What Do 'Sarva-shúra' and 'Bhaishajya-séna' Mean
Anyway?
Names in
Sanskrit are often
highly significant, and often carry multiple meanings. For a glossary
of the meanings of all the Sanskrit names that appear in the
Sanghata, click
here.
In the Words of the Sanghata:
Then at that time, at that moment, that sage
said to the
man, reassuring him: ‘Being, I will be your refuge. I will be
your support. I will be the friend who defends you, so listen to the
Dharma in my presence without fear. Have you heard even a little of the
dharma-paryáya called Sangháta?’
“That one said, ‘I have not heard it at
all.’
“The sage said: ‘Who will teach the Dharma to a
burnt
sentient being, except for one who abides in compassion and, due to
that, teaches the Dharma to sentient beings? Child of the
lineage,
listen further. At a time immeasurably long ago, immeasurably many eons
past, at that time there was a righteous Dharma king named King
Vímala-chándra...
- Arya Sanghata Sutra
Website of the Arya Sanghata Sutra
Guide for Readers
How the Sanghata Affects its Readers (continued)
Page 5
If we want to see an example of how the Sanghata works on
its readers,
we have only to look at how the sage works, since, as we recall, the
sage is actually the Sanghata
that has taken the form of the sage in
order to be visible. What we do not see the sage doing is give the
remorse-filled man a teaching that would put tools into his hands so
that he can turn his own karma around. The sage does not even allow him
to confess, initially. What the sage does instead, until the man
finally sits down and takes it, is to feed him delicious foods and
drink, and then tell him a story.
In this brief interaction with the suicidal man, the sage insists that
the man cease acting as a powerful agent seeking out his salvation, and
accept instead the role of passive beneficiary that the text has been
pushing all its imagined readers into from the beginning. In the
process, the man gains access to the teaching by means of which, as the
sage puts it, all his negative karma will be removed. (page 20). This
teaching works not because the man implements its instructions, but
simply because he has heard it. How can this be? According to the idea
that past actions bring future suffering, the only way that the man
could stop fearing and regretting is if there were some way to undo or
purify the wrongs he did in the past, and such an undoing could only be
accomplished by a force more powerful than his own intensely evil
deeds, or a force able to counter the uni-directional flow of time.
That force, according to the Sanghata Sutra, if
only the man will sit and let it do its work on him, is the Sanghata Sutra
itself.
With this move, the text is arguing in favor of a far more complex
understanding of personal responsibility and agency than the theory of
karma might otherwise seem to suggest. It does so in large part by both
asserting and demonstrating a textual power that we are not in a
position to understand, much less refute. The assertions speak to us on
the level of first-order readers; the demonstration takes place when we
shift to a second-order reading, as the text’s repeated
self-referentiality and its fabulously complex narrative structure
strongly encourage us to do.
We may not be able to figure out just how the text as powerful agent of
change is working, or even what sort of entity it is. But nor, the
Sanghata tells us, do we need to. The bulk of the work that the
Sanghata repeatedly says it does takes place on the imperceptible level
of karma, which we are not in a position to perceive or assess anyway.
As if in compensation for the condition of perplexity that the Sanghata Sutra’s
vision of its own power places us in, the Sanghata addresses the
ethical dilemma that is rooted in the very unfolding of a human life,
uni-directionally, through time. This ethical dilemma is experienced by
the man and the king as remorse to the point of
despair—reasonable enough responses to a bad situation for
which one is responsible but that one is not in a position to change.
This dilemma is created by notions of karma that demand us to assume
total responsibility for actions that we no longer control, because
they are already in our past and so beyond changing. The way out of
this dilemma, the Sanghata suggests, leads to narrative, in the
ontologically perplexing way that it acts on us and exists outside
strictly linear time. And so, after the man accepts the authority of
the sage and finally eats, the sage comforts him:
‘Being, I will be your
refuge. I will be your support. I will be the friend who defends you,
so listen to the Dharma in my presence without fear. Have you heard
even a little of the dharma-paryáya called
Sangháta?’
(page 19)
When the man says he has not, the sage (who, remember, is the Sanghata
manifesting as the sage) proceeds to relate the anecdote of the king
who had similarly committed harmful actions, and who had similarly had
the karmic consequences of those actions completely removed by hearing
the Sanghata.
Thus the text portrays its own activity not as simply
offering knowledge to empower us, but as offering stories about people
much like ourselves who are cured by submitting to the text’s
command that we sit down, eat and listen to more stories.
As to exactly what happens to us when we do so, well, that is another
story.
This paper has
been adapted
from a talk delivered at a Buddhist studies
conference at
the University of Michigan-Ann Arbor in April, 2003, by Damchö
Diana
Finnegan (aka Ven. Lhundup Damchö).
The above discussion represents
just one readers' attempt to come to grips with what the Sanghata was doing
to her. To respond to the issues raised by this paper, or to raise
others,
please join the discussion
forum devoted to the Sanghata.