Santipada

There seems to be feel­ing that it is improper for a nun, spe­cific­ally a bhikkhuni, to teach or admon­ish monks. This idea is based on an inter­pret­a­tion of the eight ‘rules of respect’, which the tra­di­tions tell us were laid down at the incep­tion of the bhikkhuni Sangha. It is a dif­fi­cult ques­tion as to whether that rule should be seen as authen­tic, and if it is, how it should be inter­preted. But here I simply wish to offer a few examples where nuns have given monks a good old talking-to.

Per­haps the earli­est example occurs in the ‘Verses of the Elder Nuns’. (Ther­īgāthā 204–212. Trans­la­tion adap­ted from K. R. Nor­man, Elder’s Verses II) Here is the dia­logue between the bhikkhu Vaḍḍha and his mother, a bhikkhuni.

‘Do not, Vaḍḍha, ever have crav­ing for the world
Do not, my son, share in crav­ing again and again.
Happy indeed are the sages, unper­turbed, with doubts cut off
Cooled, tamed, they dwell without defile­ments.
That path prac­ticed by the seers, for the attain­ing of vis­ion
And for the end­ing of suf­fer­ing: Vaḍḍha, you should devote your­self to that.’

‘Mother, you speak of this mat­ter with con­fid­ence indeed
I think, mother, that crav­ing is not found in you.’

‘Whatever activ­it­ies there are, Vaḍḍha, whether low, medium, or high,
Not a sker­rick or a jot of crav­ing is found in me for them.
All my defile­ments are ended, as I dili­gently prac­tice jhana
I have obtained the three real­iz­a­tions – done is the Buddha’s teaching.’

‘Amaz­ing, indeed, was that goad my mother applied to me,
With those verses con­nec­ted with the highest goal, because of her com­pas­sion.
When I heard that teach­ing, the instruc­tion of my mother,
I was enthused for the Dhamma, the attain­ment of rest from exer­tion.
So I, res­ol­utely striv­ing, not lazy by day or night,
Being urged on by my mother, exper­i­enced the supreme peace.’

The Vinayas con­tain sev­eral stor­ies of bhikkhunis cri­ti­ciz­ing bhikkhus, often with good reason. Here is one example.

The ara­hant bhikkhuni Uppa­lavaṇṇā sees some thieves pla­cing meat on the ground, say­ing that any ascetic who sees it may take it. So she picked it up and the next day flew to where the Buddha was stay­ing. She saw Ven­er­able Udāyin in the mon­as­tery and asked him where the Buddha was. Udāyin said that he had gone for alms. Uppa­lavaṇṇā asked Udāyin if he would offer the meat to the Buddha on her behalf. Udāyin replied: ‘The Buddha will be pleased with your gift. And I too will be pleased if you gave me your lower robe!’

Uppa­lavaṇṇā begged to be excused, say­ing it was her only lower robe, and requis­ites were hard to come by for women. But Udāyin insisted, so she gave it to him and returned to her mon­as­tery. When the other nuns saw her they asked where her robe had gone. When she told them, they cri­ti­cized Udāyin for tak­ing a bhikkhuni’s robe.

Another example is found in the Mūlas­ar­vāstivāda Vinaya, which I retell here from Schopen’s trans­la­tion. (Buddhist Monks and Busi­ness Mat­ters, p. 341) This occurs as part of a story, found in vari­ous forms in sev­eral Vinayas, about the destruc­tion of nuns’ stu­pas by monks. In the Mūlas­ar­vāstivāda ver­sion, the group of twelve nuns build a stupa for Ven­er­able Phal­guna, des­pite the fact that Phal­guna had been a very naughty monk. The stupa becomes a pop­u­lar pil­grim­age site, lead­ing to the fol­low­ing unseemly events.

Once the Ven­er­able Udakapāna was mov­ing through the coun­tryside with a ret­inue of five hun­dred and arrived at Sāvat­thī. Now, since ara­hants do not enter into know­ledge and vis­ion without focus­ing their minds, when he saw that stupa from a dis­tance he thought to him­self: ‘Since this is a new stupa for the hair and nails of the Blessed One, I should go and pay reverence!’

They went there, and the two attend­ant nuns gave them earth and water for wash­ing their hands and feet. Then the monks paid rev­er­ence to the stupa by present­ing flowers and incense and the singing of verses. Hav­ing paid rev­er­ence there, Udakapāna left.

Not very far from that stupa a nun, the Ven­er­able Uppa­lavaṇṇā, was sit­ting at the root of a tree for the pur­pose of spend­ing the day. Hav­ing watched them, she said: ‘Ven­er­able Udakapāna, you should focus your mind when you pay rev­er­ence to someone’s stupa!’

The Ven­er­able Udakapāna thought to him­self: ‘Why would the Ven­er­able Uppa­lavaṇṇā say, “Ven­er­able Udakapāna, you should focus your mind when you pay rev­er­ence at someone’s stupa?”’ Hav­ing thought that, he said: ‘There is some­thing here I should con­cen­trate on.’ When that thing entered into his mind, and he saw that the stupa was a stupa for the bones of the monk Phal­guna, he was infec­ted with a pas­sion that was totally engulfed by hostility.

He went back and said to the Ven­er­able Uppa­lavaṇṇā: ‘When an abs­cess has appeared in the teach­ing, you have sat there and ignored it!’ She sat there, say­ing nothing.

This story raises too many ques­tions to even begin to go into them here; and the rest of it gets even more col­our­ful. Any­way, Uppa­lavaṇṇā is clearly admon­ish­ing an ara­hant – even if he is an iras­cible one – and the admon­ish­ment itself does not seem to be a prob­lem. The prob­lem is, rather, that she was too slow in mak­ing the unac­cept­able situ­ation known.

There is another example in the Dharmapāda-avadāna Sūtra (T 211, 584a, trans­lated by Wille­men as The Scrip­tural Text: Verses of the Doc­trine, with Par­ables). Here the issue is com­plic­ated by the remark­able fact that the nun is really the Buddha in disguise.

He takes the form of a bhikkhuni wan­der­ing through the moun­tains, replete with powdered face and painted eye­brows and bestrewn with golden neck­laces, in order to admon­ish a stray­ing monk. This monk had taken for his own a treas­ure left by trav­el­lers who had died cross­ing the moun­tains. When he meets the tarted-up bhikkhuni the monk, unsur­pris­ingly, admon­ishes her, giv­ing her the per­fect chance to make her retort:

‘Is this then the way of an ascetic? He leaves his rel­at­ives, applies him­self to the path, dwells in the moun­tains, and appeases his mind. Why then take what is not yours? In your greed you are for­get­ful of the path and quick to leave your noble inten­tions behind. You do not reckon with imper­man­ence. Your birth in the world is like a jour­ney, but the retri­bu­tion for your evil is long-lasting!’

The Buddha then revealed him­self in his true form, and the monk was, of course, saved. Again, although the story is rather more kinky than his­tor­ical, there is no sug­ges­tion that admon­ish­ment of a bhikkhu by a bhikkhuni was in any way unusual or improper. By the stand­ards of the time it would seem to have been per­fectly accept­able for a bhikkhuni to wander alone, and to admon­ish bhikkhus.

Here’s another story, this time from the Mahā­pra­jñāpāram­ito­padeśa (CBETA, T25, no. 1509, p. 129, c1-19). This con­cerns the fam­ous pat­ri­arch Upagupta, who was regarded as the chief monk of all India.

At that time there was a bhikkhuni who was 120 years old, and in her youth she had seen the Buddha and his great dis­ciples face to face. Upagupta was enthu­si­astic to see her and ques­tion her regard­ing the Buddha and the monks of old. When the bhikkhuni heard of this, she decided to teach Upagupta a les­son. She filled a bowl full of ses­ame oil and placed it behind the door. Upagupta, though he tried to enter care­fully, could not help spill­ing a little oil. Thus the events unfold.

Sit­ting down, he eagerly ques­tioned the bhikkhuni: ‘Did you really see the Buddha? Was his appear­ance as splen­did as they say?’

The bhikkhuni replied: ‘When I was a young girl I saw the Buddha go into a house. Every­body said: “The Buddha has come!” With all the people I went out and bowed to the Buddha. While bow­ing, my hair­pin fell off, and was hid­den in the dark­ness under the couch. But the Buddha straight­away saw with his clear insight and retrieved the hair­pin. And after that, I ordained as a bhikkhuni.’

Upagupta asked: ‘But while the Buddha was alive, how impress­ive was the con­duct and bear­ing of the monks?’

She answered: ‘In the Buddha’s time, the group of six monks were the most shame­less and badly con­duc­ted of all the monks – but even they had bet­ter con­duct than you! When I tested them with the bowl of oil, they entered the door without spill­ing even a drop. Thus even the bad monks had good deport­ment. Whether walk­ing, stand­ing, sit­ting, or lying down, they did not for­get their pos­tures. Yet even though you may be an ara­hant with the six higher know­ledges, still you spill my oil!’

When Upagupta heard this he was deeply embar­rassed. For this reason it is said that with our whole mind we should revere carefulness.

Let us take the time for one last example, this time from the Aśokarā­jasūtra (T 2043, trans­lated by Li Rongxi as The Bio­graph­ical Scrip­ture of King Asoka).

There was then liv­ing in that coun­try an arhant bhikkhuni. She observed in her med­it­a­tion whether Devarakṣita would safely return from the seas or not, and she saw that he would safely return. She also saw that after his return he would spon­sor the quin­quen­nial assembly of the Buddha-dharma. She again tried to see how many monks would join in the assembly, and she saw that the num­ber would be eight­een thou­sand arhants, twice as many learners, and innu­mer­able ordin­ary persons.

Who would be the Presid­ing Elder of the assembly? She saw that the Elder would be named Asadha. Then she observed whether the Elder Asadha would be an arhant, an anāgamin, a sakadāgamin, or a sotāpanna, and she saw that he would be an ordin­ary per­son. She again observed whether that per­son would be ener­getic or indol­ent and saw that he would be ener­getic. Then she con­tem­plated with the inten­tion of inquir­ing whether he was act­ing for his own bene­fit or for the bene­fit of oth­ers, and she saw that he was act­ing for his own benefit.

So she went to the monk’s mon­as­tery, and after arriv­ing there she wor­shipped the monks in due order and said to the Elder, ‘Most Vir­tu­ous One, you are not in strict propriety’.

The Elder thought to him­self. ‘Why am I deemed to be not in strict pro­pri­ety?’ When he looked at him­self and saw that his beard and hair were long, he asked a young bhikkhu to shave his beard and hair.

When he had been shaved, the bhikkhuni thought, ‘Does this Most Vir­tu­ous One under­stand my words?’ Then she saw that the most vir­tu­ous monk did not under­stand the mean­ing of her words, and so she went again to the mon­as­tery, wor­shipped the monks in due order, and said, ‘Most Vir­tu­ous One, you are not in strict propriety.’

The Elder reflec­ted, ‘I have shaved my beard and hair. Why am I still not in strict pro­pri­ety?’ He looked at him­self again and saw that his gar­ments were coarse and shabby, and so he asked a young dis­ciple to have them washed and dyed. After hav­ing his gar­ments dyed and tidied, he wore them and sat straight.

The bhikkhuni thought again, ‘Does the Most Vir­tu­ous One under­stand my words?’ And she saw that the most vir­tu­ous monk did not under­stand what she meant. For the third time the arhant bhikkhuni went to the mon­as­tery, wor­shipped the monks in due order, and said, ‘Most Vir­tu­ous One, you are not in strict propriety.’

The most vir­tu­ous monk said angrily, ‘I have shaved my beard and hair and have washed and dyed my gar­ment. Why do you say I am not in strict propriety?’

The bhikkhuni said to the most vir­tu­ous monk, ‘How can you think that these are the pro­pri­et­ies of the Buddha-dharma? If you can attain the four fruitions, then they are the pro­pri­et­ies of the Buddha-dharma. Fur­ther­more, Most Vir­tu­ous One, the mas­ter mer­chant Devarakṣita has made an announce­ment like a lion’s roar: “When I return safely from the seas, I shall spon­sor the quin­quen­nial assembly of the Buddha-dharma.” Have you heard that?’

The most vir­tu­ous monk said in reply, ‘I have heard it.’

She asked again, ‘Most Vir­tu­ous One, do you know the num­ber of monks who will join in the assembly?’

‘I do not know,’ was the reply.

Then the bhikkhuni said of her own accord that the num­ber of monks would be eight­een thou­sand arhants, twice as many learners, and innu­mer­able ordin­ary per­sons. ‘Most Vir­tu­ous One, an ordin­ary per­son will be the Presid­ing Elder and will be the first to receive offer­ings in the assembly of arhants. Will this be fit­ting behaviour?’

Upon hear­ing these words, the most vir­tu­ous monk wept sor­row­fully. The bhikkhuni said, ‘Why do you weep?’

‘Sis­ter,’ answered the monk, ‘I am get­ting old. I am not com­pet­ent to do anything.’

The bhikkhuni uttered the fol­low­ing stanza:

‘The Tathagata’s Dharma can be per­ceived
At no fixed sea­son and occa­sion.
If one wishes to obtain lib­er­a­tion,
He may get the fruit at any moment.’

‘Again, Most Vir­tu­ous One, you should go to Naṭabhaṭika Mon­as­tery, where lives the bhikkhu Upagupta, whom the Buddha pre­dicted would be the fore­most in edi­fic­a­tion among his disciples.’

The Elder monk, rather than cri­ti­ciz­ing the nun for admon­ish­ing a monk, takes her good advice, seeks out Upagupta, and becomes an ara­hant. When he returns, the nun comes to see him again and says:

‘Most Vir­tu­ous One, you are today in strict propriety.’

The bhikkhu said in reply: ‘Sis­ter, it is all due to your effort.’

While these stor­ies may not all be strictly his­tor­ical, they tell us about how Buddhist mon­ast­ics lived at dif­fer­ent times. It is unnat­ural for people to live without being able to admon­ish one another. What is most remark­able is that I can­not find a single example where a nun is cri­ti­cized or dis­cip­lined for admon­ish­ing a monk. The Vinaya lays down a heavy pen­alty for bhikkhus or bhikkhunis who refuse to be admon­ished, say­ing: ‘Thus there is growth in the Blessed One’s fol­low­ing, that is, with mutual admon­ish­ment and mutual rehab­il­it­a­tion.’ It seems that this prin­ciple has been fol­lowed by bhikkhus and bhikkhunis of the past, regard­less of what we ima­gine the ‘rules of respect’ to mean.