From “mastering arts and crafts” to “renunciation”
One of the highlights of Jamyang’s large shrine room is the 12 gold-covered bas-reliefs depicting the 12 deeds of the Buddha. In this piece, Michael Lobsang Tenpa continues exploring the twelve deeds as they are presented in the sutric Sanskrit literature.
The deeds of the Buddha between his birth and his renunciation of worldly life are relatively well-known, though, perhaps, little studied; they are certainly presented in greater detail than the history of the early years of Jesus. Most of these acts, at least from the point of view of the Sanskrit tradition, have to do with the future Buddha’s accumulated spiritual potential: the incredible spiritual maturity brought from past lives inevitably shines through again and again, inspiring everyone around and laying the groundwork for the illustrious teaching career that would eventually begin once full awakening was attained. One aspect of this groundwork are the future Buddha’s deeds meant to illuminate the minds of his retinue, planting the seeds for their own eventual spiritual realization. Another aspect is guiding the future generations—including us, who, in contemplating these intermediate deeds, can find inspiration for our own accumulation of merit and wisdom.
Becoming skilled in various arts
Being a prince of the Śākya clan, Siddharta was naturally expected to study the arts and sciences of his time. Instead of pursuing his studies in a gradual manner, he, however, quickly established himself as a prodigy. Even during his first official visit to the school of the Śākya clan (where he was supposed to study with other youths), he inadvertently overwhelms the teacher with his spiritual magnificence, causing the master of literary sciences to prostrate in awe. This scene evokes a few verses of praise from a worldly god who is observing the event and notes that the future Buddha is only attending the school to accord with the conventional norms—not because he actually needs any further learning. To prove this point, the bodhisattva proceeds to reveal his mastery of a great number of scripts (including those of non-human beings), inspiring his fellow students to also aspire for full awakening and progress on the spiritual path.
The mastery that the future Buddha reveals is not limited to worldly sciences and arts; it also includes skill in the advanced contemplative arts that were already known to ancient Indians (including the art of single-pointed concentration). On an outing with other Śākyan boys, Siddhartha feels drawn to a rose apple tree, and, sitting underneath it, displays his natural giftedness in the art of samādhi by sequentially entering the four meditative absorptions, or dhyanas. This early experience will later play a rather large role in the bodhisattva’s spiritual career, since this early taste of samādhi will eventually inspire him to discover his signature combination of calm abiding (śamatha) and special insight (vipaśyanā): a quintessential Buddhist recipe. The Lalitavsitara Sūtra additionally claims that it was this experience of samādhi that later inspired the bodhisattva to abandon the world, planting the seed for the sixth deed, that of renunciation. On top of that, the sheer strength of Siddhārtha’s concentration interrupts the movement of certain worldly sages, or rishis, flying over the farm. Initially angered, they discover that the source of their travel delays is a glorious young bodhisattva and end up showering him with praises and good wishes.
The most significant display of Siddhārtha’s natural mastery of worldly arts and sciences happens when he is trying to prove that he is worthy of his chosen bride, Gopa of the Śākya clan (also known as Yasodhara). In order to impress her father, Dandapani the Śākyan, who quite naturally objects to his daughter getting potentially wed to someone uneducated and inexperienced, Siddhārtha participates in a series of tests, competing against his multiple peers (including his future attendant Ānanda and his jealous cousin Devadatta). Even before the start of the contest, he displays Superman-level strength by throwing the corpse of an elephant (meaninglessly murdered by Devadatta) out of the city bounds, lest it releases toxic miasma dangerous to humans. In the contest itself, he once again displays his mastery of sciences (including math), literary arts, and numerous types of physical discipline. A display that particularly stands out is that of archery; much like Rama, who had to string the divine bow of Shiva in order to win the hand of Sita, Siddhārtha has to string and bend the impossibly heavy bow of his own grandfather. Emerging successful in every test, the bodhisattva is once again showing a fundamental Mahāyāna idea: success is brought about by the accumulation of merit; therefore, a being that has completed that accumulation is able to perform its deeds in a perfect, effortless form.
Referencing this contest, the praise attributed to Nāgārjuna states:
Homage to you, lion among men, in all your youthful vigour, Displaying your prowess in the games at Aṅga-Magadha,Where you triumphed over the proud contestants, So that not one could stand as your rival.
By contrast, Khyentse Chokyi Lodro focuses on the act of mastering arts and sciences itself:
Taming an elephant, writing, swimming and the rest—You become well-versed in the sixty-four crafts and enjoyed the sports of youth, O wondrous prodigy, Foremost among humans, grant abundant virtue and excellence!
Delighting in the company of royal consorts
The next deed might come through as somewhat surprising to people who expect the Buddha’s biography to be prudely spiritual and mainly focused on renunciation. What’s so great about delighting in the company of one’s queens and courtiers? The answer lies in the attitude that the future Buddha brought to his courtly, romantic and sensual endeavors—the attitude of combined renunciation and bodhicitta, in particular.
A common theme uniting the previous deed and this one is that of “according with the worldly conventions.” Why would a bodhisattva want to follow those conventions, exactly? In order to help other beings mature, making sure they are ready to eventually receive the liberating instructions. With this in mind, Siddhārtha performs what is expected of a young prince of his age, sensually enjoying the company of his wife and his concubines (Lalitavistara says he had 84000 beautiful companions—hyperbolically or, perhaps, symbolically, since the same number will become famous as the total number of teachings the Buddha supposedly offered). On this note, Naragjuna’s praise states:
Homage to you, who, to comply with worldly convention, And avoid all misdeeds, took on a queen and courtiers.
While the future Buddha was enjoying the company of his wife and concubines (sometimes, as Lalitavistara describes, falling asleep on a sofa in the company of a few of them), the worldly gods and the fully awakened buddhas used their power to emanate a number of songs meant to encourage the bodhisattva on his path.
One part of these songs reminded Siddharrtha of his past lives, spent in accumulating wisdom and merit and performing the heroic deeds described in the Jatakas:
Seeing the beings who are forever without protector,
Hero, you made the following promise:
‘I will awaken to the supreme state without old age or grief
So that I can deliver all beings from death, old age, and other sufferings.’
Therefore, Virtuous One, quickly leave this fine city
And practice the conduct of previous sages.
Another part offered a powerful teaching on the four types of suffering: those of birth, sickness, old age, and death:
“The three worlds are ablaze with the suffering of old age and sickness;
This world is ablaze with the fire of death and without a protector.
Always deluded in impure existence,
Beings spin like a bee caught in a vase.
Yet another one tackled the themes of interdependence and emptiness, offering the bodhisattva—and also us as modern-day practitioners studying his life—a chance to contemplate the essence-less nature of phenomena:
“Desired objects are momentary and empty.
They are as untrue as a magical illusion or a mirage;
They have no substance, like a bubble of water or foam.
The learned ones realize that these objects emerge from conceptualisation.
Those reminders, it is claimed, are a traditional offering to all the bodhisattvas approaching full awakening; and yet they were also not really necessary, since Siddhārtha (at least in the view of the Sanskrit tradition) never really forgot his purpose or got confused by the mistaken appearances of saṃsāra. Like many other things in the Buddha’s life, this deed is a dance, where figures are well-rehearsed and are performed to teach and inspire others—including us as modern-day practitioners.
Renouncing the royal life
Throughout his previous deeds, Siddhārtha was already displaying strong renunciation and knowledge of his purpose. However, since the deeds of the wheel-turning buddhas are supposed to unfold sequentially and with proper flair, the bodhisattva’s renunciation of royal life in itself presents a major cosmic drama. It starts with King Śuddhodana seeing an alarming dream of his son leaving to becoming a traveling mendicant. Intent on avoiding this outcome with even greater passion than before, the king builds three palaces and makes sure there are always plenty of guards around Siddhārtha, essentially preventing him from leaving. In addition to that, he wants his son to fully focus on hedonic joys and not witness anything disturbing.
Despite his father’s best effort, Siddhārtha, during his exploration of royal parks, still comes across suffering through the activity of the so-called “four heavenly messengers”. These four figures, described sometimes as magical emanations of worldly gods, are an old person, a sick man lying helplessly in his own filth, a corpse, and, finally, a traveling monastic with an inspiring air of peace and self-mastery. Encountering these four, Siddhārtha asks his charioteer Chanda about the nature of each, inviting us to also contemplate these four destinies: the inevitability of old age, sickness, and death, and the chance to win inner freedom through focused spiritual effort.
Since the retinue shares Siddhārtha’s thoughts with King Śuddhodana, he later becomes even more heavily bent on keeping his son in the palace. Further hedonic joys are provided, and the consorts are ordered to make sure the prince is constantly entertained. An extra heavy gate is installed, and multiple strong youths are placed in all the directions to physically prevent Siddhārtha from leaving (although with a strict order to not harm him). However, what’s meant to happen will still happen—in this case, through the helpful intercession of worldly gods, who have already divined the incredible benefits a fully awakened Buddha can bring to the world. Multiple worldly powers volunteer to perform the necessary tasks: putting the royal retinue to sleep, opening the gate, helping the bodhisattva himself get up, and so forth. Yakshas are tasked with supporting the movement of the prince’s horse, and a “divine road” (allowing for fast and effortless transportation, not unlike hyperspace travel in science fiction), is temporarily set up. An important role is played by the god Dharmacarin, who reminds the bodhisattva that his consorts, and, indeed, all beings with bodies of flesh and blood, are not unlike corpses:
Inspired by the lords of gods,
Immediately the Bodhisattva looked around and examined the retinue of consorts.
Seeing that they had become repulsive,
He thought, “It is true, I live amid a cemetery.”
Further inspired by these thoughts of renunciation and by his bodhicitta, Siddhārtha gets ready to leave—but he has to endure one more test in an argument with Chanda the charioteer. With tears in his eyes, the servant begs Siddhārtha to postpone his quest until old age (following the traditional Hindu model of a sannyasi embarking on a spiritual journey quite late in life), to continue enjoying the royal pleasures and to not leave his beloved ones behind. The bodhisattva, however, remains resolute, and Chanda (witnessing the miraculous opening of the heavy gate by the god Shakra) has to relent. They depart, and, having traveled far enough, the bodhisattva sends Chanda and the horse back to King Śuddhodana and Princess Gopa. Recognising his clothes and long hair as inappropriate for an ascetic, he self-ordains as a traveling mendicant, cutting his hair and trading his white clothes for a safrron-colored garb that has since then become the typical outfit for Buddhist monastics across the world (except in regions where saffron dye was not easily available and was replaced with maroon, like in Tibet, or black, like in China and Japan). Describing this historical act—essentially, the ordination of the first Buddhist monk (who just happens to be Buddha himself), Khyentse Chokyi Lodro writes:
Inspired by renunciation you arrived at the place of purity,
Where you used your blue sword to cut your dark black hair,
And Indra offered you a beautiful saffron-coloured robe—
Supreme protector, may you grant us auspiciousness!
The Buddha’s renunciation of worldly life might not initially seem like much of a template for us. What chances do we have of deities coming to our aid, opening doors and providing us with a heavenly road? And yet, we might notice that the universe is indeed friendly with those who pursue genuine wellbeing; once we develop a more mature vision of what true happiness is, serendipity starts supporting our acts of renunciation, and conditions for focused practice start to arise. For each of us, the right type of practice would be different depending on our current situation: while some are called to perform long-term retreats, others, for now, focus on study, contemplation, and meditation combined with daily life. If any of those activities are performed in the spirit of renunciation and with a genuine attitude of bodhicitta, we are already following in the footsteps of the Buddha, leaving the “cemetery” of our palaces behind and moving towards our own tree of awakening.
