Sex, Marriage and Family in World Religions (69 page)

Overwhelmed by great sorrow, she went down the middle of the road, wailing this song of lament:

Both my sons are gone

and my husband is dead upon the road!

Thus lamenting, she arrived in Sŕa¯vastı¯ and went to the well-to-do neigh-borhood where she had lived, but . . . she was not able to find her own home.

“In this place, there is a family of such and such a name,” she said. “Which one is their house?”

“Why do you ask about that family? The house where they dwelt was blown down by a great gust of wind, and all of them lost their lives. They are now, young and old, being burned right there, on a single funeral pyre. Look, you can still see the smoke.” Hearing this, she cried: “What are you saying?” And unable to bear even the clothes her body was dressed in, she stripped them off and, crying with outstretched arms the way she had at birth, she went to her family’s funeral pyre and gave voice to this lament of total grief: Both my sons are gone

and my husband is dead upon the road!

And my mother and father and brother

burn on a single pyre!

Again and again she tore off the garments that people gave her and threw them away. . . .

One day, when the Buddha was preaching the Dharma to a great crowd of people, she entered the monastery and stood at the edge of the assembly. The Master, spreading out his pervasive loving-kindness, said to her: “Sister, regain awareness, acquire mindfulness.”

As soon as she heard the words of the Master, she became profoundly ashamed and fearful, and she sat down right there on the ground. A man standing nearby threw her his outer garment. She put it on and listened to the
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Dharma. With reference to her conduct, the Master then recited this verse from the
Dhammapada:
Neither sons, nor parents, nor kinfolk are a refuge.

Relatives offer no shelter for one seized by Death.

Knowing this situation, the wise, exercising moral restraint, can quickly clear the way that leads to nirva¯n.a.

At the end of the verse, even as she stood there, she became a stream-winner.

She approached the Master, venerated him, and asked to be ordained. He agreed to her ordination, telling her to go to the home of the nuns and wander forth there. She was ordained, and it was not long before she obtained arhatship, and grasping the word of the Buddha, she became a master of the book of the discipline (Vinaya). Subsequently, when the Master was seated at the Jetavana and assigning statuses to each of the nuns, he established Pat.a¯ca¯ra¯ as the foremost of those knowing the Vinaya.

[Translated in Strong,
The Experience of Buddhism,
pp. 56–58]

THE BUDDHA ACCEPTS HIS AUNT, GOTAMI¯,

AS A NUN

While the above two stories display women unrelated to Buddha accepting the Buddhist appraisal of the stupendous pitfalls encumbent on householders, the surviving literary tradition also includes several narratives about the Buddha’s mother, Ma¯ya¯, and his aunt Maha¯praja¯patı¯ (also known as Gautamı¯; or Gotamı¯), who was believed to have raised him after his mother died some seven days after his birth. In the case of his mother, Ma¯ya¯, it was widely held in several genre of early Buddhist literature that the Buddha, during one particular rainy season retreat, rose up magically to heaven, where she was abiding, in order to spend three months teaching her the dharma so that she could gain enlightenment and escape from samsara. The logic of this story rests on the assumption that the Buddha made this decision to care for his deceased mother based on recognizing that he owed her a debt for her role in bringing him into the world.

Thus, in a way that runs somewhat counter to modern popular interpretations of the Buddha, the story sought to present the Buddha as a careful and diligent filial son who managed all his affairs perfectly, and can’t rest until his dear mother is rescued from samsara. The story is also telling in so far as it presents an intersection of family and ascetic values since the Buddha, though now enlightened, is shown working to save from rebirth the very woman who gave him birth, thereby clearly suggesting that his transcendence didn’t exactly annul his previous relations, a trope that we will see played out in various ways in the stories below.

An equally telling story regarding the importance of the Buddha’s female relatives is the account of Maha¯praja¯patı¯, his aunt and wet-nurse. Again working 326

from his “milk-debt” to her, this story depicts the Buddha’s reluctance to accept women into the ascetic order being finally convinced when Maha¯praja¯patı¯

reminds him that she breast-fed him in his infancy. Unlike the sparse narratives of the joys of ascetic isolation, this story seems rather sophisticated in its effort to explain the advent of Buddhist nuns, even as it casts that invention in a decidedly unflattering light since we learn that the Buddhist religion will, supposedly, flourish for half as long now that the Buddha has acquiesced to Maha¯praja¯patı¯’s request to join the monastic order. Like the story of the Buddha saving his mother in heaven, this narrative works to negotiate, in some measure, the Buddha’s trailing familial obligations and to both allow a place for women in the order, even as their presence is explained as the primary cause for the precocious demise of Buddhism.

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t h e b u d d h a a c c e p t s h i s a u n t , g o t a m ı ¯ , a s a n u n

Then Maha¯praja¯patı¯ Gautamı¯, together with her four companions and five hundred other Sá¯kyan women, approached the Blessed One and, after paying obeisance to him, sat down to one side. And Maha¯praja¯patı¯ Gautamı¯ said this to the Buddha:

“Blessed One, the appearance of Buddhas in the world is rare; instruction in the True Dharma is difficult to obtain. But now the Blessed One . . . has appeared, and the Dharma whose preaching is conducive to tranquillity and parinira¯vna is being expounded by him and is causing the realization of ambrosial nirva¯na. It would be good if the Blessed One were to allow women to be initiated into his order and ordained as nuns.”

The Blessed One said: “Gautamı¯, do not long for the initiation of women into the order, or for their ordination as nuns.”

Now Maha¯praja¯patı¯ Gautamı¯, thinking that the Buddha would not give women a chance to become initiated and ordained, paid obeisance to the Blessed One and took her leave. Then, together with her companions she approached the Sá¯kyan women and said: “The Blessed One will not allow honorable women to be initiated and ordained as nuns. However, let us honorable women cut our own hair, acquire our own monastic robes, and attach ourselves to the Blessed One’s party and follow after him, . . . wandering where he wanders throughout the land of Kosála. And if the Blessed One allows it, we will be initiated, and if he does not allow it, we will lead a chaste life in the presence of the Holy Buddha. . . . ”

Now the Blessed One, after dwelling as long as he wished in the city of Kapilavastu, set forth to travel through the land of Kosála. And Maha¯praja¯patı¯

Gautamı¯, together with her companions, cut their own hair, acquired their own robes, attached themselves to the Blessed One’s party, and followed after him. . . . Wandering through Kosála in the company of a large group of monks,
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the Blessed One arrived at the city of Sŕa¯vastı¯. There he dwelt in the Jetavana, Ana¯thapin.d.ada’s park.

Then Maha¯praja¯patı¯ Gautamı¯ approached the Blessed One, paid obeisance to him, and sat down to one side. And she said: “Blessed One, the appearance of Buddhas in the world is rare, instruction in the True Dharma is difficult to obtain, but now the Blessed One . . . has appeared, and the Dharma whose preaching is conducive to tranquillity and parinirva¯n.a is being expounded by him and causing the realization of ambrosial nirva¯na. It would be good if the Blessed One were to allow women to be initiated into his order and ordained as nuns.”

The Blessed One said: “Gautamı¯, do not long for the initiation of women into the order or for their ordination as nuns.”

And again, Maha¯praja¯patı¯ Gautamı¯, thinking that the Buddha would not give women a chance to become initiated and ordained, paid obeisance to the Blessed One and withdrew to the gateway of the Jetavana. There, she stood crying and scuffing her toes on the ground.

Now a certain monk, seeing her there, went to the Venerable a¯nanda, and said: “Venerable A¯nanda, Maha¯praja¯patı¯ Gautamı¯ is standing crying in the gateway of the Jetavana, scuffing the dirt with her toes. You should go, A¯nanda, and find out why she is crying.”

A¯nanda therefore approached Maha¯praja¯patı¯ Gautamı¯ and said to her: “Why are you crying, Gautamı¯?”

“Indeed, I am crying, Noble A¯nanda, because truly the appearance of Buddhas in the world is rare, instruction in the True Dharma is difficult to obtain, and now the Blessed One . . . has appeared, and the Dharma whose preaching is conducive to tranquillity and parinirva¯n.a is being expounded by him and causing the realization of ambrosial nirva¯na, but the Blessed One will not give women a chance to be initiated and ordained into his order and to become nuns. It would be good, A¯nanda, if you were to go to the Blessed One so as to obtain permission for women to be initiated and ordained.”

“That would be good, Gautamı¯,” agreed the Venerable A¯nanda. So, approaching the Buddha, he paid obeisance to him and sat down to one side.

Sitting there, he said: “The appearance of Buddhas in the world is rare, instruction in the True Dharma is difficult to obtain, and now the Blessed One . . .

has appeared, and the Dharma . . . is being expounded by him and causing the realization of ambrosial nirva¯na. It would be good if the Blessed One were to allow women to be initiated into his order and ordained as nuns.”

Thus addressed, the Blessed One replied to the Venerable A¯nanda: “Mother Gautamı¯ should not long for the initiation of women into the order or for their ordination.”

Then the Venerable A¯nanda . . . after taking leave of the Buddha, went to Maha¯praja¯patı¯ Gautamı¯ and told her what had happened.

Upon hearing this, Maha¯praja¯patı¯ Gautamı¯ replied: “It would be good, A¯nanda, if you were to go to the Blessed One and ask him a second time. . . .“

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[So A¯nanda went and repeated his request a second time, and] the Blessed One again replied: “Mother Gautamı¯ should not long for the initiation of women into the order or for their ordination as nuns. Such a thing, A¯nanda, would be just as though the disease known as ka¯ran.dava were to fall upon a ripe field of grain and make it turn to chaff. Just as that would be a great defilement to the field of grain, so it would be a great defilement to the teaching of the Buddha were Mother Gautamı¯ allowed to be initiated into his order and become a nun. Indeed, A¯nanda, it would be just as though the disease known as ‘red rust’ were to fall on a ripe field of sugar cane. Just as that would be a great defilement to the field of sugar cane, so it would be a great defilement to the teaching of the Buddha were Mother Gautamı¯ allowed to be initiated into his order and become a nun. Indeed, A¯nanda, it would be just as though a great storm were to fall on a ripe field of rice in such a way as to bring about the destruction and utter ruin beyond hope of recovery of the rice crop. Just as that would be a great defilement to the field of rice, so it would be a great defilement to the teaching of the Buddha, were Mother Gautamı¯ allowed to be initiated into his order and become a nun.”

Then the Venerable A¯nanda . . . returned to Maha¯praja¯patı¯ Gautamı¯ and said to her: “Gautamı¯, the Blessed One will not give women a chance to be initiated and ordained into his order and to become nuns.”

Upon hearing this, Maha¯praja¯patı¯ Gautamı¯ replied: “It would be good, A¯nanda, if you were to go to the Blessed One and ask him a third time. . . . ”

“That would be good, Gautamı¯,” agreed the Venerable A¯nanda, and, he went a third time, and paid obeisance to the Buddha and sat down to one side.

Sitting there, he said: “Blessed One, how many assemblies of disciples did enlightened Buddhas of the past have?”

The Blessed One replied: “Previous Buddhas, A¯nanda, had four assemblies of disciples, to wit, monks, nuns, laymen, and laywomen.”

Then the Venerable A¯nanda said to the Blessed One: “Blessed One, the four fruits of monastic life—namely, the fruit of a stream-winner, the fruit of a once-returner, the fruit of a nonreturner, and the highest fruit of arhatship—can a woman who is earnest and zealous and who dwells in seclusion realize any of these?”

The Buddha replied: “Yes, A¯nanda, a woman who is earnest and zealous and who dwells in seclusion can realize any of these four fruits of the monastic life.”

“Well, then,” the Venerable A¯nanda said to the Blessed One, “since, Blessed One
,
enlightened Buddhas of the past had four assemblies—namely, monks, nuns, laymen, and laywomen—and since women who are earnest and zealous, and who dwell in seclusion are able to realize the four fruits of the monastic life—namely, the fruit of stream-winnner up to the highest fruit of arhatship— it would be good if the Blessed One were to allow women to be initiated into his order and to be ordained as nuns. Moreover, Maha¯praja¯patı¯ Gautamı¯ per-Buddhism 329

formed some difficult tasks for the Blessed One; she nourished, fed, and suckled him after his mother had passed away. And for this the Blessed One is grateful and recognizant.”

Hearing this, the Blessed One said to A¯nanda: “This is true, A¯nanda, Maha¯praja¯patı¯ Gautamı¯ did perform difficult tasks for the Tatha¯gata; and she did nourish, feed, and suckle him after his mother passed away. And for this the Tatha¯gata is grateful and recognizant. But, A¯nanda, the Tatha¯gata, too, performed some difficult tasks for Maha¯praja¯patı¯ Gautamı¯. Thanks to him, she took refuge in the Buddha, she took refuge in the Dharma, and she took refuge in the Sangha. . . . ”

Then the Blessed One reflected: “If I oppose the request of A¯nanda a third time, this will cause him mental distress, and the teachings which I have revealed and entrusted to him would become utterly confused in his mind. I would like my true Dharma to last a thousand years, but it is preferable that a¯nanda not become mentally distressed and that the revealed teachings not become utterly confused, even though, this way, my true Dharma will abide but five hundred years.”