003: 11271158. The following chapter is a shortened version of a paper
written in 1996, some of whose material was published under the title Relics,
Regalia, and the Dynamics of Secrecy in Japanese Buddhism, in Rending the
Veil: Concealment and Secrecy in the History of Religions, ed. Elliot R. Wolfson
(New York: Seven Bridges Press, 1999), 27187. It was written before the publi-
cation of Brian Rupperts Jewel in the Ashes: Buddha Relics and Power in Early
Medieval Japan (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 2000), which covers
some of the same ground. I have unfortunately been unable to take Rupperts find-
ings into account. Despite the inadequacy of the term relics (even in the Western
context), pointed out by several scholars, I chose to continue using it here as short-
hand for the Sanskrit terms dha\tu and arra.
2. See Faure, Bouddhisme et lettrs.
3. On the cinta\mani and Japanese kingship, see in particular Abe Yasuro\,
Ho\ju to o\ken: chu\sei to mikkyo\ girei, in Iwanami ko\za to\yo\ shiso\ 16, Nihon
shiso\ 2 (Tokyo: Iwanami shoten, 1989), 11569.
4. See Buppatsu, in Ho\bo\girin: Dictionnaire encyclopdique du boud-
dhisme daprs les sources chinoises et japonaises, ed. Sylvain Lvi, et al., fasc.
2 (Paris: Adrien Maisonneuve, 1930), 170b; see also Taisho\ shinshu\ daizo\kyo\
(hereafter abbreviated as T.), ed. Takakusu Junjiro\ et al., vol. 23 (Tokyo: Taisho\
issaikyo\ kanko\kai, 192434), no. 1435:415, and T. 50, 2040:66.
5. On the Insei period, see G. Cameron Hurst III, Insei: Abdicated Sovereigns
in the Politics of Late Heian Japan, 10861185 (New York: Columbia University
Press, 1976). On the Kenmu restoration, see H. Paul Varley, Imperial Restoration
in Medieval Japan (New York: Columbia University Press, 1971).
6. Strictly speaking, the tenno\ is not an emperor (at least at this time). How-
ever, to avoid complicating the matter further, I will retain the established trans-
lation, which reflects the medieval (and modern) Japanese perception of the tenno\
as universal ruler by divine inheritance.
7. I use the expression local ideology here, for lack of a better one, to desig-
nate the first elements of a system of beliefs and rituals that will only much later
come to be called Shinto\. On this question, see Kuroda Toshio, Shinto\ in the
History of Japanese Religion, trans. James C. Dobbins and Suzanne Gay, Jour-
nal of Japanese Studies 7, no. 1 (1981): 121.
8. Such distributions took place for instance in 1038 (Cho\ryaku 2), 1192
(Kenkyu\ 3), 1229 (Kanki 1), and 1253 (Kencho\ 5). See Koji ruien, Shu\kyo\-bu,
vol. 2 (Tokyo: Yoshikawa ko\bunkan, 1977), 242, 24748. As we will see later,
after the Nanbokucho\ period, the sho\gun used a similar method.
9. See To\bo\ ki, by Go\ho\ (130662), in Zoku zoku gunsho ruiju\ 12.
10. On Ku\kais rain rituals at Shinzenen, see Brian D. Ruppert, Buddhist
Rainmaking in Early Japan: The Dragon King and the Ritual Careers of Esoteric
Monks, History of Religions 42, no. 2 (2002): 14374.
BUDDHIST RELICS AND JAPANESE REGALIA 111
11. See Kakuzensho\, quoting the Goyuigo\, in Dai Nihon bukkyo\ zensho, vol.
51, 22a (hereafter DNBZ).
12. See Keiran shu\yo\ shu\, T. 76, 2410:545c. According to one tradition, the
jewel of Ninnaji (the so-called no\saku jewel) had been sent to the sho\gun. When
an emissary left Kamakura with it, lightning fell, and a dragon god tried to steal
it. However, as it was wrapped in a ka\sa\ya, his attempt failed, and the jewel was
returned safely to the capital. On Sho\ko\myo\-in, see Mimi Hall Yengpruksawan,
The Phoenix Hall at Uji and the Symmetries of Replication, The Art Bulletin 77,
4 (1995): 64671.
13. See Kakuzensho\, DNBZ 51:13435.
14. See Zoku gunsho ruiju\ 27: 299. At the beginning of the Kamakura period,
a monk named Ku\tai, a Chinese disciple of Cho\gen (11211206) of To\daiji, stole
several grains of relics from Muro\ji, and he was arrested at Ko\fukuji. However,
because of this theft he came to be called the Saint who spread the arra of
Muro\[zan] (Muro\ shari ru\fu sho\nin). In 1272, a group of Shingon adepts also
obtained a few grains of those a\rra, which they later disseminated in the Kanto\
region. See on this question Azuma Kagami 11, s.v. Kenkyu\ 2 (1191), 7/23; and
No\tomi Jo\ten, Kamakura jidai no shari shinko\, Indogaku bukkyo\gaku kenkyu\
33, no. 2 (1985): 3236; Tsuji Hidenori, Muro\ji oyobi Hasedera no kenkyu\
(Kyoto: Seika Gakuen 1970), 90.
15. On this site, see Ruppert, Jewel in the Ashes.
16. See for instance Robert E. Morrell, Passage to India Denied: Zeamis
Kasuga Ryu\jin, Monumenta Nipponica 37, no. 2 (1982): 179200.
17. According to the Taiheiki, Shubin, in a fit of anger, had captured the dragon
gods and locked them up in a jar, thereby causing a terrible drought. There was
only one na\ga king in the Heatless Lake on the Himalayas, whose power was
greater than his, and who remained free. It is this na\ga, Zennyo, whom Ku\kai
invited to reside in Shinzenen Pond. See The Taiheiki: A Chronicle of Medieval
Japan, trans. Helen Craig McCullough (Tokyo: Tuttle 1979), 37479.
18. On this question, see Tsuji Zennosuke, Nihon bukkyo\shi (Tokyo: Iwanami
shoten, 1970), 99.
19. See the Benichizan ki, in DNBZ, Jishi jo\sho 3; and Zoku gunsho ruiju\ 27:
299. See also, from a Shinto\ standpoint, the Benichi himitsu ki (compiled
toward the Nanbokucho\ period).
20. See Yanagita Kunio, Shakujin mondo\ (var. Ishigami mondo\ ), in Yanagita
Tamemasa et al., eds., Yanagita Kunio zenshu\, vol. 15 (Tokyo: Chikuma shobo\,
19891991), 41, on the etymology of these places named Sho\ji(n), derived from
sho\ji = sae (obstacle), rather than from the Buddhist term sho\jin (Sanskrit vrya,
one of the six pa\ramita\ ).
21. Quoted in Tsuji, Muro\ji oyobi Hasedera no kenkyu\, 12526.
22. See Zoku gunsho ruiju\ 27b:29699.
BERNARD FAURE 112
23. See Kakuzensho\, DNBZ 51:133b. The transmission went as follows:
Ku\ kaiShingaGenninSho\ bo\ KankenIchijo\ Genko\ Ningai
Jo\zonHanjun. See Kakuzensho\, 136a.
24. The repeated injunction not to disseminate the relics of To\ ji suggests reluc-
tance on the part of some monks to entrust their temples treasure to power-hungry
prelates and rulers. The fact that the relics were stolen on several occasions shows
that the monks fears were justified. We are told that, on one occasion, the dragon
of Shinzenen flew to To\ ji, amidst thunder and lightning, and the culprit subse-
quently confessed. Despite these threats, as we will see, the number of relics tended
to increase with time, while their role as symbols of transmission diminished.
25. The symbolism of rebirth in Tusita Heaven is suggested by its forty-nine
courts, a number reminiscent of the forty-nine days of the liminal period between
death and rebirth. This symbolism also partly explains the association between
Tusita Heaven and Amaterasus Heavenly Rock Cave.
26. See Abe, Ho\ju to o\ken, 12425.
27. See To\bo\ki, 12.
28. See the numbers given over fifteen generations in Kakuzen sho\, DNBZ
51:116b. These relics were contained in two bins (a and b), whose content
varied from 3,406 to 4,486 grains and from 390 to 740, respectively. At one point,
in 1054, the tags on the two bottles were interverted. On this question, see Rup-
pert, Jewel in the Ashes.
29. On this topic, see Kageyama Haruki, Shari shinko\: Sono kenkyu\ to shiryo\
(Tokyo: To\kyo\ bijutsu senta\, 1986); and Ruppert, Jewel in the Ashes, 13638.
30. See for instance Ryu\ichi Ab, The Weaving of Mantra: Ku\kai and the Con-
struction of Esoteric Buddhist Discourse (New York: Columbia University Press,
1999), 36366; Iyanaga Nobumi, Da\kini et lEmpereur: Mystique bouddhique de
la royaut dans le Japon mdival, Versus: Quaderni di studi semiotici 8384
(1999): 7579.
31. See T. 76:557a.
32. See Sanbo\ ekotoba, vol. 1:4, trans. Edward Kamens, The Three Jewels: A
Study and Translation of Minamoto Tamenoris Sanbo\e (Ann Arbor: Center for
Japanese Studies, the University of Michigan, 1988), 11820; and Tanaka Takako,
Geho\ to aiho\ no chu\sei (Tokyo: Tsunakoya shobo\, 1993), 102.
33. Commentaries on the Nihonshoki emphasize the importance of this story to
understand the origin of the divine jewel (shindama), one of the three regalia.
The tama contained in Toyotamahime, as Yanagita Kunio and Orikuchi Shinobu
have shown, means divine spirit (shinrei), and Toyotamahime may be a generic
term for the female mediums (miko) who were possessed by such spirits.
34. See Keiran shu\yo\ shu\, T. 76:578c79a.
35. We find the same story in the Utsubo monogatari, in the chapter Zo\kai
(Opening of the Repository, first part). When Nakatada, the grandson of Toshi-
BUDDHIST RELICS AND JAPANESE REGALIA 113
kage, discovers the repository left by his grandfather and wants to open it, he is
warned by an old man who passed by that it is guarded by a dragon. No one can
open it, and all those who come near it die. The story resembles that of Yorimichi,
but in the Utsubo monogatari it is the spirit of Nakatadas grandfather who keeps
the repository to transmit it to his legitimate heir. See Tanaka, Geho\ to aiho\ no
chu\sei, 127.
36. Tanaka, Geho\ to aiho\ no chu\sei, 134.
37. See for instance Kujo\ Kanezane (11491207), Gyokuyo\ (Tokyo: Kokusho
kanko\kai, 1907), s.v. Kenkyu\ 3/4/8.
38. See Abe, Ho\ju to o\ken, 155.
39. See Tanaka, Geho\ to aiho\ no chu\sei, 151.
40. See Daijo\in jisha zo\ji ki, s.v. Kansei 3/10/4 = 1462, quoted in Tanaka, Geho\
to aiho\ no chu\sei, 153. Another source, the Nyorai ha-shari denrai (dated 1367),
mentions that this relic was transmitted in Japanese Tendai before eventually
reaching the Fujiwara clan. See Gunsho ruiju\ 716:19.
41. This text is included in the Saidaiji Eizon denki shu\sei, quoted in Tanaka,
Geho\ to aiho\ no chu\sei, 156. The Sennyu\ji in Kyoto also claimed to be in pos-
session of that relic. See Koji ruien, s.v. Shari-e, Shu\kyo\-bu 2:119, and Butsuga
shari ki, ibid., 117. See also John S. Strong and Sarah M. Strong, ATooth Relic
of the Buddha in Japan: An Essay on the Sennyu\-ji Tradition and a Translation of
Zeamis No\ Play Shari, Japanese Religions 20, no. 1 (1995): 133.
42. See Hokkeji shari engi; reproduced in Busshari to ho\ju: Shaka o shitau
kokoro, Nara Kokuritsu Hakubutsukan, ed. (Nara-shi: Nara Kokuritsu, 2001), ill.
70, and 2134. Next to the tooth of the Buddha, another relic appeared, that of the
left eye of the Buddha, said to be in the possession of the Shingon temple Oppo\ji
(in Niigata Prefecture). The name of that temple, which means literally Temple
of Treasure B, is said to derive from the legend that, whereas the relic of the Bud-
dhas right eye had been enshrined in the Jiabaozi (Temple of Treasure A) in
China, the relic of the left eye was brought to Japan by an Indian priest known as
the Brahmin Priest (Baramon so\jo\) and enshrined in the temple founded for that
purpose, on imperial order, by the priest Gyo\ki in 736.
43. See Tanaka, Geho\ to aiho\ no chu\sei, 16768.
44. Tanaka, Geho\ to aiho\ no chu\sei, 152.
45. The Heike monogatari claims that the Gion Consort was the mother of
Kiyomori. While she was pregnant by Cloistered Emperor Shirakawa, he married
her to his vassal Tadamori to reward him. Consequently, Kiyomori was not the son
of Tadamori but of Shirakawa-in. According to documents of Komiya Shrine,
however, it is the younger sister of the Gion Consort who, pregnant by Shirakawa-
in, was married to Tadamori in order to settle things. She died two years after giv-
ing birth, and Kiyomori was raised by his aunt, the Gion Consort. Just before
dying in 1192, Shirakawa-in gave the Gion Consort two thousand grains of relics,
BERNARD FAURE 114
which she is said to have transmitted to Kiyomori. See Helen Craig McCullough,
trans., The Tale of the Heike (Stanford: Stanford University Press, 1988), 217.
46. Tanaka, Geho\ to aiho\ no chu\sei, 15859.
47. See Donald L. Philippi, trans., Kojiki (Tokyo: University of Tokyo Press,
1968), 15058.
48. See Asabasho\ 187, by Sho\cho\ (120582), DNBZ: 41:120b.
49. See Abe, Ho\ju to o\ken, 129.
50. The relics of Hokkeji included those transmitted by Ku\kai, those brought
by Ganjin, those of the Baramon so\jo\, and those brought from the dragon palace.
See the Saidaiji chokushi Ko\sho\ Bosatsu gyo\jo\ nenpu, quoted in Tanaka, Geho\ to
aiho\ no chu\sei, 162.
51. See Abe Yasuro\, Chu\sei nanto no shu\kyo\ to geino\, Kokugo to kokubun-
gaku (May 1987).
52. See Tanaka, Geho\ to aiho\ no chu\sei, 16869. See also Hokkeji nyoi ho\ju
engi no koto, in Keiran shu\yo\ shu\, T. 76, 2410:545b; and Hosokawa Ryo\ichi,
O|ken to amadera: chu\sei no sei to shari shinko\, in Retto\ no bunkashi, ed. Amino
Yoshihiko, vol. 5 (Tokyo: Nihon edita\ suku\ru shuppanbu, 1988).
53. See T. 83, 2543:15c.
54. See Faure, The Daruma-shu\, Do\gen, and So\to\ Zen, 2556.
55. See Takahashi Shu\hei, Sanbo\ji no Darumashu\ monto to rokuso Fugen
shari, Shu\gaku kenkyu\ 26 (1984): 11621.
56. In other medieval texts, the Tusita Heaven is also assimilated to the Rock-
Cave of Heaven into which the sun goddess Amaterasu withdrew temporarily,
when she felt threatened by her impetuous brother Susanoo. See for instance
Shasekishu\, trans. Robert Morrell, Sand and Pebbles (Albany: State University of
New York Press, 1985), 7374. On the episode of the Rock-Cave of Heaven, see
Kojiki, trans. Donald L. Philippi, Kojiki, 8186.
57. See McCullough, The Tale of the Heike, 42638.
58. According to the Azuma kagami (in Kokushi taikei 3233), in Kenryaku 2
(1212), the sho\gun deposited at Jufukuji in Kamakura the arra transmitted by
Eisai. In 1214, the first ceremony (shari-e) took place at Daijiji. In 1217, another
took place at Yo\fukuji. In 1220 and 1226, ceremonies were repeated at Daijiji, and
in 1231 at Yo\fukuji.
59. Depending on the sources, this tooth had been transmitted to the Chinese
Vinaya master Daoxuan by Nazha (Sanskrit Nada), the son of the Deva-King
Viru\pa\ksa (see Kakuzensho\, DNBZ 51: 123a), or by the god Weituo (Sanskrit
Skanda); see Nol Peri, Le dieu Wei-to, Bulletin de lcole Franaise dEx-
trme-Orient 17 (1916): 53. One tradition claims that it was transmitted to Japan
under the reign of Emperor Saga (r. 80923); see Peri, Le dieu Wei-to.
60. See Gunsho ruiju\ 19:28687; and Kamakura kanryo\ kyu\dai ki, quoted in
Koji ruien, Shu\kyo\-bu 2:119.
BUDDHIST RELICS AND JAPANESE REGALIA 115
61. Koji ruien, Shu\kyo\-bu 2:121. On the Sennyu\ji relic, see Strong and Strong,
ATooth Relic of the Buddha in Japan.
62. See Gunsho ruiju\ 443, vol. 19, 28889.
63. See Abe, Ho\ju to o\ken, 153.
64. On Chinese regalia, see Anna Seidel, Imperial Treasures and Taoist Sacra-
ments: Taoist Roots in the Apocrypha, in Tantric and Taoist Studies in Honor of
R. A. Stein, ed. Michel Strickmann, vol. 2 (Brussels: Institut Belge des Hautes
tudes Chinoises), 291371.
BERNARD FAURE 116
THE PERSISTENCE OF PRESENCE
Only the portrait, or image, has the presence necessary for
veneration, whereas the narrative exists only in the past.
Hans Belting, Likeness and Presence
IT HAS BECOME VIRTUALLY IMPOSSIBLE TO DISCUSS STUPAS, RELICS, AND
images of the Buddha without recourse to the language of presence.
Although presence may be a convenient, and even an accurate, rubric for
what these objects effect, such language is also inherently vague and
carries with it significant and sometimes troubling philosophical and
theological overtones. Added to this is the familiar problem, not in any
way unique to Buddhist studies, that the texts upon which we base our
studies are frequently either entirely silent or extremely cryptic regard-
ing such matters. This is not to say that talk of presence should therefore
be abandonedno doubt to be replaced by some equally vague, equally
loaded terminology. On the contrary, relics and images obviously
involve and produce some sort of presence; what sort, however, is by no
means self-evident.
A sampling of such presence talk is illustrative: The stu\pa is an
important symbol in early and later Buddhism because of its ability to
render the Buddha and other departed saints spiritually present.
1
The
stu\pa is the Buddha, the Buddha is the stu\pa.
2
The stu\pa symbolised
His presence.
3
Relics and the cults that surround the traces, or physical
117
CHAPTER FIVE
THE FIELD OF THE BUDDHAS PRESENCE
Jacob N. Kinnard
remainders, seem to evoke a continuing presence of the Master.
4
[T]he Buddhas eternal presence is contained in the Stu\pa, and
although enshrining relics, the worshipper sees it as the eternal Bud-
dha.
5
[T]hese are thought to contain something of the spiritual force
and purity of the person they once formed part of.
6
[T]he relic in early
Buddhist India was thought of as an actual living presence and was
characterized byfull ofexactly the same spiritual forces and facul-
ties that characterize, in fact constitute and animate, the living Buddha.
7
The stupa is at one and the same time the body of the whole world and
the Body of the Buddha, which is the body of perfected Man, of the Bud-
dha as the universal type or norm of the human. . . . [T]he stupa and the
Buddha image are interchangeable.
8
[I]n being the Buddha, the image
is the Buddhas story.
9
Such a list could go on for several more pages, but what should be
abundantly clear is that although there is some scholarly agreement on
the fact that presence is involved with images and relics and stupas, there
is little consensus as to what exactly this presence is. In the above quota-
tions, for instance, there is posited a kind of ontological presenceto
which one might add a kind of ontological absence;
10
a kind of symbolic
presence; and a kind of commemorative presence. Although such a state
of ambiguity may be appropriate to the context, given the many histori-
cal and intellectual layers such statements encompass, it is compounded
and further confused by a tendency to treat all relicsand here I mean
the term in the broadest senseas the same, if not in terms of their clas-
sification, at least in terms of their function.
11
Such an amalgamation is
problematic. A stupa, for instance, ideally contains physical, or bodily,
remains of the Buddhaalthough the relics contained within a stupa can
also be relics of use, such as a bowl, and even images or pieces of images,
that is, uddesika relics, therefore further muddying an already murky dis-
courseand thus a stupa does have a kind of ontological link to the once-
living teacher. A stupa also evokes a symbolic presence, since, by con-
vention, it signifies the relics it contains (and by extension the Buddha as
the source of these relics); thus even a stupa without relics can symbolize
the Buddha, or nirvana, or even another, more significant stupa with
relics. Astupa also effects a commemorative sort of presence, in that it is
a place to remember, to call to mind, the Buddhas life, his teaching, his
nirvana, and so on.
What about a Buddha image,
12
though? What sort of presence does
it, or do they, evoke? It has been rather common to see images as func-
tional extensions, and therefore equivalents, of stupas: Other trends,
JACOB N. KINNARD 118
such as the cult of the image, can equally be seen as developments of
the stu\pa cult. . . . [I]t functions like a stu\pa in making the saint pre-
sent.
13
Can we, or should we, so easily blend images into the
relic/stupa discourse? Or does a Buddha image involve other sorts of
presence that ought to be discussed as such?
One way images involve a different sort of presence is in their nar-
rative function. In short, images tell a story. This is most obvious with the
early examples of Buddhist art from such places as Bha\rhut and Sa\c, as
well as the countless illustrations of the Ja\takas found in temples
throughout the Buddhist world.
14
Steven Collins has articulated a signifi-
cantly more complex notion of this kind of narrative presence; he says
that when an image is encountered and recognized . . . or when an
enshrined relic is venerated, the whole story is implicitly present.
15
What
Collins means by this is that the larger narrative is already familiar, and
thus the specific object acts as a kind of mental seed, a kind of Buddhist
version of Prousts madeleines. An image of the seated Buddha display-
ing the bhumiparsamu\dra\, for instance, not only visually narrates the
specific episode of Ma\ras calling into question the Buddhas powers but
also implicitly tells the story of all of Buddhism, from the young Sid-
dharthas first journey outside of the palace to the parinirvana.
An example of the sort of narrative presence that images evoke is the
comparatively late stelaemost of these images date to the Pa\la period
(7501200 CE)
16
depicting the eight great events in the Buddhas life,
the Asamaha\pra\tiha\rya, and the places at which those events took place,
the Asamaha\stha\nacaitya.
17
John Huntington, for instance, says of these
stelae: The sequence is a kind of epitome of the life of S:a\kyamuni. . . .
[T]he Asamaha\pra\tiha\rya epitomizes the whole life of the Buddha, his
attainments, his teachings and the benefits of faith in his life to his fol-
lowers. In short, the set of eight scenes epitomizes the whole of Bud-
dhism.
18
Although Huntington provides a detailed discussion of the lit-
eral, narrative function of these imagesthat is, textual accounts of the
events the images depicthis analysis does not perhaps go quite far
enough. What might have enabled the tenth-century pilgrim to recognize
and value such images? What is it that was valued? Furthermore, why is
there a continued emphasis on the life of the historical Buddha (i.e.,
S:a\kyamuni) in artistic images during the Pa\la period, particularly when
in contemporary textual practices S:a\kyamuni is increasingly nudged
aside by the plethora of Buddhas, bodhisattvas, and deities that come to
inhabit the greater Buddhist pantheon? In short, what was the field of
presence in Pa\la India?
THE FIELD OF THE BUDDHA S PRESENCE 119
THE CONCEPT OF THE FIELD
One of the major difficulties of the social history of philosophy, art or lit-
erature is that it has to reconstruct these spaces of original possibles
which, because they were part of the self-evident givens of the situa-
tion, remained unremarked and are therefore unlikely to be mentioned in
contemporary accounts, chronicles or memoirs.
Pierre Bourdieu, The Field of Cultural Production
In his articulation of the notion of the field, Pierre Bourdieu charac-
teristically emphasizes the relational nature of artistic production and
reception. In so doing, he rejects Foucaults concept of the pistem
because, Bourdieu argues, Foucault refuses to look outside the field of
discourse for the principle which would cast light on each of the dis-
courses within it . . . he thus refuses to relate works in any way to their
social conditions of production, i.e., to positions occupied within the field
of cultural production.
19
Bourdieu also argues explicitly against Kants
pure gaze aesthetic, insisting that the work of art is an object which
exists as such only by virtue of the (collective) belief which knows and
acknowledges it as a work of art.
20
In order to understand the work of art
in its original context, it is necessary to reconstruct the field in which that
work was situated, a field that was made up of a whole range of strategies
of production and reception.
We know that the field of Buddhist practice during this period was far
from unified. Given the broad expanses of time and space (including large
parts of the modern Indian states of Bihar, Orissa, Bengal, plus parts of
modern Bangladesh), plus the substantial international traffic through the
regionit seems clear that what we have here is at the very least a diverse
field.
21
What constitutes this field, though? What strategies were available
to Pa\la-period Buddhists for making the Buddha present?
One place to begin is with the Pa\li Canon. It may seem odd to direct
our gaze back to the Pa\li materials here, but it is precisely the earlier con-
ceptions of the presence of the historical Buddha in artistic images that
inform and underlie the later production and use of sculptures and paint-
ings, such as the As amaha\pra\tiha\rya images. Indeed, all of the accounts
of the significant events depicted on these stelae are contained within the
Pa\li Canon. Certainly these stories are retold and reworked throughout
Indian Buddhist history, but there is a strong sense in which such images
implicitly tell the original story, in much the same way, say, that the cross,
in the Western Christian context, tells the original story of Jesus.
22
Thus
what I shall attempt here is a kind of archaeological explicationnot in
JACOB N. KINNARD 120
Foucaults sense, but in the sense of Bourdieus methodological convic-
tion that the field of art at any given time is constructed on, or through, a
complex system of beliefs and practices made up of many layers of prior,
inherited beliefs and practices. It is this layered system, this field, that
allows for the recognition, in the deepest sense, of the object; it is the field
that creates the belief which knows and acknowledges the kinds of pres-
ence evoked by physical images of the Buddha. Here I am concerned, in
particular, with the relatively few references to making and worshiping
visual images of the Buddha in the Pa\li material and also with those pas-
sages that emphasize the importance of being in the physical presence of
the historical Buddha in this literature and with the strategies employed
when this physical presence is unavailable. Another important element in
the field of presence is the concept of buddha\nusmrti (Pa\li anussati), or
recollecting the Buddha. Although this technique is explicitly medita-
tional, and therefore involves a cognitive act of making present the Bud-
dha, it too is an essential part of the Pa\la-period habituswhat Bourdieu
calls the principles of the generation and structuring of practices and rep-
resentations
23
of Buddha images.
IMAGINING THE BUDDHA: IMAGE TALK
Honor these: an elder of the sangha, a Bodhi tree, an image, a reliquary.
Buddhaghosa, Samantapa\sa\dika\
Beings are contented, even just by seeing the Buddha; having heard the
uttering of the discourse [of the Buddha], they obtain deathlessness.
Buddhavamsa, in Jayawickrama,
Buddhavamsa and Cariya\piaka
SEEING THE BUDDHA
A great deal of ink has been spilled on the topic of Buddha images. Begin-
ning with the debate between Ananda Coomaraswamy and Alfred Foucher
over the indigenous or exogenous origins of the Buddha image,
24
and pro-
gressing through the very recent debates about the aniconic period in early
Buddhism,
25
scholars have been wrangling over two very basic questions: (1)
When did Buddhists begin representing the Buddha in sculptures, drawings,
and paintings? and (2) Why did they do this? The first question, one would
think, would be relatively straightforwardgiven the precision of modern
dating techniquesand for the most part it is, except that some art historians
have recently begun to introduce new data that would push the date back
in time.
26
Although this temporal debate is of considerable empirical interest,
I will leave this to be argued by archaeologists and art historians.
THE FIELD OF THE BUDDHA S PRESENCE 121
Turning then to the second questionWhy did Buddhists begin mak-
ing images of the Buddha?as we have seen, they did so in order to
make the Buddha present, with all of the vagaries and polyvalent reso-
nances of this phrase. What, though, is it about being in the presence of
the Buddha? On the most basic level, the Buddhas disciples wish to be
in the Masters presence in order to hear the dharma directly from him,
in order to receive his direct guidance. We see variations of this through-
out the Pa\li Canon; a would-be disciple learns that the Buddha is preach-
ing the dhamma somewhere and resolves to go hear for him- or herself.
This is also emphasized by the familiar opening of so many of the suttas:
Evam me sutam, Thus have I heard. The text that follows this stock
beginning is, at least on a very superficial level, legitimized by the fact
that it was heard directly from the mouth of the Buddhait is bud-
dhavacana, the Buddhas own speech.
27
One of the most well-known and oft-cited expressions of this general
theme is A|nandas tearful lament in the Maha\parinibba\na-Sutta when he
knows that the masters death is imminent: Alas! I am still but a learner,
one who has [more] work to do. And the Teacher is about to pass away
from mehe who is so compassionate to me!
28
A|nanda here is express-
ing several layers of distress, not the least of which is the emotion of los-
ing a dear companion. What is perhaps most emphasized in the passage,
though, is A|nandas fear that without the present Buddha there to teach
and to guide him, he will remain a mere learner.
29
Hearing the Buddhas words directly from the Buddhas mouth is not
the only rationale for being in the physical presence of the Buddha. We see
this explicitly addressed in the commentary on the Dgha-Nika\ ya, the
Suman galavila\ sin: the text states that the evam me sutam with which
A| nanda begins each narrative is intended to make present (paccakkham ,
more literally make visible) the Buddhas dhamma-ka\ ya.
34
The emphasis
on visibility here is noteworthy. Indeed, in the episode preceding A| nandas
lament, the godswho have heard that the Buddha is about to pass from
the worldcome to see him (tatha\ gatam dassa\ yana) one last time.
This visual emphasis is seen, of course, throughout later Buddhism;
31
seeing the Buddha is itself a tremendously significant eventseeing not
just as an analytical act but also as David Eckel has claimed with respect
to Bha\vavivekas vision longing, seeing as an emotional vision of a
beloved object that fills the eyes with tears of joy, sadness, frustrations, or
satisfaction.
32
We find this emphasized in the stock phrase that occurs in
later texts such as the Lalitavistara and Pacavimatipraja\pa\ramita\, as
well as the Divya\vada\na and Maha\vyutpatti: Upon seeing the Buddha,
the blind see, the deaf hear, the dumb speak, the mad recover their rea-
JACOB N. KINNARD 122
son, nakedness is covered, hunger and thirst are appeased, the sick cured,
the infirm regain their wholeness.
33
tienne Lamotte links this desire to see the Buddha and behold his
miraculous qualities to an essentially lay-devotional impulse that took
place after the Buddha had died:
If monks, devoted to a life of study and meditation, are able to resign
themselves to regarding their founder only as a sage who had entered
Nirva\na, lay followers, who are exposed to the difficulties of their times,
require something other than a dead god of whom only the remains
(arra) could be revered. They want a living god, a god superior to the
gods (deva\tideva) who will continue his beneficial activity among them,
who can predict the future, perform wonders, and whose worship (pu\ja)
will be something more than more [sic] recollection (anusmrti).
34
Leaving aside the problems of seeing the devotional aspect of early Bud-
dhism as a lay affair,
35
Lamotte is probably correct in emphasizing the rel-
ative lateness of this tradition, although there are certainly earlier strata
that emphasize the importance of seeing the physical Buddha.
In Ja\taka 2, the Vannu-patha-ja\taka, for instance, a young member of
a Sa\vatthi family, after being admitted to the first stage of the sangha, and
after having been given a topic of meditation by the Buddha, goes off to
the forest to meditate. After living there for three months, however, he
makes no progress. Dwelling there, he was not able to obtain even a hint
of insight. He thinks to himself: I will go back to the Teacher, and hav-
ing gone to the presence of the Teacher, I will live looking at his most
excellent body and listening to his honey-sweet teaching. The Buddha,
however, admonishes him for giving up so easily and then delivers a story
about the need for perserverence in which the now-remiss Bhikkhu is
shown in his former life as an energetic young man. Having delivered
this dhamma-discourse, he made known the Four Truths; at the end of this
the remiss Brother was established in the highest fruit, Arahatship.
36
Although the intent of this ja\ taka is quite clearly the need for persev-
erence, it is noteworthy for its dual emphasis on seeing and hearing and for
the especially efficacious effects of this sight and sound. The young
Sa\ vatthin does not want merely to receive the Buddhas words; he also
wants to look at the Buddha, to be in his physical presence. There is,
indeed, a rather striking emphasis on the physical body of the Buddha here;
not only do we get the stock phrase, Satthu-santikam gantva\ (Having gone
to the presence of the Teacher), but also the phrase, Buddha-sarram olo-
kento (looking at the body of the Buddha). Although I wish to avoid the
temptation to make too much of this use of sarram, it is significant that the
THE FIELD OF THE BUDDHA S PRESENCE 123
emphasis in this episode is placed equally on hearing the dharma and on
seeing the physically present Buddha.
An even more striking example of this desire to see the living Buddha
is found in the story of Vakkali, as it occurs in the Samyutta Nika\ya.
37
In
this version, Vakkali is a rather frail monk who has fallen ill and is visited
by the Buddha, who is concerned about Vakkalis health. When the Bud-
dha asks him how he is faring, however, Vakkali replies that he has long
desired to see the Blessed One (Bhagavantam dassana\ya), but due to his
illness he has been unable to satisify this desire. The Buddha sharply
rebukes him: Enough, Vakkali! What is the sight of this putrid body to
you? He who sees the dhamma, Vakkali, he sees me; he who sees me, he
sees the dhamma.
38
As in the ja\taka story above, the point of this passage
is quite clear: attachment to the physical body of the Buddha is point-
lessif not actually a hindrancesince the vision of the Buddha and the
vision of the dhamma are equal.
In the Dhammapada commentary, however, the message of the Vakkali
story is somewhat more ambiguous. In this version, Vakkali is a young
Brahmin who one day sees the Buddha and is so struck with his appearance
that he joins the sangha in order to see the Blessed One constantly. As a
monk, he is so attached to the physical form (sarrasampatti) of the Buddha
that he follows him everywhere, to the point that he neglects his dhamma
study and meditational exercises. The Buddha upbrades him with the
Samyutta verse (equating seeing the Buddha with seeing the dhamma), but
the visually obsessed Vakkali is unable to leave the Buddhas side. The Bud-
dha finally attempts to cure Vakkali by forbidding the young monk to
accompany him on the rains retreat; Vakkali responds by vowing to hurl
himself off a cliff. In order to save him, the Blessed One creates an image
39
of himself for Vakkali. Vakkali is overjoyed at the sight of this image. Once
the Buddha sees that Vakkali is out of danger, he delivers a short sermon,
and Vakkali is cured of his visual obsession and obtains arhatship.
Again, although the immediate message of this episode is the danger
of becoming too attached to the physical form of the Buddha, there is also
a kind of celebration of the joy one receives from a vision of the Buddha.
It is, after all, the sight of the Buddha that immediately prevents Vakkali
from committing suicide in the Dhammapada commentary version of the
story and enables him to absorb the Buddhas wisdom. Much more could
certainly be said about the dynamics of vision in the Buddhist context;
40
what is most relevant at this point, however, is that seeing the Buddha is
linked to progress on the Path and that this is one of the basic tenets under-
lying the construction of Buddha images from the earliest periods of Bud-
dhist history. As Reginald Ray has put it recently, with specific reference
JACOB N. KINNARD 124
to Avaghosas Buddhacarita, but with implications for all of Buddhism:
The sight of the Buddha, buddhadarana, is a vehicle of transformation,
wherein one is able to participate in the holy charisma of the Buddha. . . .
[D]aran is a vehicle to knowing who the Buddha really is. . . . It enables
one to know the Buddha, commune with him, and actively participate in
his charismaexperiences that rouse those who see him to faith, to spon-
taneous acts of devotion, to insight.
41
SEEING IMAGES
Despite the scholarly debates over the earliest Buddha images and the ori-
gins of these images, there are suprisingly few textual references to
images and image making. In all of the Pa\li canonical literature, there is
not, to my knowledge, a single reference to images of the Buddha. This is
striking, but understandable. The Canon is, after all, largely concerned
with events contemporaneous with the living Buddha. Certainly shortly
before and immediately after his death there is discussion of his corporeal
remains, but there is simply no mention of images.
42
There are, however,
references to images in the commentaries, and although a detailed analy-
sis of the Pa\li commentarial literature is beyond the scope of this chapter,
there are a few specific references to why images were made, references
that demonstrate that images were in part made to fill the void left by the
absent Buddha. They were intended, in contrast to Lamottes out of
sight remark, to bring him back into sight.
In the Samantapa\ sa\ dika\ , the commentary on the Vinaya,
43
there are sev-
eral references to both viggaha and paimam .
44
Most of these references are
not of particular value in the present context in that they fail to explain why
Buddhists made images. There are two, however, worthy of note. The first
is embedded in a list of objects deserving of veneration: cetiyam paimam
bodhim san ghattheram vandatha\ ti (Samantapa\ sa\ dika\ 627). What is strik-
ing about this is the inclusion of the paimam , particularly without the mod-
ifier sadha\ tukawith relicsin the list.
45
Both cetiya and bodhi resonate
with the presence of the Buddhathe one in which are deposited his phys-
ical remains, the other under which he achieved enlightenmentand the
eldest member of the sangha is almost by definition worthy of respect and
veneration; an image, however, is usually worthy of veneration only if it
contains relics, only if it is sadha\ tuka.
46
This is not to say, however, that images are simply a different sort of
reliquary, significant only because a relic is contained within. This is cer-
tainly important, but the degree to which the image truly is a paimam ,
truly is an accurate measure of the Buddha, is also significant. At
Samantapa\ sa\ dika\ 114243 (8:32), we encounter this passage:
THE FIELD OF THE BUDDHA S PRESENCE 125
Formerly, they gave gifts to both sides of the sangha [i.e., male and
female], headed by the Buddha; the Blessed One sat in the middle, the
Bhikkhus sat on the right, the Bhikkunis sat on the left, [and] the Blessed
One was the Sanghathera of both; then the Blessed One himself received
the gifts and also enjoyed them himself; then he had them given to the
Bhikkhus. Now, however, learned people, having [first] set up either a
reliquary [cetiya] or an image enclosing relics, give gifts to both san-
ghas, headed by the Buddha. Having set a bowl on a stand in front of the
image or reliquary, and having given water as an offering, they say, We
will give to the Buddhas [buddha\nam].
47
There are many points of interest here, the most relevant of which is the
temporal dimension, the emphasis on before (pubbe) and now (etarahi).
While the Buddha was alive, he was the leader of the sangha, the one who
sat at the head of the assembly, the one who first received gifts from the
laity. When the Buddha is gone to nirvana, however, a kind of ersatz Bud-
dha replaces him, mediates his presence: offerings are made to the Bud-
dha (to the Buddhas, that is) via the medium of the statue (or cetiya).
Although Collins is certainly correct in his reservations about the use
of the language of presence with regard to Buddhism,
48
the language in
this passage comes very close, indeed, to just the sort of presence we see
in early Christianity, even if we encounter no emic terms in the Buddhist
materials. Peter Brown describes the milieu in which the cult of the saints,
and particularly the cults surrounding their bodily relics, arose as being
one in which Mediterranean men and women, beginning in the fourth cen-
tury, turned with increasing explicitness for friendship, inspiration and
protection in this life and beyond the grave, to invisible beings who were
fellow humans and whom they could invest with the precise and palpable
features of beloved and powerful figures in their own society.
49
As in the
early Christian context, relics were perhaps the primary means by which
Buddhists brought the absent invisible beingthe Buddhainto the
visible present. As the passage from Buddhaghosa demonstrates, though,
visual images such as sculptures could also serve this function. And also
as in the Christian context, this presence was always in dialectical tension
with absence: The carefully maintained tension [in early Christianity]
between distance and proximity ensured one thing: praesentia . . . the
praesentia on which such heady enthusiasm focused was the presence of
the invisible person.
50
One of the clearest, and perhaps one of the earliest,
51
expressions of a
reason for making images of the Buddha occurs in the many versions of
the Prasenajit story.
52
The story, as recorded by Faxian, goes as follows:
JACOB N. KINNARD 126
When the Buddha went up to heaven for ninety days to preach the Faith
to his mother, king Prasenajit, longing to see him, caused to be carved in
sandal-wood from the Bulls head mountain an image of Buddha and
placed it where Buddha usually sat. Later on, when Buddha returned to
the shrine, the image straightaway quitted the seat and came forth to
receive him. Buddha cried out, Return to your seat: after my disap-
pearance you shall be the model for the four classes in search of spiri-
tual truth. At this, the image went back to the seat. It was the very first
of all such images, and is that which later ages have copied.
53
The degree to which the image mediates the absence of the Buddha here
is obvious. Whether this is in fact a very early story that was still popu-
lar in Faxians time, or whether it is in fact a much later explanation
for the existence of Buddha images, the image is intended to fill in for
the Buddha in his absence. Xuanzang records an almost identical story,
although King Uda\yana replaces Prasenajit. In that version of the story,
the Buddha himself explicitly expresses the function of the image. Upon
his return from the Tra\yatrimati heaven, where he has been preaching
the dharma to his mother for three months, he tells the sandalwood
image that King Uda\yana has had carved: The work expected from you
is to toil in the conversion of heretics, and to lead the way of religion in
future ages.
54
IMAGINING THE BUDDHA, PART TWO: IMAGE THOUGHT
Therefore in the presence of an image
Or reliquary or something else
Say these twenty stanzas
Three times a day
Na\ga\rjuna, in Hopkins and Lati Rimpoche, trans.,
The Precious Garland and the Song of the Four Mindfulnesses
Buddhists did not begin making images of the Buddha as a result of some
wave of visual theism
55
that swept across Buddhist culture with the rise
of Mahayana. Rather, it was the result of a gradually developed and multi-
layered habitus, a habitus constituted by a range of strategies intended to
respond to the absence of the Buddha. An important strategy to negotiate
this absence of the Buddha as a teacher and guide is the practice of bud-
dha\nusmrti, recollection of the Buddha. Although this is typically por-
trayed as a meditational practice, buddha\nusmrti is also a mediating prac-
tice, in that it can make present the absent Buddha. Recollection of the
THE FIELD OF THE BUDDHA S PRESENCE 127
Buddha also often explicitly involves the use of physical images in addi-
tion to the creation of a mental image of the Buddhawhat might be
called iconographic thought about the Buddha.
In the Pa\li materials, anussati tends to be rather low on the scale of
things, a preliminary step in the more complex systems of meditation.
Winston King, for instance, calls the different forms of anussati prelim-
inary low-level techniques in which ones mood is set favorably toward
the meditative process but that produce no recognized level of higher
awareness. . . . [T]his type of meditation never reaches that deep inner iso-
lation of consciousness, completely cut off from outer stimuli, that takes
place in the jha\nas.
56
In this light, buddha\nussati is a kind of meditational
warm-up, a rather simple exercise intended to clear the slate for the
higher levels of jha\nic attainment. Edward Conze notes that the descrip-
tions of the recollections are rather sober and restrained, without great
emotional fervour. This is the way of the Theravadins.
57
Anussati, accord-
ing to Paul Harrison, is a kind of exercise in the power of positive think-
ing, but of the most abstract kind.
58
Buddha\nussati is the first item in a larger list of either six or ten things
to which one should devote ones thoughts;
59
it is a name for mindfulness
with the Buddhas virtues as object.
60
Buddhaghosa, in his long exposi-
tion of the different forms of anussati, opens his description of
buddha\nussati in this way:
Now a meditator with absolute confidence who wants to develop firstly
the recollection of the Enlightened One among these then should go into
solitary retreat in a favourable abode and recollect the special qualities
of the Enlightened One, the Blessed One, as follows: That Blessed One
is such since he is accomplished, fully enlightened, endowed with (clear)
vision and (virtuous) conduct, sublime, the knower of worlds, the
incomparable leader of men to be tamed, the teacher of gods and men,
enlightened and blessed.
61
The effect of this practice is the greater concentration of the mind that then
enables one to move on to the cultivation of the higher jha\nas. As he con-
tinues to exercise applied thought and sustained thought upon the Enlight-
ened Ones special qualities, says Buddhaghosa, happiness arises in
him (Visuddhimagga 229). This leads to tranquility and bliss: When he
is blissful, his mind, with the Enlightened Ones special qualities for its
object, becomes concentrated, and so the jhana factors eventually arise in
a single moment (Visuddhimagga 22930). There is thus a sort of
mimetic rationale for the development of buddha\nussati in the Pa\li texts;
JACOB N. KINNARD 128
one is to concentrate on the qualities of the Buddha in order to emulate
him and, in the process, to develop those virtues he exemplifies.
Mimesis is not, however, the only rationale for recollecting the Bud-
dha.
62
At the end of the section in the Visuddhimagga enumerating the var-
ious qualities of the Buddha, Buddhaghosa states: When a bhikkhu is
devoted to this recollection of the Buddha, he is respectful and deferential
toward the Master. He attains fullness of faith, mindfulness, understand-
ing and merit. He has much happiness and gladness. He conquers fear and
dread. He is able to endure pain. He comes to feel as if he were living in
the Masters presence.
63
Thus by recollecting and concentrating on the
Buddhas many virtues, the meditator creates a mental picture so vivid and
lifelike that the absent Buddha is made present.
64
It is not, perhaps, immediately clear what these recollectionsthese
mental imageshave to do with visual images made of stone and wood.
Buddhaghosa does not introduce any specifically visual language here,
although his long elaboration of the special qualities of the Buddha does,
in a way, create a visual image of the Buddha, such that: When he encoun-
ters an opportunity for transgression, he has awareness of conscience and
shame as vivid as though he were face to face with the Master (Visud-
dhimagga 230). In the Vimuttimagga,
65
however, this visual aspect is made
explicit: If a man wishes to meditate on the Buddha, he should worship
Buddha images and such other objects.
66
The text does not mention med-
itation on the Buddhas physical form anywhere, but as Harrison has noted,
this reference in the Vimuttimagga is a tantalizing clue.
67
Harrison sees a
gradual movement in terms of the conception of the Buddha. At first, the
Buddha was a teacher and exemplary religious figure, and the emphasis
was, as we have seen, on hearing the dharma directly from him and, later,
conforming to the model he had established while alive. This paradigmatic
quality, however, is according to Harrison gradually replaced; the Buddha
becomes not so much a figure to be emulated as one to be worshipped. As
much as the corpus of his teachings (the Dharma) was preserved, transmit-
ted, and inexorably enlarged, his followers must still have felt keenly how
unfortunate it was to be deprived of his actual presence. . . . It is not too dif-
ficult to conceive how buddha\ nusmr ti was pressed into service in such cir-
cumstances, until practices were evolved that entailed not merely a remi-
niscence of the Buddha, but an imaginitive evocation of his presence by
means of structured meditative procedures.
68
Harrison has written extensively on an early Mahayana text that repre-
sents a developed form of buddha\ nusmr ti, a text that includes both a more
standard discussion of meditation on the physical body of the Buddha,
69
and
THE FIELD OF THE BUDDHA S PRESENCE 129
a detailed treatment of the importance of images in devotional practice. The
text is appropriately entitled the Pratyutpanna-buddha-sam mukha\ vasthita-
sama\ dhi-su\ tra (henceforth PraS),
70
the Su\ tra on the direct encounter with
the Buddhas of the present. The main point of this sutra is to provide prac-
titioners with the means to translate themselves into the presence of this or
that particular manifestation of the Buddha-principle for the purpose of
hearing the Dharma, which they subsequently remember and propagate to
others.
71
The Buddhas discussed in this text are not the historical Buddha
S: a\ kyamuni, but such figures as Amita\ bha; Harrison notes, however, that
these Buddhas are simply idealized clones of S: a\ kyamuni transposed to dif-
ferent world systems.
72
Although the PraS is largely concerned with meditational techniques
(hence the sama\dhi in the title), there are several very relevant discussions
of the use of images in the cultivation of this sama\dhi. For instance, the
sama\dhi itself is attained through an extremely detailed visualization of
the Buddha, in much the same way as we have seen in the Pa\li texts, but
with even greater attention to the iconographic qualities of the Buddhas
physical body. As Harrison puts it, To aid this detailed iconographical
visualization, practitioners are encouraged to imagine the Buddhas body
as resembling an image.
73
In the PraS, images act as a kind of visual cue:
If you desire this most excellent of sama\dhis
Paint pictures well, and construct images of the Incomparable
One,
Which have the marks complete, resemble the colour of gold,
Are large, and flawless.
74
By gazing at the artistically created physical image, the practitioner is thus
able to conjure up a detailed mental image of the Buddha; in turn, it is via
this mental visualization that one is fully able to recollect the Buddha, a
process that, if perfected, effectively brings the Buddha into the present.
Significantly, even this direct encounter with the Buddha is described in
the PraS in specifically iconographic terms: In that way those bod-
hisattvas will see the Tatha\gata (like) a beautifully set up beryl image.
75
This idea that the Buddhas physical body resembles an image is seen
elsewhere in early Mahayana texts. In what may be the earliest Mahayana
sutra in India, the Dao-xing jing of Lokaksema (compiled in 179 CE), we
encounter this passage:
The Buddhas body is like the images which men make after the Nirva\na
of the Buddha. When they see these images, there is not one of them who
JACOB N. KINNARD 130
does not bow down and make offering. These images are upright and
handsome; they perfectly resemble the Buddha and when men see them
they all rejoice and take flowers and incense to revere them.
76
The context of this passage is a conversation between the Bodhisattvas
Sada\prarudita, who is in search of the Praja\pa\ramita\ teachings, and
Dharmodgata, who guides and instructs Sada\prarudita.
77
The close inter-
play between the present (inanimate) image and the absent (animate) Bud-
dha is striking here. As we have already seen in the Pa\li texts, with the cre-
ation of the sandalwood image in the Prasenajit story, and the substitution
of the image for the departed Buddha in the midst of the assembled sangha
as described in the Samantapa\sadika\, the rationale for making and vener-
ating Buddha images passes fluidly between a commemorative sort of rep-
resentation of the absent Teacher, and a more ambiguous sort of recollec-
tion, one that explicitly makes present, really present, the Buddha. The
interplay between these conceptions of the significance of visual images
is particularly evident in Dharmodgatas discussion of images in the Dao-
xing jing. On the one hand, the image is there as a reminder: If there is a
man who has seen the Buddha in person, then after [the Buddhas]
Nirva\na he will remember the Buddha and for this reason make an
image. On the other hand, the image is more than a reminder, since it is
capable of activity: If men constantly see the Buddha [in the form of a
visual image] performing meritorious deeds, then they too will constitute
a perfect Buddha body, and be endowed with wisdom (see figure 5.1).
78
CONCLUSION: THE PERSISTENCE OF PASTNESS
In closing, I wish to return briefly to the passage from the Samantapa\ sa\ dika\
and the reference to the gifts given to the sangha, headed by the Buddha.
The passage tells us that in the past (pubbe) the Buddha himself was at the
head of the sangha, but now it is not the Buddha himself, but an image or a
reliquary (paima\ ya va\ cetiyassa va\ ). Gregory Schopen has analyzed the use
of the word pamukkha/pramukha in medieval inscriptional data, and he con-
cludes that the designationpramukha was never applied symbolically,
but always referred to actual individuals holding certain responsible posi-
tions.
79
Pramukha, Schopen argues, indicates that the Buddha himself was
thought to actually reside in the specifically named monastery.
80
The evi-
dence I have presented here concerning images is consistent with Schopens
assertion, and, I would argue, it is this conception of presence that is passed
on through the Pa\ la period and beyond.
THE FIELD OF THE BUDDHA S PRESENCE 131
132
FIGURE 5.1. As amaha\pra\tiha\rya image (tenth century, Bihar, currently in the col-
lection of the National Museum in New Delhi). The central figure depicts the
Buddha at the time of his enlightenment and his victory over Ma\ra. The other
seven scenes are, from the top and moving clockwise: the Buddhas death (parinir-
vana), first sermon, descent from the Tra\yastrima heaven where he had gone to
teach his mother, gift of honey to the monkey at Vaia\l (the Buddhas compassion
and the importance of giving), birth, taming of the wild elephant Nlgiri (the
power of the teachings), and the miracle at S:ra\vast (representing the triumph of
the Buddhas teaching over all others). Photograph by Jacob N. Kinnard
What the evidence I have examined also illustrates, though, is that this
way of characterizing presencereal, even ontological presenceis per-
haps too narrow and too neat. With images the field of presence is consti-
tuted by several layers of overlapping discourse, several different concep-
tions of presence that are not always consistent with one another. We
should be more cautious, then, in how we characterize the way Buddhists
themselves have conceived of and perceived the presence of the Buddha
in relics and stupas and images. The language of the texts and inscriptions
may seem to indicate, unambiguously, that the Buddha was thought to
actually reside in the object in question; does it necessarily follow, how-
ever, that those who composed these texts and inscriptionsas well, say,
as those who actually gave gifts to the sangha with the Buddha at the head
in the form of a statuedid indeed believe that the living Buddha was
there in the stone image?
Jonathan Smith has examined a similar problem in a very different
context in his article, The Bare Facts of Ritual.
81
In this article, Smith
specifically examines a group of bear hunting rituals in which the partici-
pants are said to go through an elaborate, formalized ritual every time they
kill a bear; among other things, they ask the bear for permission to kill it,
and they kill it without shedding any blood. Smith reproduces, in sum-
mary form, the text of these rituals, a text that, if taken literally, indi-
cates that the participants in the rituals are, simply put, daft: [I]f we
accept all that we have been told by good authority, we will have accepted
a cuckoo-land where our ordinary, commonplace, commonsense under-
standings of reality no longer apply.
82
Smith argues, however, that to take such texts literally is to miss the
point. This is a kind of idealized language; the language of the ritual, and
the ritual itself, is intended as a way of making up for an incongruity, of
creating an idealized version of the world. As Smith puts it, there is a gap
between their ideological statements of how they ought to hunt and their
actual behavior while hunting.
83
What the bear hunting ritual represents
indeed, for Smith, what all rituals representis a conscious strategy
intended to bridge the gap; Ritual is a means of performing the way things
ought to be in conscious tension to the way things are in such a way that
this ritual perfection is recollected in the ordinary, uncontrolled, course of
things. . . . [T]he ritual is unlike the hunt. It is, once more, a perfect hunt
with all the variables controlled.
84
If we apply Smiths view of ritual to the Pa\la periodto, say, images
such as the Asamaha\pra\tiha\rya stelaewe can see how such images
represent, or are, a strategy of choice, a way of creating an ideal world in
THE FIELD OF THE BUDDHA S PRESENCE 133
contrast to the actual one. The real world, of course, is marked by the
absence of the historical Buddha. What, then, is the idealized world? Pre-
cisely that contained in the Asamaha\pra\tiha\rya images. Here the Bud-
dha is not so much made present, but the believing viewer is made past.
The image transports one into the pastinto the pubbe of the Saman-
tapa\sa\dika\the ideal time when the Buddha was alive, preaching the
dharma, defeating Ma\ra, and so on; the image transports the viewer into
a time when these places were not merely shrines and the Buddha was not
merely a presence but a living being.
In the end, I would agree with John Huntingtons emphasis on the
narrative, almost instructive function of images such as the
As amaha\pra\tiha\rya, and I would also say that he is correct in positing the
total representation of Buddhism in the image, such that, in Collins
words, the whole story is implicitly present.
85
What I have attempted to
demonstrate here, however, is that there is more to the picture than meets
the eye. There is a field of practice underlying not only the production of
such imagesthat is, what sorts of conventions are handed down
(parampara)but also the reception of such images. Let us recall Bour-
dieus point: A work of art, be it intended for decorative purposes, for
commodity exchange, for religious worship, must be recognized as such,
and the ability to recognize it depends on the field of practice, the larger
habitus in which the work is situated. What I have attempted to uncover
here are merely some of the highlights of that field. Thus a piece of stone
or clay, such as the small terra cotta versions of As amaha\pra\tiha\rya that
were common in medieval northeast India, is at once a pilgrims memento,
a reminder of a significant journey (or a token in lieau of such a journey)
and also a representation of the Buddhas entire life and entire teachings;
such an image creates an opportunity to remember the Buddha in the
anusmrti sense and thus to conjur him up mentally; such an image also
creates the Buddhas very presence (see figure 5.1).
Certainly I am not suggesting that a Buddhist layperson living in,
say, Bihar in the middle of the tenth century would have necessarilyor
even possiblybeen consciously aware of all of the layers underlying
the image to which he or she was performing a buddhapu\ja or
buddha\nusmrti exercise. On the contrary, these are the self-evident
givens that, according to Bourdieu, constitute any field of practice. Per-
haps, then, the language of presence, with all of its baggage, is ultimately
fitting for discussing the field of Buddha images; for presence is just
vague enough, just broad enough, and just elusive enough to encompass
such a field.
JACOB N. KINNARD 134
NOTES
1. Reginald A. Ray, Buddhist Saints in India: A Study in Buddhist Values and
Orientations (New York: Oxford University Press, 1994), 344.
2. Paul Mus, quoted in Benisti, Etude sur le stu\pa linde ancienne, Bulletin
de lEcole Francaise 50 (1960): 51.
3. Sushila Pant, The Origin and Development of the Stupa Architecture in
India, Journal of Indian History 51, no. 3 (1973): 472.
4. Nancy Falk, To Gaze on the Sacred Traces, History of Religions 16, no.
4 (1977): 283.
5. Akira Hirakawa, The Rise of Maha\ya\na Buddhism and Its Relationship to
the Worship of Stu\pas, Memoires of the Research Department of the Toyo Bunkyo
22 (1963): 88.
6. Peter Harvey, The Symbolism of the Early Stu\pa, Journal of the Inter-
national Association of Buddhist Studies 7, no. 2 (1984): 69.
7. Gregory Schopen, Burial Ad Sanctos and the Physical Presence of the
Buddha in Early Indian Buddhism, Religion 17 (1987): 203; and On the Bud-
dha and His Bones, Journal of Indian Philosophy 108, no. 4 (1990): 181217.
8. Adrian Snodgrass, The Symbolism of the Stupa (Ithaca: Studies in South-
east Asia, 1985), 360, 363.
9. Donald Swearer, History of Religions 34, no. 3 (1995): 15.
10. See Malcolm David Eckel, To See the Buddha (San Francisco:
Harper/Collins, 1992).
11. See Kevin Trainor, Relics, Ritual, and Representation in Buddhism: Rema-
terializing the Sri Lankan Therava\da Tradition (Cambridge: Cambridge Univer-
sity Press, 1997).
12. See below for a discussion of the indigenous terms for images; see also
Schopen, The Buddha as an Owner of Property and Permanent Resident in
Medieval Indian Monasteries, Journal of Indian Philosophy 18 (1990): 181217,
particularly the lengthy note (20) on page 208.
13. Reginald Ray, Buddhist Saints, 416.
14. See Vidya Dehejia, On Modes of Visual Narration in Early Buddhist Art,
Art Journal 49 (1990): 37492.
15. Steven Collins, Nirva\na, Time, and Narrative, History of Religions 31
(1992): 241.
16. For some tentative suggestions on dates, see John Huntington, Pilgrimage
as Image: The Cult of the As amaha\pra\tiha\rya, part 1, Orientations 18, no. 4
(1987): 5563; and part 2, Orientations 18, no. 8 (1987): 5668.
17. There is a short textextant in Chinese and Tibetan onlythat describes
these eight places; see Hajime Nakamura, The As amaha\stha\nacaityastotra and
THE FIELD OF THE BUDDHA S PRESENCE 135
the Chinese and Tibetan Versions of a Text Similar to It, in Indianisme et boud-
dhisme: Mlanges offerts Mgr. tienne Lamotte (Louvain-La-Neuve: Univer-
sitea\ Catholique de Louvain, Institute Orientaliste, 1980).
18. John Huntington, Pilgrimage as Image, pt. 1:55 and pt. 2:6768.
19. The Field of Cultural Production, or: The Economic World Reversed,
trans. Richard Nice; originally published in Poetics (Amsterdam) 12, nos. 45
(1983): 31156; reprinted in Pierre Bourdieu, The Field of Cultural Production:
Essays on Art and Literature, ed. and intro. Randal Johnson (New York: Colum-
bia University Press, 1993), 33.
20. Ibid., 35; emphasis added. See also, in the same volume, Outline of a
Sociological Theory of Art Perception, 21537.
21. See Lal Mani Joshis Preliminary Observations to his Religious
Changes in Late Indian Buddhist History, Buddhist Studies Review 8, nos. 12
(1991): 4564, and vol. 9, no. 2 (1992): 15368.
22. As Julien Ries has put it: In the cross, the entire ancient symbol system
is assumed, but it is now placed within the context of a new vision of history
framed by the theology of creation and redemption. In the eyes of the Christian,
the cross is considered inseparable from the mystery of the divine Logos. Hence
it takes on a cosmic dimension, a biblical dimension, and a soteriological dimen-
sion (Encyclopedia of Religion, ed. Mircea Eliade [New York: MacMillan,
1987], 4:165).
23. Pierre Bourdieu, Outline of a Theory of Practice (Cambridge: Cambridge
University Press, 1977), 72. See also Bourdieus discussion of habitus in The
Logic of Practice (Stanford: Standford University Press, 1990), especially chap-
ter 3.
24. See Alfred Foucher, LOrigine grecque de limage du Bouddha, Annales
du Musee Guimet, Bibliotheque de vulgarisation, tome 38 (Chalon-sur-Saone,
1913), 23172. In this highly influential article, Foucher first articulates the view
that the origins of the earliest Buddha images were Greek; see also Foucher, The
Beginnings of Buddhist Art, in Foucher, The Beginnings of Buddhist Art and
Other Essays in Indian and Central Asian Archaeology (Paris: Paul Geuthner,
1917), 129; originally published in Journal Asiatique, Jan.Feb. 1911. Perhaps
the most vocal opponent of this theory was Ananda Coomaraswamy. See his Ori-
gin of the Buddha Image, The Art Bulletin 11, no. 4 (1927): 143; and also his
Indian Origin of the Buddha Image, Journal of the American Oriental Society
46 (1926): 16570.
25. See Susan Huntington, Early Buddhist Art and the Theory of Aniconism,
Art Journal 49 (1990): 40107, for a useful survey of the relevant points here.
Also see A. K. Narain, First Images of the Buddha and Bodhisattvas: Ideology
and Chronology, in Studies in Buddhist Art of South Asia, ed. A. K. Narain (New
Delhi: Kanak Publications, 1985), 121, as well as John Huntingtons article, in
the same volume, The Origin of the Buddha Image: Early Image Traditions and
JACOB N. KINNARD 136
the Concept of Buddhadaranapunya\, pp. 2458. See also Paul Mus, The
Iconography of an Aniconic Art, RES 14 (1987): 528.
26. See for instance J. E. van Lohuizen-de Leeuw, New Evidence with Regard
to the Origin of the Buddha Image, in South Asian Archaeology 1979, ed. Her-
bert Hartel (Berlin: Dietrich Reimer Verlag, 1981).
27. There are many places in both the Canon and the Commentaries in which
this point is emphasized. For a useful discussion of buddhavacana in the Pa\li
Theravada context, see George Bond, The Word of the Buddha (Colombo: M. D.
Gunasena, 1982), 133; see also Paul Griffiths, On Being Buddha: The Classical
Doctrine of Buddhahood (Albany: State University of New York Press, 1994),
particularly pp. 4641; and also Jos Ignazio Cabezn, Buddhism and Language:
A Study of Indo-Tibetan Scholasticism (Albany: State University of New York
Press, 1994), especially chapters 2 and 3. The phrase evam me sutam has gener-
ated a fair amount of controversy in Buddhist studies; see John Brough, Thus
have I heard . . ., Bulletin of the School of Oriental and African Studies 13, no.
1 (1949): 41626; and, more recently, Jonathan A. Silk, A Note on the Opening
Formula of Buddhist Su\\tras, Journal of the International Association of Buddhist
Studies 12, no. 1 (1987): 15863.
28. Dgha Nika\ya (DN), T. W. Rhys Davids and J. Estlin Carpenter, eds. (Lon-
don: Pali Text Society, 194960).
29. The Buddhas advice to him in this matter is twofold: first, he must be dili-
gent and earnest in his own efforts (DN 2:144); and second, he and the other dis-
ciples must realize that after the Buddhas parinibba\na the dhamma will continue:
Oh Ananda, that Dhamma and Vinaya has been made known and taught to you
by me; after me (after Im gone) that is your Teacher (DN 2:154).
30. See Collins, Nirva\na, 236.
31. Andrew Rawlinson has gone so far as to argue that seeing the Buddha and
hearing the sound of his voice were the defining motifs in the emergence of the
Mahayana. He sees the Mahayana appearing suddenly and with great power.
At the heart of this sudden appearance is a transformative experience: This
experience was nothing less than direct contact with the Buddha. By direct con-
tact I mean three things: (a) a vision of the Buddha (buddha-darana) (b) hear-
ing the Buddhas voice (buddha-abda) (c) immersement in the Buddhas knowl-
edge (buddha-jana). See his Visions and Symbols in the Maha\ya\na, in
Perspectives on Indian Religion: Papers in Honour of Karel Werner, Bibliotheca
Indo-Buddhica, no. 30, ed. Peter Connolly (Delhi: Sri Satguru Publications,
1986), 191.
32. Eckel, 1.
33. tienne Lamotte, History of Indian Buddhism: From the Origins to the
S:aka Era, Sara Webb-Boin, trans. (Louvain-la-Neuve: Universit catholique de
Louvain, Institut orientaliste, 1988).
34. Ibid., 645.
THE FIELD OF THE BUDDHA S PRESENCE 137
35. Gregory Schopen has argued that this is a fundamental misconception
about Indian Buddhism. See his On Monks, Nuns and Vulgar Practices: The
Introduction of the Image Cult into Indian Buddhism Artibus Asiae 49, nos. 12
(1988): 15368. According to the evidence Schopen presents, it was the monas-
tics who initiated and disproportionately supported the cult of images at Sa\rna\th
[among other places] in the early periods. . . . A picture of the actual Indian Bud-
dhist monk and nun is gradually emerging, and these monks and nuns differ
markedly from the ideal monk and nun which have been presented on the basis of
textual material alone. The actual monk, unlike the textual monk, appears to have
been deeply involved in religious giving and cult practice of every kind from the
very beginning (155, 167).
36. I have translated the Pa\li ossahaviriyo bhikkhu as remiss bhikkhu,
although the commpound ossahaviriyo means literally one whose energy
(viriyo) is let loose (ossaha). It would make equal semantic sense to translate
this phrase as diligent bhikkhu, since the ossaha can also have the sense of put
forth. The redactors of this Ja\taka are obviously playing on this compound,
although it is difficult to say, exactly, how they intend it to be taken. Either the
young monk achieves arhat status as a result of his former diligence, or achieves
itrather paradoxically, in my opinionas a result of seeing and hearing the
Buddha.
37. There are several versions of this story, in the Anguttara Nika\ya (AN), as
well as the commentary on the Dhammapada.
38. Samyutta Nika\ya (SN) 3:120. The episode concludes with Vakkali com-
mitting suicide, although the Buddha then declares that, in fact, Vakkali had
already been parinibutto at the time of his death. For more on such suicides, see
Martin G. Wiltshire, The Suicide Problem in the Pa\li Canon, Journal of the
International Association of Buddhist Studies 6, no. 2 (1983): 12440.
39. The Pa\li is obha\sam, the most immediate sense of which is appearance.
40. See, for instance, Ananda Coomaraswamys interesting article, Samvega,
Aesthetic Shock, Harvard Journal of Asiatic Studies 7 (194243): 17479;
Alex Wayman, The Buddhist Theory of Vision, in Buddhist Insight: Essays by
Alex Wayman, ed. George Elder (Delhi: Motilal Banarsidass, 1984), 15361;
Stephan Beyer, Notes on the Vision Quest in Early Maha\ya\na, in
Praja\pa\ramita\ and Related Systems: Studies in Honour of Edward Conze, ed.
Lewis Lancaster (Berkeley: Berkeley Buddhist Studies Series, 1977), 32940.
41. Reginald Ray, Buddhist Saints in India, 52.
42. The earliest textual references to images seem to be from the Mathura\
inscriptions. See H. Luders and K. L. Janert, Mathura Inscriptions (Gottingen,
1961), nos. 4, 9, 29, 74, 135, 167, and 180, among others.
43. It is perhaps significant that these references occur in the Vinaya commen-
tary, since much of the fuel behind the aniconic thesis about early Buddhist art has
been a purported ban on images in the Vinaya. In fact, only one such passage
JACOB N. KINNARD 138
occurs, in the Mulasarva\stava\din-Vinaya, where the Buddha is said to have
explicitly prohibited the use of images. See the appendix to Arthur Waleys arti-
cle, Did the Buddha Die of Eating Pork? Mlanges chinois et bouddhiques 1
(1932): 35254. See also G. Roth, The Physical Presence of the Buddha, in
Investigating Indian Art (Berlin: Museum fr Indische Kunst, 1987), 30405. One
of the most commonly cited passages to support the purported ban on images is
the Kalingabodhi Ja\taka (J 4:228). Stanley Tambiah has seen in this passage an
early Buddhist view against the representation of the Buddha in human form; see
his Buddhist Saints of the Forest and the Cult of the Amulets (Cambridge: Cam-
bridge University Press, 1984), 201. In this ja\taka, Ana\thapindika learns that
while the Buddha is away from Jetavana on pilgrimage, the people of Sa\vatthi, in
the absence of the Buddha, leave garlands and wreaths at the gateway of the Bud-
dhas chambers. Ana\thapindika goes to A|nanda and tells him that the monastery
is unsupported (nipaccayei.e., without the four requisites, since there is no
place for the laypeople to deliver them, or no Buddha to receive them) while the
Buddha is on pilgrimage. He asks A|nanda to speak to the Buddha in order to find
out whether there is a place for such offerings. The Buddha informs A|nanda that
of the three kinds of memorials (cetiya\ni), a bodily memorial (sarraka) is not
proper because the Buddha is not dead; an uddesika memorial is not proper
because it depends on imagination (uddesikam avatthukam manamattakena hoti);
a bodhi tree (here, presumably, a pa\ribhogika shrine), however, is fit for worship.
The Buddha thus allows A|nanda to have a bodhi tree planted. Tambiah has sug-
gested that the Buddha rejects personalized (i.e., uddesika) symbols because
such are groundless and merely fanciful, that is, they are only artificially, arbi-
trarily, and by convention referable to the absent being (20102). Tambiah is
placing a great deal of emphasis on the word avatthuka here. Literally, this means
without ground. This, however, is not some general indictment of image wor-
ship (or an iconoclastic precedent, as Tambiah suggests on p. 202). No images
are, in fact, mentioned in this passage. Rather, the specific discussion is about
what sort of structure would be most appropriate to allow laypeople to bring alms
and flowers to the monastery in the Buddhas absence.
44. These are perhaps the most common terms for physical (i.e., artistic)
images. The precise distinction between the two is not at all clear, however. Vig-
gaha (Sk. vigra\ ha) derives from the Vedic root /grah, grasp, grab, seize, with the
prefix vi here serving as an intensifier. Hence the viggaha seizes that which it
depictsor it enables the viewer to seize on to it. Paima\ (Sk. pratima\ ) comes from
the verbal root /ma\ , measure, with the suffix pai functioning here as a compar-
ison, as in that which is measured against the original, or copied. Other terms
from images are ru\ pam(form, often as buddharu\ pamsee Visuddhimagga (VM)
228, or the particularly interesting episode in the Samantapa\ sa\ dika\ (SP) in which
Aoka convinces a na\ gara\ ja to create an image of the Buddha for him to see, at
which point the text reads: Buddha-ru\ pam passanto satt-divasa\ ni akkhi-pu\ jam
na\ ma aka\ si, SP 4344), bimba and paibimba (see VM 190, Vima\navatthu 50), and
occasionally sarra (J 5:98). Other terms can also refer to images, although in a
more general sense, such as vesa (i.e., dress, disguise, appearance), and obha\ sa.
THE FIELD OF THE BUDDHA S PRESENCE 139
45. Walpola Rahula is thus incorrect when he states that the Buddha image,
though in existence at the time, was not given a place in the scheme of worship
by the Pa\li Commentaries. . . . [T]he image is completely ignored. See his His-
tory of Buddhism in Ceylon (Colombo: M. D. Gunasena, 1956), 126.
46. Ibid. Rahula notes, An image was considered important only if relics were
enshrined in it. Without them it was a thing of little or no religious value.
47. Collins writes about a remarkably similar passage that occurs in
Nirva\na, 237.
48. See note 30 in this chapter.
49. Peter Brown, The Cult of the Saints: Its Rise and Function in Latin Chris-
tianity (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1981), 50.
50. Ibid., 88.
51. See John Huntington, The Origin of the Buddha Image: Early Image Tra-
ditions and Concept of Buddhadaranapunya\, in Studies in Buddhist Art of South
Asia, ed. A. K. Narain (New Delhi: Kanak, 1985), 3233.
52. A. Waley notes that there is a version in the Ekottara\ gama, as well as vari-
ous Mahayana and Hnaya\ na texts translated into Tibetan and Chinese; see Did
the Buddha Die of Eating Pork? 35354. See also Richard Gombrichs interesting
discussion of the Kosala-Bimba-Van n ana\ , a medieval Sri Lankan text in Pa\ li (the
text as well as Gombrichs translation are printed in the article), in Buddhism in
Ceylon and Studies on Religious Syncretism in Buddhist Countries, ed. Heinz
Bechert, Symposien zur Buddhismusforschung, 1, Akademie der Wissenschaften,
Gttingen, Philologisch-Historische Klasse, Dritte Folge, no. 108 (Gttingen: Van-
denhoeck and Ruprecht, 1978), 281303. See also Padmandabh S. Jaini, On the
Buddha Image, in Studies in Pali and Buddhism: A Homage Volume to the Mem-
ory of Bhikkhu Jagdish Kashyap, ed. A. K. Narain (Delhi: B. R. Publishing,1979),
18388; here Jaini discusses a Thai story in a Burmese manuscript of the Prasena-
jit story, contained within the Burmese Ja\ taka collection as the Vaan gulira\ ja-
Ja\ taka (no. 37). For a particularly thorough account of the literature on this topic,
including Chinese materials, see also G. Roths excellent article, The Physical
Presence of the Buddha and Its Representation in Buddhist Literature, in Investi-
gating Indian Art (Berlin: Museum fr Indische Kunst, 1987), 291312. A story
similar to the Prasenajit story occurs at the beginning of the Pratima\ laks an am, a
ilpasa\ stra (the date of which is far from clear) that describes in great detail the
proper proportions of a Buddha image. In this version it is S: a\ riputra who asks the
Buddha how he is to be honored when he is away (in the Tus ita Heaven), to which
the Buddha responds: Oh S: a\ riputra! When I am gone or when I attain parinirva\ n a,
[my] body is to be made [as a] well-proportioned body [or image]. See Jitendra
Nath Banerjeas extensive notes in Pratima\ laks an am Journal of the Department
of Letters 23 (Calcutta: Calcutta University Press, 1933).
53. The Travels of Fa hsien, trans. H. A. Giles (Cambridge: Cambridge Uni-
versity Press, 1923), 3031.
JACOB N. KINNARD 140
54. Samuel Beal, trans., Si-Yu-Ki: Buddhist Records of the Western World
(London: Routledge, 1884), 1:236. In a footnote, Beal gives the somewhat less
hyperbolic: To teach and convert with diligence the unbelieving, to open the way
for guiding future generations, this is your work.
55. I borrow this phrase, out of context, from Stephan Beyer; see his Notes on
the Vision Quest in Early Maha\ya\na, in Praja\pa\ramita\ and Related Systems:
Studies in Honour of Edward Conze, ed. Lewis Lancaster (Berkeley: Berkeley
Buddhist Studies Series, 1977), 32940.
56. Winston King, Therava\da Meditation: The Buddhist Transformation of
Yoga (University Park: The Pennsylvania State University Press, 1980), 33, 38.
57. Edward Conze, Buddhist Meditation (London: George Allen and Unwin,
1956), 28. Conze here is following in a long line of rationalizers of Buddhism
those who wish to portray as pure Buddhism that which has no taint of what
Conze, later in the same volume, calls practices which offered salvation at a
cheap price (p. 61). See Philip Almond, The British Discovery of Buddhism
(Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1988), for a particularly good discus-
sion of this rationalizing construction of Buddhism.
58. Paul Harrison, Commemoration and Identification in Buddha\nusmti, in
In the Mirror of Memory, ed. Janel Gyatso (Albany: State University of New York
Press, 1992), 21617.
59. See AN 5:32832 for the six-fold list and AN 1:30 for the ten-fold.
60. This is Pe Maung Tins translation of the Visuddhimagga, Pali Text Soci-
ety Translation Series, nos. 11, 17, and 21 (London: Luzac, 1971), 226.
61. This is a\namolis translation, p. 206. Buddhaghosas commentary is on
the standard formula for buddha\nussati: Iti pi bhagava\ araham samma\sambud-
dho vijja\carana-sampanno sugato lokavidu\ anuttaro purisadammasa\rathi sattha\
devamanussa\nam buddho bhagava\ ti (D 1:49; AN 3:285).
62. Harrison has noted that there is an apotropaic function to anussati; at S
1:218, for instance, the Buddha is said to have prescribed the first three anussati
as a method to ward off fear while meditating in solitary places. See Harrison,
Commemoration, 218.
63. VM 230, emphasis mine.
64. Paul Williams has drawn attention to a scene from the Sutta Nipa\ta that
illustrates precisely this sort of presence created via the practice of buddha\nussati.
Significantly, the episode is almost the mirror opposite of the Vakkali story. In the
SN, a monk, Pingiya, is asked why he does not spend all of his time with the Bud-
dha. Pingiya responds that he is old and frail, that his body is decaying. However,
he says that there is no moment for me, however small, that is spent away from
the Gotama, from this universe of wisdom, this world of understanding. . . . [W]ith
constant and careful vigilance it is possible for me to see him with my mind as
clearly as with my eyes, in night as well as day. And since I spend my nights rever-
ing him, there is not, to my mind, a single moment spent away from him [vv.
THE FIELD OF THE BUDDHA S PRESENCE 141
1140, 1142]. See Paul Williams, Maha\ya\na Buddhism (New York: Routledge,
1989), 21718.
65. The relationship between these two texts is, to say the least, ambiguous,
and is not really relevant here. See P. V. Bapat, Vimuttimagga and Visuddhimagga:
A Comparative Study (Calcutta: J. C. Sarkhel, 1937).
66. In Eharas translation, p. 141.
67. Harrison has pointed out that in the Chinese translations of the Sanskrit
A|gamas, in particular the Ekottara\gama III, buddha\nusmti is propounded as the
one practice for realizing all spiritual goals and [it] recommends that practioners
contemplate the image of the Buddha without taking their eyes off it, that they call
to mind the body and the countenance of the Buddha and then his moral and men-
tal qualities, arranged under the traditional rubrics of morality, mediation, wis-
dom, liberation, and the cognition and vision of liberation (see Harrison, Com-
memoration, 220).
68. Paul Harrison, Buddha\nusmrti in the Pratyutpanna-Buddha-Sammuk-
ha\vasthita-Sama\dhi-Su\tra, Journal of Indian Philosophy 6 (1978): 37. Harrison
produces a translation here of a particularly relevant passage in the Ekottara\gama
(extant only in the Chinese translations of the Sanskrit) in which buddha\nusmrti
is discussed: Without entertaining any other thought he earnestly calls to mind
(anusmr-) the Buddha. He contemplates the image of the Tatha\gata without tak-
ing his eyes off it (see ibid., 38). Image here is denoted by the Chinese hsing,
and Harrison notes that it is unclear whether it refers to a mental image or a phys-
ical one, or both.
69. I say more standard here because this attention to the magnificant quali-
ties of the Buddhas body are common in the Pa\li materials as well as the early
Mahayana texts.
70. See Paul Harrisons edited version, along with a translation, The Sama\dhi
of Direct Encounter with the Buddhas of the Present (Tokyo: The International
Institute for Buddhist Studies, 1990).
71. Ibid., xx.
72. Harrison, Commemoration, 220.
73. Ibid., 222.
74. Harrison, Direct Encounter, 47.
75. Ibid., 40.
76. Lewis R. Lancaser, An Early Mahayana Sermon about the Body of the
Buddha and the Making of Images, Artibus Asiae 36, no. 4 (1974): 289.
77. This part of the story is not contained in the Sanskrit recension of the
As asa\hasrika\praja\pa\ramita\su\tra, the text upon which Lokaksemas Dao-xing-
jing is based.
78. Lancaster, An Early Mahayana Sermon, 289.
JACOB N. KINNARD 142
79. Schopen, The Buddha as an Owner of Property, 191.
80. Ibid., 192.
81. Jonathan Smith, The Bare Facts of Ritual, History of Religions 20, no. 2
(1980): 11227. See also Smith, I Am a Parrot (Red), History of Religions 11,
no. 4 (1971): 391413.
82. Jonathan Smith, The Bare Facts of Ritual, 122.
83. Ibid., 123.
84. Ibid., 125, 127.
85. See note 15 in this chapter.
THE FIELD OF THE BUDDHA S PRESENCE 143
INTRODUCTION
ON JULY 8, 1993, THE HIGHLY REVERED THAI MONK BUDDHADA\ SA BHIKKHU
died. Prior to his death he penned the following verses:
Buddhada\sa shall live; theres no dying.
Even when the body dies, it will not listen.
Wherever it is or goes is of no consequence;
It is only something passing through time.
Even when I die and the body ceases,
My voice still echoes in comrades ears,
Clear and bright, as loud as ever.
Just as if I never died, the Dhamma-body lives on.
Buddhada\sas poetic necromancy is reminiscent of Gotama Buddhas
admonition that after his death, the dhamma will be his successor. Pa\li
sources reveal a dispute regarding not that but how the absent, parinib-
baned Buddha will be presenced. The debate focused on whether Gotama
Buddha would be presenced by his teaching, namely the dhamma, or in
objects such as bodily relics or other material signs.
1
The sides in the
debate cannot be precisely delineated, although it is much too simplistic
to identify the dhamma contenders with a monastic elite, and the material
sign advocates with lay devotional piety.
145
CHAPTER SIX
SIGNS OF THE BUDDHA
IN NORTHERN THAI CHRONICLES
Donald K. Swearer
The Pa\li suttas suggest that the disagreement was not framed solely in
terms of the post-nibba\ned Buddha, the context popularized in current
scholarship by the terminology of absence versus presence, but that it
arose during the Buddhas own lifetime. From this perspective, the Bud-
dhas answer to the question about his identity or nature connects with the
Buddhas parinibba\na legacy. The Buddhas claim that he is not a god or
a divine being but the fully enlightened one (samma\sambuddha) repre-
sents but one side in a debate about his nature and mission. From the very
beginning of his career, the Blessed One was revered not only as the
enlightened teacher of the dhamma realized on the night of his enlighten-
ment but in a variety of other waysa divine being; a yogi with super-
natural powers; an ascetic sage whose very touch could heal, protect, and
bring other benefits. Illustrations of disagreement about the Buddhas
nature and mission abound in canonical and commentarial literature as,
for example, in the following account of the Prince Bodhi Sutta in the
Majjhima Nika\ya, an episode also recorded in the Cullavagga.
On one occasion when the Blessed One was staying at Sum suma\ ragira,
Prince Bodhi invited the Buddha and his disciples to receive the noon meal
at Kokanada, his newly constructed palace. Descending from the verandah
to greet the Blessed One, Prince Bodhi asked the Buddha to step on the
white cloth he had draped over the staircase saying, Venerable sir, let the
Blessed One step on the cloth, let the Sublime One step on the cloth, that
it may lead to my welfare and happiness for a long time.
2
The commen-
tary specifies that by this act Prince Bodhi, who was childless, hoped to
have a son. After making the request a second and third time A|nanda
asked the prince to remove the cloth, saying, The Blessed One will not
step on a strip of cloth; the Tatha\gata has regard for future generations.
The commentary stipulates that A|nanda was concerned lest people honor
monks as a way of ensuring the fulfillment of their mundane wishes and
lose faith in the sangha if their displays of honour do not bring the suc-
cess they desire.
3
The commentarys disclaimer regarding the power of a
material signin this case a relic of associationappears to be a quali-
fied one, however. The white cloth touched by the Buddhaor his
bhikkhusmight, indeed, lead to the hoped for result, but if it does not,
the laity might lose faith in the Buddha and his sangha. It should be
pointed out that the onus appears to fall on the laitys act of veneration
rather than power of the material sign.
In this chapter I propose to examine the signs of the Buddha and their
power as constructed in a particular northern Thai text representative of a
DONALD K. SWEARER 146
popular literary genre that flourished in northern Thailand between the fif-
teenth and nineteenth centuries. The chapter is divided into two sections,
a background discussion of the literary genre known in northern Thai as
tamna\n (chronicle) followed by a study of the narrative from the perspec-
tive of the material signs of the Buddha.
THE CHRONICLE GENRE
In the first chapter of his influential book, The Rise of Ayudhya: A History
of Siam in the Fourteenth and Fifteenth Centuries (1976), Charnvit Kaset-
siri analyzes the conceptualization of ancient Thai history. Noting that the
Thai word prawatsat (Sanskrit pravatia\stra), history, was coined dur-
ing the reign of King Ra\ma VI (19101925), he points out that prior to the
twentieth century the words most frequently used to denote history were
tamna\n, phongsa\wada\n, and jotmaiht.
4
Charnvit does not specifically
mention the Thai term wongsa (Pa\li and Sanskrit vamsa), perhaps because
it comprises the first segment of phongsa\wada\n (Sanskrit vamsa +
a\vata\ra). Phongsa\wada\n, as for example in the Phongsa\wada\n Yo\nok
(The Chronicle of Yo\nok [Northern Thailand]), a late nineteenth-century
chronicle compiled by Praya\ Pracha\kitkorajak, conveys the sense of
dynastic annals, an account of a royal line or kingdom. This sense of the
meaning of phongsa (vamsa) reflects one of the root meanings of the term,
which refers to the connecting links in a stalk of bamboo. Metaphorically,
royal genealogies link together to constitute a dynasty just as sections of
bamboo join to make a stalk or a trunk. Etymologically the Thai term
tamna\n conveys a meaning quite similar to vamsa.
5
Kasetsiri proposes that premodern Thai records or historical docu-
ments fall into two main categories, the history of Buddhism and the his-
tory of dynasties.
6
Tamna\n history or the history of Buddhism, he con-
tends, flourished from before the fifteenth century into the seventeenth
century from which point its influence began to decline. Dynastic history
or phongsa\wada\n history appeared in the seventeenth century and to a
great extent still governs the modern writing of Thai history.
7
Tamna\n
history highlights the Buddha and particular events in the development of
the tradition (sa\sana). For example, the best known northern Thai Pa\li
chronicle, the sixteenth-century Jinaka\lama\lpakaranam (The Sheaf of
Garlands of the Epochs of the Conqueror) begins with the lineal succes-
sion of the sa\sana commencing with the time of the aspiration of Gotama
to become a Buddha and a sketch of his life. The story then continues
SIGNS OF THE BUDDHA 147
through the major Buddhist councils, King Asoka, and an account of Bud-
dhism in Sri Lanka before moving to the establishment of Buddhism in
northern Thailand. Kasetsiri summarizes the nature of tamna\n history in
the following manner:
The main theme of tamnan history is clearly religion and it is the
Gotama Buddha who is the moving force in it. Its purpose is to describe
the development of Buddhism. Kings and kingdoms come into the pic-
ture in so far as their actions contribute to promoting Buddhism. History
in this sense is concerned not only with the past. The past is continuous
with the existence of the present and the present is also part of the future.
Thus the past, the present, and the future are parts of one whole, the his-
tory of Buddhism.
8
Kasetsiri traces the origin of phongsa\wada\n history to changes in
Thai society and contact with Europeans during the reign of King Narai
(16571688) of Ayutthaya\ (Ayudhya). The basic change is the growing
autonomy of the king and the court from the religious order. Historians
were now men who served the court rather than the monk scholars who
composed the religious chronicles. Phongsa\wada\n history, consequently,
tends to begin with the foundation of a kingdom and then list the activi-
ties of successive kings, unlike the tamna\n histories which begin with the
Buddha and have the history of Buddhism as their central concern.
9
Kasetsiris characterization of the dual historiography of premodern
Thailand has both strengths and weaknesses. The distinction between dif-
ferent types of historical documents representing differing views of the
nature of history
10
challenges the relatively loose sense of the meaning of
the English word chronicle. There has been a tendency to use chronicle
rather carelessly as a generic term for both tamna\n and phongsa\wada\n
views of history. The distinction between two types of historiography, reli-
gious and royal, needs to be refined, however. Kasetsiri himself acknowl-
edges that chronicles may, in fact, be hybrids, combining both ways of
reading history. He fails to make the point, however, that the broad, struc-
tural distinction between tamna\n and phongsa\wada\n history does not
account for the subtle and sometimes blatant distinctions among differing
kinds of historical documents. In particular, the tamna\n type of document
Kasetsiri outlines fits what might be characterized as classic tamna\n
such as the Pa\li Jinaka\lama\lpakaranam composed about 1517 by
Bhikkhu Ratanapanna, but it hardly fits another noted Pa\li chronicle, the
Ca\madevvamsa, written by Bhikkhu Bodhiramsi in the early fifteenth
century.
11
That the chronicle of Queen Ca\ma, the first ruler of Haripujaya
DONALD K. SWEARER 148
(modern Lamphu\n), is a vamsa might suggest that it should be classified
as dynastic rather than religious history. Although the Ca\madevvamsa
contains dynastic chronology, the writer is even more interested in legends
surrounding Queen Ca\mas accession to the throne of Haripujaya, King
Adittara\jas discovery of the Buddha relic enshrined today at Wat
Haripujaya, and the Buddhas visit to the region.
12
Even the Mu\lasa\sana\
chronicles of the Wat Pa\ Daeng and the Wat Suan Dok monastic lineages,
historical accounts of sectarian religious history, are as noteworthy for
their differences in style and content as they are representative of a type of
religious chronicle.
13
Furthermore, is it possible to classify under only one
genre the muang tamna\n (city-state chronicles) such as The Chiang Mai
Chronicle
14
and the various kinds of Buddha tamna\n about the Buddhas
travels in northern Thailand such as Phra Chao Liap Lo\k (The Buddha
Travels the World)?
Other students of northern Thai literature have suggested more diver-
sified tamna\n taxonomies. David K. Wyatt divides northern Thai tamna\n
into two broad categories: the tamna\n of the distant past or universal his-
tories in Pa\li and Thai, and monumental histories concerning Buddhist
images, relics, and institutions.
15
Hans Penth proposes five descriptive
classifications: chronicles that deal with the history of Buddhism, chroni-
cles about Buddha images, chronicles of religious sites, inscriptions, and
a miscellaneous category.
16
The term tamna\n covers such a wide variety of
texts that it may be best understood in the primitive sense of the term,
namely, a hollow stalk or container. That is to say, a tamna\n takes its def-
inition from its particular content rather than the other way around.
17
This
suggestion goes against the propensity of Western analytical scholarship
toward classification, but it may more accurately represent the variety of
documents that bear the title tamna\n.
18
This chapter focuses on the signs of the Buddha in the genre of pop-
ular Buddha tamna\n that abound in northern Thai monastery libraries, or
at least they did before monks began limiting their study almost exclu-
sively to the national monastic curriculum prescribed by the Thai national
sangha. These Buddha tamna\n come under the general classificaton of
vohara texts; that is, they are written in the Tai Yan vernacular, although
in a vestigial manner they retain the form of a Pa\li commentary. That is,
Pa\li words and phrases are interspersed throughout the textoften corrupt
and ungrammaticalgiving the impression that the vernacular functions
as an explanation of the Pa\li. In general terms, Buddha tamna\n texts share
a similar content. They treat in varying detail the Buddhas wanderings in
northern Thailand, his encounter with different ethnic and occupational
SIGNS OF THE BUDDHA 149
groupsLawa, Burmese, farmers, artisans, and so ontheir conversion
to the path of the tatha\gata, the establishment of particular historical and
religious sites or the prediction of their future appearance, and a passing
on of a legacy of Buddha relics, images, and footprints to ensure the suc-
cess of the Buddhas religion. Consequently, these narratives not only
evoke the Buddha as a figure of the past; they invoke his presentness
through his signs.
Very little critical, comparative work has been done on the northern
Thai Buddha tamna\ n.
19
These legendary accounts of the Buddha and his
material signs presuppose developments in the Theravada tradition associ-
ated with Buddha cult and devotion found in texts ranging from the
Maha\ parinibba\ na Sutta to the Pa\ li commentaries of the fifth century and
later. They are, furthermore, reminiscent of late Pa\ li texts composed in Sri
Lanka such as the Dha\ tuvam sa and Thu\ pavam sa as well as the stories
recorded in the diaries of the Chinese pilgrims Faxian (Fa-hsien, fifth cen-
tury) and Xuanzang (Hsang-tsang, seventh century). In addition to lengthy
Buddha tamna\ n of several palm leaf bundles that provide a broad, compre-
hensive history of the Buddhas travels in northern Thailand, virtually every
significant monastery temple (Thai wat) and every hill or mountain (Thai,
doi) topped by a cetiya reliquary (Thai ched) has its tamna\ n.
20
In many
cases, the histories in booklet form that are sold today at various wats in
northern Thailand are adapted from the tamna\ n histories of these sites.
Of course, the Buddha did not confine his travels to northern Thai-
land. Legendary chronicles have him traveling throughout Buddhist Asia,
but one can speculateand with more research possibly demonstrate
that northern Thailand produced a larger body of vernacular ja\taka stories
and Buddha tamna\n than other regions of Buddhist Asia. If that is the
case, then the question naturally arises: What was there in the northern
Thai religious, historical, and cultural milieu that led to such a rich prolif-
eration of ja\taka and Buddha tamna\n?
21
Perhaps future scholars of north-
ern Thai Buddhism will find an answer. When they do, we shall know
much more about the nature of the early religious history and practice of
the Tai than at present.
The particular text that serves as the backdrop for our examination of
signs of the Buddha is the Tamna\n Ang Salung (The Chronicle of [Sacred]
Water Basin Mountain). The name apparently derives from a basinlike
depression on the top of the mountain better known today as Doi Chiang
Dao (the Mountain of the Abode of the Stars) located about seventy kilo-
meters north of Chiang Mai on the way to the town of Fa\ng. Chiang Dao
resembles a molar tooth jutting abruptly above its immediate surround-
DONALD K. SWEARER 150
ings. Deep overhangs on the mountains western side have served as
retreats for hermits and holy men and women for generations. Natural
rock and mineral formations in the Chiang Dao cave have been given
supernatural attributions, and powerful spirits (devata\) are believed to
assemble in the largest cavern. In the caves antechamber visitors
encounter Burmese style cheds and alabaster Buddha images partially
illuminated by a window of light permeating the darkness through
crevices in the vaulted ceiling.
One of the Chiang Dao chronicles attributes the discovery of this holy
site to a legendary hermit who over a thousand years ago happened across
the cave mountain while searching for a peaceful place to pursue his reli-
gious practices.
22
Through the attainment of extraordinary mystic trance
states he gained the ability to communicate with the spirits inhabiting the
site. Various supernatural beingsdevata\, na\ga, yakkhabestowed upon
the holy man miraculous rewards including a gold Buddha image; a
golden pagoda and bodhi tree; and a magical elephant, horse, and sword.
The sage left an inscription in which he stipulated that those who wished
to see these magical creations must strictly observe the Buddhist precepts
to overcome greed, hatred, and delusion. Today, Chiang Dao cave guides
unhesitatingly point out formations representing and corroborating this
ancient tale, without, however, ascertaining the moral qualifications of
tourist or pilgrim.
Chiang Dao chronicles have various namesTamna\n Doi Luang Chi-
ang Dao (The Chronicle of Chiang Dao Mountain), Tamna\n Tham Chiang
Dao (The Chronicle of the Chiang Dao Cave)although they are similar
in content to Tamna\n Ang Salung. Chiang Dao was an early Tai historical
site,
23
but my interest is in the mythic and legendary aspects of the chron-
icle, not in historical information that might be derived from it.
24
In par-
ticular, I propose to explicate the chronicle for what it can tell us about the
worldview of the northern Thai and the nature of the Buddha as revealed
through his signs, that is, his relics.
25
The Tamna\ n Ang Salung can be analyzed as a composite of three dif-
ferent stories: the Buddhas travels in northern Thailand; the decline of
Buddhism in Jambudpa, including northern Thailand, beginning two thou-
sand five hundred years after the founding of the sa\ sana; and the story of
the Chiang Dao cave. The three stories are linked by Doi Ang Salung Chi-
ang Dao: Chiang Dao is one of the sites visited by the Buddha; the moun-
tain is associated with the concept of the Righteous King (dhammikara\ ja)
who will bring peace and order to the chaos of the declining world aeon;
and, finally, the Chiang Dao cave mountain is a sacred site in and of itself.
SIGNS OF THE BUDDHA 151
The text incorporates many Buddhasized folkloric elements. The folkloric
dimension of the text is acknowledged by the compiler himself, who refers
to the text as a tamna\ n nida\ na or a folklore tamna\ n. In the remainder of this
chapter I shall explore passages from each of the three sections of the text
in order to discern the tamnanic view of the person of Buddha, material
representations of the Blessed One, and the relationship between the two as
constructed within the chronicle narrative.
26
In conclusion, the emergent
picture of the Buddha and his material signs will be interpreted from three
perspectivesmagical, cosmological, and ontological.
SIGNS OF THE BUDDHA IN THE TAMNA
\
N ANG SALUNG
In contrast to larger, comprehensive Buddha chronicles, the Tamna\n Ang
Salung does not begin with previous existences of the Buddha, his appear-
ance as Prince Siddhattha, or recount the development of Buddhism in
India and Sri Lanka. Rather, the text begins with the Buddha already pre-
sent in the Chiang Mai region. The Blessed One starts his travels at Doi
Kung, a sacred mountain site south of Chiang Mai proper, wandering pri-
marily in the Chiang Mai valley with occasional forays into the broader
reaches of the mythical space of Jambudpa. On his journeys, the Buddha
meets a Lawa farmer turning a water wheel to irrigate a field. Seeing the
Buddha approach, the farmer unwinds a turban from around his head and
uses it to wash the Buddhas feet. When he wraps the turban around his
head again, it miraculously turns into gold.
Residing temporarily at a mountain to the south of the Lawa village,
the Buddha and the arahants accompanying him are offered food by the
villagers. After the Buddha and the monks eat their meal,
King Asoka says to the Lawa, O, Lawa, there is no longer any need
for you to irrigate your fields with a water wheel. Take the precepts of
the Buddha and you will have sufficient food to eat. The Lawa then
take the five precepts from the Buddha. When the Lawa return home
they find that everything both inside and outside of their homes has
turned into gold. Amazed, they exclaim, In the past we worked our
fingers to the bone and still didnt have enough to eat. Now that we
have taken the Buddhas precepts we find that everything has turned to
gold. The Buddhas precepts are precious, indeed! We will observe
them all of our lives.
After the Buddha gave the Lawa the precepts, he spoke to the arahants:
Before I came here, the Lawa irrigated their fields with a water wheel
DONALD K. SWEARER 152
because this is a very dry area. Consequently, this place shall be known
as Hot. The arahants and King Asoka then said to the Buddha, Bhante
Bhagava\ . . . O, Blessed One, you should establish your religion
(sa\sana) here. The Lawa will worship you by raising tall banners (Thai
tung)
27
in your honor, and Brahman ascetics will burn their robes. Alarge
dwelling place (a\ra\ma) will be constructed for you and your disciples,
known as Jotika\ra\ma.
28
The arahants and King Asoka then took a hair
relic (kesadha\tu) from the Buddha, encased it in a container of bamboo,
and enshrined it in a gilded container seven hands high. After putting the
relic in a hole in the earth, they worshipped it. Indra placed a spear in the
ground at the site to protect the relic; the hole was covered up, and over
it a ched three hundred wa\ (600 meters) high was constructed.
29
The
Buddha then spoke to the arahants and to King Asoka, After I have
passed away (parinibba\na), a bone relic from my right hand will be
enshrined in this ched.
The Buddha then proceeded to the home of a wealthy potter. There he
preached a sermon on the meritorious blessing (a\nisamsa) of building a
monastic dwelling place (a\ra\ma) and of constructing Buddha images.
The potter who had listened to the sermon decided then and there to
make [many] Buddha images. He ordered his neighbors and the Lawa to
bring all the things needed to make 3,300,000 images. [After they were
made] the images were put in an appropriate place and everyone wor-
shipped the Buddha. The Lawa, led by a wealthy merchant, then conse-
crated the images and worshipped them. The Buddha blessed the people
saying, Sa\dhu . . . It is good that you have made these images of me
because I cannot always be here with you.
30
After I have passed away
this place will become a great city (maha\na\gara) [Chiang Mai] where
my religion will flourish. It will be a major center for monks and schol-
ars. The officials of the kingdom as well as the common people will have
great fortune (pua) and my religion will flourish. Those who live here
but who do not reach Nibba\na in my lifetime will do so in the lifetime
of Phra Ariya Metteyya. After King Asoka and the arahants buried the
Buddha images, the Buddha made the following prediction: After I
have passed away, these images will appear before both human and
divine beings (devata\, manussa\) so that they may be worshipped in this
city now and in the future.
The author of the text continues the Buddhas itinerary with little
regard to geography. Most of the sites are in the Chiang Mai region, but
towns in Burma and northern India
31
are also included, and predictions are
made regarding the future rulers of La\n Cha\ng (in Laos), Chiang Mai, and
SIGNS OF THE BUDDHA 153
Hamsa\vat (in Burma). The tatha\gata leaves hair relics and footprints and
grants permission for the construction of Buddha images. In the Tamna\n
Ang Salung the bodhi tree, an important commemorative relic in other
parts of Buddhist Asia, is insignificant.
32
Although there appears to be no
hierarchial value assigned to one type of Buddha sign, occasionally the
text suggests a preference for one material representation over another, as
in the following encounter with a na\ga.
Seeing the Buddha approaching from a distance, the na\ga king who
lived there [the Ping River] was overjoyed. Having nothing to offer the
Lord Buddha except a honeycomb from a tree by the river bank, the
na\ga assumed the form of a human being, climbed the tree, brought
down the honeycomb, and offered it to the Buddha . . .
[Seated respectfully beside the tatha\gata] the na\ga made the following
request, O, Blessed One, please leave a footprint here. The Buddha
replied, Since theres no suitable flat stone for my footprint, I grant you
permission to make a Buddha image. It will be known as the reclining
Buddha of the honey inlet (Thai phra non nong phung) in remembrance
of the gift of honey given to me by the na\ga king.
33
To build, repair, or
venerate this Buddha image will be the same as venerating the tatha\gata
when he was alive. Delighted, the na\ga king made a reclining image of
the tatha\gata for both human and divine beings to venerate in the future.
In the Tamna\n Ang Salung the Buddhas hair is the predominant
preparinibba\na relic. As we would expect, body relics figure into post-
mortem or postparinibba\na predictions. Occasionally, however, physical
parts of the Buddha other than hair become relics in rather surprising
ways, as evidenced in the following examples.
While walking in an area north of Chiang Mai, the Buddha felt the
urge to relieve himself. A na\ga king dug a hole and Indra built a shelter
(mandapa) over it. The Buddha predicted that in the future this site would
be known as Phrapa\da Yang Vijjha. [The monastery is known as Phrapa\t
Yang Wit/the Holy Footprint Bathroom Resting Place located in Sam-
padong district].
In another unusual incident the Buddha sits under a tree near a paddy
field being tilled by a Lawa farmer. Mistaking the Buddha for a demon,
the peasant starts to run away. Reassured by the Blessed One that he is not
a yakkha but the Lord Buddha, the farmer sits down beside the tatha\gata:
As they were sitting under the tree, mucus dripped from the
tatha\gatas nose but miraculously floated up to the leaves of the Asoka
DONALD K. SWEARER 154
tree giving them a golden hue. A|nanda collected the mucus-covered
leaves and fashioned them into a relic which he gave to the Lawa
farmer. Indra, who together with the arahants and Vissukamma had
joined the Buddha and A|nanda, made a reliquary tower (prasa\da) [to
house the relic]. Afterwards, the Buddha spoke to them, This relic
will be here as long as you live. In the future it will be known as Chom
Thong because the relic was given to the farmer on the leaves of the
Thong tree. This relic has the power to determine who is good (pua)
and who is evil (pa\pa).
34
Doi Ang Salung Chiang Dao is visited by the Buddha during his trav-
els in northern Thailand and serves as a kind of axis mundi from which the
righteous world ruler (dhammikara\ja) will address the evils of the world
described in great length. I quote only a brief passage from this apocalyp-
ticand resonantly propheticvision.
It will be a time of the ascendency of evildoers, of war, and of suffering.
Girls ten years old will engage in sexual intercourse; parents will
encourage their very young daughters to marry; husbands and wives will
commit adultery and families will disintegrate. At the beginning of the
third millennium after the founding of the religion of the tatha\gata, the
sa\sana will suffer decline; people will not respect those with knowledge;
they will sell images and amulets of the Buddha and of the king; both
monks and lay people, old and young, the learned and ordinary folk will
be unable to discern the difference between right and wrong, good and
evil. They will be illiterate and without skills; discipline and tradition
will disappear. Lay people will not respect monks who observe the
vinaya, and both laity and monks will follow their own selfish interests,
doing as they please.
The apocalyptic sections of the Tamna\n Ang Salung only briefly men-
tion material representations of the Buddha, in this case, images and
amulets. In a possible critique of contemporaneous practice, the author
sees the selling of images and amulets as a sign of the decline of the
sa\sana. Amore momentous mark of the degeneration of the Buddhist age
in the third millennium after the death of the Buddha, however, is the
degeneration of the dhamma and the sangha. These also are important
signs of the Buddha, although they figure into the Tamna\n Ang Salung
more by their absence in the Ka\la Yu\ga than by their presence during the
lifetime of the Buddha. In the age of the decline of Buddhism, monks
will not study the dhamma; undisciplined laity interested only in eating
and sleeping will ordain as monks; they will be governed by greed (lobha)
SIGNS OF THE BUDDHA 155
and craving (tanha\); they will not seek the way to heaven or nibba\na and
will do only those things that lead to continuous rebirth (samsa\ra).
Doi Ang Salung Chiang Dao emerges at the end of the tamna\n as a
locus for signs of the Buddha after his parinibba\na that, in turn, form part
of a nexus for various sacred representations.
After the Buddha passed away at Kusina\ra\, five hundred disciples took
his relics to Doi Ang Salung Chiang Dao. The Lord Indra, Brahma, the
devata\, devaputta and King A|nanda Ra\japingmuang, the ruler of Chiang
Dao, built a large golden ched to a height one ga\vut [4,000 meters] for
the Buddhas relics (dha\tu). A hermit by the name of Brahma Isi dwelt
on the mountain one yojana high [16,000 meters]. Together with Indra,
Brahma, a na\ga king named Viru\pakkha, and with the devata\ they fash-
ioned a golden standing image of the Buddha for both divine and human
beings to worship. This precious image was erected in the cave [of Chi-
ang Dao]. Even those who see it from a distance and venerate the image
make merit. Such an act guarantees them a long and successful life. . . .
The ruler of the yakkhas, Chao Luang Kham Daeng [Lord Burnished
Gold]
35
with ten thousand attendants guard the cave. In the cave are the
possessions of divine beings and of kings, a priceless golden bodhi tree,
a golden Buddha image, and a golden ched. Chao Luang Kham Daeng
and his attendants stand guard over these precious objects that are encir-
cled by a fence. . . .
Ten thousand yakkhas also guard Doi Ang Salung. Whoever enters the
cavemonk, layperson, or Brahman asceticshould first bathe, then
take the five or the eight precepts and offer flowers, puffed rice, three
hundred gold and three hundred silver candles, four flowering plants,
eight flags in each of three colorsblack, red, yellow, and whiteand
one thousand small clay lamps. By making these offerings, one will be
greatly rewarded by the guardian yakkhas and will be able to leave the
cave. Moreover, if one enters the cave in order to make offerings to the
Buddha and the relic, to keep the precepts, and to practice meditation
you will be blessed with good fortune. . . .
Doi Ang Salung Chiang Dao is a place where the Buddha image, the
Buddha relic, and relics of all the previous Buddhas, arahants, and her-
mits (isi) are kept. The wise will care for the image and the relics.
Everyone who knows this tamna\n nida\na, who pays respects to the
Buddha image and the relics of the Buddhas and the arahants at Doi
Ang Salung, whether they come from far or near, will be blessed
(a\nisamsa) beyond calculation.
36
DONALD K. SWEARER 156
INTERPRETATION
Tamna\ n Ang Salung opens a window into the tamnanic or popular world-
view of northern Thai Buddhism, which existed from before the fifteenth
century up to the modern period. Indeed, many aspects of this worldview are
very much alive today. I propose that the tamnanic worldview constructs the
Buddha and material representations of the Buddha on three different yet
related levels: magical, cosmological, and ontological. The first is the instru-
mental significance of a particular event or object; the second is the under-
lying meaning of the interrelationship among particular events and objects;
and the third is the overarching reference to which events and objects refer.
The first is the most transparent. For example, in the episode of the
Lawa village, taking the precepts leads to an abundance of riches, and the
turban of the peasant who washes the feet of the tatha\gata turns into gold.
The same magical, instrumentalist view characterizes the installation and
maintenance of bodily relics and Buddha images. These pious acts not
only guarantee the survival of the sa\sana, but they accrue specific bless-
ings to the patrons. In short, contact with the Buddha, whether his bodily
person in the storys narrative present or contact with his relics in the Bud-
dhas absence, is at the basis of the popular Buddhist understanding of
blessing (a\nisamsa) and merit (pua).
37
The second and third levels of meaning point beyond a magical,
instrumentalist view of particular events associated with the Buddha and
his relics to the topological and cosmological map in which they are
imbedded. The Buddhas wanderings in northern Thailand constitute the
region as a buddha-desa or Buddha-land. The presence of the Buddha
literally gives the region an identity. Part of that identity is constituted by
the giving of a name, a custom associated with folklore.
38
In the Tamna\n
Ang Salung, particular places are namedthat is, they now have a loca-
tionas a consequence of the Buddhas visit.
But the Buddha is more than a mere name giver; in the act of naming
he creates order. The tatha\gatas itinerary establishes a map that is simul-
taneously both topological and cosmological; furthermore, his very pres-
ence defines the region ontologically as a buddha-desa. The Blessed
Ones journey throughout northern Thailand is a cosmogonic event that
creates an ordered, meaningful world. His physical signs are much more
than mere reminders of a visit, legendary or otherwise. They are his con-
tinuing presence, the presence of the conqueror (jina) to whom the
untamed forcesbe they barbaric Lawa, yakkhas, or na\gasrender ser-
vice and pledge allegiance.
SIGNS OF THE BUDDHA 157
In the Tamna\n Ang Salung, the cosmic center is Doi Ang Salung Chi-
ang Dao. It integrates timepast, present, and futureand space, the
seemingly world-extended Jambudpa. Both cave and mountain, Ang
Salung Chiang Dao brings together all of the signs of the Buddha (bodily
relics, image, footprint, and even a bodhi tree), the powerful forces oper-
ative throughout the story (Asoka and other dhammikara\jas, Indra,
Brahma and various other superhuman forces), and the guardian hosts of
the area (Chao Luang Kham Daeng and his retinue).
Finally, I suggest that in the tamnanic worldview the Buddha is read
from his relics or material signs rather than the other way around.
39
What
is of utmost importance is the presence of the Buddha, not as a historical
memory but as a living reality. That the tamnanic story of the Buddhas
visit to the Chiang Mai valley may offend our modern historical con-
sciousness in its utter disregard of time, space, and history is totally irrel-
evant. The tamna\n was not written to be read as history but as a story of
the Buddhas living presence represented in his signs. In this sense, even
the most mundane material objects such as excrement and mucus become
hierophanies of the Buddhas presence.
NOTES
An earlier version of this chapter appeared in Wannakam Phutasa\sana\ Nai La\nna\
(Buddhist Literature in Northern Thailand), ed. Phanphen Khru\ngthai (Chiang
Mai: Silkworm Books, 1996). Passages from the Tamna\n Ang Salung included in
this chapter were translated by the author in collaboration with Phaitoon Dok-
buakaew; see note 26 below for the complete citation.
1. In this chapter, I use the term sign in the strong sense of Charles Peirces
notion of index. That is, the sign in some sense participates in the object it repre-
sents. It does not merely point toward or symbolize an object; it re-presents the
object or is a surrogate for the object.
2. The Middle Length Discourses of the Buddha, tr. Bhikkhu a\namoli and
Bhikkhu Bodhi (Boston: Wisdom Publications, 1995), 705.
3. Ibid.
4. Charnvit Kasetsiri, The Rise of Ayudhya: A History of Siam in the Four-
teenth and Fifteenth Centuries (Oxford and Kuala Lumpur: Oxford University
Press, 1976), 1.
5. Dr. Udom Roongruangsri and the late A|cha\n Bumphen Rawin of the
Department of Thai Studies, Chiang Mai University, suggest that the term tamna\n
is derived from Pa\li through Khmer, that is, tam + na\la. Na\la refers to an empty
stalk and conveys a similar metaphorical association to lineage, as does vamsa.
DONALD K. SWEARER 158
6. Kasetsiri, The Rise of Ayudhya, 1.
7. Ibid., 2.
8. Ibid., 3
9. Ibid., 9.
10. Historical documents can be interpreted as offering constructions of ethnic,
communal, and national identity. From this perspective, Thai chronicles have
served to root Thai identity in Buddhism and in kingship. These two foci of Thai
identity, with differing emphases, have endured until quite recently. It is relevant
to note that the reign of Ra\ma VI not only coined a new term for history, prawat-
sat, he propagated the nation (Thai, cha\t) as the basis of Thai identity and loy-
alty alongside of Buddhism and the king.
11. Bodhiramsi, The Legend of Queen Ca\ma, trans. Donald K. Swearer and
Sommai Premchit with commentary (Albany: State University of New York Press,
1998); Ratannapanna Thera, The Sheaf of Garlands of the Epochs of the Con-
queror (Jinaka\lama\lpakaranam), trans. N. A. Jayawickrama, Pali Text Society
Translation series, no. 36 (London: Luzac, 1968). Important northern Thai chron-
icles have been translated into French: George Coeds, Documents sur lhistoire
politique et religieuse du Laos Occidental, BEFEO, vol. 25 (Paris: lcole
Franaise dExtrme-Orient, 1925); Camille Notton, Annales du Siam, 3 vols.
(Paris: Imprimeries Charles-Lavauzelle, 19261932). In addition, the Social
Research Institute of Chiang Mai University has published several northern Thai
muang tamna\n in Thai script.
12. Bodhiramsi states unequivocally that his story is based on written records
(maha\carika). He also claims to have translated the story into Pa\li. One assumes
that the translation was from Tai Yan and that he was translating a legendary
story.
13. For a translation of the Mu\lsa\sana\ of the Wat Pa\ Daeng lineage, see Don-
ald K. Swearer and Sommai Premchit, Mu\lasa\sana\ Wat Pa\ Daeng: The Chroni-
cle of the Founding of Buddhism of the Wat Pa\ Daeng Tradition, Journal of the
Siam Society 65 (January 1977): 73110.
14. See David K. Wyatt and Aroonrut Wichienkeeo, ed. and trans., The Chiang
Mai Chronicle (Chiang Mai: Silkworm Books, 1995).
15. David K. Wyatt, Chronicle Traditions in Thai Historiography, in South-
east Asian History and Historiography: Essays Presented to D. G. E. Hall, ed. C.
D. Cowan and E. W. Wolters (Ithaca, N.Y.: Cornell University Press, 1976),
10722.
16. Hans Penth, Literature on the History of Local Buddhism, Wannakam
Phuttasa\sana\ (The Literature of Northern Thailand), 74.
17. Tamna\n in this sense has a meaning similar to the contemporary use of the
term monograph; namely, it is a writing or a document about a particular subject
such as the founding of a town, the Buddhas visit to northern Thailand, the build-
ing of a Buddha image.
SIGNS OF THE BUDDHA 159
18. It is worth noting that in Thailand the collection of paritta texts are referred
to as tamna\n.
19. A masters thesis on the Phra Chao Liap Lo\k appeared in 1982. Katanyoo
Chucheun, Pra Chao Liap Lo\k Chabap La\nna\. Botwichro (Pra Chao Liap Lo\k
Archives in La\nna\: An analytical study) (Bangkok: Silpakorn University, 1982).
20. I classify the Phra Chao Liap Lo\k (PCLP) as a Buddha tamna\n. In addi-
tion to constituting a genre, Buddha Tamna\n is a specfic text. It is similar to the
PCLP in form, although I have been informed by scholars who have studied both
texts that the Buddha Tamna\n is more nida\nic in the sense that it contains more
miraculous legends. Colophons in manuscripts of both the Phra Chao Liap Lo\k
and the Buddha Tamna\n record the earliest transcriptions in northern Thailand in
the late fifteenth century and subsequent copies into the late nineteenth and early
twentieth centuries. Katanyoo Chucheun, Pra Chao Liap Lo\k, 69.
The Phra Chao Liap Lo\k states explicitly that the text was brought from Sri
Lanka, although to the best of my knowledge no one has discovered the prototype
text. Some scholars of northern Thai Buddhist religious history and literature, fur-
thermore, are of the opinion that the structure of the Buddhas travels and legacy
of relics that characterizes Buddha tamna\n texts as a genre was simply appropri-
ated from Sri Lankan sources but then creatively adapted to the northern Thailand
context.
Scholarly study of Buddha tamna\n as a genre must first compare the various
northern Thai texts and then seek to identify comparable sources in Sri Lanka and
other Buddhist countries. That the colophon claims the Phra Chao Liap Lo\k was
brought from Sri Lanka may be a way of giving the text authority rather than
recording a historical fact.
21. It might be more accurate to ask, What was there among the Tai? which
not only includes the Thai of central Thailand but other Tai ethnic groups in north
and northeastern Thailand, Laos, Myanmar, Yunnan, and Assam.
22. See Tamna\n Ru Prawat Tam Luang Chiang Dao (The Chronicle or History
of the Chiang Dao Cave) (Chiang Mai: Phra Singh Press, 2513/1970).
23. In the early days of Tai occupation of the Chiang Mai valley, Chiang Dao
seems to have been a way station between the larger centers of Chiang Mai and
Fa\ng.
24. Michael Vickery warns against using tamna\n in historical reconstruction.
See Michael Vickery, The Lion Prince and Related Remarks on Northern His-
tory, Journal of the Siam Society, vol. 64, pt. 1 (Jan., 1976): 32677.
25. The tamna\n on which this chapter is based is a microfilm copy in the Social
Research Institute, Chiang Mai University, of a manuscript located in the San Pa
Khoi monastery in the Muang district of Chiang Mai. It is dated C.S. 1306 (1941
CE) and was transcribed at a monastery in the Muang district of Lamphu\n. It is
impossible to date the root text. Mention of Burmese monks might suggest that
the text was subsequent to Burmese suzerainty over northern Thailand, that is,
after the end of the sixteenth century. More important for dating purposes, how-
DONALD K. SWEARER 160
ever, may be the reference to King Kawila who ruled Chiang Mai in the later half
of the eighteenth century. The colophon at the end of the eleventh bundle of the
Wat Ku Kham palm leaf manuscript of the Phra Chao Liap Lo\k states that the text
was first copied in BE 2071/CE 1471 at a wat near the foot of Doi Kung now in the
Hot district of the province of Chiang Mai. This would place the origin of one of
the prototype Buddha tamna\n texts of northern Thailand in the fifteenth century
during the high classic period of Chiang Mai.
26. Phaitoon Dokbuakaew, a research associate at the Social Research Center,
Chiang Mai University, collaborated with me in translating the Tamna\n Ang
Salung; see the complete translation of this text in Donald K. Swearer, Sommai
Premchit, and Phaitoon Dokbuakaew, The Sacred Mountains of Northern Thai-
land and Their Legends (Chiang Mai: Silkworm Books, 2004).
27. It is customary to erect long banners or flags (tung) at northern Thai
Buddhist merit-making festivals. The custom is also practiced among the Shan
and the Lao. Generally it is said that the length of the flag provides an oppor-
tunity for those being punished in the Buddhist hells to grab the tail of the ban-
ner and thus escape from their kammic punishment; that is, the power of the
merit generated by the ritual produces a beneficent effect for the dead as well
as for the living.
28. A possible reference to Wat Chedi Luang (Pa\li, Jotika\ra\ma), a major Chi-
ang Mai monastery connected with the ruling family of the kingdom.
29. This passage conforms to recent cosmogonic interpretations of the mean-
ing of the stupa (cetiya) built around an axial pillar (i.e., Indrakla). See John
Irwin, The Stu\pa and the Cosmic Axis: The Archaeological Evidence, South
Asian Archaeology, 1977, vol. 2, ed. Maurizio Taddei (Naples: Instituto Universi-
tario Orientale, 1979), 799839.
30. The Buddhas absence is the standard Buddhist apologia for the making of
Buddha images, namely, that they function as reminders of the Buddhas presence.
For example see Richard Gombrich, The Kosala-Bimba-Vannana\, in Buddhism
in Ceylon and Studies on Religious Syncretism in Buddhist Countries, ed. Heinz
Bechert (Gttingen: Abhandlungen der Akademie der Wissenchaften, 1978),
281301. Asimilar rationale applies to Buddha relics. See The Jtaka, trans. E. B.
Cowell (Cambridge: Cambridge Universty Press, 1901), 4:14243.
31. Place names of Buddhist sites in India are ascribed to locations in greater
India, thereby problematizing a specific identification.
32. In Thailiand today it is still true that in relationship to other representations
of the Buddhaimages, relics, footprintsthe bodhi tree is of secondary impor-
tance.
33. Today the image is located at Wat Phra Non in the district of Saraph, Chi-
ang Mai Province, south of Chiang Mai.
34. Wat Chom Thong in Chiang Mai Province is a highly revered pilgrimage
site. The reliquary located there is, indeed, in a prasa\t style.
SIGNS OF THE BUDDHA 161
35. Chao Luang Kham Daeng is revered as the guardian spirit of Chiang Dao.
He is the functional equivalent of Phu Sae/Yae Sae, the Lawa guardian spirits of
the Doi Suthep/Doi Kham area adjacent to the city of Chiang Mai.
36. The conclusion of the text reminds us that relatively brief Buddha tamna\n
such as Tamna\n Ang Salung were desana\ or preached texts.
37. Popular Buddhist devotion in Thailand today often reflects a magical,
instrumentalist understanding of the Buddha and lacks the more profound levels
of interpretation also present in the Buddha tamna\n.
38. Conventionally naming within the context of folklore is given an etio-
logical significance, that is, why a place is named such and such. While there is
an etiological signification to naming in the tamna\n, I find deeper cosmological
and ontological significations having to do with creating order and meaning.
39. It is noteworthy that Buddha tamna\n are often characterized not as the
story of the Buddha but as the story of the Buddhas relics, images, and footprints.
DONALD K. SWEARER 162
FOR ALMOST A HUNDRED YEARS CULTURAL ANTHROPOLOGISTS HAVE BEEN
carrying on a lively and ofttimes rancorous debate over the issue of how
natives think. Do primitives, to resort to the early but now unfashion-
able term, apprehend and reflect upon the world in a fundamentally dif-
ferent way than do we moderns? Does it make sense to talk of primitive
mentality, or less contentiously, of divergent rationalities?
In an attempt to characterize the thinking of so-called primitive peo-
ples as recorded in the ethnographic literature available at the time, Lucien
Lvy-Bruhl posited a prelogical kind of thinking that does not abide by the
law of noncontradiction.
1
According to Lvy-Bruhl, primitive mentality
does not clearly distinguish between subject and object, such that primi-
tives perceive themselves in mystic participation with the world. To the
primitive, the world is not comprised of lifeless natural objects; rather,
since everything that exists possesses mystic properties, and these proper-
ties, from their very nature, are much more important than the attributes of
which our senses inform us, the difference between animate and inanimate
things is not of the same interest to primitive mentality as it is to our own.
2
Lvy-Bruhls thesis was subjected to considerable criticism soon after
it appeared, and to this day his work tends to be summarily dismissed for
its supposed ethnocentrism. Lvy-Bruhl himself went to great lengths to
clarify and qualify his thesis in his later writings. He insisted, for exam-
ple, that what he called primitive rationality is not characteristic of
primitives alone but is rather a universal mode of thought that can and
does coexist with logical thinking. Indeed, the charge of ethnocentrism is
largely misleading; Lvy-Bruhl was, if anything, an early champion of
cultural relativism in the social sciences.
3
163
CHAPTER SEVEN
ON THE ALLURE OF BUDDHIST RELICS
Robert H. Sharf
No matter what ones opinion of Lvy-Bruhls thesis, the issues he
raised could not be ignored. It would no longer be possible to simply
assume, as did Edward Tylor, James Frazer, and other early compara-
tivists, that primitives are essentially no different from ourselvesthat the
gap between primitive and modern societies is merely the product of the
relative gap in factual knowledge and scientific know-how. Lvy-Bruhl
raised the possibility that different peoples conceptualize in different
ways: Primitives see with eyes like ours, but they do not perceive with
the same minds.
4
Ironically, later generations of anthropologists, many of whom held
Lvy-Bruhls theories in contempt, found themselves retracing his foot-
steps. For Lvy-Bruhls notion of the collective representations or col-
lective mentality of a people presaged the emphasis on culture in mod-
ern anthropology, and the insistence that a given culture be understood in
its own terms.
5
Indeed, many of the questions raised by Lvy-Bruhl are
still very much with us: To what extent is the world of human experience
itself a social or cultural product? Do modern scientific modalities yield a
more objective view of the world than do premodern systems of thought?
Are different conceptual schemes ultimately incommensurable? Such
hermeneutic quandaries cannot be ignored, for they decide whether, in the
final analysis, we privilege etic analysis over emic description, or vice
versa. (Indeed, the more fundamental issue is whether the distinction
between emic and etic is conceptually viable in the first place.) There is
still no resolution in sight, as attested by the recent and somewhat vitriolic
exchange between Gananath Obeyesekere and Marshall Sahlins.
6
Despite the obvious significance of these issues for the study of com-
parative religion, such debates have had little impact on the study of Bud-
dhism. Earlier generations of Buddhologists seemed confident in the
belief that whatever the final verdict might be with regard to primitives,
Buddhists were not to be numbered among them. Asian apologists and
Western scholars alike felt confident in treating Buddhism as a critical and
essentially rational tradition that has more in common with Occidental
philosophy and ethics than with religion per se. Standard treatments of the
topic assured the reader that Buddhism was and remains an atheistic creed
that categorically rejects superstition, magic, ritualism, and idolatry. If
Buddhists occasionally act otherwise it merely attests to the degree to
which they have lost touch with the roots of their own tradition.
7
In the last few decades this notion of pure or essential Buddhism
has come under considerable scrutiny. There is a newfound enthusiasm for
supplementing the study of canonical texts with a variety of extracanoni-
ROBERT H. SHARF 164
cal sources, including archaeological, epigraphic, and art-historical mate-
rials. Inspired in part by the work of social historians of medieval Chris-
tianityPhilippe Aris, Peter Brown, Caroline Bynum, Patrick Geary, and
Jacques Le Goff, to name but a fewmany Buddhologists are beginning
to focus on reconstructing the institutional, social, and economic context
of the elite clerical tradition.
At the same time, not a few scholars are combining their study of
Buddhist canonical languages with extended periods of fieldwork in Asia,
experiencing Buddhist culture firsthand. Fieldwork has proven to be a
potent corrective to earlier idealized notions of pure Buddhism construed
on the basis of scriptural representations alone. Scholars of Theravada are
now able to consult the rich ethnographies compiled by Melford Spiro,
Stanley Tambiah, Gananath Obeyesekere, and others, while scholars of
Tibet, China, and Japan pay increasing attention to indigenous regional
traditions, including Bon, Confucianism, Taoism, shamanism, and various
forms of popular religion. The earlier reconstruction of an essential
Buddhist teaching on the basis of canonical sourcessources that were
often compiled and edited in the Westis beginning to appear as little
more than a Western fiction, and some scholars now prefer to speak not of
Buddhism but rather of multiple regional Buddhisms.
In the reappraisal of Buddhism on the ground, perhaps the most
fruitful development has been the discovery of the seminal role that
images and relics have played in Buddhist culture throughout its history.
Rather than envisaging the spread of Buddhism through Asia as the prop-
agation of a sacred creed or faith, the movement of Buddhism might be
better understood in terms of the diffusion of sacred objects, most notably
icons and relics, along with the esoteric technical knowledge required to
manipulate them. Gregory Schopen, a pivotal player in the revaluation of
early Indian Mahayana, has argued that the scriptures themselves were
actually regarded as a kind of relic, valued not so much for what they say
as for their inherent charismatic or apotropaic powers.
8
For many scholars who found themselves disenchanted with the
romanticized and/or rationalized versions of Buddhism that once domi-
nated the field, the discovery of relic and image worship was the smoking
gun that provided irrefutable evidence that Buddhists are not bourgeois
rationalists after all.
9
The worship of relics exemplified the newfound oth-
erness of Buddhism, for it would seem to involve the sanctification of that
which is utterly profane and loathsomethe corporal remains of the dead.
10
But despite their enthusiasm for the subject, to date Buddhologists have
done little more than document the phenomena. While they readily attest to
ON THE ALLURE OF BUDDHIST RELICS 165
the extent and popularity of relic veneration, they have yet to say much
with regard to the question Why? Why have Buddhists been so obsessed
with bits of desiccated or otherwise transmogrified remains of the dead?
Why, for that matter, would anyone attribute apotropaic or salvific power
to scraps of dead organic matter, much less a contact relic surrogate (that
is, an object such as a piece of clothing whose sacred status is derived from
its having been in physical contact with a saint or holy man)? On this issue
scholars have had little to say. And when they do offer something by way
of explanation they tend to conflate relics proper with virtually every other
object of Buddhist ritual devotion, including sculpted and painted images,
stupas, so-called aniconic symbols, and even scriptures and incantations.
All of these, we are told, denote the presence of the Buddha in his very
absence. The relics, images, and words of the Buddha or his enlightened
disciples are deemed worthy objects of veneration insofar as all serve as
manifestations or instantiations of the formless dharma itself.
This rubric of presence in absence has proved particularly, and I think
understandably, alluring. For one thing, it renders the worship of relics and
images consonant with Buddhist doctrine. The relic is a potent vestige of
the death of an enlightened being, a memento of his or her abiding liber-
ation. The same holds true for the image of the Buddha and his stupa
they all signify the unfathomable freedom of nirvana. By instantiating a
numinous absence, relics, images, and their kin function as a physical
locus for the saints enduring charisma, apotropaic power, and grace.
11
This argument has been made by a number of Buddhologists, including
David Eckel, John Strong, and myself on several occasions.
12
The notion that relics denote the Buddhas enduring presence in his
very absence has proved an effective bulwark against the marginalization
of this popular form of Buddhist piety. It is no longer acceptable to casu-
ally dismiss the worship of relics and images as aberrant or un-Buddhist,
as a sop to the plebeian needs of the unlettered masses. Scholars now
appreciate that, with few exceptions, the clerical elite found nothing
objectionable in the worship of relics but enthusiastically engaged in and
promoted such activities themselves. There is thus little reason to believe
that the display of relics contravenes either the letter or the spirit of Bud-
dhist teachings; why is a relic any less appropriate a signifier for nirvana
than the word nirvana itself?
The problem, however, is that with few exceptions Buddhist sources
do not speak of relics in terms of absent presences or present absences.
13
On the contrary, the materials at our disposal suggest that relics were
treated as presences pure and simple. That is to say, a relic did not repre-
ROBERT H. SHARF 166
sent, symbolize, or denote a transcendent presence, numinous absence, or
anything in between, any more than the person of the Buddha represented
or symbolized the Buddha. (We do not typically think of President Clin-
ton as representing the presidenthe simply is the president.) The source
of the muddle is due in part to the tendency to conflate images, stupas,
relics, and other signifiers of Buddhahood, all of which were undeniably
objects of veneration. I shall return to this issue further on.
There are, of course, other strategies available with which to deal with
the Why question, strategies that do not rest on an appeal to quasitheo-
logical notions such as absent presences. Those predisposed to more
down-to-earth explanations can avail themselves of a number of function-
alist accounts. For example, it is clear that relics, unlike sacred sites, are
eminently portable, and thus they aid and abet the decentralization and
propagation of the cult. While there was only one historical Buddha, his
relics, not to mention the relics of his enlightened disciples, can be multi-
plied virtually ad infinitum. There is, in fact, considerable evidence that
the mobility of relics contributed to the success of Buddhism as a mis-
sionary religion; relics facilitated and legitimized the Buddhist appropria-
tion of indigenous religious centers throughout Asia, transforming the
landscape into a sacred Buddhist domain.
14
At the same time, the popular-
ity of relics was easily exploited by the ecclesiastic, institutional, and sec-
ular authorities who oversaw their dissemination.
15
There are obvious par-
allels with the well-documented manipulation and exploitation of relics by
the clergy in medieval Christendom.
16
Such functionalist accounts have their utility, but as answers to the
Why question they remain incomplete since they tend to presume,
rather than explain, the widespread and almost visceral fascination shown
toward relics in both Buddhist and non-Buddhist cultures. They do not, in
and of themselves, explain why masses of people throughout history were
willing, if not eager, to impute supernatural power to the remains of the
special dead.
At this point scholars tend to fall back, implicitly rather than explic-
itly, upon some version of animism, sympathetic magic, or even primitive
mentality. While few would publicly invoke the names of Tylor, Frazer, or
Lvy-Bruhl in their analyses of Buddhist relic veneration, we are still left
with the fact that Buddhists appear to ascribe intentionality to what we
view as inanimate objects. And this was, of course, precisely the issue
with which Tylor, Frazer, and Lvy-Bruhl were struggling.
One way to break the impasse might be to pause for a moment and
reflect on the nature of the current scholarly fascination with relics. As
ON THE ALLURE OF BUDDHIST RELICS 167
mentioned earlier, the intellectual interests of contemporary scholars are
determined in part by historical circumstances and developments within
the discipline, just as was true of those who preceded them. Earlier gener-
ations of Buddhologists focused on putatively philosophical scriptures
and treatises for laudable reasons: they were battling the deeply
entrenched Eurocentrism that characterized the Western academic estab-
lishment. They sought to legitimize the study of Buddhism by establish-
ing its credentials as a high religion complete with its own sophisticated
philosophical and ethical teachings. These scholars realized considerable
success in rendering Buddhism a species of rational humanism worthy of
our attention and respect. Indeed, some scholars would now judge them
too successful, and they want to set the record straight. In their attempt to
redress the domesticated image of Buddhism bequeathed by their elders,
they have turned their attention to phenomena that resist rational appro-
priation. The more bizarre the phenomenon the better.
Of course, the bizarre is not altogether unfamiliar. Buddhism may no
longer resemble European humanism, mysticism (the perennial philoso-
phy), or enlightened rationalism, but it has come to bear an uncanny
resemblance to medieval Christianity: both were preoccupied, at some
level, with saints, relics, and miraculous images. This has been a signifi-
cant discovery, and has allowed Buddhologists to establish a new set of
conversation partners in the academy. But parallels with medieval Europe
in and of themselves do not provide a theoretical foundation that renders
the alterity of the phenomena, whether Buddhist or Christian, intelligible.
Does the current interest in relics emerge from the call of scholarly duty
alone? Are scholars merely trying to enlarge and ameliorate our collective
understanding of Buddhism, or does it spring from something deeper?
The fascination with relics is clearly overdetermined. For one thing,
the discovery of the significant role played by relics in Buddhism raises
the intellectual stakes. It is one thing to argue the provenance of the
Madhyamakaka\rika\, to decipher the logic of Dharmakrti, or to wax sub-
lime over the ethical and environmental implications of codependent orig-
ination. It is another thing altogether to come to terms with belief in mir-
acles, magic, and the supernatural power of bits of human flesh and bone.
Thus some may be drawn to the study of relics in part by the intellectual
challenge of offering a rational interpretation of a phenomenon that
appears, at least at first glance, decidedly irrational. At the same time,
scholars may take comfort in the realization that certain phenomena stead-
fastly resist all efforts at explanation. As professional intellectuals we tend
to be acutely aware of the limitations of our craft. We may suspect that our
ROBERT H. SHARF 168
discursive hold over reality is ephemeral at best and that our scholarly
endeavors are ultimately of little or no significance. Some of us may find
the thought that we do not have sole purchase on realitythat critical
analysis is merely one of several ways of engaging the worldoddly reas-
suring. (This is, of course, in keeping with the current zeitgeist in the
humanities, in which undermining our confidence in the foundations of
our own knowledge is construed as the only authentic game in town.)
But this may be making too much of the otherness of relics. Our
attraction is not, I suspect, of a purely intellectual nature; relics evoke a
more visceral response. Our interest in a sacred finger bone, a skull, a des-
iccated tongue, or a lacquered mummy does not seem to be of the same
order as our interest in a stone stupa or icon. While the stupa or icon may
possess considerable aesthetic appeal, the allure of a relic lies elsewhere.
I sense that there is something almost voyeuristic or prurient in our fasci-
nation with relics. Is it possible that we are drawn to the Buddhist obses-
sion with relics because it resonates with something close to home? (I
clearly recall my own childhood fascination with the macabre Egyptian
mummypartially unwrapped, decayed toes, contorted face, and wisps of
hair clearly visibleon permanent display in the Royal Ontario Museum.)
But here we must be cautious. The corporeal remains of the dead may
elicit a powerful response in the living, but in and of itself this may not
reveal much about Asian Buddhist beliefs or attitudes; it may be little
more than yet another projection of contemporary needs and concerns
onto the complex ink blot that is Buddhism. Except that this time, instead
of projecting our own rationality as did a previous generation of scholars,
we now project our irrationality.
However, in ignoring our personal response altogether we may be for-
feiting a singular opportunity to illuminate the enigma of relic veneration.
It might thus be useful to reflect upon our own response to the corporeal
remains of the dead. While this may well land us in a hermeneutic mud-
dlehow can I be sure that my own visceral response has anything to
tell us about the response of a medieval Buddhist?my hope is that the
muddle will ultimately prove a fruitful one.
THE SEMIOTIC LOGIC OF IMAGES, ICONS, AND RELICS
My first task, however, will be to delineate the meaning of the term relic. As
mentioned earlier, images, stupas, and even scriptures have typically been
conflated, insofar as they all denote or signify the Buddha. This conflation
has served a purpose, in that it underscores the pietistic and devotional
ON THE ALLURE OF BUDDHIST RELICS 169
aspects of Buddhist praxis. Scholars now appreciate the wide range of
objects that were deemed bearers of supernatural power, that served as the
focus of veneration, and that were thought to literally embody the essence
of Buddhahood.
Nevertheless, we should not lose sight of the features that distinguish
relics proper from objects such as Buddha images and stupas that are
unambiguously representational. In many respects the differences could
not be more obvious: whereas corporeal relics are procured or discov-
ered, images and stupas are manufactured, modeled by human hands
after established prototypes.
17
Abuddha image or stupa is, with few excep-
tions, clearly recognizable as such, even when removed from its original
religious setting or ritual context. A relic, however, requires a frame in
space and time that explicitly signals its status as sacred object. Removed
from their gilded and jewel-studded reliquaries most relics resemble so
much dirt.
While the term image can refer to a wide range of material objects,
here I am concerned primarily with representations of humans and deities
in sculpted or painted form. We can then further distinguish images in
general from icons in particular. By icon I mean a specific sort of religious
image that is believed to partake or participate in the substance of that
which it represents.
18
In other words, an icon does not merely bear the like-
ness of the divine but shares in its very nature. This rubric is, of course,
Western in origin; it developed out of certain Judeo-Christian issues
entailed in rendering a likeness of God. Clearly, it was impossible to
authorize an image of the divine on the basis of the veracity of the por-
trayal itself. The notion of shared substance allowed the church to cir-
cumvent the problem of likeness by focusing on a rather rarefied concep-
tion of substance or essential nature.
19
Despite its Western pedigree, this technical understanding of icon
can be used to illuminate the structural relationships among images, icons,
and relics, across religious traditions. Note that any representation of the
divine, the holy, the absolute, must grapple with the ontological problem
of reference. That is to say, whether the divine or absolute is construed in
transcendent or immanent terms, in either case it must remain essentially
noncontingent and nonrelational and thus cannot properly be the ostensive
referent or signified of a word, symbol, or image. Denotation is always
mediation, since the noncontingent object of reference is kept one step
removed from the sign through which it is made known. Thus any attempt
to manifest the divine through contingent forms is both theologically and
existentially problematic.
ROBERT H. SHARF 170
Broadly speaking, one can contend with this problem in one of two
ways. First, one can simply prohibit the direct signification of the divine;
the numerous Jewish and Muslim prohibitions against uttering the name
of God or rendering his image come immediately to mind. Second, one
can eliminate, by fiat if necessary, the distance between signifier and sig-
nified, such that pure substancethat which is devoid of all representa-
tional or contingent qualitiesis held to be immanent within the sign
itself. This is the road taken by certain Catholic, Eastern Orthodox, and
Buddhist traditions.
Buddhists employ a variety of means to eliminate the distance
between manifest form and divine essence. As is well known, Buddhist
images are consecrated through elaborate eye-opening ceremonies
believed to transform a mere likeness into a divine presence.
20
The initial
consecration is reiterated through regular invocation rituals that compel
the deitys presence within the image. (Buddhist pu\ja\ or rites of offering
typically include an invocation sequence, however brief, prior to the offer-
ings proper.) The rites of offering can include feedings, ritual baths, and
entertainments, all of which imaginatively reinforce the identity of image
and god. But perhaps the most striking example of the effort to collapse
form and substance is the installation of charismatic objects in general,
and relics in particular, within the body of the image itself.
Buddhist relics are construed as the distilled essence of human corpo-
reality; they are what remains after the human form has been destroyed
and the material substrate purified by the funeral pyre. Note that one of the
two common terms for relics, dha\tu, is also used to refer to the funda-
mental or constituent element(s) of the universe itself. Insofar as relics are
devoid of discernible representational qualities, they were well situated to
serve as instances of purified essence or vital substance, and as such they
came to play a significant role in the transformation of a mere image into
a living icon. Incorporated relics literally vitalize a sacred likeness.
There are a variety of ways in which Buddhists could incorporate a
relic into an image. The most common was to simply wrap the relic in
cloth or ensconce it in a small reliquary and insert it in an opening in the
base or back of the image. In East Asia relics were sometimes mixed
together with clay and the clay then used to fashion an image creating an
ash icon thoroughly infused with relics.
21
But the most striking example
of the incorporation of a relic into an image is mummification, in which
the entire corpse of an eminent master was desiccated, wrapped in layers
of lacquer-impregnated cloth, fitted with robes and other adornments, and
installed on an altar in the same manner as any other icon.
22
In some cases
ON THE ALLURE OF BUDDHIST RELICS 171
the resulting image so closely resembled a dry-lacquer sculpture that it
was difficult to tell the difference.
23
In the case of a Buddhist mummy the
identity of relic and imagesubstance and formhas been fully realized.
Mummies aside, Buddhists do make a terminological distinction
between images and relics. In China, for example, a relic or sheli (Sanskrit
arra, Japanese shari) would not be confused with a xiang (image, sym-
bol, and so on) and vice versa. The same is true of the other terms used for
Buddhist images and portraits, including zhen and dingxiang; each is used
to denote a visual representation or likeness and thus is not applicable to
a relic proper.
24
But what about the formal distinction I am suggesting
between image and icon? At first glance one might assume that the dis-
tinction does not hold in medieval China, since the rendering of an indi-
viduals likeness was always a potentially magical act. One thinks of the
celebrated portraitist Gu Kaizhi (ca. 345406) who sought to animate por-
traits of secular subjects by dotting the eyes,
25
or the widespread use of
portraits in ancestral rites as resting places for the soul of the deceased
(ling, shen).
26
Nevertheless, East Asian Buddhists do have a term that corresponds
rather well to icon in the restricted sense stipulated earlier, namely, in
Japanese pronunciation, honzon (Chinese benzun) or fundamental deity,
the principal object of worship in a Buddhist ritual setting.
27
The honzon is
not some unseen transcendent deity, much less an abstract conception of
Buddhahood, but rather the sculpted or painted image enshrined on an altar
in a place of worship. Which is to say that the vast majority of Buddhist
practitioners in East Asia, like their counterparts in India, do not make a
distinction between the consecrated visible image of the deity and the deity
itself. Thus multiple icons of one and the same Buddha or bodhisattva are
regarded in some sense as separate individuals with unique identities. Take,
for example, the particular manifestation of Avalokitevara Bodhisattva
known as Amoghapa\ a Avalokitevara, or, as he is known in Japan,
Fuku\ kenjaku-kannon. There are a number of images of Fuku\ kenjaku situ-
ated throughout Japan, each bearing roughly the same iconographic attrib-
utes. But each is embedded within a specific historical/mythical narrative,
often tied to a particular temple or locale, that gives it its personality. The
image of Fuku\ kenjaku-kannon enshrined in the Nanendo\ at Ko\ fukuji in
Nara, for example, is considered the fundamental ground (honji) of
Kasuga Myo\ jin, the main deity of the Kasuga Shrine complex. In other
words, the native Japanese god Kasuga is regarded as an avatar or incarna-
tion (suijaku) of the Fuku\ kenjaku enshrined in the Nanendo\ .
28
Other
Fuku\ kenjakus do not enjoy this relationship with Kasuga, but they too may
ROBERT H. SHARF 172
be tied to their own local traditions and religious narratives. This individu-
ation extends to the powers associated with specific icons; each may have
its own area of competence. One image of Yakushi may be renowned for
its power to cure emphysema, for example, while another might be known
for success in treating arthritis or heart disease.
29
There are also cases in which an icon effectively reproduces, giving
rise to multiple replicas that partake in the spirit of the original. One
classic example is the cult of the Seiryo\ji Shaka, a Chinese sandalwood
image of S:a\kyamuni brought to Japan by the pilgrim Cho\nen (9381016)
in 986 and now enshrined at Seiryo\ji in Kyoto. According to local tradi-
tion this magnificent sculpture is the original Udayana image of S:a\kya-
muni, so called because it is believed to have been produced at the behest
of King Udayana during the Buddhas lifetime.
30
As the center of a major
cult in Japan it has served as the prototype for over a hundred replicas,
replicas that are viewed not so much as images of the historical Buddha,
but rather as offspring or doppelgngers (even though they are rarely exact
copies) of the deity enshrined at Seiryo\ji. The same is true of the Zenko\ji
Amida triad, as documented in Donald McCallums recent study of the
subject.
31
The Zenko\ji triad, which is kept hidden from public view, is
explicitly regarded as a living Buddha (sho\jin no hotoke), and as such
has been the center of an influential cult since the Heian period. The cult
proliferated throughout Japan via the medium of over two hundred repro-
ductions, each of which was believed to partake in the vitality of the orig-
inal. Like the Seiryo\ji Shaka, the focus of the Zenko\ji Amida cult is not so
much an august Amida abiding in his distant Pure Land, but rather the spe-
cific deity ensconced at Zenko\ji.
Honzon is thus a functional approximation of the English icon
it is not merely a representation of a god but the god itself. This exalted
status is reaffirmed through the use of various artistic and architectural
conventions, some of which manifest cross-culturally. For example, icons
are typically constructed and displayed so as to engage the viewer directly.
To quote Wu Hung, [The icons] significance relies on the presence of a
viewer or worshiper outside it. In fact, the openness of the composition is
based on the assumption that there is a worshiper who is engaged in direct
relationship with the icon. It is based on this assumption that the iconic
composition has become universal in various religious art traditions
around the world.
32
In East Asia the status of the honzon is also marked by its altar setting,
which will include a small table placed in front of the image upon which
are arrayed various ritual paraphernalia and offerings such as candles,
ON THE ALLURE OF BUDDHIST RELICS 173
food, incense, and flowers. A raised seat for the ritual officiant is set in
front of the offering table, and additional implements are often arrayed to
either side. This setting is part of the icons frameit is present even when
never usedand signals not only the presence of a supernatural being but
also the authority and technical mastery of the institutionally sanctioned
priests who are able to muster and direct the divine forces.
33
Insofar as an icon is a living presence, I would propose a further ter-
minological distinction between icon and sacralized sign. I would
reserve the latter term for objects that are sometimes called icons, but
only in a metaphorical sense. Thus some might call the American flag an
icon on the basis of the rituals that surround its use and the powerful emo-
tions that the flag elicits. Some Americans go so far as to regard the inten-
tional desecration of the flag as a sacrilege. But to speak of the flag as an
icon is to speak metaphorically; the flag is surely only a symbol of the
nation, albeit a powerful one. Insofar as flag burning is a profanation, the
transgression lies in the ritual and symbolic significance of the act, rather
than in the loss of the material object itself.
34
This is not the case with an
icon, however, the destruction of which is a far more serious concern.
Each icon is in a certain sense unique and irreplaceable, much like an indi-
vidual person.
While these terminological distinctions may strike the reader as unnec-
essarily abstract or scholastic, they do serve to draw attention to a class of
sacred objects that are not regarded as mere signs or signifiers but rather as
vital forces or animate entities. This point has been made repeatedly before,
most forcefully, perhaps, by David Freedberg in his tome The Power of
Images.
35
Freedberg documents the tendency to impute intentionality to
images, sacred and otherwise, and in the process exposes the impotence of
many of the theories proffered to explain the phenomena. He notes that vir-
tually all such theories, from Frazers laws of similarity and contagion to
more contemporary notions of sympathy, identification, symbolic linkage,
association of ideas, evocative resonance of symbols, or what have you,
assume the disjunction between the symbol and the symbolizedbetween
representation and reality. But this is precisely what is not given at the level
of our emotional and cognitive response to images. We will only come to
understand response if we acknowledge more fully the ways in which the
disjunction [between the reality of the art object and reality itself] lapses
when we stand in the presence of images.
36
Any account of envotement
or image magic that presumes the disjunction between representation
and reality is already at a level of abstraction so removed from the phe-
nomena it seeks to explain that it is unable to find its way back.
ROBERT H. SHARF 174
Freedbergs point is well taken, but while he wants to distance himself
from the traditional aesthetic concerns that preoccupy art historians, he can-
not escape the issue of representation, or more precisely, figuration. Freed-
berg documents a seemingly innate human tendency to search all variety of
images for the human form, and in the process to reconstitute the material
object as living.
37
While this may tell us something about the mystique of
Buddhist images, it does not get us very far with Buddhist relics, which are,
for all intents and purposes, formless. It is not primarily what relics look like
that we find arresting, at least not initially, nor is it what they represent or
signify. Rather, it is what they are. It is their unabashed yet impenetrable
corporeality that evokes such a powerful response.
PRIMITIVE MENTALITY OR EXISTENTIAL BEFUDDLEMENT?
The veneration of corporeal relics and manufactured icons would seem
to violate the law of noncontradiction (as Lvy-Bruhl would put it), as
it entails a host of conceptual conundrums. If the deity is indistinguish-
able from the image, what is the relationship between different images
of the same deity? When the corporeal remains of a saint are trans-
formed into relics and disseminated, what happens to the integrity of the
saints spirit? How, in other words, can a single being be in several
places at one and the same time? And more basically, how could anyone
seriously believe that an image fashioned by human hands of wood,
stone, or clay is alive?
Such problems are not the concern of modern rationalists alone.
Scholastic theories of multiple buddhaka\ya or bodies of the Buddha
appear to be addressing similar issues of identity and particularity.
According to buddhaka\ya doctrine, a single Buddha or bodhisattva can
have multiple nirma\naka\ya, transformation or manifest bodies, each of
which is the local instantiation of a more rarefied prototype. In China
these localized avatars were called response bodies (yingshen) or trans-
formation bodies (bianshen, huashen), in part because they were
believed to appear and function purely in response to the needs of those
who invoked them. The response body was thus somewhat autonomous
from the relatively immutable true body (zhenshen) or Buddha body
(foshen), a fact that would have allowed multiple incarnations of the same
proto-deity to assume their own unique identities. Such doctrines
evolved, in China at least, in connection with reflections on invocation
rites, which suggests that medieval commentators were grappling with
some of the same issues that perplex us today.
38
ON THE ALLURE OF BUDDHIST RELICS 175
Nevertheless, it is doubtful that such scholastic formulations ever had
much purchase on the ground. Nor did they need to. There is little indica-
tion in either the textual or ethnographic record that the vast majority of
practitioners were cognizant of a problem at all. Individual icons and
relics were powerful forces to be approached not conceptually or philo-
sophically, but rather through the medium of worship and ritual. But
before we rush to the conclusion that these forms of Buddhist piety
bespeak a prereflective, uncritical, or primitive relationship to sacred
objects, it would be prudent to consider our own understanding of the rela-
tionship between manifest form or embodiment on the one hand, and ani-
mating life force on the other.
And it takes but a moments reflection to realize that there is, in fact,
no single coherent, rational, or scientific perspective on the issue.
Most of us would allow, I suspect, that we are our bodies and that at the
same time we are something more. This is, at least, the way many in the
West learn to conceptualize death: something is there one moment and
gone the next, leaving behind a lifeless cadaver. Occidentals tend to think
of this something in immaterial terms, as the mind, consciousness, ego,
soul, and so on. Whatever it may be, it is not something that reveals itself
to the probing of a surgeon.
The notion that we are comprised in part of an immaterial or at least
a highly rarefied animating constituent has a long heritage in the West,
going back to Greek views of the psyche. The notion of an independent
psyche or soul continued to play an important role in medieval Christian
thought, although, as Caroline Bynum has shown, the doctrine of the res-
urrection of the body, and the need to maintain social and gender distinc-
tions in the afterlife, led some theologians to reject theories of a fully dis-
embodied soul.
39
And despite developments in behavioral psychology,
molecular biology, genetics, and neuroscience, many North Americans
today continue to resist scientific or philosophical theories that reduce the
individual to mere physical, biological, or electrochemical processes.
At the same time, we have made little progress in our understanding
of how a nonphysical process could interact with physical ones. The mind-
body problem is as intractable as ever, as seen in the recent interdiscipli-
nary debates over the nature of consciousness. There are, of course, many
who insist that the mind-body problem is the result of a conceptual mud-
dle, and that we are on the verge of a comprehensive physicalist account
of consciousness.
40
But for every committed materialist there is a diehard
dualist who insists that, try as we might, consciousness will never yield
itself to a strictly biochemical account.
41
ROBERT H. SHARF 176
It would appear that several thousand years of reflection have not
brought about anything approaching a consensus on the seminal issue of
whether our essential nature is material, immaterial, or something in
between.
42
One thing, however, is certain: the concept of an immaterial
soul, psyche, or mind has occasioned a panoply of ontological and ethical
problems. The abortion issue is a case in point. Both the prolifers and the
prochoicers tacitly accept the notion that life must begin at some point at
or following conception; the issue is when. Yet at the same time we know
full well that life must be present before conception for conception to take
place. (Both sperm and egg must be living for anything resembling a per-
son to emerge.) Thus, as many ethicists have duly noted, the issue is not
so much the point at which life begins, but rather the point at which we
emerge as persons. While the notion of a person may provide a toehold for
medical ethicists, social scientists, or legal theorists, it yields little in the
way of clarity on the fundamental ontological issue. We are still not sure
to what exactly we refer when we use the first-person pronoun I.
While we may concede our confusion as to the precise moment at
which the self or soul or even person comes into existence, we
might think ourselves on firmer ground when we contemplate its end. In
the West the moment of death, however defined by the medical or legal
communities, is generally understood as the point when the person is no
longer present in the body. Whether or not one holds that the self contin-
ues to exist, the physical remains are viewed as an inanimate or lifeless
lump of organic matter to be disposed of posthaste, albeit in a suitably
decorous manner. Most Americans thus attribute little significance to the
metamorphosis of the body after death. This view of death is, of course,
culturally determined, and it is by no means the norm in other societies.
What we view as the decomposition of a lifeless cadaver is viewed by
many others as the final stage in the evolution of a still vital being. In other
words, in many cultures death is not a moment, but a process that stretches
out over a considerable period of time, continuing until the physical trans-
formation of the body has resulted in a state of changelessness. This ter-
minal point in the life cycle is marked by the secondary treatment of the
corpse, in which the dried bones or fully desiccated corpse are moved to
their final resting place.
43
The fact that North Americans pay relatively lit-
tle heed to the transformation of the corpse after death bespeaks the endur-
ing influence of the notion of a soulour sense that the once living per-
son is no longer present in his or her physical remains.
Yet our cultural attitudes in this area are surely not so simple. Witness
the crash of the TWA flight 800 off the coast of Long Island on July 17,
ON THE ALLURE OF BUDDHIST RELICS 177
1996. The loss of the plane in over a hundred feet of murky ocean posed
considerable problems for the recovery team. Despite the technical diffi-
culties, compounded by bad weather, the authorities in charge repeatedly
assured the public that every effort would be made to recover the remains,
that no expense would be spared, and that the search would take prece-
dence over the investigation into the cause of the crash. Why this empha-
sis on the recovery of the bodies, even at the risk of the safety of the
divers? Is it merely to provide the remains with a proper burial? Or do we
feel that there are still people down there?
Caroline Bynum has pondered similar issues in the context of her
extensive work on the Christian doctrine of bodily resurrection.
44
Bynum
demonstrates that, despite the continued belief in some form of body-soul
dualism, by the early fifth century Christian thinkers had come to view the
self in decidedly materialistic terms. The self was by definition an embod-
ied self, such that individual salvation and life in the hereafter necessitated
the physical resurrection and reassembly, if necessary, of the corpse. The
doctrine of the resurrection of the whole body, which quickly became
church orthodoxy, gave rise to a number of conceptual puzzles that were
to task the best minds of medieval Christendom: What age and sex is the
resurrected body? Are foreskins, umbilical cords, fingernail and hair clip-
pings resurrected as well? Are aborted fetuses resurrected? What about
cannibalism: if one person eats another, in which resurrected body would
the shared matter reside? Bynum argues that while these topics may strike
us as outr or jejune, we too resort to the fantastic and bizarre as we con-
template the nature of personal identity and selfhood. American analytic
philosophers hone their positions on the nature of mind, consciousness,
and personal identity through thought experiments on artificial intelli-
gence, brain transplants, and even teletransportation (Beam me up
Scotty). Like the medieval Christian scholastics, we too ponder the
meaning of self through reflecting on the nature and constraints of our
physical embodiment; we too resort to delimiting and oftentimes bizarre
scenarios as we probe the enigma of our own corporeality.
Have we made progress in our search for the nature of consciousness,
of the self, of the referent of the pronoun I? Is progress indeed possible?
Or does the fact that embodiment precedes essence, to take liberties
with the existentialist credo, doom any and all attempts to conceptualize
the corporeal self? We seem to have returned to the problem of reference:
signification entails mediation, a fact that continually frustrates our
attempts to adequately denote or ostend the immediacy, not of having, but
of being a body. The body that constitutes the epistemological object of
ROBERT H. SHARF 178
medical science, of biology, of genetics, or of neuroscience, is never quite
that immanent body that is me. Thus our discursive ruminations seem des-
tined to remain forever a step removed from the existential and psycho-
logical weight of our physicality. And yet I suspect that the clue to the sin-
gular allure of relics lies precisely here, in the confusions and anxieties
that attend our somatic identity.
RELICS AND THE HERMENEUTIC CONUNDRUM
We began with Lvy-Bruhls notion of primitive mentality, a distinguish-
ing feature of which was the inability to distinguish between the animate
and the inanimate, between conscious beings and mere things. We have
seen that, once freed from the rationalizing gloss of earlier apologetic
accounts, the Buddhist treatment of icons and relics indicates that such
objects were treated as animate entities capable of intentional acts. If we
failed to fully appreciate this before, it was due to our tendency to think of
icons and relics as mere signs or representationswhether of a divine
presence, a divine absence, a transcendent truth, or what have you. Yet the
ethnographic record suggests that icons and relics were not regarded as
representations of the divine or ultimate, any more than a persons body is
regarded as a representation of that person.
But we should be wary of concluding that Buddhists are any more
primitive in their thinking than are we. We too are far from clear as to the
distinguishing marks of consciousness, of intentionality, of the self. We
too are not quite sure what, if anything, animates us, what it is that con-
stitutes our personhood, our subjectivity. We too are perplexed as to
whether consciousness and matter are ultimately one thing or two, and if
two, what their interrelationship might be.
To acknowledge the limits of our understanding is to provide grounds
for a reconsideration of the Buddhist case. While there is considerable evi-
dence suggesting that Buddhists regard relics and icons as presences, it is
equally evident that Buddhists are able to distinguish between bones or
images on the one hand, and walking, talking human beings on the other.
The fact that inert objects are regarded not merely as animate entities,
but as charismatic objects of ritual veneration, is tacit acknowledgment of
difference in kind. That is, if bits of bone, images of wood or stone, are
alive, they are alive in a rather special way.
I have suggested that the allure of relics lies in what they aretheir
corporeal essencerather than in their representational or iconic qualities.
At the same time it is clear that, unlike sentient beings, relics are what they
ON THE ALLURE OF BUDDHIST RELICS 179
are by virtue of how they are physically and/or ritually framed. In other
words, if it is true that the recognition of a relic as an instance of unmiti-
gated corporeality is actually abetted by the relics absence of representa-
tional features, then the lions share of the denotative work must be borne
by the frame. And such framing suggests a more complex attitude toward
charismatic objects than that evoked by notions such as animism, sympa-
thetic magic, or mystical participation.
Gregory Bateson introduced the notion of framing in his analysis of
primate communication, which, he argued, entails the ability to distin-
guish map from territory. This follows from the simple recognition
that a message, of whatever kind, does not consist of those objects which
it denotes (the word cat cannot scratch us).
45
While an explicit or
implicit frame of some sort is necessary to discriminate signified from
signifier, or figure from ground, the status of the frame itself remains
couched in logical ambiguity, if not paradox. This is because the frame
must (1) straddle both realmsmap and territoryyet belong to neither;
and (2) draw attention to itself, and yet remain hidden at the same time.
(While spoken words must be heard to be understood, understanding
becomes difficult if we attend too closely to their phonetic or acoustic
qualities.) As Bateson notes, many forms of religious art, ritual, and dis-
course exploit this very ambiguity: In the dim region where art, magic,
and religion meet and overlap, human beings have evolved the metaphor
that is meant, the flag which men will die to save, and the sacrament that
is felt to be more than an outward and visible sign, given unto us. Here
we can recognize an attempt to deny the difference between map and ter-
ritory, and to get back to the absolute innocence of communication by
means of pure mood-signs.
46
There may be no more ambiguous an object in this regard than the
human body. Anthropologists, sociologists, linguists, and literary theorists
all attest to the manner in which the body is implacably inscribed with a
host of significations and values. Somatic metaphors and images structure
our conceptions of everything from the natural world, to the political,
social, psychological, and religious domains, and those conceptions are in
turn reflected back upon the body. To put it simply, the body, as modern
cultural theorists are so fond of pointing out, is a cultural construct.
And yet the immanence or raw physicality of the body, my body, me,
is more than a shifting field of significations. My immanent and primor-
dial somatic being antecedes and frustrates all attempts at discursive
appropriation. This, I would suggest, is one of the reasons that corpses,
mummies, and relics seem so compelling: they confront us in the starkest
ROBERT H. SHARF 180
possible way with our irreducible thingness and at the same time with
the puzzle of life itself. This point has been made most eloquently by
Georges Bataille:
The spirit is so closely linked to the body as a thing that the body never
ceases to be haunted, is never a thing except virtually, so much so that if
death reduces it to the condition of a thing, the spirit is more present than
ever: the body that has betrayed it reveals it more clearly than when it
served it. In a sense the corpse is the most complete affirmation of the
spirit. What deaths definitive impotence and absence reveals is the very
essence of the spirit, just as the scream of the one that is killed is the
supreme affirmation of life.
47
The relic is framed as a singular specimen of pure corporeality unencum-
bered by discernible formthe logical terminus in the reduction of the
person to his or her material essence. Relics are the delimiting instance of
our somatic existence stripped of all signification, that final and insensi-
ble scream that is the supreme affirmation of life.