Tingrian Couplets in the Meditation Manual

Padampa in Saspola Cave, Ladakh
Photo by Rob Linrothe

Here you will find on offer translations of six Tingrian Couplets. They were preserved in a 15th-century Nyingma & Kagyü meditation manual composed by Khedrup Yeshé Gyeltsen. Those interested in Tibeto-logical details can read all the way to the end of the blog if they like. 

The Tingri Gyatsa, or Tingri Hundred is a widely renowned monument of Tibetan literature, always attributed to the authorship of Padampa Sangye, the south Indian meditation master who died in Tibet in 1105 or 1117 CE. Like Kabir’s Dohas, it’s all in two-line verse form. Each couplet ought to end with a vocative, “[oh my] Tingrians!” And I should add, the word “my” is not intended as an expression of ownership, but one of affectionate concern. Now you know what a Tingrian Couplet is, and you are welcome to read a few samples just below.

I realize these couple of verses may not be enough for everyone, so with those less easily satisfied people in mind I’d like to offer a complete English translation (Tibetan text also supplied) of one version of the Tingri Hundred:

Tap here

If you feel you could use some introduction and discussion, go back to our blog of December 2008, the one with the title “The Tingri Hundred”:

Tap here

• 1 •

Dampa said,

Delusions are not there in the base, they arise incidentally.

Comprehending this characteristic is enough, my Tingrians.

• 2 •

Lord Dampa Gyagar said,

If you are unable to renounce sangsaric dharmas,

even knowing all the scriptures is of no help.

• 3 & 4 •

By Dampa:

When your own aims are not fulfilled you do the aims of others no good.

First of all, do your practices, my Tingrians.

Forming easy relations with delusive appearances, you mix with them.

Bring understanding in their wake, my Tingrians.

• 5 •

If there is something you are attached to, that same thing also binds you.

There is no need for it whatsoever, my Tingrians.

• 6 •

By Padampa Gyagar:

Of all the virtues, rejoicing in others’ success is the best.

Don’t be envious of others my Tingrians.

§   §   §

Bibliographical affairs

I made use of one particularly fine cursive manuscript version of a previously unstudied (and needless to say untranslated) text by a teacher of Katok Monastery named Khedrup Yeshé Gyeltsen. I want to give him the dates 1395 to 1458 CE simply because that’s what I find in Cuevas’ book and Ehrhard’s essay, both listed below. However, Chatral Rinpoche’s history of Katok Monastery gives him a birthdate of 1455, sixty years later, so there is room for discussion. For the time being we can at least be satisfied that he lived in the 15th century. He exists in the BDRC database (see no. P10291), but no dates were there when I looked earlier today. 

I would say that there is nothing remotely comparable to his meditation manual, but that isn’t quite true. It reminds you overall of a much better known anthology of quotations about meditation, the one by Takpo Tashi Namgyal. The latter, written a century later, is entirely a Kagyü work. It scarcely quotes from works of Nyingmapas and Zhijepas, whereas this meditation manual from Katok Monastery explicitly states in its opening words that it encompasses “Zhi Rdzogs Phyag.”  That means Zhijé, Dzogchen and Mahâmudrâ.  We don’t often see them in a triad like this.*

(*Indeed, searching through the 15 million pages of the BUDA database in less than half a minute turns up only three positive matches, and wouldn’t you know, all three of them appear to share the same authorship with the meditation manual.)

Folio 1 verso of the meditation manual.
Notice the phrase zhi rdzogs phyag gsum in the middle of line 3.

• Another difference is that the meditation manual starts out with a lengthy section covering the normal topics of preliminary practices, or sngon-'gro, that we are accustomed to finding in Path Stage, tenrim (bstan-rim) and lamrim (lam-rim) texts. These topics include contemplations on impermanence, the rareness of human rebirth, and so on. I think you probably know about these things already.

• As far as Zhijé materials are concerned, the meditation manual embraces a lot more than just the few Tingrian couplets we’ve  included in this weblog. Most remarkably, it has an entire section near the end, running from folios 523 through 550, filled with material from the Kunga questions-and-answers texts (I haven’t identified which one yet, but you can be sure I will be looking into this sometime soon).

Chatral Rinpoche (Bya-bral Sangs-rgyas-rdo-rje, 1913-2015), Dpal Kaḥ-thog-pa’i Chos-’byung Rin-chen Phreng-ba, Snga-’gyur Bstan-pa’i ’Byung-gnas Kaḥ-thog Rdo-rje-gdan (n.d.), in 221 pages, composed between 1985 and 1988. TBRC no. W3CN3398. 

The biographical sketch of Khedrup Yeshé Gyaltsen is found at pp. 53-55. Here we find his Dzogchen and Marpa Kagyü (that means Smar-pa Bka'-brgyud, not Mar-pa Bka'-brgyud) studies emphasized, with no mention of Zhijé. We do find mention of his composition of our meditation manual, on p. 54, with the title Phyag-rgya-chen-po'i Khrid-gzhung Snying-po Don-gyi Man-ngag Rgya-mtsho'i Gter-mdzod. It’s intriguing to know that he spent much of his later life in meditation retreats in regions of far eastern Tibet, in the neighborhoods of the holy mountain Kawa Karpo, and even in ’Jang, or present-day north Yunnan. He may have even visited Shangrila, made virtually real only recently.

Bryan Cuevas, The Hidden History of the Tibetan Book of the Dead, Oxford University Press (Oxford 2003), p. 144.

Franz Karl Ehrhard, “Kaḥ thog pa Bsod nams rgyal mtshan (1466-1540) and His Activities in Sikkim and Bhutan,” Bulletin of Tibetology, vol. 39, no. 2 (November 2003), pp. 9 26. At p. 9 please note the dates of our author. The same date for him, along with an alias Bu-’bor Ye-shes-rgyal-mtshan, may be found in Cuevas’ book.

Matthew T. Kapstein, ed., Tibetan Manuscripts and Early Printed Books, Cornell University Press (Ithaca 2024), in 2 vols. 

I urge you, order this exceptionally interesting and beautiful book, then look at vol. 1, p. 131. Figure 4.7 shows the title page, in color, of a different manuscript of the meditation manual than the one I used. It labels as its source The British Library Board, Or.15292, dating the manuscript to ca. 16th century.  To see it in black-and-white, see TBRC no. W1CZ892. Its title-page title is Rdzogs-pa-chen-po Snying-po Don-gyis Gter-mdzod. This manuscript has quite a few very well executed miniature paintings, but seeing them in TBRC’s poorly scanned microfilm is more than a little sad.

The label says it’s Garab Dorje

Khedrup Yeshé Gyaltsen (Mkhas-grub Ye-shes-rgyal-mtshan), Mkhas-grub Dznyâ-na-ke-tus* mdzad-pa'i Man-ngag Rgya-mtsho, a cursive manuscript in 587 folios.  TBRC no. WA3CN2867.  

This is the only version I’ve made use of here (I supply the original folio numbers, not those “image numbers” that are no more than accidental byproducts of the scanning process), even though there are at least three and maybe four other versions of it that are possible to locate at BUDA website. Their titles are different, so best of luck finding them. One advantage of the version I used is that it marked the persons or texts it quotes from with red letters most of the time. That made it easier for me to find the quotations I did find.

(*Technically Sanskrit ketu ought to be tog,  ‘pinnacle,’ in Tibetan. However, dhvaja-ketu (rgyal-mtshan-gyi tog, ‘pinnacle of the victory banner’) is such a common phrase, you could see how the two parts could get confounded. That’s how Dznyâ-na-ke-tu can be a Tibskritic form of Ye-shes-rgyal-mtshan. Is it clear? Putting the names of respected Tibetan teachers into Sanskritic form isn’t just a game they play. It shows respect.)

Takpo Tashi Namgyal (Dwags-po Bkra-shis-rnam-rgyal, 1513-1596?), Mahāmudrā: The Quintessence of Mind and Meditation, translated by Lobsang P. Lhalungpa, Shambhala (Boston 1986). A fresh translation by Elizabeth Callahan was published not long ago. 

The problem of the author’s identity has been addressed and solved by Matthew Kapstein and David Jackson, and I believe them, but there is no way you can make me go into all that discussion right now.

 

—

Try going to the website of Katok Monastery at this address, and then look for "Yeshe Gyamtsen." The title of the work we used here can be found there, listed among the thirteen primary sources for teachings at Katog. Its title is given in English as “Ocean of Mahamudra Core Instructions.” This is interesting, as other versions of the title lead you to think it would be exclusively devoted to Dzogchen.

Afterword

From my Tibeto-logical research perspective, I was very excited to find these few quotations of Tingrian couplets. Why? First of all, just because I’ve found so little evidence for them between the 13th and 17th centuries. I always assumed or felt fairly sure they would have been known to many throughout that time, but even just a little more evidence is nice to see. Another matter: If you put the various versions side by side and compare them (as I have done, in a document that isn’t quite in good enough shape to share), you can see that over the centuries significant transformations took place. Some verses are made to yield quite different messages, and this is not always due to accidental misreadings of the manuscript by careless scribes. Sometimes motivated changes are the only explanations with feet on them. Our Tingrian Couplet no. 1 already supplies a good example.

I believe I have good enough reasons to support me if I say that the only Tingrian couplets Padampa actually composed was a set I call the Tingri Thirteen (or should that be Tingri Twelve?). These couplets were pronounced by Padampa as part of his last will and testament shortly before his death in 1105 or 1117. I’ve been meaning to put up a translation of it, but it needs more polishing. 

A much longer set was pronounced by his disciple Kunga shortly before his own death seven years later on. Both versions (for short I call them versions A and B) are 100% exclusive to the Zhijé Collection, or so I had thought until today. To my amazement, our meditation manual preserves two lines from the introductory verses to Kunga’s 118 Tringrian couplets (so it is not technically a Tingrian couplet, but nonetheless...). It also quotes two couplets (nos. 3&4, above) that have parallels only in B, which tells us our 15th-century author had the Kunga version available to him. I can’t imagine how. (See now the added Postscript below.)

I would understand if you were to voice loud objections, criticizing the existing broad acceptance of all hundred or so Tingrian couplets as being by Padampa himself, when here we find the larger set is indeed spoken by Kunga. The introduction to Kunga’s set clarifies this. He is reading from something he had written down previously, and he insists that it does represent the essence of Padampa’s teachings. As I understand it, they were written after the model of the Tingri Thirteen as a homage, incorporating Padampa’s ideas and perhaps quite a few of his exact words, but, yes, written by Kunga.

Let me quote from my draft translation of the most relevant passage:

Standing before the yogis gathered here in glorious Tingri,

All people of stainless insight,

Great Sons happily abiding together. 

It isn't right for me to be giving this kind of muddled speech,

I who am like a firefly in the presence of the sun.

Still, these are the basic essentials of the teachings that came from Dampa,

So with affectionate thoughts I have set them down in writing.

Later on we will not meet, so listen as I read them to you now.

The intertextual connectedness between all the different versions is a subject I’ve been thinking over for a long time, but we can say that connections between A and the later versions C through F are quite few. Connections between B and the later versions are more evident and numerous, yet fully identical couplets are rare. Looking only at the later versions C through F, we can identify two recensions I believe are basic ones. I’ve called them the monkey and rhino recensions in an earlier blog. But as I said before, these critical reflections of mine about authorship have no bearing whatsoever on the Buddhist truth and/or spiritual authority of the texts themselves. The Tingrian couplets are great Tibetan poetry. Together they are a monument to the Tibetan language, a source of wisdom and inspiration regardless of your ideas about religions, and a trigger for reflection on life and its [mis]guided aims, no matter who wrote which one when. 

I know I should end on an uplifting note, but somehow I’m inclined to do nothing of the sort. These poetic lines from the meditation manual that follow are not Tingrian couplets, as you can see, and neither could they be verified in any other source at my disposal as yet. It’s about disenchantment with religion. You can find them on folio 511 recto, line 3:

de yang pha dam pa rgya gar kyis /

dang po dad pa skyes pas gnam du dil dil mchong /

bar du dad pa yal ba ri kha (~re kha) rjes kyis gang /

tha ma dad pa log pas 'khor ba'i rting rdo btags / ces gsungs so //

Padampa Gyagar had something to say about that:

When faith first arose, you leapt freely into the sky. 

In the meantime faith dissolved, and you were full of erased sketches.

In the end faith was reversed, and sangsara’s anchor was tied fast.

Keep the faith, my friends, no matter what.

Philological scratchpad

Tingrian Couplet One (22r.2)

dam pas /

'khrul pa gzhi la med de glo bur byung /

mtshan nyid go bas chog go ding ri pa /

Dampa said,

“Delusions are not there in the base, they arise incidentally.

Comprehending this characteristic is enough, my Tingrians.”

Our new source for this verse certainly supports the readings of version B over C.  The second line of Version C reads quite differently, and yields a meaning that is less radically formulated* even while it introduces the potentially problematic concept of a ‘creator’ for delusion,** saying: “Look at the characteristics of its creator, my Tingrians” or “Inspect it for the marks of its maker”?

(*A reader of centuries gone by may have had problems with the idea that just comprehending the incidental character of delusion would be in itself sufficient for Enlightenment. These qualms may have lead them to imagine ways to improve it. **I don’t expect it to make sense very quickly, but Buddhists don’t award creator status to Brahma the way most other Indian religions do, although they do credit him with the narcissistic idea that he was the creator, as it was his belief that world-creation happened because of his wish. Brahma, as a creator figure, does supply Buddhists with a myth of origins for delusion itself.)

-C12- (compare B51 and D37)

'khrul pa gzhi la med de glo bur gyur ||

byed mkhan mtshan nyid ltos shig ding ri ba ||

-B51- (compare C12 and D37)

'khrul pa gzhi la myed de blo bur byung /

mtshan nyid go bas chog go ding ri ba /

•

Tingrian Couplet Two (215r.1)

rje dam pa rgya gar gyis 

'khor ba'i chos la mi 'byung ma nus na / 

sde snod ma lus shes kyang phan mi thogs / ces gsung /

Lord Dampa Gyagar said,

“If you are unable to renounce sangsaric dharmas,

even knowing all the scriptures is of no help.”

These two lines belong uniquely — to my utter amazement — to the Kunga version (version B) at the end of the introductory section that immediately precedes the first couplet, with Kunga doing the speaking:

skyid kyang 'gro dgos rin chen gling gi myi /

bstan yul ma yin 'jig rten brang ba'i sa /

'khor ba'i chos la yid 'byung ma nus na /

sde snod ma lus shes kyang phan mi thogs /

dam pa'i gdams pa yin no ding ri ba /

Even if he’s contented there, 

the man in the jewel island still has to go.

This world is no permanent abode.  

It’s nothing more than a travellers’ lodge.

If you are unable to renounce sangsaric dharmas,

even knowing all the scriptures would be no help.

This is the teaching of Dampa, my Tingrians.

•

Tingrian Couplets Three and Four (388r.1)

• Note: I quote the larger context here starting at folio 388 recto, line 1, but only the couplets are translated.

dam pas /

bdud kyi 'jug pa dang po bya ba yin / rang lu (~chu) nang du 'jugs nas gzhan skal par thon par gar 'ongs skabs 'dir rang gis 'phel ba chad / gzhan la phan mi 'dog pas gzabs 'tshal / yang bsgrubs pa'i dus su gzhan don byar mi rung / dge sbyor 'phel ba chad do rang bzhin pa (~sa?) / 

rang don ma 'grubs gzhan don mi 'byung bas / 

thog mar bsgrub pa gyis cig ding ri pa / 

'khrul pa'i snang ba 'brel sla sru ba yin /  

go ba rjes la skyol cig ding ri pa /  

By Dampa,

“When your own aims are not fulfilled you do the aims of others no good.

First of all, do your practices, my Tingrians.

“Forming easy relations with delusive appearances, you mix with them.

Bring understanding in their wake, my Tingrians.”

For comparison (both verses are only found in B):

-B93-

rang don ma bsgrubs gzhan don myi 'ong pas /

thog mar bsgrub pa gyis cig ding ri ba /

-B94-

'khrul pa'i snang ba 'dris par sla ba yin /

go ca rjes la khol cig ding ri ba /

It's easy to get entangled in delusive apparitions.

Keep armour on your backs, my Tingrians.

The written similarity, particularly in a cursive manuscript, between go-ba, understanding, and go-ca (=go-cha, both spellings are found in Dunhuang texts), armor or military equipment is a problem, admittedly, although I believe the reading go-ba carries more weight, has more immediate cogency.

•

Tingrian Couplet Five (389v.5)

gang la zhen pa yod na de yang 'ching /

cis kyang dgos pa med do ring ring pa [~ding ri ba] / ces gsungs /

If there is something you are attached to, that same thing also binds you.

There is no need for it whatsoever, my Tingrians.

It is odd that this couplet doesn’t seem to exist in versions B or D, while the segment “de yang ’ching” finds no collaboration in any of the previously recorded versions. Still, I believe our new version is preferable.

For comparison:

-C16- (compare E14 and F14)

gang la zhen pa byung na de yang thongs ||

cis kyang dgos pa med do ding ri ba ||

-E14- (compare C16)

gang la zhen pa yong pa de blos thongs //

cis kyang dgos pa med do X  [3v]

 

Note:  Correct yong-pa to yod-pa.

•

Tingrian Couplet Six (467v.5)

pha dam pa rgya gar kyis /

dge ba'i nang nas rjes su yi rang mchog /

gzhan la 'phrag dog ma byed ding ri pa / ces gsungs pas /

By Padampa Gyagar:

“Of all the virtues, rejoicing in others’ success is the best.

Don’t be envious of others my Tingrians.”

For comparison:

-B88-

dge ba'i nang nas rjes su yi rang mchog /

gzhan la phrag dog ma byed ding ri ba /

• • •

Postscript (July 20, 2024)

This dark and unclear detail, clipped from a Shakyamuni Buddha thangka belonging to the Giuseppe Tucci collection, can be better seen of you go here:

https://asiasociety.org/new-york/exhibitions/unknown-tibet-tucci-expeditions-and-buddhist-painting

Once you are there, scroll down to the second painting. One thing I see significant about this is that Padampa is on the Kagyü side of the painting, balanced off by Gelugpa monks on the other side. If this is indeed as it says a 15th-century painting, it makes even more sense to find Padampa on a thangka likely made in an emerging Gandenpa/Gelugpa context. And we are reminded that the First Dalai Lama (1391-1475) had a family background of Zhijé practitioners.

To analyze what you see here a little more, the white blanket being the only clothing loosely wrapped around the lowest part of the body, and the ankles-crossed/knees-up seating posture are both fairly secure diagnostic features of Padampa. The fact that he has ornaments on his otherwise unclothed torso and arms is frequent (its correctness is historically questionable if we rely on the earliest sources), but along with the flowers in his hair this might seem to point to (or indicate conflation with) the iconography of Virûpa. Still, I have no doubt it is Padampa who is depicted here.

The same painting also features in a 5-minute Asia Society video. I will try to embed it here, although if the embedding is unsuccessful you will see a jumble of letters and numbers that lead nowhere:

<iframe width="560" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/EVocNP7zgQw?si=rI7SRwl5VrFmk6AC" title="YouTube video player" frameborder="0" allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture; web-share" referrerpolicy="strict-origin-when-cross-origin" allowfullscreen></iframe>

If you do not see the video here just above, scroll down to the end of this blog because it might be "embedded" there. If not, go to YouTube and use their search facility to search for the following title, using the quote marks around it:  

 

“A Closer Look at Tibetan Thangkas”

I just wanted to tag on this bit of artistic evidence that helps us to argue for popular knowledge of Padampa in the 15th century, as if any such argument were needed.

Perhaps yet more persuasive would be more literary sources quoting from “his” Tingrian Couplets. I do know of some.

Most relevent here and now is one couplet quoted in the 15th-century Sakya teacher Müchen Könchog Gyaltsen's (1388-1469) Supplement to the Oral Tradition, as contained in Thupten Jinpa, tr., Mind Training: The Great Collection, Wisdom (Boston 2006), at p. 483: 

The master Dampa states: 

“Contemplating the sufferings of samsara pierces my heart; 

People of Dingri, laugh not at these matters.”  

The Tibetan for it reads: 

rje dam pa'i zhal nas | 

'khor ba'i sdug bsngal bsam na snying rlung ldang || 

'di la gad mo mi bro d[i]ng ra ba ||

 

With nothing to say about the translation already given, except to say that it’s a great one, I still try my hand at it:

“At thought of the bad points* of sangsara my heart pressure rises.

Nothing to laugh and dance about here, my Tingrians.”

(*I follow the text of B108 by reading nyes-dmigs in place of sdug-bsngal.) 

What impresses me almost as much as its very serious message with so much confirming evidence in today’s world, is that this couplet is uniquely found in Kunga’s set (version B), number 108 of his 118 couplets. This does make the meditation manual’s  use of the Kunga set not quite unique, only nearly unique.

Buddha's Life Relics Found in Antwerp

Relics of the Buddha’s life have been rediscovered in Antwerp.

Not that they were ever lost, mind you, just that sometimes through lack of attention, remarkable things escape us until someone points them out to us once more. Relics are more than just reminders. And really, anything that jolts us into remembering the Buddha has to be, even if for that reason only, effective in promoting Buddhist liberation. So, if you please, save those predictable knee-jerk Calvinist reactions for a more fitting occasion. This may be the story of a quest, but it’s a quest that can’t be undertaken for you. You have to participate. There are so many thousands of threads connected to treasures in worlds both yours and not yours. Pick up any thread you like, and be on your way.

In reading the Christian story, keeping the Buddhist original version in mind all the while, I’m inspired to contemplate the fictions of our as-usual lives, to reflect on how illusions can trap us, and how we can attempt to trap other people in our delusions, even under the guise of ‘protection.’ Several times dissimulations and pretenses become transparent to the hero. It isn’t simply through faith and humility that his sanctification comes about. It’s partly due to cognitive events and things of his own doing. There is something familiar about this kind of innocence and experience fable. ‘How was I to know that such a thing was even possible?’  ‘Who could believe that people would be so untrue?’  If you’ve ever needed to ask such questions, then you know what I’m talking about.

I’ll avoid insulting your intelligence, and just remind you politely that the young prince, the future Enlightened One, was carefully coddled inside the stone walls that surrounded the palace by his father, kept safe from all contact with the negative side of life. These precautions were motivated by a prophecy that said he’d either be a universal monarch or take up a life of renunciation. The king naturally wants his son to have it all, to become king. The prince feels trapped, so the king permits him, carefully supervised by his handpicked friends, to go on an excursion to a park outside the walls. There the innocent prince is confronted by a series of disillusioning meetings, with a set all Buddhists know as the four signs. The future Buddha encounters an old man, a sick man, and a corpse. And although this one is not always present immediately, he eventually meets an ascetic.

Quite similar to the Buddhist story, in the various Barlaam and Josaphat accounts the prince Josaphat comes in contact with the almost identical truth-dealing visions. In the Ismaili Arabic version, already, things had changed slightly, but not tooo much. The Prince goes out of the palace the first time and sees a sick man and a blind man. On a second excursion he meets an old man, which leads to a weighty discussion about death. Later on he learns about the existence of renunciates, and meets one by the name of Barlaam. So almost all the same elements are there, and they are very nearly identical in setting and tone.

In one version of the Buddhist story, the Bodhisattva meets the four on four successive days, each time going through a different gate of the palace.  At the eastern gate, he meets an old man, at the southern gate a sick man, the western gate a corpse, and at the northern gate a renunciate.

I'll leave you to explore the co-incidents and inter-connections, but I must say, in reading the first half of the account in The Golden Legend collection of saint stories I see India, and Indian origins, at nearly every turn.

Barlaam comes to the king offering a wish-granting jewel, one that looks just way too much like the Indian Buddhists' fabled cintamani (this Wiki entry is weak and inadequate, but anyway...it's something).

The episode of the archer and the nightingale immediately reminded me of Padampa's diamond-fed bird parable. I won't go into that any more right now since I've long planned a blog on that very theme. It can wait.

The cliff hanging episode is one that has a man fleeing a charging unicorn (it had been a rutting elephant before the Christians got ahold of it) fall into a pit. He grabs a branch, stopping his downward plunge, and just hangs there... but he sees that two mice,* one white and the other black, are gnawing away at the roots of the tree... Meanwhile, now and then, honey drips and dribbles from the tree into his mouth, and he imagines he’s happy. ‘My, isn’t life sweet?’ Well, alright, but he’s hanging over the open mouth of a hungry dragon hot to devour him. This story exists in both the Indian epic, the Mahabharata, and in the Indian Buddhist Lalitavistara.  Tibetan Buddhist teachers today tell the same story as part of the introductory Stages of the Path (lam-rim) teachings. Max Müller took notice of this migrating narrative well over a century ago in his well-known article.  

(*The white and black mice are the days and nights of our lives... Tibetan versions of this story may be found in Drolungpa’s extensive treatise on the Stages of the Path, in a collection of stories by Lorepa, and in a Mind Training text. For this last, see Thupten Jinpa's translation, p. 446.)

What’s missing from the Christian story, and had already started fading from view before reaching the borders of Christendom, is the account of Buddha’s Enlightenment. MacQueen explains how and why this happened very succinctly and nicely, so I'll just send you to his 2001 article to find out more.

It was in the middle of last year while reading Joseph Jacobs’ old and remarkable 1896 book that I ran across this passage on page xviii:

“In 1571 the Doge Luigi Mocenigo presented to King Sebastian of Portugal a bone and part of the spine of St. Josaphat. When Spain seized Portugal in 1580 these sacred treasures were removed by Antonio, the Pretender to the Portuguese crown, and ultimately found their way to Antwerp. On August 7, 1672, a grand procession defiled* through the streets of Antwerp, carrying to the cloister of St. Salvator the holy remains of St. Josaphat. There, for ought I know to the contrary, they remain to the present day.”

(*This, an out-of-date usage of the word, just means they went in single file.)

I was very much intrigued by those last words that kept echoing around inside the upper part of my ribcage and inside my skull cavity.

How to best explain this? Relics of a narrative? Corporeal relics of a literary corpus? Something like that, I suppose. Significant in a nearly intangible way. How to put a finger on it? A light goes on, goes off, goes on again...

So I fired off an electronic mail to my good friend Henricius Leidenensis (this being, in our vulgar Vulgates, Henk Blezer). Henk caught the fever, and before too long made the pilgrimage, for him not all that far, to the presence of the relics. It is entirely thanks to him and his gracious permission that I am miraculously able to present to you the amazing history of the relics as he has so far managed to trace them. Practically the only thing I would have to add to it is just the likelihood that the relics that first (?) surfaced in Venice had a prior existence in Constantinople, and before that the Holy Land. That is the way such things went — or, as they were wont to say, were translated — in those days.*

(*Over the centuries, the relics apparently have been making a very long and slow pradakshina of continental Europe, one that is not quite complete. Those who are familiar with the Vedic horse sacrifice, ideas about the Wheel Turning King, etcetera, will see the symbolism in it.)

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Henk's reports on the history of the narrative and its relics, as presented to Buddha-L on two different occasions:

The long itinerary of the legend to Europe presumably starts from Buddhist India and possibly proceeds through eclectic Manichaean hands, such as attested by documents from Turfan in Central Asia; but in any case the legends seem to have reached our earliest Christian versions, probably in the form of a Georgian text (see work by D.M. Lang), via earlier Arabic versions; and eventually continue to fan out into many, many European languages, via early Greek and further via Latin translations. Other itineraries exist for other regions of the world.

To my best present knowledge, in the Dutch language community, Philip van Utenbroeke may have first included a substantial version of the legend in his sequel to Jacob van Maerlant’s Spieghel Historiael, at around 1300.  Look here, here, and here.

The itinerary incidentally may also enlighten us on the possible transformation of the name Bodhisattva to Josaphat: 

E.g.: Bodhisattva (India)/ Bodisav (Turkish) / Budhasaf (Arabic) / Yudasaf (Arabic, apparently only one diacritical dot different)/ Iodasaf (Georgian)/ Ioasaph (Greek)/ Josaphat (Latin).

Particularly N. D. may find Almond's article 'enlightening,' for instance, for appreciating how Josaphat and Bodhisattva/Buddha possibly relate.

Almond, like Wilfred Cantwell Smith, takes care first to point out the immense popularity, starting at around the eleventh century AD, of these legends and the attendant narratives in Europe. Some of the attending stories and fables equally go back to Indian origins, and some also survived independently of the Josaphat legends. The stunning amount of extant manuscripts., translations, borrowings, and references amply underline their impact.

The Josaphat legends apparently were greatly loved and thus seem to have had a profound impact in Christian ‘Europe’, not only on story traditions, by their apparently enchanting fables and stories (some will beg to differ, of course), but certainly also vis-à-vis the main theme: appreciation of asceticism. They indirectly or directly influenced figures such as Shakespeare and Tolstoy.

One cannot help but wonder how this matrix of Buddhist-derived and otherwise accrued narratives may have facilitated later reception(s) of Buddhism in (Christian) Europe, which indeed is the question which incited Almond to embark on his journey. As said, I (still) feel little inclination to get into comparative study of this huge, multi-lingual, literary complex, but considering the apparent appeal and wide spread of the legends, its impact may be both considerable and considerably understudied. If not the legends and stories themselves, in any case the history of them may not only be ‘fascinating’ but also revealing.  

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Dear Josephists,

For the Buddha-L records, the history of the relics of Josaphat in a nutshell (from easily accessible secondary sources and certainly without doing any laborious archival researches):

1571 - Doge Luigi Mocenigo of Venice donated the relics (bone and piece of vertebra) to King Sebastian of Portugal (Jacobs 1896:xviii*1* and Lang 1966:9*2*), through the Spanish Envoy Pedro Velasco*3*

1580 - Spain seized Portugal and Don Antonio, Pretender to the Portuguese crown, removed the relics (Jacobs 1896)

1595 - Don Antonio of Portugal was defeated by Alva and fled to Paris, where he passed away*3*

1633 - Relics arrived from Portugal with the Cistercians in St. Salvator, in Antwerp (plaquette at the relic shrine? I am not completely sure about the date)?

1672 - August 7th 1672, the holy remains of St. Josaphat were carried to the cloister of St. Salvator*4* in a grand procession (Jacobs 1896:xviii)

Jacobs (1896:xix) presumes that the relics may then still be in St. Salvator. But they seem to have been removed, about a century before:

1796 - December 19th 1796, some time after the French revolution, during the French occupation, the monastics of St. Salvator were led out of the Abbey, with drums beating (Cruys and Cheron 2003:7)*5*

1797 - June 16th, 1797 the Abbey and its possessions were sold (ibid.)*6*

Already fearing that the 'paper' trail might stop here, much to my surprise, I found an on-line article by Wilfried Nijs and Rudy Janssens in a publication of a local history Circle in Holsbeek,*7* which indicated that all 36 relics at around that point in time had been relocated to the St Andrieskerk (see the section on "Relieken") - serendipity now!

(Tibeto-logic's note: You can see a photo of this reliquary if you look just below. Notice the words inscribed below the angels:  "Rel. XXXVI Sanctorum," which I take to mean ‘Relics of the 36 Saints’ — Hmm. See the bibliographical listing below, under Scholem...)

That's more or less what triggered our pilgrimage.

The present silver reliquary was produced around 1846 by J.B.A. Verschuylen (quite a stunning piece of craftsmanship in fact).*8* The angels adorning it were produced by others (Lodewijk Corijn and brothers de Cuyper). The shrine is carried around yearly, in the procession of "de parochie van miserie".*3*

For the legendary Indian Saint Josaphat, who is probably intended here, see the Martyrologium Romanum (1956), at the entry on Barlaam et Josaphat apud Indos, 27 Novembris (p.297f. of my Latin edition).

The bulk of the literature on the many versions of the legend, quite frankly, I find a bit intimidating, and much also has already been accomplished in previous scholarly publication.*10* But, if I ever have more time on my hands, I would enjoy tracking those relics back in time (and also filling up some of the gaps). This might even make for a nice documentary. There is more to be said about the history of the relics, of course. Just today, I spotted a small old (1901) local publication on the topic;*9* presently on route to my Leiden office.

However, the fact that the trail leads us to Venice in the 16th century AD does not bode well in this regard. Venice was a node in major trade networks and we are looking at the aftermath of a rich history and economy in mediaeval Europe of both trade and pilgrimage relating to relics -- or what had to pass for relics anyway. I am therefore not overly confident that we will find any useful antecedent trails. DNA testing of the relics would of course be very interesting; but then, permission and funding would become major issues.

As to N. D.'s doubts, I have not much to add or detract. I presume that if we would try to fit all the teeth and other relics ever presumed to be of the Buddha into a human figure, we would probably end up with an interspecies creature that would do well in the next sequel of Alien.

BTW, a nice project for retired scientists: trying to fit replicas of all the pieces of the Holy Cross together?! They could probably build a spacious wooden retirement home for themselves from that.

If anyone has seen some interesting leads, we would be much obliged. Many thanks to D. M. for arousing my interest, with a reference to Jacob's publication, and to S. D. for his great hospitality and company in Antwerp.

Namo tassa Josaphato Arahato Sammaasambuddhassa,

Henk

*1* See Joseph Jacobs's 1896 study on Barlaam et Josaphat here (thanks to Microsoft and the University of Toronto.

*2* Lang, D.M. (1966), The Balavariani (Barlaam and Josaphat) A Tale from the Christian East Translated from the Old Georgian, Berkeley 1966.

*3* From on-line description of "Tentoonstelling 'De augustijnen, de inquisitie en het ontstaan van de Sint-Andriesparochie (1514-1529)".

*4* Note that in the 17th century, St. Salvator changed from a Priory to an Abbey (Cruys and Cheron 2003:4).*5*

*5* Marc van de Cruys & Marc Cheron 2003: De Sint Salvator Abdij, in Heraldiek van Abdijen en Kloosters (series of 8), Vol.7, Wijnegem 2003.

*6* We visited the remains of the Abbey in the Grote Pieter Potstraat (Pieter Pot, 1375? - 1450, is the patron and founder of St. Salvator charity). Only the chapel presently still remains. It was last used as rentable office space. When we visited, last Saturday, the chapel looked empty and deserted. Particularly on a dark and rainy day in November the chapel appeared sadly dilapidated.

*7* Informatieblad Gemeente Holsbeek, 3de jaargang {2003}, nr. 1, p.21-23, with an entry on the relics of another one of those 36 Saints, to wit: Saint Hatabrandus or Hatebrandus (link not active).

*8* Nieuwsbrief, "Sint Andries 2000", eerste Trimester 2009, p.2.

*9* Geschiedenis van de Reliquieën der XXXVI uitmuntende Heiligen in St Andrieskerk, te Antwerpen alsmede Broederschap ter hunner eer opgericht, en van deszelfs Plechtige Diensten van 1671 tot heden. Antwerpen, De Vlijt, 1901.

*10* See, e.g., Dr. Ernst Kuhn, "Barlaam und Joasaph, Eine bibliographisch -literaturgeschichtliche Studie", in Denkschriften und Reden der K. Bayer. Akademie der Wissenschaften, 20. Bd. 1897 [= Denkschr. Bd. 67], pp.1-88.

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My note:  I highly recommend visiting this site to view the pages of the ca. 1476 Augsburg version of Barlaam and Josaphat.  This is probably the only way you will ever be able to see it. Our blog frontispiece was (ultimately) taken from it.  It shows Josaphat outside the palace with his father, the one with the crown, inside peering over the wall. Josaphat appears to be confronted at the gate by a blind man and a man with leprosy (I think the third person standing behind them is just an attendant).

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St. Josaphat as depicted in a painted mural in Serbia.  For the source, look here.  A photo of the place where it is found, the Studenica Monastery, is here.

Read me! Read me!

You'll find more articles than books here. For books, just try one of the internet booksellers and you will find quite a lot of them in a wide variety of languages. I've picked a few things that were for myself the most interesting. It's impressive to see just how much has been written about the Bodhisattva of Christendom.

Prosper Alfaric, La vie chrétienne du Bouddha, Journal Asiatique (Sept.-Oct. 1917), pp. 269-288. Based on the discovery of a Turfan Manichaean fragment of the story Alfaric argued that it reached Europe via Manichaeans, but not before the 3rd century AD. To read it, go here, type "269" in the small box, and hit return. Also, take some time to learn how to read French if you haven't yet, since you'll need it. It's awkward to navigate, but you can find all the content of the Journal Asiatique, starting with the 1822 issue and ending with the 1938, here, 199 issues in all.

P.C. Almond, The Buddha of Christendom: A Review of the Legend of Barlaam and Josaphat, Religious Studies, vol. 23, no. 3 (1987), pp. 391-406.

Enrico Cerulli, The Kalilah wa-Dimnah and the Ethiopic Book of Barlaam and Josaphat (British Museum Ms. Or. 534), Journal of Semitic Studies, vol. 9 (1964), pp. 75-99.  I found it here.

R. Chalmers, Parables of Barlaam and Joasaph, Journal of the Royal Asiatic Society, n.s. vol. 23 (1891), pp. 423-49.  I found an html version here.  Some of the ideas in it have passed their freshness date.

Abraham ibn Hasdai (d. 1240), Ben ha-Melekh ve ha-Nazir (The King's Son and the Monk).  This Hebrew translation/adaptation, made in early-13th-century Barcelona, is available here (click on the words next to the arrows and it will download for you in three parts if you have good karma).  It was eventually translated into Catalan...  There's a version in Occitan,  too, if you're interested: Barlam et Jozaphas.

Joseph Jacobs, Barlaam and Josaphat: English Lives of Buddha, David Nutt (London 1896). Go to the "Internet Archive" here, and download the PDF if you can. The scan is so beautifully done you can almost feel the paper.

Thupten Jinpa, tr., Mind Training: The Great Collection, compiled by Shönu Gyalchok & Könchok Gyaltsen, The Library of Tibetan Classics series no. 1, Wisdom (Boston 2006).  The story of the ‘Black and White Mice’ (byi-ba dkar nag) is found on p. 446.  One of the oldest records of it may be in the Mahabharata; look on p. 78, here.

 "To save himself from a wild beast, a traveller jumps into a dry well, but perceives at the bottom a dragon with open jaws, ready to devour him. Not daring to climb out of the well and in order not to be devoured by the dragon, the man catches hold of the branches of a wild shrub growing in a crack in the wall of the well. But his arms grow tired, and he feels that he must soon succumb to one or other of the menacing dangers. He holds on, however, when he sees two mice, one white and one black, at the foot of the shrub, steadily running around it and gnawing it through. He sees that at any moment the shrub may topple over, and he must drop into the jaws of the dragon. The traveller feels that he is inevitably lost ; he gazes around and discovers a few drops of honey on the shrub. He can reach them with his tongue, and licks them up. Thus do I cling to the branches of life, knowing that the jaws of death may close on me at any moment, and I cannot understand why I am in such torture. I am trying to suck the honey which used to comfort me, but now I do not enjoy it. The black and white mice continue day and night to gnaw the branch to which I cling. I clearly see the dragon and the mice, and cannot take my eyes off them. This is not a fable, but a clear, indisputable truth, evident to everybody."  The Death of Ivan Ilyich, by Leo Tolstoy. 

D.M. Lang, The Life of the Blessed Iodasaph: A New Oriental Christian Version of the Barlaam and Ioasaph Romance (Jerusalem, Greek Patriarchal Library: Georgian Ms. 140), Bulletin of the School of Oriental and African Studies, vol. 20, nos. 1-3 (1957), pp. 389-407. Try JSTOR if you can. Notice especially on the final page the stemma that had to be redrawn to accommodate the (as of then then) newly available and lengthier 11th-century Georgian manuscript, microfilmed for the Library of Congress. The scribe's name was Davit', or if you prefer, David.

Graeme MacQueen, Changing Master Narratives in Midstream: Barlaam and Josaphat and the Growth of Religious Intolerance in the Buddha Legend's Westward Journey, Journal of Buddhist Ethics, an online journal, vol. 5 (1998). If you want to read it now, go here.

Graeme MacQueen, Rejecting Enlightenment? The Medieval Christian Transformation of the Buddha-Legend in Jacobus de Voragine's Barlaam and Josaphat, Studies in Religion, vol. 30, no. 2 (2001). Look here.

Graeme MacQueen, The Killing Test: The Kinship of Living Beings and the Buddhalegend's First Journey to the West, Journal of Buddhist Ethics, vol. 9 (2002). Download the PDF version here.

Francis Mershman, Barlaam and Josaphat, Catholic Encyclopedia. This encyclopedia entry is available all over the internet. Here, for example.

M. Pitts, Barlâm and Josaphat: A Legend for All Seasons, Journal of South Asian Literature, vol. 16 (1981), pp. 1-16.

E. Rehatsek & T.W. Rhys Davids, Book of the King's Son and the Ascetic, Journal of the Royal Asiatic Society (January 1890), pp. 119-155.  Translation of an Arabic version that has been in some degree Islamicized, even if sometimes it seems to me ambiguous whether 'religion' might mean Buddhism or Islam.

Gershom Scholem, The Tradition of the Thirty-Six Hidden Just Men, contained in: Gershom Scholem, The Messianic Idea in Judaism, Schocken Books (New York 1974), pp. 251-256.  I'm just wondering if these "Lamed-Vav-nikim"  otherwise known as the Hidden Tzadiks, have something to do with the "36 Heiligen" that St. Josaphat numbered among. I doubt having this common number is just a sheer coincidence, don't you?  But who started it?  Wait, I know someone I can ask.

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An Edifying Story from the Inner Land of the Ethiopians, Called the Land of the Indians, Thence Brought to the Holy City, by John the Monk (an Honorable Man and a Virtuous, of the Monastery of Saint Sabas); wherein are the Lives of the Famous and Blessed Barlaam and Iosaph. Read it at the Online Medieval and Classical Library, here. This other link seems to take you to the very same book.

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Apparently it's true, there are also St. Josaphat relics in the Vatican.

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A musical program will soon take place in Vancouver under the title Barlaam and Josaphat, inspired by the legend, and resuscitating some of its actual music that was long ago inspired by it.  That's on January 24, 2010.  With 11 days remaining, there may be just barely enough time to order tickets and jump on a plane for British Columbia.  In the Ensemble Dialogos, are two musicians from Köln, the other from Croatia.  Their schedule is here.  And what do you know?

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Of course they're going to be in Antwerp in February 2010 (doing sacred songs from Dalmatia). I guess we understand, perhaps better than they, why that is.  Reminds me of that old quip, ‘If it's Tuesday it must be Belgium.’  The premiere of Barlaam and Josaphat took place in Köln, Germany, on June  5, 2009, by chance about the same time I noticed that passage on the relics in Jacobs' book.

Entrance to the chapel at the Monastery of the Cross, Jerusalem (lots of nice photos, if not this one, are here). This is where the wood of the Cross grew, as you may see in the painting above the doorway. It was here, too, that sometime in around the 11th century the lengthier Georgian-language Barlaam and Josaphat legend was scribed (see Lang's article and especially the stemma on p. 407). This, being the more complete legendary cycle, proved crucial to understanding the historical transmission. I'm not sure, but it may have been the very first written text of the legends in their Christian conversion. It went on to inform all the later European retellings. Also, in this same chapel you can see a tiny painted portrait of Shota Rustaveli, the most famous poet of old Georgian.

Rustaveli