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Vajra and Bell |
The Tibetan ritual implements coming next (after this) on our itinerary are not just artistic representations to be ‘read
through’ to the high religio-philosophical matters of which they are, in some
in-truth mysterious way, both medium and indication, only to be then dispensed
with; they are objects in their own right, not just stand-ins for something else. Neither were they meant to lay immobilized as ‘objects’
in museum display cases, however justifiable this might seem from an aesthetic
or ethnological point of view. They are supposed to do things. One thing they do is ‘mark’ deities, telling those who are versed in
iconography their identity. In
this iconographical context (and occasionally in ritual contexts as well) they
are called, in Tibetan, chagtsen (phyag-mtshan), literally, ‘hand-signs’ (or perhaps more simply
‘marks’), or less literally yet preferably, ‘emblems.’ They are also instruments for
performing a broad range of ritual actions. They might in truth be called the ‘tools-of-trade’ of most
every Tibetan religious specialist.[1]
In ritual texts, they are
usually called lagcha (lag-cha,
literally, ‘hand-piece’ and less literally yet certainly ‘tools’), although
they might be subsumed under broader categories like yojé (yo-byad, ‘requisite items’), Damdzé (dam-rdzas ‘sacred commitment substances’)
or damtsiggi yenlag (dam-tshig-gi yan-lag, ‘sacred commitment appendages’). These latter categories include a large
number of the concrete items employed in the course of the ritual, and not just
the implements as such, but even substances intended as offerings and/or
sacraments. While a great variety
of these items may be ‘required’ in the conduct of a particular ritual, this
does not mean that they all need to be visible to the eye of an innocent
bystander. The items employed in
tantric rituals are very frequently mentally transformed (or as the ritual
texts also say, ‘generated’) into much bigger or more elaborate versions of
themselves, or even at times into something else altogether.
Consulting the Tibetan text that
describes a monastic ritual, the newcomer to a Tibetan monastery in India or
Nepal may be surprised to see that the throwing of flowers called for in the
text has turned into the throwing of rice in the ritual performance (barley
corns were used for this purpose in old Tibet). This is no problem to the monk participating in the
rite. For them the grains of rice are flowers, and are conceived of as
such. Some ritual requisites might
be difficult or impossible to procure. If the ritual handbook calls for an elephant to be present, to give one
real example, Tibetan ritual officiants would most likely not do like Hannibal
and bring an elephant over the mountain passes from India and try to
squeeze it through the temple doors. Rather they would make use of a ritual ‘flash-card’ (called tsa-ka-li) with a picture of an elephant
while they conceive in contemplation the presence of an actual elephant.
In some, or even many cases the
contemplative conception of the item is considered sufficient, and no external
representation is needed. Ritual
implements likewise may on some occasions be substituted with flash-cards or
other illustrations,[2] or they might be generated in the
mind of the contemplative. Vajras,
for example, are very frequent in visualization practices that were never even
intended to be ‘acted out’ externally in a ritual. Clearly the boundaries between contemplative visualization
and concrete ritual action are and probably always have been open to a certain
amount of re-negotiation. Although
it would, it is true, be highly desirable to record all the ritual, liturgical
and contemplative contexts in which each implement occurs, in what follows we
will have to be content with some occasional and limited indications of ritual
utilization. The Tibetan ritual
world is vast, exceedingly complex, and does not lend itself to fast and easy
encapsulation. I have no hope of knowing everything about it in this life.
Furthermore, all these things
belong to the realm of esoteric ritual. They are ‘secret,’ although this word requires some comment. ‘Secret’ belongs to the traditional
triadic classification system of outer, inner and secret. Here I offer little more
than a superficial description of outer appearances (as well as historical
developments in the same) and a few glimpses into the interior symbolic
aspects. These inner aspects are
for the most part not my own intuitions (or theoretical deductions), but those
of my Tibetan or, less often, Indian authorities. These same authorities have their own standards of what may
be expressed in language and divulged in books with black letters. To go beyond these would be to break
the ‘bonds’ (dam-tshig) of the relationship between the Vajrayānists and the divine image of
their high aspirations or, which is to say practically the same thing, between
the Vajrayānists and their lineages of teachers.
The rule to be followed here is never to use the words ‘it is
nothing but,’ but to remain open to as-yet unsuspected meanings. Given the requirement of prior
experience, ‘secrets’ are such because they keep themselves secret from those
who are not well enough prepared to see what’s there. Secret-ness, too, is the very platform on which revelations
are made. Without secrecy there
would be no mystery, without hiddenness or mystery, no revelation. I think that mystification, meaning
secrecy for its own sake or for self-aggrandizement, if not entirely absent,
was not the usual motive. (Craft guilds’ trade secrets may be another matter.) Anyway, no
secrets will be told here, and none should be expected. We will deal with sources that are
already public, and in most cases published. I fear some will become impatient if everything doesn’t
become entirely transparent all of a sudden, once and for all. If you are like that you will soon be
disappointed. But if you are
ready to go on, well, let’s get
started.
The Vajra, together with its
counterpart the Bell is, of all the various symbolic implements used in Tibetan
Buddhist ritual, iconography and literature, the most significant from several
perspectives. It is precisely its
pervasiveness within the tradition of tantric Buddhism[3] which is most frequently
identified by the name Vajrayāna, ‘the Vehicle of the Vajra,’ that make its
meanings so difficult or impossible to pin down with any grand illusions of
simplicity. It will be very
important for readers of the following comments to distinguish our contemporary
historical constructions from Buddhist, both Indian and Tibetan, understandings
and usages. Here, as is so often
the case, the meanings we find through historical tracing and etymology may
have little to do with (or may on occasion, even if not here, directly
contradict) the understanding of the particular religious culture that actively
employs the symbolic item. Origin
is, after all, not necessarily destiny.
In this place we would rather give greater weight to interpretations found
in Tibetan-language sources, since for Tibetan Buddhists these things are very
much part of a living world of tradition, and as such demand respect. Furthermore, Vajrayāna may be defined
quite simply as Buddhism of the esoteric kind; ‘esoteric’ because it requires
initiation and a personal relationship with a lineage holder, as well as
personal experience of that which is symbolized (to translate this into plainer
English: Those who demand a full and fully genuine comprehension of the
symbolism might do well to stop reading this and instead pursue the traditional
methods). While the simpler aim
here is to find explanations — preferably not made up explanations — that are
historically demonstrable (or disprovable, or at the very least traceable) and
intellectually satisfying, these explanations should also be tested for their
resonance with the general realm of Things Buddhist and Things Tibetan.
It is usual to understand the
Vajra to mean originally a thunderbolt, while Tibetan Buddhists understand it to mean
‘adamant’ or ‘diamond.’ Often
Tibetans have simply transcribed the word Vajra into their own alphabet as Badzra (Ba-dzra), but the Tibetan translation for
Vajra is Dorjé (Rdo-rje), which might be etymologically analyzed as ‘Stone’ (rdo) ‘Lord’ (rje), an epithet for the diamond,
Lord of Stones.[4] As we will see, the symbolic significances of Indra’s weapon
(which may or may not be precisely or exclusively a thunderbolt) and of the
diamond are united by the qualities of hardness and durability.
It is certain that the first
mentionings, about two hundred and seventy-five in all, of something called a
‘Vajra’ occur, very approximately four thousand years ago, in the then-oral
text of the Rig Veda as a hand-held weapon of the god Indra.[5] Even if commonplace, the statement that this Vedic Vajra is
a thunderbolt excites controversy. Its identity as a thunderbolt may be at least in part a product of
nineteenth-century comparativists who preferred to find natural (and therefore
universal) phenomena behind mythological items.[6] Most twentieth-century Indologists[7] see Indra’s Vajra as an at least
partially metallic — gold, copper or iron — instrument along the lines of a
hammer, axe or club (or even, according to one not very well received
suggestion, a harpoon[8]) which Indra kept always in
hand. It is sometimes said to have
a thousand knots or a thousand edges.[9] The Vedic Vajra might be thrown at the enemy and made to
rotate in its flight, or used in hand-to-hand combat in order to cut like an
axe or smash like a club. It was
made up of a wooden shaft tied to the metallic head with a kind of twine.
It is interesting that there are
passages in the Rig Veda that describe the Vajra-weapon as ‘stable’ and
‘durable,’ since these words could equally apply to the Tibetan understanding
of the Vajra as a diamond. Another
scholar of Vedic studies[10] has connected the Vajra to some
rather large (one to two hand-lengths in size) copper instruments found in
Indian archaeological sites which have two sharpened prongs extending outward
forming a ‘V’-shape. In their
appearance, they are somewhat anthropomorphic (and hence called
‘anthropomorphic figures’ in archaeological works), with the extended prongs
looking like outspread human legs.
These might have originally been attached to a wooden shaft to form an
instrument for striking.
Regardless of these speculations, I think it was a weapon for battle. It may be that some more obvious metaphors for war, the gathering storm cloud of soldiers with lightning-like weapons, came to the foreground as time went by. Battle imagery is always being used for peaceful purposes. Poetry has no problem plowing with metaphorical weapons.
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| Anthropomorphic Figure, so-called |
Regardless of these speculations, I think it was a weapon for battle. It may be that some more obvious metaphors for war, the gathering storm cloud of soldiers with lightning-like weapons, came to the foreground as time went by. Battle imagery is always being used for peaceful purposes. Poetry has no problem plowing with metaphorical weapons.
The other types of instruments
that we will look at now are, unlike the Vedic weapon, not meant to be held by
an attached handle. They are
rather ‘scepters’ in form, relatively small at the center where they are most
usually held, and with each of the two ends being a mirror image of the
other. This type of Vajra is found,
with more or less minor variations, in all the ‘Northern’ Buddhist countries as
well as in medieval Indian art. Although there are many problems that cannot all be addressed here, it
is most probable that the form of this Buddhist and Indian Vajra had its
transmission from Greece by way of the Middle East, perhaps as early as the
Hellenistic Period. The medieval
Indian and Tibetan (and Silk Route, Japan, etc.) Vajra is strikingly similar to
the Keraunos held by Zeus in Greek art. Behind the shape of the Keraunos may be still earlier Mesopotamian and
Hittite representations of lightning held in the hands of depicted deities.[11]
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| Weather God Hadad at Gaziantep, Turkey (I believe the photo has been reversed) |
It may not be at all obvious that
our usual contemporary representation of the lightning bolt as a (usually
single) zig-zagged line is itself a cultural product that was not even in use
just three hundred years ago.[12] The oldest recognizable human representations of lightning
in Middle Eastern history (ranging from about 2000 to 1000 bce) are rather fork-shaped, with two or
three long and wavy tines.[13] It was in about 1000 bce
that lightning became most commonly represented in a similar manner, but having
a double-ended form that begins to approach the form of the Tibetan Vajra. In another century or two, the central
tine became straight and tapered to a point, while the tines on either side
tended outward, often in a form reminiscent of the horns of an ox. This is the typical form of the Greek
Keraunos.
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| Detail from an ancient Greek vase (look here) |
The main problem that confronts us
is how to account for the transmission from Greece to India and beyond. The logical time and place for us to
look is the Gandhāran art of the early centuries ce. It was in
Gandhāra, in the area of modern northern Pakistan, that the Buddha image was
produced under strong Greek artistic influences (even if the Buddha image might
have originated, as many Indian scholars argue, in the city of Mathurā in
northern India). The Vajra does
exist in Gandhāran Buddhist art, but in a form that does not very closely
resemble either the Keraunos or the Indian and Tibetan Vajra. The Gandhāran Vajra looks like a plain,
solid squared beam about the length of the forearm of the figure bearing it,
only attenuating at the center where it is held.[15] This very different form makes it impossible to claim that
this apparent Greek influence reached Indian Buddhism by way of Gandhāra. This leaves us still in the dark about
a particular route of transmission that would explain the similarities of the
Keraunos and most non-Gandhāran Buddhist Vajras.
To briefly summarize, we may say
that while the Vedic Vajra weapon seems to have had a form of some kind of club
or axe with an attached handle, the Buddhist Vajra has its particular form
because of influence, at some as yet not precisely specified time, by way of
the Middle East, or very possibly by Greeks residing in areas to the northwest
of India. Even given the
likelihood that this historical picture is basically defendable or even simply
true, we still haven’t gained much idea about what the Vajra means in Buddhism,
and more particularly in the Buddhism of Tibet, which is pervaded by the
tantric form of Mahāyāna (‘the Great Vehicle’) known as Vajrayāna (‘the Vajra
Vehicle’).
[1] One way of thinking about these
weapons/tools, in Sanskrit āyudha, is from the perspective of the one who makes them, the
traditional Indian artisan. From
this point of view, the making of tools requires tools, and there is the
ever-present danger that the artisan may be injured by the very tools required
in the creative process. This
entails a cult of tools, in which the tool, often more or less identified with
a deity (or the ‘weapon’ of a deity), requires ritual propitiation. More material for thinking along these
lines may be found in Brouwer (1988). Risking banality, we might dryly note that these tools, however
divinized they may be, are necessary for the construction of divine images.
[2] I have in my personal library
copies of two different woodblock prints of ‘substitution drawings’ (dod ris [this does not mean just ‘representation’!]) of
items that tantric initiates ought to have in their possession. One of the two texts, printed on a
single long folio, was acquired in 1993 at the monastic printery of Sera
Monastery near Lhasa in Tibet. The
other is a photocopy of a seven-folio print originating from Kumbum (Sku-’bum)
Monastery in Amdo, northeastern Tibet, probably in the 19th century (from the
personal library of Thubten J. Norbu, former abbot of Kumbum), which in its
colophon mentions two still earlier versions. Illustrated in both are a wide variety of tantric
requisites, including Vajra, Bell, Bone Ornaments, drums, rosaries, Bodhisattva
ornaments, skullcups, fire offering implements, ritual vases, animal hides,
ropes, snares, hooks, choppers, swords, banners, and still more. The Sera print is quite similar, down
to the details, to the more artistically rendered Sku-’bum version. In both versions, the first two
implements illustrated are, quite properly, the Vajra and Bell.
[3] All the Tibetan sects accept
tantra in its Buddhist form, even while simultaneously continuing to revere and
practice non-tantric forms of Buddhism. This distinguishes Tibet from other ‘Northern’ Buddhist countries such
as China and Japan where tantric texts, rituals and ideas tended to be made the
exclusive preserve of separate tantric schools. I leave discussion of the Bon school and the similarity of their chags-shing sceptre with the vajra for another occasion.
[4] In order to refer without
ambiguity to the mineral substance ‘diamond,’ Tibetans use the word pha-lam or, very often, rdo-rje-pha-lam (a compound of
near-synonyms). It has been
suggested that the specific meaning ‘diamond’ is also reflected in the use of
the word vasira
in a Khotanese text, which might imply a route of influence, although the time
and reasons for the linkage of the concept of ‘diamond’ with the Vajra remain,
in my opinion, obscure (see Gibson 1997: 50). It may be worthy of note that the verbal root behind the
Sanskrit form vajra is vaj,
which generally means ‘to go, move, roam about,’ a meaning not very well suited
to diamonds, but fully appropriate for a self-propelling magical weapon.
[5] See Chakravarty (1997: 96); Kumar
(1996). In the Iranian Avesta, the
vazra is a
weapon used by the god Mithra. Earlier
artistic representations of Indra in India do not bear anything that might
correspond to the Vajra. These
Hindu Vajra representations seem to make their first appearance in in art of
the 10th to 12th centuries in a form quite similar to Indian Buddhist and
Tibetan Vajras (Devendra 1965: 130-131). In other words, Indian Buddhist artistic representations of pronged
Vajras seem to occur before Hindu representations of Indra with a Vajra. Some have perceived the earliest
artistic occurrences of Vajras in decorations for early Buddhist stūpas at
Sanchi and Bharhut (see Banerji 1980: 171), but then again, while these are
surely identifiable as Vajras (especially when seen in the hands of the Buddhist form of Indra!), they do not yet
have the familiar shape (see drawings in Sivaramamurti 1949: 22-23, figs. 2 a-d
and 3 a-b). These statements
should not be considered to be anything more than tentative. Dkon-mchog-bstan-’dzin (1994: 312-313)
tells a story, evidently of Puranic Hindu origins, of how the first Vajra used
by Indra was made from the footbone of a sage (rishi) named Curd Drinker (Drang-srong
Zho-’thung). This is none other
than the Sage Dadhīka, discussed by Giuliano (2008), with the story briefly
told in Granoff (2009: 61). According to this context, the Vajra weapon could not be harmed by any
other weapon. It would throw
itself at all who showed ill will, hit anyone at whom it was thrown, kill
anyone it hit, and guide to liberation whoever it killed. There is more on the Puranic sources in
Agocs (2000: 65-67), and for Epic sources, see Whitaker (2000). Of course in more recent times the
Vajra came to be held in the hands of other Hindu deities besides Indra, and
was used in Jaina iconography (Banerji 1980).
[6] One may note the remarks on the
symbolism of the Vajra by Guenon (1962/1995: 121-128, 224-5) and Snodgrass
(1992: 174-177), which are both comparativist and universalist, but in the area
of metaphysics or cosmology rather than ‘nature’ per se (which is not to deny the
particular information that is to be found in these and other writings by the
same authors). We wouldn’t pretend
to entirely escape the perils of comparativism here, but it is our main aim to
find and convey particular, and particularly Tibetan, understandings of the
symbolism, whenever possible. ‘Nature’ and ‘the universe’ will be given their due when warranted by
the sources. I see little reason for polemic against the ‘traditionalist’
school largely inspired by René Guénon, including in particular the Bostonian
art historian Ananda Coomaraswamy, or for that matter against the ‘history of
religions’ school from Mircea Eliade, except for the fact that they tend to universalize
ahead of time, before letting traditional particularities of culture and locale, not to
mention history, have their say (on Eliade’s pan-Babylonianism, see the critique by Korom [1992], which also contains pertinent remarks about the comparative
enterprise). In any case, we
should probably remind ourselves constantly of the human tendency to approach
dialogue by first creating ‘linkages,’ in particular etymologies (and apparent
linguistic cognates) both false and supportable, as a method of developing
rapport, which might then be used to promote a sense of common cause in
political or other fields. This
etymological method is by no means limited to word-history, but to other
aspects of history as well, including artifacts and, yes indeed, symbols. (Consider for a moment the not entirely
hypothetical but nevertheless truly preposterous example of European [neo-?]Nazis seeking to create linkages with Chinese Buddhists or Tibetan
Bonpos on the basis of one supposedly ‘shared’ symbol.) Seeing our own sacred symbolism in use
in another culture produces a shock of recognition that can as quickly be followed by a shock
of non-recognition (like an Israeli seeing a Star of David [Magen David, widely known as the Seal
of Solomon] in use in a Newari or Tibetan Buddhist ritual, for example). Certainly if there is anything ‘to’ the
universality of symbols, it isn’t in the symbolic forms themselves, but rather
in that which they might serve to symbolize. The very strong Buddhist insistence on the Bodhisattva ideal
of helping everyone under the motivation of the universally applied emotions of
love and compassion ought to preclude the very possibility of its symbols being
appropriated by persons who live on hatred of the ‘other.’ Still, the world is a confused and
confusing place, and, as a quick internet search may reveal, just such
appropriations are taking place at this very moment.
[7] See Apte (1957), for example.
[8] Kumar (1996) supports this idea.
[9] Chakravarty (1997: 97).
[10] Gupta (1975). Gupta’s suggestion about
‘anthropomorphic figures’ being identifiable with the ancient Vajra has not
been especially well received (see for example Smith 1979).
[11] Smith (1962) shows how an
iconographical form of Zeus, which he calls the ‘Striding Zeus,’ derived from
Middle Eastern sources. In this
form, Zeus wields a Keraunos in the right hand as if ready to hurl it at an
(absent) opponent (many examples in Cook 1925: 740 ff.; for arguments about
historical transformations in the shape of the thunderbolt starting from the
ancient Near East, see the same work, pp. 764-785). For a 1st-2nd century Roman example that appears to be walking, yet holding the Thunderbolt in a resting position, see Polichetti 2010.
The ‘Striding Zeus’ bears a striking artistic resemblance
to some depictions of Vajrapāṇi (for examples, see especially Santoro
1979). According to Cook (1925:
722), the thunderbolt is the most frequent attribute of Zeus from the 6th
century BCE onward, although he also argues that its importance gradually waned
in subsequent centuries. Generally the thunderbolt would be held in the right
hand, whether or not it was wielded above the shoulder level, and the left hand
might be extended straight out to form a perch for an eagle (often missing in
the surviving examples; this latter attribute has no visual analogue in Tibetan
art, but perhaps it has an elusive mythic analogue in the relationship between
Vajra Wielder and the garuḍa bird).
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| Striding Zeus wielding a Keraunos |
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| "Vajra Man" in the Jokhang, after Schroeder |
In Gandhāra, we find some images
of Vajrapāṇi that incorporate aspects of the iconography of Hercules, such as the
use of lion-skin clothing (and otherwise near-nudity). The club of Hercules was replaced with
the Gandhāran form of the Vajra (illustrated in Mustamandy 1997: 24, fig. 4),
which is itself relatively club-like. For a fascinating comparative study of Vajrapāṇi and Hercules, see Flood
(1989). For a very impressive collection of artworks inspired by Hercules, see this page.
[12] Wilk (1992).
[13] The tines might also be
‘zig-zagged,’ but with the zig-zags formed entirely of obtuse angles. One may easily observe from viewing
actual thunderbolts, that they tend to fan out into a fork-like pattern as they
approach the ground. The Hittite
storm god holds a lightning symbol, composed of three wavey tines emerging
upward from the closed fist of his left hand, an axe wielded high in his right
(see Hawkins 1992 for illustrations).
[14] See especially Blinkenberg (1911:
Chapter 6, ‘The Classical Greek and the Tibetan Thunderweapon’).
[15] Many examples are illustrated in
Santoro (1979). With its
square-shaped ends, the Gandhāran Vajra does seem to resemble the cube-ending chags-shing of the Tibetan Bon religion more
than any other known type of Vajra. This is interesting in light of the Bon idea that their religion
originated in a place to the west of western Tibet which they call Stag-gzig
(pronounced ‘Tazik’). Note an
example of an unusual sculptural representation of a Vajra from Mathurā in
North India (probably nearly contemporaneous to the Gandhāran Vajras) which,
having three triangle-shaped proto-‘prongs’ visible at each end, seems to
approach the later form of the Vajra. See the illustration in Coomaraswamy 1971, pt. 1: plate 15, figure
2. Perhaps from approximately the
same epoch we have an example of a Vajra from the gateways surrounding the
Stūpa at Sāñcî (see Hummel 1953: 983, fig. 6; 984). This latter Vajra has a shape all its own, attenuating toward
the center like the Gandhāran Vajra, but with a rounded rather than a squared
form, and with a single obtuse spike sticking out of each of the two circular
ends. Still another very different
type may be found in the art of the Silk Routes of Central Asia, in which each
of the two ends looks like a rhombus (the obtuse angles at the sides and the
acute angle at the ends), with tiny circular ‘jewels’ set into each of its
angles (Hummel 1953: 983, figs. 3-4). Another, quite early, Central Asian version had the shape of the fleur-de-lys at each end (a very clear
sculptural version from the 4th or 5th century site Rawak, northeast of Khotan,
illustrated in Rhies 1999: I fig. 4.66). LaPlante (1963: 272, cited in Linrothe 1999: 42, n. 4) says that pronged
Vajras probably did not come into wide use before the 8th century, and the 8th
century, we might add, was the very time when Buddhist tantra was (well, by
this time most certainly) emerging into the light of history. LaPlante also has a worthwhile discussion
of earlier forms the Vajra took.
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| Varied historical forms of the Vajra, after Hummel |
...More on the Buddhist symbolism of the Vajra and its parts in the continuation, where there will be more references to the Tibetan-language sources...
click HERE if you want to go there now.
click HERE if you want to go there now.
§ § §
On the internet:
My vote for the best presentation on the subject of Vajras on the internet is at khandro.net:
http://www.khandro.net/nature_thunder.htm
http://www.khandro.net/ritual_vajra.htm
You can see an amazing array of visual material for thunderbolt-related iconography at this page that forms a part of Noosphere:
http://atil.ovh.org/noosphere/trident.php
This other page by Dante Rosati is profusely illustrated, and arranged chronologically:
http://drilbudorje.tripod.com/_Dorje.htm
Thunder, Perfect Mind:
http://www.gnosis.org/naghamm/thunder.html
This page is also worthwhile:
http://www.sundial.thai-isan-lao.com/sundial_vajra_literature.html
There is a very impressive and unusual Korean example in the Museum of Fine Arts in Boston displayed here.
Here is an article I want to return to, one about the lightning of Zeus in Greek myths.
I've ignored commercial sites, or sites I regard as overtly or overly sectarian, but if you see other interesting sites, I'd like to add them, so do send us the link in the "comment" box, if you will.
§ § §
What does the Tibetan thog-lcags or lightning metal have to do with lightning? This is an interesting question (not followed up on in this particular blog), although it might be answered along the lines of Blinkenberg's 1911 book, as well as the article that ought to be found in a PDF form here.
§ § §
Agocs, Tamas 2000 — The Diamondness of the
Diamond Sūtra, Acta Orientalia Hungarica,
vol. 53, nos. 1-2 (2000) 65-77.
Agrawala, R.C. 1964 — Cakra Puruṣa in Early Indian Art, Bhāratîya
Vidyā, vol. 24, nos. 1-4 (1964), pp. 36-45.
Agrawala, V.S. 1965 — Studies in Indian Art, Vishwavidyalaya Prakashan (Varanasi 1965).
Apte, V.M. 1957 — Vajra in the Rigveda, Annals
of the Bhandarkar Oriental Research Institute
(Poona), vol. 37 (1957), pp. 292-295.
Banerji, Arundhati 1980 — Vajra: An Attribute
of the Hindu, Buddhist and Jaina Deities, contained in: Journal of the Bihar
Purāvid Pariṣad, vols. 4-5
(January-December 1980-81) [Dr. K.K. Datta Commemoration Volume], pp. 169-177.
Blinkenberg, Chr. 1911 — The Thunderweapon
in Religion and Folklore: A Study in Comparative Archaeology, University Press (Cambridge 1911). Read it HERE.
Brouwer, Jan 1988 — Coping with Dependence:
Craftsmen and Their Ideology in Karnataka (South India), doctoral dissertation, Rijksuniversiteit (Leiden
1988).
Chakravarty, Uma 1997 — Indra and Other
Vedic Deities: A Euhemeristic Study, D.K.
Printworld (New Delhi 1997).
Cook, Arthur Bernard 1925 — Zeus God of the
Dark Sky (Thunder and Lightning) (identical
to volume 2, part 1, of Zeus: A Study in Ancient Religion), University Press (Cambridge 1925). Available HERE.
Coomaraswamy, Ananda K. 1971 — Yakṣas, Part I and Part II, Munshiram Manoharlal (New Delhi
1971).
Devendra, D.T. 1965 — A Note on Lightning in
Iconography with Special Reference to the Vajra, contained in: Parnavitana
Felicitation Volume (Columbo 1965), pp.
123-134.
Dkon-mchog-bstan-’dzin 1994 — Bzo-gnas Skra
Rtse’i Chu-thigs [‘The Arts: A Drop at the
Tip of the Brush Hairs’]
Krung-go’i Bod-kyi Shes-rig Dpe-skrun-khang (Beijing 1994). A modern textbook on Tibetan art
history and techniques, ‘Drop of Liquid on the Tip of the [Brush-]hairs.’
Flood, F.B. 1989 — Herakles and the ‘Perpetual
Acolyte’ of the Buddha: Some
Observations on the Iconography of Vajrapāṇi in Gandhāran Art, South Asian
Studies, vol. 5 (1989), pp. 17-28.
Gibson, Todd 1997 — Inner Asian Contributions
to the Vajrayāna, Indo-Iranian Journal,
vol. 40 (1997), pp. 37-57.
Giuliano, Laura 1998 — Il Vajrapuruṣa in due
rilievi di Nâgârjunakoṇḍa, Rivista degli Studi Orientali, vol. 72 (1998), pp. 143-176. The same author has written an Italian
doctoral dissertation about the early Indian Buddhist and Central Asian Vajra,
although I haven’t been able to see it yet.
Giuliano, Laura 2008 — Some Considerations on a
Particular Vajra Iconography: The Skambha, the Yūpa, the Bones of Dadhīca amd
Related Themes, Rivista degli Studi Orientali, n.s. vol. 81 (2008), pp. 103-126.
Granoff, Phyllis 2009 — Relics, Rubies and Ritual: Some
Comments on the Distinctiveness of the Buddhist Relic Cult, Rivista degli
Studi Orientali, vol. 81 (2009), pp. 59-72.
Guenon, René 1962/1992 — Fundamental Symbols: The
Universal Language of Sacred Science, tr.
by Alvin Moore Jr., Quinta Essentia (Cambridge 1992). First published in French
in 1962, as a compilation of previously published articles.
Gupta, Tapan Kumar Das 1975 — Der Vajra:
eine vedische Waffe, Alt- und Neu-Indische
Studien series no. 16, Universität Hamburg, Franz Steiner Verlag (Wiesbaden
1975).
Hawkins, J.D. 1992 — What Does the Hittite
Storm-God Hold? contained in:
Diederik J.W. Meijer, ed., Natural Phenomena: Their Meaning, Depiction and
Description in the Ancient Near East,
North-Holland (Amsterdam 1992), pp. 53-82.
Hummel, Siegbert 1953 — Der lamaistische
Donnerkeil (Rdo-rje) und die Doppel-axt der Mittelmeerkultur, Anthropos, vol. 48 (1953), pp. 982-987. On the author, look here.
Korom, Frank 1992 — Of Navels and Mountains: A
Further Inquiry into the History of an Idea, Asian Folklore Studies, vol. 51 (1992), pp. 103-125.
Kumar, Arun 1996 — The Vajra of Indra: An
Archaeological Approach, contained in: C. Margabandhu and K.S. Ramachandran,
eds., Spectrum of Indian Culture: Professor S.B. Deo Felicitation Volume, Agam Kala Prakashan (Delhi 1996), pp. 447-452.
LaPlante, John D. 1963 — A Pre-Pāla Sculpture and Its
Significance for the International Bodhisattva Style in Asia, Artibus Asiae, vol. 26 (1963), pp. 247-284.
Linrothe, Rob 1999 — Ruthless Compassion:
Wrathful Deities in Early Indo-Tibetan Esoteric Buddhist Art, Serindia (London 1999).
Mustamandy, Chaibai 1997 — The Impact of
Hellenised Bactria on Gandharan Art, contained in: Raymond Allchin, Bridget
Allchin, Neil Kreitman, Elizabeth Errington, eds., Gandharan Art in Context:
East-West Exchanges at the Crossroads of Asia,
Regency Publications (N. Delhi 1997), pp. 17-27.
Polichetti, Massimiliano A. 2010 — Tantra in Asylum — The Veiovis of Monterazzano's Thunderbolt: Harbinger of Indian Tantric Vajra? Contained in: Pierfrancesco Callieri & Luca Colliva, eds., South Asian Archaeology 2007: Proceedings of the 19th Meeting of the European Association of South Asian Archaeology in Ravenna, Italy, July 2007, Volume II: Historic Periods, BAR International Series no. 2133, Archaeopress (Oxford 2010), pp. 255-257. Offprint courtesy of the author.
Polichetti, Massimiliano A. 2010 — Tantra in Asylum — The Veiovis of Monterazzano's Thunderbolt: Harbinger of Indian Tantric Vajra? Contained in: Pierfrancesco Callieri & Luca Colliva, eds., South Asian Archaeology 2007: Proceedings of the 19th Meeting of the European Association of South Asian Archaeology in Ravenna, Italy, July 2007, Volume II: Historic Periods, BAR International Series no. 2133, Archaeopress (Oxford 2010), pp. 255-257. Offprint courtesy of the author.
Rhies, Marylin Martin 1999 — Early Buddhist
Art of China & Central Asia, Brill
(Leiden 1999), vol. 1: Later Han, Three Kingdoms & Western Chin in China
and Bactria to Shan-shan in Central Asia.
Santoro, Arcangela 1979 — Il Vajrapāṇi
nell’arte del Gandhara: Ricerca iconografica et interpretativa (Parte prima), Rivista
degli Studi Orientali, vol. 53 (1979), pp.
293-341.
Schroeder, Ulrich von 2001 — Buddhist
Sculptures in Tibet, Visual Dharma
Publications (Hong Kong 2001), in 2 vols.
Sivaramamurti, C. 1949 — Geographical and
Chronological Factors in Indian Iconography, Ancient India: Bulletin of the
Archaeological Survey of India, no. 6
(1949), pp. 21-63.
Smith, Robert Houston 1962 — Near Eastern
Forerunners of the Striding Zeus, Archaeology, vol. 15 (1962), pp. 176-183.
Smith, R. Morton 1979 — Review of Gupta (1975),
contained in: Journal of the American Oriental Society, vol. 99, no. 3 (1979), pp. 536-537.
Snodgrass, Adrian 1992 — The Symbolism of
the Stupa, Motilal Banarsidass (Delhi
1992).
Vajracharya, Gautama V. 2004 — Atmospheric
Gestation: Deciphering Ajanta Ceiling Paintings and Other Related Works (Part
2), Marg (Mumbai), vol. 55, no. 3 (March
2004), pp. 40-51.
Whitaker, Jarrod L. 2000 — Divine Weapons and
Tejas in the Two Indian Epics, Indo-Iranian Journal, vol. 43 (2000), pp. 87-113.
Wilk, Stephan R. 1992 — The Meaning of the
Thunderbolt, Parabola, vol. 17, no. 4
(Winter 1992), pp. 72-79.
Although I haven’t absorbed its content yet (I just located it), I very much recommend the article by Monika Zin that can be found HERE.
Although I haven’t absorbed its content yet (I just located it), I very much recommend the article by Monika Zin that can be found HERE.
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| Storm god Hadad of Aleppo, late Hittite, 9th century BCE, said to have been brought as war booty to Babylon by Nebuchadnezar II. Seen in the Archaeology Museum, Istanbul, 2012. |
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