Introduction

With the present chapter I return to the topic of women in Buddhism, broached in the last chapter but one. By way of introduction, in what follows I first survey the Therīgāthā in general and the verses of Subhā in particular, which share with the Ekottarika-āgama discourse to be translated below the motif of gouging out one's eye to demonstrate its inherent lack of beauty.

In relation to Buddhist studies in general, Faure (2003: 5f) observes that at times feminist scholars tend to project current normative conceptions and ideologies onto past cultures … much feminist work on Buddhism has been concerned with "singing the praises of exceptional women" or chronicling the indignities suffered by women. This approach, however, is increasingly criticized as being blind to cultural and historical contexts.[n.1] Faure 2003: 3 also comments, in relation to the emphasis among some feminist writers on misogynistic elements in the Buddhist tradition, that "by presenting Buddhism as a monolithic ideology, however, there is a danger of repeating the same gesture by which Buddhist ideologues attempted to construct a seamless orthodoxy."

Since the groundbreaking translation and study by Rhys Davids (1909/1964) and Horner (1930/1990: 162–210), considerable scholarly attention has been dedicated to the Therīgāthā.[n.2] [1] Besides translations provided by Norman 1971/1989, Murcott 1991, Pruitt 1998/1999, and Hallisey 2015, studies of aspects or the whole of the collection have been undertaken by, e.g., Lienhard 1975, Gokhale 1976, Lang 1986, Dublay 1988, Jootla 1988, Kloppenborg 1995, Rajapakse 1995, Blackstone 1998/2000, and Choubey 2009. The efforts of these scholars have lead to an increasing awareness of many facets of this collection, but it seems to me that at times the Therīgāthā is read from a slightly one-sided perspective that overemphasizes gender-related issues, thereby running the risk of ignoring the doctrinal points the stanzas intend to convey. With this I certainly do not mean to downplay the central importance of the Therīgāthā as a remarkable record of female spirituality in the early Buddhist tradition. My point is only that there is often more to its stanzas than the topic of gender. As Olivia (2011: 14) notes, we are indeed fortunate that any texts composed by ancient women have been preserved. However, we should not let [this] … lead us into projecting our values anachronistically and observing only their "femaleness" … [instead of which] it is necessary to read the Therīgāthā within its specific cultural and historical contexts. Not doing so does an injustice to the poems of these female disciples.

To illustrate the need to read with an eye to context, in what follows I take up the motif of gouging out one's eye as a way of demonstrating their lack of inherent beauty. The idea of taking out an eye is to some degree a natural one, given that the eye is the only physical organ that can be disjoined from the body without recourse to a surgical instrument. Moreover, once taken out of its socket an eye indeed loses all of its former attraction. In the Therīgāthā this motif occurs in a set of stanzas attributed to the nun Subhā, which report that she took out one of her eyes in order to keep a sexually aroused man at bay.

After presenting the main plot, I survey comments made by some scholars regarding this tale, then translate an Ekottarika-āgama discourse which contains a similar motif, but where the gouging out of an eye is undertaken by a male protagonist rather than a female one.

The stanzas of the Therīgāthā attributed to Subhā Jīvakambavanikā begin by describing that, while being on her way to Jīvaka's Mango Grove, she is intercepted by a man with evil intentions (Thī 366). She asks why he is obstructing her, indicating to him that it is not proper for him to touch a woman who has gone forth, adding that she is one who has gone beyond sensual desire.

The man replies by praising her beauty, telling her that she should give up her robes. Instead of going alone into the woods, he suggests she should dress up beautifully and live in luxury with him. On being asked what particularly attracts him, he praises her beautiful eyes, explaining that looking at her eyes arouses his sensual desire ever more (Thī 381f).

Subhā replies by declaring her total disinterest in sensuality and pointing out that an eye is simply a little ball set in a hollow place. She then plucks out one of her eyes and hands it to the man (Thī 396). He is shocked by this act and comes to his senses, begging her forgiveness for his foolish behaviour. The stanzas conclude by reporting that later, after having seen the Buddha, Subhā's eye is miraculously restored (Thī 399).

In his study of the Therīgāthā, Rajapakse (1995: 16f) makes the important observation that Subhā's stanzas are a striking example of a tendency in the Therīgāthā to depict a veritable role-reversal: far from fostering passion, in its verses women proclaim piety and dispassion to worldly and passionate men … [and in the stanzas spoken by Subhā] it is women's success in overcoming … men, and their considered attempts to divert women from spiritual endeavours, that the verses … most strikingly record.

In a detailed analysis of the stanzas attributed to the man who accosts Subhā, Kloppenborg (1995: 160) points out that these reflect "the traditional arguments of male chauvinism", namely that

• "a young, beautiful woman should not be celibate",
• "a woman should not be alone and needs male protection",
• "a woman is a man's playmate",
• "a woman under male control is happy",
• "if a woman decides to remain alone, she is despicable." In this way, the Subhā tale can be seen to set such male presumptions (needless to say, such presumptions are not confined to an ancient Indian setting) against the vivid contrast of a woman who has reached the acme of spiritual perfection and gone beyond any interest in what male company might have to offer.

In a paper dedicated entirely to the Subhā tale, Trainor (1993: 65) draws attention to the eyes as "the central metaphor of the poem, with its complex associations of aesthetic beauty and spiritual insight". The primary contrast in the stanzas indeed revolves around a male blinded by passion in contrast to the nun's insight. By offering her eye to the man, Subhā in a way bestows on him at least an inkling of her vision of the true nature of the human body. The same theme continues until the happy end of the story, as on coming to see the Buddha her eye is miraculously restored.

Based on a detailed study of the Subhā tale as part of her investigation into instances of misogyny in Buddhist texts, Wilson (1996: 169) comments that there is great irony in the fact that Subhā must blind herself in order to get the attention of the rogue and make him listen to her. It is only by blinding herself, it seems, that Subhā is at last treated as a woman of insight – a seer and not just a sight to be seen. Perhaps we can also read Subhā's willingness to give up her own organs of sight as an indication that she eschews the female gaze.

Wilson (1996: 179) then concludes her study of several such cases by stating that self-disfiguring nuns like Subhā who edify men through heroic displays of their bodily repulsiveness … thereby repudiate their role as agents of Māra. In so doing, these potential minions of Māra show themselves to be dutiful servants of their male counterparts within the sangha.

In her study, Wilson (1996: 169) also provides a translation of the Subhā Therīgāthā, the last stanza of which indicates that "when she [Subhā] saw the one with the marks of perfect merit [the Buddha], her eye was restored to its former condition." The formulation in this stanza (Thī 399) makes it clear that, contrary to what Wilson states earlier, Subhā had not blinded herself. Subhā had gouged out one eye, but the other eye was still intact. On "seeing" the Buddha with this eye, the other eye she had earlier taken out was restored. Wilson appears to have overlooked this part, as she speaks of Subhā "blinding" herself and then also of Subhā's giving up "her own organs of sight", where the plural does not match the single eye taken out according to the actual stanza.

Furthermore, I am also not convinced by Wilson's view of Subhā as a potential minion of Māra, a role the nun then supposedly repudiates. Since throughout Subhā's verses there is no explicit reference to Māra, if Māra is to be brought in, we need to turn to similar episodes where a male acts as a sexual aggressor in regard to a nun. Such episodes can be found in the Bhikkhunī-saṃyutta (and its Chinese parallels), where several discourses report how nuns are challenged by Māra, who invites them to enjoy sensuality, implying a sexual threat similar in kind to the present case.[n.3] Cf. in more detail Anālayo 2014e. Based on the parallelism to the Subhā incident, the one who could be identified with Māra in the Subhā Therīgāthā is clearly the impassioned male, not the detached nun. Thus, as far as I can see, Subhā is not a minion of Māra in the first place and therefore has no need to repudiate such a role.

I also have difficulties in understanding why Subhā's action provides a dutiful service to Buddhist monks, as suggested by Wilson. Similarly to the case of Māra, throughout Subhā's stanzas there is no reference to monks at all. It also seems safe to assume that monks would not constitute the primary target audience of the Therīgāthā. The relative dearth of discourses spoken by nuns in the canonical collections in general and also the circumstance that counterparts to the Therīgāthā have not been preserved by other Buddhist schools clearly point to the predilections of the male monastic reciters, who apparently had only limited interest in teachings given by nuns. For this reason I find no real basis for interpreting the action undertaken by Subhā as in some way providing a service to Buddhist monks.

Instead of a minion of Māra who blinds herself as a service to monks, I would see the main point of this story to be simply about contrasting the attraction of physical beauty with the Buddhist doctrinal view about the true nature of the body. In support of my interpretation of the significance of the gouging out of the eye when confronted with someone who is full of passion, I like to turn to a tale found in the Ekottarika-āgama collection. This tale reports a similar situation, with the notable difference that the main protagonist is a male. That is, here a male gouges out an eye when confronted with an impassioned woman.

As the preceding chapters would have shown, the Ekottarika-āgama as a whole is a collection of discourses that remained open to later additions for a longer time compared to both the Pāli Nikāyas and the other Āgamas preserved in Chinese translation. In this way one regularly finds stories in Ekottarika-āgama discourses that in the Pāli canon only have counterparts in the commentaries.

According to modern scholarship, some degree of lateness is also evident in both the Theragāthā and the Therīgāthā collections.[n.4] [2] Norman 1983a: 74 points out that the Theragāthā has various metres, ranging from very early to later metres, besides which there are "also references to beliefs and practices of the type which … point to lateness". He concludes that, although incorporating early material, the collection as a whole took probably about three centuries to come into being, and notes (p. 77) that the same applies to the Therīgāthā. In a similar vein, von Hinüber 1996/1997: 53 explains that "probably both collections have been growing over a long period, slowly absorbing verses commemorating monks or nuns living at quite different times, for although the commentary states that Ānanda recited these collections at the first council … other verses are supposed to be much younger even by the tradition and as having been added on the occasion of the second council … or still later at the time of the third council under Aśoka." This much can in fact be seen in the last of the stanzas related to Subhā, which reports her magical recovery of the one eye she had earlier taken out of its socket. The idea that seeing the Buddha miraculously brings about an actual healing of the body is something found mainly in literature belonging to the later, commentarial period. Hence Horner (1930/1990: 339) is probably correct when she comments that the magical healing of Subhā's eyes is "a legendary accretion obviously inserted later".

Thus the tale of Subhā and the tale in the Ekottarika-āgama could have come into being at more or less the same period and there is no a priori reason to assume that the relevant stanzas in the Therīgāthā must be earlier than the discourse from the Ekottarika-āgama,[n.5] [3] This has been suggested by Greene 2006: 51 note 136, who discusses this tale and also translates a few excerpts. to which I now turn.[n.6] [4] The translated text is EĀ 38.9 at T II 724a7 to 724b27.

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Translation

Thus have I heard. At one time the Buddha was staying in the Deer Park at Vārāṇasī together with a great company of five hundred monks. At that time the Blessed One told the monks: "You should give attention to the perception of impermanence and make much of the perception of impermanence. By giving attention to the perception of impermanence and making much of the perception of impermanence, you will in turn eradicate craving for sensuality, craving for form, and craving for the formless, and you will completely eradicate conceit and ignorance. Why is that?

"In the distant past, a long time ago, there was a Paccekabuddha named Beautiful Eyes. His facial appearance was very handsome,[n.7] [5] Adopting the variant 正 instead of 政. with a complexion like a peach blossom. He was of dignified appearance, his mouth exuded the fragrance of lotus flowers and his body exuded the fragrance of sandalwood.

"At that time the Paccekabuddha Beautiful Eyes, when the time had come to go begging for alms, put on his outer robes and took his bowl to enter the city of Vārāṇasī. Gradually proceeding he approached the house of an eminent householder and stood in silence outside the gate.

"Then the householder's daughter saw from afar that there was a practitioner of the path standing outside the gate.[n.8] [6] My rendering of 長者女 as "householder's daughter" follows the indication by Hirakawa 1997: 1195 that this can render śreṣṭhi-dārikā. He was incomparably handsome, with a very special facial appearance, rarely found in the world. His mouth exuded the fragrance of lotus flowers and his body exuded the fragrance of sandalwood.

"Her mind was in turn aroused with sensual desire. She approached that monk and said in turn: 'Now, you are handsome, with a complexion like a peach blossom, rarely found in the world. Now, I am a virgin and I am also handsome. Let us be together. In my home there are many treasures and immeasurable wealth. Being a recluse is not at all easy.'

"Then the Paccekabuddha said: 'Dear sister, now what part [of me] do you feel lustfully attached to?' The householder's daughter said: 'Right now I am attached to the color of your eyes, also to the fragrance of lotus flowers exuding from your mouth and the fragrance of sandalwood exuding from your body.'

"Then the Paccekabuddha held out his left hand and with the right hand plucked out an eye and placed it in the middle of his palm. He said to her: 'The eye you crave – here it is. Dear sister, what part [of me] are you attached to now?

Just like a boil, which has nothing desirable to it, so this eye oozes impurities. Dear sister, you should know that the eye is like foam, being unstable, deceptive and false, deceiving people in the world.

"The ear,[n.9] [7] Adopting a variant that does not have a reference to 眼 here. the nose, the mouth, the body, and the mind are all unstable, deceptive and false. The mouth is a container for spittle; what comes out of it is impure matter. What it contains, [the teeth], is just white bones. The body is a container of pain, its nature is to become worn away. It is a place constantly full of foul smells and troubled by worms, being like a painted jar full of impurities inside. Dear sister, what part [of me] are you attached to now?

"Therefore, dear sister, apply your mind and give attention to these phenomena as deceptive and false. If, sister, you give attention to the eye and forms as impermanent, then whatever perception you have of attachment and desire will naturally disappear. The ear, nose, mouth, body, and mind are all impermanent. Having given attention to this, whatever desire there is in the mind will naturally disappear. Giving attention to the six sense organs [like this], you will have no more perceptions of sensuality.'

"Then the householder's daughter felt embarrassed and stepped forward to pay respect at the feet of the Paccekabuddha. She said to the Paccekabuddha: 'From now on I am going to correct [myself]. I will cultivate what is wholesome, without giving rise to further perceptions of sensuality. I only wish you would accept my regret for my transgression.' Three times she spoke like this.

"The Paccekabuddha said: 'Wait, wait, dear sister, this is not your fault. It is because of my offences done in the past that I have received this body. On seeing it, people in turn arouse sentiments of sensuality.

"One should carefully contemplate the eye: 'This eye is not me, nor does it belong to another;[n.10] [8] Adopting a variant that does not have an additional 我 here. it is not made by me, nor is it made by another. It has arisen from nowhere and, having come into existence, it will in turn naturally decay and be destroyed. Whether in the past, in the present, or in future, all this is caused by the coming together of conditions.

"What is reckoned to be the coming together of conditions is this: 'In dependence on this, that exists; with the arising of this, that arises. This not being, that is not; with the cessation of this, that ceases.' The eye, the ear, the nose, the mouth, the body, and the mind are just like that; they are all completely empty.

"Therefore, dear sister, do not attach with the eye to forms. By not attaching to forms, you will in turn attain the place of peace, without further sentiments of sensual desire. Dear sister, you should train yourself like this.' Then the Paccekabuddha, having given that woman a teaching on the fourfold impermanence, rose up into the air, manifested the eighteen transformations, and returned to his dwelling place.

"Then that woman contemplated the eye, ear, nose, tongue, body, and mind, with the understanding that there is nothing to them. In a tranquil place she in turn gave attention to this teaching. That woman also gave further attention to the fact that the six senses are without an owner. She attained the fourfold evenmindedness (brahmavihāra) and on the breaking up of the body, after death, she was reborn in the Brahmā world.

"Monks you should know that, if you give attention to the perception of impermanence and make much of the perception of impermanence, you will completely eradicate craving for sensuality, for forms, and for the formless, and you will get rid of all conceit and ignorance. Therefore, monks, you should train like this."

At that time the monks, having heard what the Buddha had said, were delighted and received it respectfully.

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Study

The doctrinal significance of the gouging out of the eye is selfevident in the above tale from the Ekottarika-āgama, since the whole story comes as an explanation of the initial instruction by the Buddha, according to which perception of impermanence will lead to freedom from all types of craving. That is, the theme of going beyond craving is the central topic. The same can safely be assumed to apply to the Subhā tale as well.

Unlike the Subhā episode, however, the exchange that leads up to the act of gouging out the eye in the present tale is rather brief, lacking the dramatic build-up and the tension created by the apprehension that the other might eventually use force to achieve his aim. In the above tale, the Paccekabuddha is obviously not under any kind of physical threat, hence the scene is naturally less dramatic.

As mentioned in an earlier chapter, a Paccekabuddha can at times dispense short teachings, as seen in the present case.[n.11] Cf. above p. 249ff. Such a teaching regularly tends to contain a strong visual component, as Paccekabuddhas often teach through their appearance or through magical feats.[n.12] Cf., e.g., Wiltshire 1990: 66f and 76ff. For the Paccekabuddha in the present tale to gouge out an eye is in line with this tendency of teaching through some form of action. The same can be seen in the miracles he performs when he is about to depart. In Buddhist literature in general, the teachings delivered by a Paccekabuddha arouse inspiration in the listener and lead to rebirth in a higher heavenly realm, whereas teachings that result in the listener's awakening are usually rather the domain of a full-fledged Buddha.

As already noted above, unlike the Subhā episode, in the present case the motif of gouging out the eye occurs with a significant shift of gender in the protagonist, as the disfiguration is undertaken by a male. Moreover, even the Paccekabuddha's attractiveness is not depicted in terms that emphasize maleness. The text introduces him as handsome with a face like a peach blossom, a comparison with flowers that one would have rather expected to find in a description of a beautiful woman. The fragrance of lotus flowers that exudes from his mouth and the scent of sandalwood from his body are both rather feminine descriptions of beauty.

In other discourses in the Ekottarika-āgama the same type of description is associated with the queen of a wheel-turning king, as part of a depiction of what, according to ancient Indian standards, apparently constitutes the acme of female beauty and attractiveness, and with a princess.[n.13] [10] EĀ 50.4 at T II 807c15 (scent of sandalwood and fragrance of lotuses) and EĀ 43.2 at T II 757a30 (face like peach blossom); cf. above p. 122 and below p. 425.

Also noteworthy is how the Paccekabuddha tells the woman to stop worrying about what she has done, clarifying that from his perspective to have such an attractive body is his own fault. The fact that the speaker of these words is a male makes it clear that these words need not be interpreted as a form of self-reproach for being attractive – a natural interpretation had the speaker been a female – but may simply be meant as a kind remark in order to dispel the embarrassment and regret felt by the householder's daughter.[n.14] [11] The present case thus stands in contrast to what Faure 1998: 20 sees as a pattern in Buddhist texts, where "in a man, beauty is often perceived as the effect of good karma, whereas in a woman it is usually seen as the result of past sin – paradoxically enough, because it produces attachment in men."

Clearly, the present tale inverts simplistic gender roles, thereby offering a significant corrective to readings of the Subhā tale from a perspective that is only concerned with the issue of gender discrimination. Once the gouging out of an eye by Subhā is considered in conjunction with the same act undertaken by the Paccekabuddha, it becomes clear that this is simply a teaching aimed at deconstructing the notion of beauty of any body, male or female.

Detachment from craving in regard to the body is in fact a requirement in the early Buddhist soteriological scheme, the relevance of which is independent of the gender of the practitioner.

The instructions given in the Satipaṭṭhāna-sutta and its parallels on contemplating the anatomical nature of the body, for example, are clearly meant to be applied first of all to one's own body. The Pāli version introduces the listing of anatomical parts with the phrase "there are in this body", a phrase similarly found in the two Chinese parallel versions, one of which explicitly speaks of this body "of mine".[n.15] [12] MĀ 98 at T I 583b6 indicates that the contemplation is to be undertaken "within this body of mine", something implicit in the corresponding reference to what is "in this body" in MN 10 at MN I 57,15 and EĀ 12.1 at T II 568a19. That is, a male will first of all have to contemplate his own body, just as a female will first of all have to contemplate her own body. It is only when such contemplation has been successfully cultivated that the same understanding will also be applied to the bodies of others.

Due to the circumstance that the Buddha regularly travelled together with monks, it is only to be expected that the discourses often address a male monastic audience, with the inevitable result that the dangers of the attraction of female bodies are a frequent topic. Neither the frequency of such instructions nor the tale of Subhā, however, implies that early Buddhist texts adopt a simplistic logic where one gender is cast unilaterally in the role of being the tempter and the other of being the victim.