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The Way to the Beyond: A Study of the Pārāyanavagga (1 of 4)

Introduction

Thank you so very much, and thanks to everyone at the Sati Center for organizing this. Thanks to all of you for coming along. I am speaking to you today from Harris Park, which is near Parramatta in Western Sydney. This is the traditional land of the Barramattagal people of the Darug nation^[1], and as is conventional in Australia, we always pay respects to the traditional owners of the land—past, present, and emerging—and acknowledge their unceded custodianship of this land.

We are going to start a series of four sessions on the Pārāyanavagga^[2] of the Sutta Nipāta^[3]. I know some of you were hoping to start last week and I had to cancel because of ill health. So sorry to everybody who was inconvenienced because of that. We will be putting an extra session on at the end, so we will still have the four sessions. Good to see so many friends joining us—Esther, Mike, Susan, and many new friends as well. It is so good to see you all, and I'm really looking forward to spending a little bit of time talking about the suttas.

Now, we know that we're living in very difficult times. In Australia, we have, of course, the COVID pandemic like everywhere, and we also have floods that have been afflicting our country for many months now. It's like a two-pale-horsemen stage of the apocalypse that we're at now. I'm sure that different places around the world are enjoying different sorts of phases of the end times. But meanwhile, we still have the Dhamma^[4]. One thing that the Dhamma does promise us is that there is a way to the Beyond, that there is an escape, a way out of all of this.

I know that most of you will have some experience and knowledge with the suttas, but some of you may not, so I'm just going to begin by giving a brief background and introduction to the suttas and what we're doing here. The teacher that we know as the Buddha was one of the many wandering renunciant teachers in India about two and a half thousand years ago. He lived and taught in northern India, today the region of the Ganges Valley. He taught for 45 years and accumulated a large community, and when he passed away, his community got together and organized the recitation of his teachings to preserve his message. They passed those scriptures down, and they've come down to us in various forms today.

The scripture we'll be reading from today is from the Pāli^[5] canon, which was passed down in Sri Lanka. The Buddhist scriptures are conventionally divided into three portions we call the Tipiṭaka^[6], or three baskets: the Suttas, Vinaya^[7], and Abhidhamma^[8]. Suttas being the main discourses the Buddha taught, the Vinaya being the monastic code, and the Abhidhamma being the scholastic treatises.

This text comes from the suttas, or from the discourses. Within the discourses, we have five nikāyas^[9] or five sections. This is from the last of those, known as the Khuddaka Nikāya, or minor section. It's within a book called the Sutta Nipāta, and within the Sutta Nipāta, it is from a chapter called the Pārāyanavagga. So this is where it sits.

I'm saying a lot of words in Pāli. If you don't know Pāli, don't worry about it. I will try to avoid using too much Pāli for this session. But if there is anything that I say that you don't understand, please tell me, because if you don't tell me, I don't know. Please help me out, because just in case you're wondering, I can't read all of your minds. Zoom can't read your minds yet either; maybe give us a few years and we'll be able to do that, but not quite. So if I'm talking and there are things that you don't understand or it doesn't make sense, please do pop your questions into the chat. I will keep my eye on that, and I'd be happy to answer any questions.

In the chat, I put the link for the first section of the Pārāyanavagga, which we will be reading first.

The Sutta Nipāta and the Pārāyanavagga

A little bit of a general introduction to this text before I start reading. The Sutta Nipāta is a compilation of five chapters, which was unique to the Theravāda school of Buddhism. Many of the parts of the Sutta Nipāta are found in other schools of Buddhism, but the collection as a whole is only found in the Theravāda canon. The same is true for the Pārāyanavagga. We do have various parallels, but it's mostly preserved in the Theravāda Pāli tradition. That's the version I'll be reading from.

However, the Pārāyanavagga is referred to a number of times throughout the Buddhist traditions, both inside the Pāli and also in the Chinese and Sanskrit traditions. Even within the other suttas, they quote verses from the Pārāyanavagga and even call it the Pārāyanavagga. That shows it was quite an early collection that already existed when the other suttas were being compiled.

Having said that, the Pārāyanavagga as we have it today is a composite. The heart of it is the sixteen questions of the soḷasa brāhmaṇā (sixteen brahmins). To those sixteen questions, an introduction and an ending have been added. They create a narrative, which sort of wraps up and gives context to those sixteen questions, giving the questions meaning. I'm going to be talking quite a bit today about the narrative context of the Pārāyanavagga, and how meaning is created through the way that the narrative is shaped.

Reading the Introductory Verses

When I'm teaching suttas, I try to get to the actual sutta as quickly as possible, so we can read through it and then discuss it, rather than giving too much information upfront. So I'm going to share my screen, and then we can read through the first portion of the Pārāyanavagga.

Questioner: I don't mean to interrupt, may I ask a question? I come from a little bit of a Sanskrit background. In the time that the Pārāyanavagga is set up, it comes with a composition and possibly a meter associated with that as well. Is that the case? There is a way of chanting in addition to the essence of the meaning in this particular sutta.

Bhante Sujato: Yes, there are certainly metrical suttas, and the verses in Pāli—or the meters in Pāli—are essentially similar or closely related to the same metrical styles that you find in Sanskrit. There is no fixed way of reciting; different traditions will recite it with their different styles. Of course, the meter in Pāli is very strongly determined by the length of the syllables, but apart from that, the chanting style will vary.

So this is my translation of the introductory verses:

From the fair city of the Kosalans to the southern region came a brahmin expert in hymns, aspiring to nothingness. In the domain of Assaka, close by Aḷaka, he lived on the bank of the Godhāvarī River, getting by on gleanings and fruit. He was supported by a prosperous village nearby. With the revenue earned from there he performed a great sacrifice. When he had completed the great sacrifice, he returned to his hermitage once more. Upon his return, another brahmin arrived.

Foot-sore and thirsty, with grotty teeth and dusty head, he approached the other and asked for five hundred coins. When Bāvari saw him, he invited him to sit down, asked of his happiness and well-being, and said the following. “Whatever I had available to give, I have already distributed. Believe me, brahmin, I don’t have five hundred coins.”

“If, good sir, you do not give me what I ask, then on the seventh day, let your head explode in seven!”

After performing a ritual, that charlatan uttered his dreadful curse. When he heard these words, Bāvari became distressed. Not eating, he grew emaciated, stricken by the dart of sorrow. And in such a state of mind, he could not enjoy absorption.

Seeing him anxious and distraught, a goddess wishing to help, approached Bāvari and said the following. “That charlatan understands nothing about the head, he only wants money. When it comes to heads or head-splitting, he has no knowledge at all.”

“Madam, surely you must know— please answer my question. Let me hear what you say about heads and head-splitting.”

“I too do not know that, I have no knowledge in that matter. When it comes to heads or head-splitting, it is the Victors who have vision.”

“Then, in all this vast territory, who exactly does know about heads and head-splitting? Please tell me, goddess.”

“From the city of Kapilavatthu the World Leader has gone forth. He is a scion of King Okkāka, a Sakyan, and a beacon. For he, brahmin, is the Awakened One! He has gone beyond all things; he has attained to all knowledge and power; he is the seer into all things, he has attained the end of all deeds; he is freed with the ending of attachments. That Buddha, the Blessed One in the world, the Seer, teaches Dhamma. Go to him and ask— he will answer you.”

When he heard the word “Buddha”, Bāvari was elated. His sorrow faded, and he was filled to brimming with joy. Uplifted, elated, and inspired, Bāvari questioned that goddess: “But in what village or town, or in what land is the protector of the world, where we may go and pay respects to the Awakened One, best of men?”

“Near Sāvatthī, the home of the Kosalans, is the Victor abounding in wisdom, vast in intelligence. That Sakyan is indefatigable, free of defilements, a bull among men: he understands head-splitting."

Therefore he addressed his pupils, brahmins who had mastered the hymns: “Come, students, I shall speak. Listen to what I say. Today has arisen in the world one whose appearance in the world is hard to find again— he is renowned as the Awakened One. Quickly go to Sāvatthī and see the best of men.”

“Brahmin, how exactly are we to know the Buddha when we see him? We don’t know, please tell us, so we can recognize him.”

“The marks of a great man have been handed down in our hymns. Thirty-two have been described, complete and in order. One upon whose body is found these marks of a great man has two possible destinies, there is no third. If he stays at home, having conquered this land without rod or sword, he shall govern by principle. But if he goes forth from the lay life to homelessness, he becomes an Awakened One, a perfected one, with veil drawn back, supreme. Ask him about my birth, clan, and marks, my hymns and students; and further, about heads and head-splitting— but do so only in your mind! If he is the Buddha of unobstructed vision, he will answer with his voice the questions in your mind.”

Sixteen brahmin pupils heard what Bāvari said: Ajita, Tissametteyya, Puṇṇaka and Mettagū, Dhotaka and Upasiva, Nanda and then Hemaka, both Todeyya and Kappa, and Jatukaṇṇī the astute, Bhadrāvudha and Udaya, and the brahmin Posala, Mogharājā the intelligent, and Piṅgiya the great hermit. Each of them had their own following, they were renowned the whole world over. Those wise ones, meditators who love absorption, were redolent with the potential of their past deeds.

Having bowed to Bāvari, and circled him to his right, they set out for the north, with their dreadlocks and hides. First to Patiṭṭhāna of Aḷaka, then on to the city of Mahissati; to Ujjenī and Gonaddhā, and Vedisa, and Vanasa. Then to Kosambi and Sāketa, and the supreme city of Sāvatthī; on they went to Setavyā and Kapilavatthu, and the homestead at Kusinārā. To Pāvā they went, and Bhoganagara, and on to Vesālī and the Magadhan city. Finally they reached the Pāsāṇaka shrine, fair and delightful. Like a thirsty person to cool water, like a merchant to great profit, like a heat-struck person to shade, they quickly climbed the mountain.

At that time the Buddha at the fore of the mendicant Saṅgha, was teaching the mendicants the Dhamma, like a lion roaring in the jungle. Ajita saw the Buddha, like the sun shining with a hundred rays, like the moon on the fifteenth day when it has come into its fullness. Then he saw his body, complete in all features. Thrilled, he stood to one side and asked this question in his mind.

“Speak about the brahmin’s birth; of his clan; and his own marks; what hymns is he proficient in; and how many he teaches.”

“His age is a hundred and twenty. By clan he is a Bāvari. There are three marks on his body. He is a master of the three Vedas, the teachings on the marks, the testaments, the vocabularies, and the rituals. He teaches five hundred, and has reached proficiency in his own teaching.”

“O supreme person, cutter of craving, please reveal in detail Bāvari’s marks— let us doubt no longer!”

“He can cover his face with his tongue; there is a tuft of hair between his eyebrows; his private parts are concealed in a foreskin: know them as this, young man.”

Hearing the answers without having heard any questions, all the people, inspired, with joined palms, wondered: “Who is it that asked a question with their mind? Was it a god or Brahmā? Or Indra, Sujā’s husband? To whom does the Buddha reply?”

“Bāvari asks about heads and head-splitting. May the Buddha please answer, and so, O hermit, dispel our doubt.”

“Know ignorance as the head, and knowledge as the head-splitter, when joined with faith, mindfulness, and immersion, and enthusiasm and energy.”

At that, the brahmin student, full of inspiration, arranged his antelope-skin cloak over one shoulder, and fell with his head to the Buddha’s feet. “Good sir, the brahmin Bāvari together with his pupils, elated and happy, bows to your feet, O seer!”

“May the brahmin Bāvari be happy, together with his pupils. And may you, too, be happy! May you live long, young man. To Bāvari and you all I grant the opportunity to clear up all doubt. Please ask whatever you want.”

Granted the opportunity by the Buddha, they sat down with joined palms. Ajita asked the Realized One the first question right there.

Historical and Narrative Context

So this is the opening introduction for the sixteen questions. Those of you who have read the Pārāyanavagga already will know that the tone and the manner of this introductory portion is quite different to what we find in the sixteen questions. It is universally agreed by scholars that this was a much later addition. How much later? I'll do a little bit of text historical analysis here, just so we have context.

If you look at the journey that was undertaken there, it starts from places that were a long way from where the Buddha normally lived. This is the first sign that it's later; Buddhism spread in the years following the Buddha's passing away. We know details from the Ashokan inscriptions and from various other texts that date from the time of King Ashoka, about 150 or 200 years after the Buddha. Those texts include some of the same names that we find mentioned here. So this is one very good indication as to the lateness of this particular section.

If we look at a map, we can see Bāvari's hermitage is quite far south. Up north are Benares, Rājagaha, and Sāvatthī, where the Buddha normally was. They traveled past Mahissati, Ujjenī, Vedisa, Vanasa, Kosambi, and so on. They took a detour. They obviously heard that the Buddha was going to be at Sāvatthī, where he spent most of his time. So they took a detour up to Sāvatthī, and then they were like, "Oh no, he's actually down here," and came back down. The last part of the journey is almost the reverse of the Buddha's journey in the Mahāparinibbāna Sutta, where he traveled north from Rājagaha. They traveled down through these places and ended up in Rājagaha, in the hills there, where the Buddha was teaching.

This region down here is called the Dakkhināpatha, which means the southern road or the southern trade route. This is a quite hilly and rugged area, often known as the Deccan today. The trade route went down to the southwest, where it joined up with the sea trading routes. From about a hundred years after the Buddha, there was trade with the Greeks and then the Romans. The southern route then continues down to the east, where it reaches Andhra Pradesh, and from there to Sri Lanka. In fact, this is likely the route that Mahinda and later Sanghamittā took on their way to Sri Lanka.

We can see that this is considerably outside of the region the Buddha normally would have been in, and all of these place names that we encounter in that first part of the journey are not found anywhere else in the suttas. That's one of the reasons for understanding that this is a later text. But there are many other reasons as well. It includes various doctrinal ideas that we don't find in other early Buddhist texts, one of the most obvious ones being the idea of vāsanā^[10].

In those verses, we heard that Bāvari was still "redolent with the potential of past deeds." This is the concept of vāsanā, which was introduced in the very latest books in the Pāli canon, like the Milindapañha and the Nettipakaraṇa^[11]. It became a very common idea in later forms of Buddhism, but we don't find it in the early suttas at all. The idea here is that when we're born in this life, our character and our spiritual potential are informed by the kamma that we've done in our past lives. Of course, the suttas talk about kamma and rebirth all the time, so it's not a radically new idea, but this terminology and the way it's talked about—we don't really find that in the early suttas.

There are a number of other terms like this. Quite a lot of the idioms we find here are Sanskritic in form, and some of the narrative devices echo things we find in Sanskrit epic poetry. So we can't really date this introductory portion earlier than about the second century BCE, which puts it about two or three hundred years after the Buddha. This makes it one of the latest portions of the Pāli canon. If you're interested in a deep dive into the historical analysis, there's a great article by the Sri Lankan scholar N. A. Jayawickrama^[12]. He did a critical study of the Sutta Nipāta, published in the early 70s, which you can still find on the Internet Archive.

A Narrative of Conversion

So we know this is a late text. But what does that tell us? Why is this text there, and why is it the way that it is? These are much more interesting questions. Sometimes when doing textual study, there's a tendency to say, "Well, this is a late text, therefore I can ignore it." You can ignore it if you want to, but that means you're not learning anything from it. The different strata of texts each tell us something slightly different about the time, the place, and how people were responding to the Dhamma.

Let's trace the narrative arc of the chapter as a whole. We begin with Bāvari. He seems like a nice guy; he's just given away all of his money, he's sincere, and he's earnest. Then this bad guy comes along, an unscrupulous brahmin who wants to rip him off and threatens him with a curse. We have a dramatic tension. His head is going to explode into seven pieces. In the context of the narrative, he takes it very seriously. It might seem a bit goofy to us today, but for most people throughout history, these things were very serious.

He can't solve this problem himself. He gets help. A devatā (deity) comes to help him out. His students also help, which shows the importance of community and spiritual friendship. They go to see the Buddha, and then they ask all of the questions.

When we get to the questions in the next few weeks, you'll see they have a much more serious tone. We don't find that kind of mind-reading stuff and the thirty-two marks. It's much more straightforward Dhamma questions about meditation and living your best life. It elevates the discourse. And when we come to the final chapters, the discourse is elevated still, becoming almost transcendent by the end.

I think this is a deliberate choice by the composer of the chapter. Some commentators are dismissive of the introduction because it's late and has curses and magic, but to my mind, that's the point. The purpose of the narrative is to meet people where they are, in terms they would understand with a popular narrative, and then gradually lift them up to a place of transcendence. It reminds me of the monument at Borobudur in Java. Borobudur has different layers you walk around. The bottom layer has panels that tell Jātaka^[13] stories, fables, and morality tales. As you go up, it tells the life of the Buddha, and higher still, it expresses more abstract and profound philosophical ideas. Walking around is a spiritual journey. The Pārāyanavagga is doing something similar.

This leads to the question of why it's set so far away. It seems to me that this is a conversion narrative, designed specifically to introduce Buddhism to those faraway lands. Typically, when Buddhism spread to new countries after the time of Ashoka, they would develop a mythology to backdate a connection with the Dhamma to the time of the Buddha. Either the Buddha himself or one of his disciples visited the place. I think this is an early example of a conversion narrative.

This genre of literature reaches people where they are. Part of the message is showing them that they don't have to be scared of Buddhist monastics. We're not going to be making curses and engaging in black magic.

N. A. Jayawickrama points out in his study that in the Baudhāyana Gṛhyasūtra^[14], one of the Sanskrit law books, it says that if a brahmin visits the Dakkhināpatha, they have to do purification when they return. It was so far away that it was considered not part of the Āryāvarta, the sacred lands. This reinforces the idea that they were heading into unknown territory.

Analysis of the Introductory Text

Let's go into a little bit more detail in the introductory text. From the fair city of the Kosalans (Sāvatthī) to the southern region (Dakkhināpatha) came a brahmin expert in hymns (mantapāragū, master of the Vedas), aspiring to nothingness. The word for 'nothingness' here might be playing double duty. Normally it would mean possessing nothing, living a simple life of renunciation. But several of the questions later revolve around the meditation attainment of the dimension of nothingness (ākiñcaññāyatana jhāna)^[15], which was taught by Āḷāra Kālāma, one of the Buddha's former teachers. So he may have gone there to practice meditation.

He was living a humble life, getting by on gleanings and fruit. Throughout the suttas, a true brahmin is depicted as living a life of simplicity and renunciation, not unlike Buddhist mendicants. This paints an idealized picture of somebody living in accordance with ancient Brahmanical ideals.

With the revenue from the village, he performed a great sacrifice. We're not told what the sacrifice was, but hopefully not an animal sacrifice. Upon his return, another traveling brahmin arrived—this one not very reputable, with grotty teeth and a dusty head (paṅkadanto rajassiro). He asked for five hundred coins, which was a lot, and when he didn't get it, he threatened to split Bāvari's head into seven pieces.

This threat is actually a standard one. It happens in one of the Upanishads, where somebody receives this threat and their head actually explodes into seven pieces. It's not an idle threat. This is a classic Buddhist way of revaluing and reinterpreting ideas from the Brahmanical tradition. In the original context, it means a physical curse. But when it gets to the Buddha, he reinterprets it and says, "Ignorance is the head, and knowledge is the head-splitter." Ignorance is the beginning of dependent origination, so we're going to get rid of ignorance instead.

Bāvari became distressed and emaciated, which is a realistic description of the psychological distress caused by black magic or curses. It happened to my mother when she was living in Ipoh, Malaysia. Someone from the local area started acting like a bomoh (shaman) and doing black magic to scare her maid into giving up the house keys.

Then a goddess approached Bāvari to console him. Perhaps he was hallucinating, or perhaps she was a local deity. She admits she doesn't know about heads and head-splitting. The Buddha wasn't interested in denying the existence of gods, but he pointed out that they don't really know the answers to the profound problems that matter. She says, "It is the Victors who have vision." The term 'victor' (jina) was commonly used as an epithet for Nigaṇṭha Nātaputta^[16], the leader of the Jain community, but it is also used for the Buddha.

She introduces the Buddha as a scion of King Okkāka. King Okkāka is the legendary founder of the solar dynasty of kings in ancient India (known in Sanskrit as the Ikshvaku dynasty). She offers verses of homage and praise. The Buddha is hyped up and exalted. It's important to acknowledge the emotional content of these texts—they are not dry scriptures; they are about an act of commitment. Bāvari's sorrow faded, and he was filled to brimming with joy.

Bāvari then addresses his pupils, brahmins who had mastered the hymns. He encourages them to go see the Buddha because he is too old. They ask how to recognize the Buddha, and Bāvari introduces the thirty-two marks of a great man (mahāpurisalakkhaṇā)^[17]. These physical features were said to be passed down in Brahmanical scriptures as signs of someone who would either become a universal monarch or an enlightened Buddha. Curiously, we don't find this doctrine in the surviving Brahmanical scriptures. We find a similar test in the Brahmāyu Sutta.

A unique detail here is Bāvari instructing his students to ask questions in their minds. This is an interesting rhetorical device. Even today, people sometimes assume monks can read minds. If I say something innocuous about attachment causing suffering, someone might think I'm reading their mind because they happen to be struggling with attachment.

Next we have the list of the sixteen brahmins. Most of them we only find here or in later books. The text hypes them up, calling them wise ones, meditators who love absorption (jhāyī jhānaratā dhīrā).

Their journey would have taken many weeks or months. The text uses a simile: "like a merchant to great profit." This is a significant detail that acknowledges the trade routes. Buddhism spread along trade routes all across Asia.

When they arrive, Ajita asks his questions in his mind, and the Buddha answers. The qualities mentioned here—faith, mindfulness, immersion (samādhi)^[18], energy, and knowledge (wisdom)—are the five faculties. Interestingly, these were also taught by Āḷāra Kālāma and Uddaka Rāmaputta, the Buddha's early brahmin teachers. This adds to the idea that perhaps Bāvari was from a lineage related to them.

Ajita bows to the Buddha, and the Buddha gives a very nice blessing: "Sukhito bāvarī hotu..." ("May the brahmin Bāvari be happy..."). This is a bit different from what we normally find in the early suttas, where the Buddha usually engages in polite conversation. This idiom of saying "May you be happy" (sukhito) is so common in Buddhism today, but this might be one of the first cases where we actually see it in the texts. The Buddha then grants them the opportunity to ask whatever they want ("yaṁ kiñci manasicchatha").

So, this is the introductory portion of the Pārāyanavagga. It sets up the context for what we will be reading later. While scholars wouldn't take it literally as a historical document, since the sixteen questions are early, there must have been some background story to them. Try to bear this narrative context in mind as we go on. This is one of those places where the whole is greater than the sum of the parts.

Q&A

Question: Will you provide an outline of the suttas covered each week?

Bhante Sujato: I won't, but we'll be going through the Pārāyanavagga. There are sixteen questions. I'll try to get through about half a dozen of them each week. If you want to do preliminary reading, I would say read at least the next half a dozen sets of questions. They're mostly pretty short.

Question: Does the name Bāvari have a meaning? I found the Sanskrit Bhavāri, meaning 'an enemy of worldly existence.' Is it related?

Bhante Sujato: No, this is Bāvari with a 'B', not Bhavāri with a 'Bh'. It doesn't seem to be related. I know one proposal was that Bāvari was related to Babylon, suggesting he was Babylonian, which could connect with his location near the southwest trade routes. But that's a fairly tenuous argument. I'm not really sure if the name Bāvari has any meaningful etymology as such.

Speaking of names, the name of the chapter as a whole, Pārāyanavagga, has a very nice meaning: "The Way to the Beyond." Pāra means 'the other,' and pārā (with a long 'a') is what they call a taddhita or secondary derivation, meaning 'the place that is other'—unusually used for the far shore. Ayana means 'going.' You might be familiar with this from the Satipaṭṭhāna Sutta^[19], where ayana means 'going to one' or 'going to oneness.' So Pārāyana means 'going to the far shore.' It's a very beautiful and evocative name.

Question: In Thailand, the sixteen questions are part of the first Dhamma education level for monks (Nak Tham Ek)^[20].

Bhante Sujato: That's interesting. I remember reading an English translation of the sixteen questions by one of the senior Thai patriarchs. It's unusual because you don't find many English translations of suttas in Thailand, but it's nice to know those questions are part of their regular education.

Comment: I just enjoyed hearing you recite the place names and personal names with a correct accent. It took me back to that time more than almost anything else.

Bhante Sujato: Thank you, that's really nice. I do try to get the pronunciation correct. If anybody is interested in Pāli, the pronunciation is pretty well-defined and relatively straightforward to learn with a little bit of effort.