The Māra/Brahmā Tandem
The question of Brahmanism’s influence on the formation of Buddhist thought has generated a great deal of scholarly debate over the years. One side in this conversation has asserted that concepts central to Buddhist teachings, and indeed the Buddhist tradition itself, can be seen as a response to Brahmanical norms and precepts (Jurewicz 2000: 77–103; Gombrich 1996: 14; Collins 1982: 29–64). In this article I intend to build on and reinforce that position by exploring the interrelation of social dialogue with narrative discourse. Specifically, I will draw on Pali Canon portrayals of the gods Brahmā and Māra to demonstrate the ways in which Buddhist characterizations of those deities may have served as literary models for prescribing social roles for human Brahmins. While representations of Māra, the god of death and desire (indeed, everything that constitutes attachment to saṃsāra) are universally negative in the Pali texts, the same corpus reveals a decided ambivalence toward Brahmādevas. Unlike the Brahmanical and Hindu scriptures, the Buddhist Pali Canon contains multiple characters labelled as Brahmādevas who interact with the Buddha and his followers. For example, in the Brahmasaṃyutta, on the one hand we read of Brahmā Sahampati eagerly approaching the Buddha, making reverential salutation (añjali) and requesting a teaching (SN I.139).1 On another occasion in the same text, we hear the story of Brahmā Baka, who is described as having developed extremely wrong views, leaving the Buddha so disturbed that he immediately transports to Baka’s whereabouts to correct him. As opposed to Sahampati, Baka is portrayed as stubborn in his ignorance, yielding to the Buddha’s arguments only after an impressive display of supernormal power (SN I.142–144). Comparing these instances, the reader is left wondering why some Brahmādevas are shown in a favourable light while others appear wayward and ignorant. Comparing appearances of Brahmā and Māra in Buddhist narratives helps to resolve this disparity. Through a primarily literary approach, in line with Ralph Flores’s recent work, I aim to reveal within the narratives of these figures how ‘Buddhist ideology and rhetoric are at work in shaping responses in listeners and readers’ (Flores 2008: 3). When we look at certain Pali narratives in this manner, I argue that we find positive portrayals of Brahmā coinciding with his subordinance to the Buddha, while negative characterizations associate the deva with Māra. These two faces of deva—Brahmā allied with Māra versus Brahmā opposed to Māra—represent a means to categorize Brahmins relative to their acceptance of the new roles Buddhist teachings prescribe for them. In pursuing this line of thought, this article also contributes to the question of audience, i.e. the imagined listeners or readers of the Pali texts. It is fruitful to frame that issue by looking briefly at the concept of debate in the Pali Canon. As noted by Joy Manné, more than half of the suttas in the Dīgha Nikāya consist of the Buddha debating an adversary, more often than not a Brahmin, in a style that adheres structurally to a formula extant from the Vedas (Manné 1992: 121). The frequency of such texts suggests an atmosphere in which debate between Brahmins and Buddhists was commonplace, while the formula implies that the contests took place before an audience familiar with the rules of such engagements. Along these same lines, in his work on brahmodya (debate) in the Upaniṣads, Brian Black argues that the literary details of the debate point beyond mere expository pedagogy, but also ‘highlight the social and interactive character of debate’ (Black 2007: 70). Black applies this principle specifically to Buddhist works, arguing that Buddhists ‘used a literary account of debate to play out real-world rivalries with other sects’ (p. 73). In these cases of debate, the meaning and coherence of the text depends upon an audience familiar with the conventions of debate, the respective tenets of the schools involved, and the social atmosphere at the time. Additionally, as Manné argues elsewhere, among the many different forms and styles in which Pali Canon texts come, the debate format serves as an ‘exercise in publicity’ and an ‘opportunity for propaganda’ that will attract new converts (Manné 1990: 73-76). In this way, debate stories in the Nikāyas serve as a means to express the superiority of Buddhist teachings over those of Brahmins in a manner recognizable to both parties. I will show that certain Pali Canon narratives of Brahmā and Māra perform a similar dialogic function, yet through the medium of mythic beings. Just as the brahmodya texts in the Upaniṣads and Pali Canon presuppose a certain understanding of Brahmanical philosophical schools and tenets, the criticisms of Brahmanical doctrine and ritual funnelled through the figures of Brahmā and Māra suggest an audience familiar with those Brahmanical concepts. More fundamentally, the adoption of Brahmā into the Buddhist pantheon suggests an intention to speak to the followers of that deity, most pointedly his namesakes, the Brahmins. However, in an obvious point of literary and didactic contrast with brahmodya texts, the suttas I will examine employ devas rather than human philosophers. As such, these Buddhist narratives are both harsher in their criticism, raising condemnation of Brahmanism to a cosmic level (as servants of Māra), but also gentler, as the critique is formed through the characterization of heavenly beings rather than a caustic diatribe. Debate through mythic narrative, therefore, provides a certain elasticity and equivocation not readily available in other textual forms. Indeed, just as any satire reproduces the form it satirizes, albeit as a caricature, the Brahmanism presented through the interplay of Brahmā and Māra preserves a certain dialogue between the traditions. By navigating this tension, the dynamic between Brahmā and Māra seeks to pull Brahmins into a certain social relationship with Buddhists even while it derides many of their beliefs and practices. It is important to note at the outset that my position goes against the work of some scholars. Johannes Bronkhorst, for instance, has argued that Buddhist perspectives on central concepts such as self and rebirth were of such a different sort from contemporaries, namely Jains and Brahmins, that most likely there was very little intellectual commerce between the groups (2007: 52). The relationship this article reveals between Buddhist conceptions of Brahmā, Brahmins and Māra suggests the opposite case, specifically that Buddhists were engaged in a sophisticated enterprise of symbolic appropriation and innovation, most likely directly reflective of the social situation. To build this argument I proceed in the following stages. First, I will discuss the relevant social context in terms of the different classes of Brahmin and the roles envisioned for each in Buddhist texts, showing how Māra plays an integral part in defining a particular Brahmin group’s ‘failure’ to meet its ideal role. This establishes the use of Māra as a means to sort out categories of Brahmins. Second, I will then discuss how positive portrayals of Brahmā provide an affirmative model for Brahmins, correspondingly standing in variance to descriptions of Māra both implicitly and explicitly. Finally, I will deal with the opposite instances, in which a Brahmādeva such as Baka adopts views usually ascribed to Māra or, in the case of the Brahmanimantaṇika Sutta, espouses wrong views due to possession by Māra. Throughout, it is my concern to expose the link between these narratives and Buddhist perceptions of Brahmins.
Before directly engaging the Brahmā/Māra narratives, it is first helpful to outline some of the social context and terminology of Buddhist–Brahmanical interactions in the relevant texts. Besides religious officiant, Brahmins at the time of the Buddha held multiple identities, often blending the religious, social and economic spheres. Buddhist texts themselves recognize this plurality, frequently qualifying ‘Brahmin’ with identifying terms such as gahapati, mahāsāla, bhikkako and jaṭila. The first two, respectively meaning ‘lord of the house’ and ‘one of great halls’, refer to the householding, economic sphere of society. Of the two, gahapati is somewhat more abundant in the Pali texts. Some debate has occurred over the degree to which the name gahapati could also refer to vaiśyas, particularly given the occasional social division of khattiya, brāhmaṇa, gahapati and samaṇa found in Buddhist texts (MN II.199; SN II.246; AN I.33–35). In that revision of the vaṇṇa system, gahapati seems clearly to take the place of the vaiśya class and refer simply to wealthy landowning groups. On other occasions, however, when referring to individuals, the term gahapati is only ever suffixed to brāhmaṇa, most likely describing a subclass of extremely wealthy Brahmins (Wagle 1996: 152). This leads Chakravarti to argue that the mere translation ‘householder’ or ‘merchant’ is insufficient (1987: 65–66). On the whole, then, the term seems to apply to extremely wealthy Brahmins more than vaiśyas. This is also the interpretation Tsuchida Ryūtāro gives in ‘Two Categories of Brahmins in the Early Buddhist Period’ (1991: 58), and it is the one that I follow in this article. The second pair of terms, bhikkako and jaṭila (respectively meaning ‘mendicant’ and ‘one with matted or braided hair’), can be understood as ascetics, though in context they are often applied specifically to Brahmin ascetics. These two groups, though they represented two different spheres of life, still operated along the axis of Vedic and pravṛtti ideologies, giving Buddhist communities ample reason to regard them with ambivalence. When we look at Buddhist texts to determine their perspective on the gahapati/mahāsāla, for example (hereafter referred to as ‘householding Brahmins’), we find a mixed picture. On the one hand, these householders sometimes received special privileges from the saṅgha, such as personal visits from the Buddha or his closest disciples when the lords of these households were ill (AN III.19; SN 152–53, . As wealthy householders served to support the sangha with alms and donations, these special favours and attentions are hardly surprising. Yet, as Bailey and Mabbett note, this put the saṅgha in something of a bind, for as an acquirer of materials and advocate of a worldly existence, the householding Brahmin stands for values completely opposed to the wandering, homeless bhikkhu (Bailey and Mabbett 2003: 50). Indeed, even as such householders receive special favours, their supposedly avaricious and acquisitive nature is roundly condemned and criticized at other times (MN III.167; DN II.245; Bailey and Mabbett 2003: 110–15). Two stories in the Saṃyutta Nikāya help to illustrate the complicated relationship the saṅgha forged with the gahapatis and mahāsālas. First, in the Brāhmaṇasaṃyutta we are told that a certain ‘very wealthy Brahmin’ (brāhmaṇamahāsālo) fallen on hard times, as evidenced by his shoddy clothes, encounters the Buddha and tells the sad story of being evicted by his sons and their wives. The Buddha teaches the Brahmin some verses repudiating his sons, which when he recites upon returning home result in a warmer reception. The mahāsāla then provides a ‘teacher’s fee’ (ācārya-dhanam) to the Buddha and, in keeping with the usual result of such encounters, becomes a lay follower (SN I.175–77). Here we see the potential benefits for both householders and the saṅgha of symbiosis in which teachings are exchanged for material support. A second passage from the Mārasaṃyutta is more doubtful that this relationship can be maintained. Here the Buddha enters a Brahmin village for alms, but the Brahmin householders (here called brāhmaṇa-gahapatikā), under the control of Māra, refuse to bestow any gifts. Māra then mockingly offers to reverse his influence and allow the Buddha to gain alms, if only he will make a second round. After rebuking Māra for this act, the Buddha responds as follows: ‘We who have nothing live happily, indeed. We will be just like the radiant gods, who were eaters of joy’ (SN I.114). Here the refusal to give alms, which disrupts the symbiotic relationship noted in the first story, is linked to the power most subversive of the Buddha’s teaching. Therefore, we get the impression that whenever Brahmins act outside the bounds prescribed by the Buddhist vision for how the social groups should cooperate, it is an act potentially attributable to Māra himself. We can observe the same kind of complicated relationship between the Buddhist community and the other broad category of Brahmins, the jaṭila/ bhikkako (hereafter referred to generally as ‘ascetic Brahmins’). At first glance, Buddhist communities would seemingly have more in common with such a group than householders due to a shared ascetic ethic. That being the case, there were still good reasons for Buddhists to regard the ascetic Brahmin with suspicion. Despite the fact that, as Olivelle points out, the jaṭila/bhikkako were preeminent in attempts to push against the boundaries of Brahmanism from the inside, partly by eschewing the householder life, they were still not beggars like the bhikkhus (Olivelle 1992: 36). Rather,ascetic Brahmins occupied fixed hermitages, went through the stages of life according to varṇāśramadharma, and participated in the śrauta sacrifices, dressing in animal skins and using implements such as the udumbara staff (Tsuchida 1991: 83). Though the ascetic Brahmin occupies a different station than the older Vedic priests, he draws upon and identifies with that lineage. This alone would predispose such a class to conflict with Buddhist traditions. Tsuchida, however, has argued that on the whole ascetic Brahmins receive less criticism in Buddhist texts than householding Brahmins (Tsuchida 1991: 86–91). While this may be true, the texts still display the same kind of complicated ambivalence toward jaṭila/bhikkako Brahmins that we have just observed for Brahmin householders. Elsewhere in the Brāhmaṇasaṃyutta, a ‘mendicant Brahmin’ (bhikkako brāhmaṇo) approaches the Buddha and asks, ‘Honourable Gotama, I am a mendicant, and you, sir, are also a mendicant. How then are we not of the same condition?’ (SN I.182). Immediately this passage points to a conflict between Buddhists and Brahmin ascetics: the two groups are potentially too similar. The Brahmin is pushing on the lines dividing the two interpretations of asceticism, attempting to blur the distinction and perhaps subsume Buddhist ideas under the Brahmanical umbrella. To preserve the distinction, the text shows the Buddha immediately push back, redrawing the line in interesting ways. He says, ‘just because one begs [bhikkavo] to another, through this one is not a beggar [bhikkako]. Having taken up domestic practice, one is not a beggar [bhikkhu]’ (SN I.182). Thus one does not become a beggar or mendicant simply by begging, but also by renouncing all domestic practice, including the śrauta sacrifice. Hearing this, the Brahmin ascetic is impressed enough to become a lay follower. From the Buddhist perspective this can be seen as the ideal interaction between Buddhists and Brahmin ascetics: the Brahmin posed his question, the Buddha answered, and the Brahmin gave in to superior reasoning. In other instances, the outcome is not so favourable, as when a group of bhikkhus are approached by a Brahmin ascetic in the Mārasaṃyutta. His Vedic lineage is made explicit: he wears an antelope hide and carries a staff of udumbara wood (SN I.117). Getting the bhikkhus’ attention, he questions why such young men would have left home, for now is the time to enjoy the pleasures due to that age. The bhikkhus relate the superiority of their path, and unlike the ascetic in the prior story, this Brahmin does not assent to the superior knowledge of the Buddhists, but instead shakes his head in disgust. Later, the Buddha reveals that the disparaging questioner was actually Māra. As with the earlier pair of stories, the symbol of Māra here is part of a strategy of prescribing social roles for Brahmins by which Buddhists can make sense of their ambivalent relations with those groups. Those householding and ascetic Brahmins who play their proper roles will subordinate themselves to the Buddha, and either offer alms or acknowledge that the dhamma is the true culmination of Brahmanism. Though the Buddhist texts recognize the diversity of Brahmins and prescribe slightly different ideal social roles to them, should these respective groups fail to fall in line with those prescriptions the judgment is the same: they are either under the influence of Māra, or representatives of that deva. As we will see in the following sections, characterizations of Brahmādeva fall into the same dichotomy as characterizations of Brahmins: those subordinate to the Buddha are laudable, whereas those who challenge the Buddha are conflated with Māra.
Given this social context and the preceding discussion of the different social roles Buddhist texts create for Brahmins, we can turn to portrayals of Brahmā in the Pali Canon, starting with some of the most positive. Of these representations, I will highlight three categories: (1) Brahmā aids in casting Buddhist practice as superior to Brahmanical, (2) Brahmā admits dependence on the Buddha’s teaching, and (3) Brahmā criticizes Māra. Beginning with the first category, a story in the Brahmasaṃyutta tells of a former Brahmin, now an arahant and appropriately named Brahmadeva, who is about to seek alms from his mother. We are told she has been making constant oblations and offerings to Brahmā (brahmuno āhutiṃ niccaṃ paggaṇhāsi) (SN I.141). Before Brahmadeva arrives, Brahmā Sahampati visits the arahant’s mother and criticizes her ritual practice. ‘Lady Brahmin’, he chides, ‘This is not the food of Brahmā [brahmabhakko]. So why recite mantras not knowing the path to Brahmā?’ (SN I.141). The verb jappasi, which I have translated here as ‘recite mantras’ can also mean ‘mumble or mutter’, rendering viable the interpretation, ‘why mumble not knowing the path to Brahmā?’ The ambiguity is significant, for it equates mantras to mumblings or verbal gropings in the dark, in search of an absent deva. Brahmā Sahampati then goes on to tell the mother that her son, Brahmadeva, has ‘surpassed the devas’ (atidevapatto), ‘deserves offerings from humans and devas’ (narāṇaṃ devānaṃ ca dakkhiṇeyyo), and therefore she must ‘let him eat the most excellent alms that are the offering’ (so tyāhutiṃ bhuñjatu aggapiṇḍaṃ) (SN I.141). In line with the corrective that chanting of mantras is akin to mumbling, these remarks position alms-giving as the true sacrifice, suggesting that giving the offering to a bhikkhu rather than a deva is in fact the proper way to perform the ritual. The name of the bhikkhu, Brahmadeva, is obviously not accidental in this regard: he is the real Brahma god, whereas Brahmā Sahampati himself acknowledges that he has been surpassed. In a second category of positive appearances, Brahmā recognizes his dependence on the Buddha’s knowledge. A key part of this portrayal is the role the Nikāyas give to Brahmā in the Buddha’s initial decision to teach. In the Saṃyutta Nikāya, for example, the Buddha briefly experiences doubts about continuing to profess the dhamma, due to the widespread delusion of beings (SN I.136).2 This wavering in resolve is enough to cause Brahmā Sahampati to cry out, ‘Oh! The world will be destroyed, the world will perish completely!’ (SN I.137). Immediately he goes to see the Buddha and is successful in beseeching the Awakened One to continue professing the dhamma. The Mahāpadāna Sutta of the Dīgha Nikāya puts such exhortations on the part of Brahmās in a longer temporal perspective, telling of the past Buddha Vipassī’s decision to teach at the urging of a Brahmā again because, otherwise, the world would perish and perish utterly (DN II.37–40). To a degree, this suggests that without Brahmā’s intervention, there would be no teaching at all. While this may in part reflect the convention that one does not teach until invited, if we take Brahmā as a model for Brahmins, does it in some sense suggest that the Buddha depended on Brahmanical authorization to teach? One point can be brought up to qualify that proposition. The motif of Brahmā pleading for the presence of the dhamma in the world shows the supposed creator’s actual helplessness, compared to the Buddha, in being able to better the lives of beings or sustain existence. At the same time, it shows that the deva does have a place in the scheme of things, being instrumental to the Buddha’s decision to teach, making room within the Buddhist pantheon for a popular deity and, symbolically, Brahmins as well. These narratives point out, however, that the deva’s station is unambiguously below the Buddha, suggesting the same position for Brahmins. Indeed, in stories of category one, Brahmā advances almsgiving as the ritual par excellence (Brahmasaṃyutta) and in category two, by inviting the Buddha to teach, the deva recognizes the Awakened One’s superior knowledge (Mahāpadāna Sutta). In other words, he epitomizes the social roles Nikāya texts set out for householding and ascetic Brahmins, respectively. As we also saw, those narratives are shadowed by instances in which Brahmins do not follow through on those ideals, their failure often being attributed to Māra. This would result in a natural clash between the positive portrayal of Brahmā and Māra, which is the third category of positive portrayals of Brahmā. One of the clearest examples comes in the Māratajjanīya Sutta of the Majjhima Nikāya. In this sutta Māra assails one of the Buddha’s most prominent disciples, Moggallāna, by entering into his gut, giving him a stomach-ache. Moggallāna recognizes Māra’s presence immediately, much faster than any of the Buddha’s other disciples, we are told, because in a past life he was a Māra, named Dūsī (MN I.332). Māra Dūsī, like the current Māra, pursued and attempted to frustrate that era’s Buddha (named Kakusandha). Similar to a Mārasaṃyutta instance we have already examined, Māra Dūsī exerts his influence over a group of Brahmin householders (brāhmaṇagahapati anvāvisati), who proceed to ridicule the bhikkhus as belonging to a lower vaṇṇa and mistaken in their practices (MN I.335). In terms of the first charge, the Brahmins supposedly call the Buddhists ‘bandhupādāpacca’, meaning, ‘offspring from our kinsman’s feet’, referencing the belief that Brahmā is the ancestor of all Brahmins and lower vaṇṇa individuals arose from the less pure parts of his body.3 This insult thus clearly references Brahmanical arguments reaching back to the Vedic myth of Puruṣa’s sacrifice to assert that Buddhists and other renunciants are inveterately of lower social standing than Brahmins. Here this Brahmanical discourse, including its portrayal of Brahmā, is linked to the machinations of Māra. Towards the end of the sutta there is a series of verses dedicated to upbraiding Māra for his audacity in persecuting one of the Buddha’s followers. In this part of the text Sakka (Indra) relates the following words of Brahmā: ‘I see the radiance operating outside the Brahmā world. Thus how could I think, “I am eternal [nicco], or I am permanent [sassato]”? ’ (MN I.338). While the Brahmin householders under Māra’s power draw on the figure of Brahmā in an attempt to put Buddhists in their place (lower than Brahmins, of course), the real Brahmā (according to Buddhists) speaks out at the end to dispute the Brahmanical notion of himself as a permanent, eternal creator, criticizing Māra and, by extension, the Brahmins he possessed. The point of intersection for both portrayals, and one of the vertices along which we can make the most fruitful contrast, is the figure of Māra. The bad behaviour and (according to Buddhists) fallacious arguments of the Brahmins are a symptom of Māra, while Brahmā’s words at the end are a rebuke to Māra, emphasizing the views Brahmins ought to possess. The Buddhist version of Brahmā models the correct, more obsequious behaviour Brahmins (whether householders or ascetics) should adopt towards the Buddha and his followers. Anything less constitutes delusion at the hands of Māra
In stark contrast to the Brahmā, allied and obedient to Buddhist principles, is a group of narratives in which the deva is portrayed quite negatively. A common thread to these stories is Brahmā’s claim to permanence, eternality and superiority to the Buddha. At play in these stories, as in the preceding section, are specific references to different Brahmin social groups, as well as the power of Māra. There are two categories of negative portrayals of Brahmā that we will look at in this section: first, those in which the deva voices arguments strikingly similar to those elsewhere attributed to Māra, and second, instances in which the Brahmanical god is shown actually to be under the power of the lord of death and desire. A typical example of the first category occurs in the Brahmasaṃyutta. One passage in that collection tells of a certain Brahmā (we are not giventhe name) who develops the view that he is permanent, everlasting, and his realm is impenetrable to ascetics. The Buddha and four of his closest disciples quickly puncture this misconception by appearing in the Brahmā’s realm: each of the disciples occupies a quarter of space while the Buddha, significantly, appears directly above the Brahmā, giving a spatial demonstration of his superiority in addition to the display of supernormal power. Having surrounded the Brahmā, Moggallāna asks if he has cause now to revisit his previously stated views. Given what has transpired, the Brahmā remarks, ‘I no longer hold that view which I previously held. I see the radiance operating outside the Brahmā world. Thus how could I think, “I am eternal [nicco], or I am permanent [sassato]”?’ (SN I.145–46). A few similarities to the Māratajjanīya Sutta are noteworthy. First, Brahmā’s language in the preceding passage is identical to what is found in the Māratajjanīya Sutta. However, rather than a freely-offered rebuke to Māra, the admission this time is elicited by a humbling exhibition of the Buddha’s superiority. Additionally, it is significant that Moggallāna, the one who pressed Māra on impermanence, is the cross-examiner in this case as well. When we compare Māra in the Māratajjanīya Sutta to the Brahmā in the Brahmasaṃyutta text, it becomes apparent that this representation of the deva parallels Māra. Two Dīgha Nikāya texts which cast Brahmā’s primacy as illusory—and even delusional—further demonstrate this subtle parallel structure in presentations of Brahmā and Māra and, in particular, help us locate the social context. In the Brahmajāla Sutta, for instance, the Buddha tells a story of the beginnings of a cosmic cycle. According to the Buddha, after some time the universe contracts and then expands again, and luminous beings are reborn in a Brahmā world. Eventually, one expires and is reborn in an empty Brahmā palace. Lonely and wishing for company, other beings are coincidentally reborn in the same palace. The first being believes he is responsible and declares, ‘I am Brahmā, the Great Brahmā, supreme lord, unsurpassed, lord of all, almighty maker, creator, assigner of stations, mother and father of all beings who are and will be. These beings were created by me [aham asmi brahmā mahābrahmā abhibhū anabhibhūto aññadatthudaso vasavattī issaro kattā nimmāttā settho sañjitā vasī pitā bhūtabhavyānaṃ. Mayā ime sattā nimmitā]’ (DN I.18). Noticing the selfproclaimed Brahmā was indeed in the palace first, the subsequent beings assent to his declaration, repeating the same list of epithets. Eventually one of the beings is reborn in the human world, taking up the path of an ascetic (itthattaṃ āgato samāno agārasmā anagāriyaṃ pabbajati) (DN I.18). Through his meditative effort and mental concentration (ceto samādhiṃ), he achieves awareness of his past life in the Brahmā palace and remembers the being who claimed to be the Great Brahmā. His practice is not attuned enough to remember beyond that point, however, and rather than putting the memory of the past life in the proper context, he instead draws the wrong conclusion: a Great Brahmā exists who is ‘permanent, fixed, eternal, and unchanging, and he remains that way forever’ (DN I.18).
Besides showing belief in a permanent creator god to be the result of a colossal misunderstanding, this story is also a polemic against ascetics who engage in practices that are Buddhist-like but not entirely under Buddhist rubric. This seems directed at the Brahmin ascetic who, we have noted, is like the Buddhist bhikkhu but maintains allegiance to Vedic tradition, causing friction on both counts. Here we see the outcome of near-Buddhist practice still rooted in the Vedas: he comes close to unmasking the true nature of Brahmā, but instead buys into the faux deva’s illusory claims and, what is even more egregious, begins to promulgate them. The thrust of the story is that in order to untangle all these wrong views one must forswear Brahmanical practices in favour of Buddhist. The Kevaddha Sutta makes a similar point about Brahmā while directing itself against Brahmins in the householding sphere. At the beginning of this sutta the gahapati Kevaddha comes to speak to the Buddha. For this audience, the Awakened One tells a story about a bhikkhu who, curious to know where ‘elements cease without remainder’, consults first the 33 gods, then the Yāma gods, before finally arriving at the realm of Brahmā (DN I.211–20). When the bhikkhu asks the Great Brahmā his question, the latter responds only with a recitation of his titles, identical to what we saw in the Brahmajāla Sutta: ‘Bhikkhu, I am Brahmā, the Great Brahmā, supreme lord, the unsurpassed lord of all, almighty maker and creator, assigner of stations, mother and father of all beings who are and will be’ (aham asmi bhikkhu brahmā mahābrahmā abhibhū anabhibhūto aññadatthudaso vasavattī issaro kattā nimmātā seṭṭho sañjitā vasī pitā bhūtabhavyānan ti) (DN I.221). Twice more the bhikkhu repeats his question only to receive the same non sequitur for an answer. Finally, the Brahmā takes the monk aside (ekamantaṃ apanetvā) in order to save his retinue, as well as himself undoubtedly, the experience of publicly admitting he does not know the answer. Although up to this point the text is a rather pointed condemnation of Brahmā for trying to mask his ignorance with, of all things, declarations of his supremacy, he next lauds the Buddha. The bhikkhu, he says in no uncertain terms, has acted badly (dukkatam), even offensively (aparaddham), by asking others for the answer to his question instead of going to the Buddha. He further tells the bhikkhu to find the Buddha without delay and that he should ‘accept the answer just as the Blessed One explains it’ (yathā ca te bhagavā vyākaroti tathā naṃ dhāreyāsīti) (DN I.221). Criticism is thus quickly reflected onto the bhikkhu: why would he expect an answer other than bluster from someone besides the Buddha? Keeping the frame of the story in mind, namely the Buddha’s instruction of a gahapati, it is apparent that the critique can be traced back a further step, as a kind of preemptive recrimination stating that Brahmin householders are as mistaken as the bhikkhu in the story if they seek answers to their questions from a deva with fancy names but no real knowledge. The real locus of authority, the sutta posits, is the Buddha or his followers. As a pair, the Brahmajāla and Kevaddha Suttas are instructive about the arguments Buddhist authors directed towards the different Brahmin social groups. Based on the evidence in the Brahmajāla Sutta, they targeted Brahmin ascetics for having practices that fell just short of Buddhist understanding, with enormous misperceptions of the actual state of reality to show for it. The Kevaddha Sutta, on the other hand, reveals a rhetoric of householder dependence on the saṅgha, apparently as an attempt to display the Brahmin as the source of all instruction, which in some ways parallels the material dependence of the saṅgha on this same social group. In both cases, the argument is made by revealing the baselessness of Brahmā’s claims to permanence and eternality. Crucial to the intricacy of this Buddhist discourse, however, is an understanding of how these claims of permanence and eternality are ultimately grounded in the figure of Māra. Attempts to cover up the reality of anicca are a calling card of Māra in the Nikāyas, as demonstrated by his response to the Buddha’s declaration that human life is short: ‘Human beings have long lives; a good person does not revile it. One should go on, content like a sleeping baby, for death has not arrived’ (SN I.108).4 Similarly, Māra contends later on that ‘the days and nights do not fly by, life does not stop, human lives roll on like a chariot hub’ (SN I.109). Interestingly, given the conception of saṃsāra as a wheel continually spinning on and on, taking beings with it through endless rebirths, the image of life as a chariot wheel is actually quite consonant with Buddhist teaching. Rather than point this out, though, in both cases the Buddha is content to state the opposite of what Māra has just asserted. Specifically, in the first case, he retorts, ‘the life of humans is short. A good person should revile it. One should go about with head on fire, for death has come’ (SN I.108). These dialogues between the Buddha and Māra firmly align the latter with pravṛtti concerns and ideologies. When placed alongside encounters between a deluded Brahmā and the Buddha, we begin to see that Māra and Brahmā share the same rhetoric and espouse the same ideologies. A prime example occurs when, according to the Brahmasaṃyutta, an ‘evil or pernicious theory’ (pāpakaṃ diṭṭigataṃ) develops in Brahmā Baka’s mind: ‘This is permanent, this is stable. This is eternal, this is self-sufficient, this has an unchanging nature. Here one does not age, one does not die, one does not move on, one does not arise again. There is no other escape better than this’ (SN I.142). Immediately we should notice that these are the same kind of views Māra was espousing: life is long, stable and happy, while death is remote and not a matter of concern. As in other stories when a Brahmā develops such views, the Buddha senses Brahmā Baka’s mindset and becomes disturbed. He appears in Brahmā’s realm and the corrective he offers to Brahmā Baka’s views is strikingly similar to his retorts to Māra: ‘Baka, though you think life is long, in fact life here is short, not long’ (SN I.143). The Buddha goes on to prove he knows the Brahmā’s past and the span of his life which, though quite long, will inevitably come to an end. Just as Moggallāna deflates Māra’s perception of eternality in the Māratajjanīya Sutta by revealing he is not the first and only Māra, the Buddha knocks Brahmā Baka from his pedestal by demonstrating the god’s contingent nature and inferior perception of reality. Both those narratives make clear that any bhikkhu outranks even the highest deva in term of viññā (discernment or understanding), whether it is Māra or Brahmā. Indeed, these narratives also imply that in many important ways, Māra and Brahmā are truly one and the same, making the same problematic arguments, necessitating the same kind of response. This brings us to the second category of negative portrayals of Brahmā, namely those in which the deva is shown to be under the power of Māra. The Majjhima Nikāya variant of the Baka Brahmā story, found in the Brahmanimantaṇika Sutta, makes explicit the connection between Māra’s deluding influence and Brahmā’s misperceptions and self-aggrandizing. In that text, Brahmā Baka espouses the same view about the permanence and eternality of existence in language that is identical to the Brahmasaṃyutta version (MN I.326).5 The Buddha is similarly distressed and transports to the Brahmā world to disabuse Baka, but in this version, Māra appears in the Brahmā world as well, exerting his power over a member of the Brahmā assembly. Under Māra’s control, the assembly member warns the Buddha, ‘Bhikkhu, do not insult him, for this is Brahmā, the Great Brahmā, the supreme lord, the unsurpassed lord of all, almighty maker and creator, assigner of stations, mother and father of all beings who are and will be’ (MN I.326–27). We should notice immediately that this is the same list of self-aggrandizing epithets and adjectives Brahmā uses to describe himself in the Brahmajāla and Kevaddha Suttas, yet here they are the speech of Māra. Bailey has argued that these epithets, particularly abhibhū (‘supreme lord’) and anabhibhūto (‘unsurpassed lord’) might suggest that Buddhists considered Brahmā to have overcome Māra (1983: 14). The fact that in the Brahmanimantaṇika Sutta it is Māra himself who utters these words suggests another possible interpretation, specifically that such language was meant to parody Brahmanical descriptions of Brahmā, undercutting the concept and legitimacy of that creator god. For instance, the Pali Canon’s repeated epithets of Brahmā in the suttas we have discussed closely match Brahmanical descriptions and exaltations of Brahmā in the Mahābhārata. There we read, for example, that Brahmā is ‘the great lord over all the three worlds’ (bhagavaṃs tvaṃ prabhur bhūmeḥ sarvasya tridivasya) and ‘lord of all that moves and is still’ (sarvasya jagataḥ sthāvarasya carasya) (MBh 13.65.18–19). It seems more likely, therefore, that the terminology represents a Buddhist manouevre to appropriate Brahmanical language and place it in a context, namely the speech of Māra, which completely voids its authority. The creator god and his supposed supremacy, the authors tell us, is actually a work of Māra.
After Māra influences the assembly member to list these attributes of Brahmā, along with a list of devas and ascetics who have preceded the Buddha throughout time, an unbowed Awakened One merely responds, ‘I know you, evil one. Do not think, “he does not know me,” for you are evil Māra’ (MN I.327). It is important to note that the Buddha’s words are directed as much at Brahmā as Māra, for by immediately recognizing the machinations of Māra and labelling them as such, he has performed a feat beyond Brahmā Baka’s comprehension. Namely, the Buddha demonstrates the necessary understanding to see through appearances and deceptive phenomena. Meanwhile, the Buddha’s recognition causes Māra to retreat temporarily and the conversation moves to a dialogue between Brahmā Baka and his visitor. The deva repeats his assertions of permanence and eternality, adding a threat that there is no escape beyond and the Buddha will only become exhausted and remain in Brahmā’s dominion for him to destroy (MN I.328). Here again we see an intersection between the arguments Buddhist authors attribute to Māra and Brahmā, for other Buddhist texts have Māra speaking in just these terms, naming the seemingly expansive borders of his control, and warning the Buddha not to test them. For example, Māra boasts in the Mārasaṃyutta that, ‘the eye is mine…the ear is mine…the nose is mine…the tongue is mine… the body is mine…the mind is mine…where can you go to escape from me?’ (SN I.115). In these encounters with Māra, the Buddha cedes control of the realm named by his antagonist, but posits a further area over which Māra cannot exert control that is the habitation of the Buddha and his arahants. As we would expect at this point, the Buddha replies to Brahmā Baka in the Brahmanimantaṇika Sutta just as he counters Māra elsewhere. He acknowledges the extent of the deva’s control, his tremendous power (mahiddiko), high station (mahānubhāvo), and great authority (mahesakkho) (MN I.328–29). However, the Buddha counters, there are realms which the Brahmā neither knows nor sees and aspects of existences that the god cannot comprehend due to his imperfect knowledge and understanding. The Buddha knows all these things, can perceive devas as the impermanent and fluctuating beings they actually are, and thus surpasses Brahmā Baka in discernment (MN I.329). To demonstrate that his realm exceeds Brahmā’s, the Buddha disappears from Baka’s sight, while the Brahmā cannot do so. At that, Baka Brahmā and his assembly assent to the Buddha’s superiority (MN I.330). While the Buddha’s speech in this narrative seems directed at a deva, in line with the other narratives we have analysed there is also a more earthly object for his discourse, namely Brahmā’s namesakes, the Brahmins. Indeed, as it consists of a challenge, a refutation, and an admission of defeat on the part of the Buddha’s opponent, the story’s structure is similar to what Manné outlined as the features of a debate sutta (Manné 1990: 45). In this way, the Buddha’s contest with Baka seems clearly parallel to, and even stands in for, his engagements with human Brahmins. Following this parallel, Brahmins who resist the teachings of the Buddha—maintaining instead that an eternal,permanent creator god exists and outranks the Buddha—are in thrall to Māra. This portrayal provides a ready means for Buddhists both to assail the concept of a permanent creator deity as well as categorize recalcitrant Brahmins they cannot win over.
In the preceding I have argued that the Māra/Brahmā tandem represents a narrative method by which Buddhists prescribed social roles for Brahmin groups even as they criticized aspects of Brahmanical practices. Portrayals of Brahmā as subservient to the Buddha and espousing Buddhist views served as role models for human Brahmins to follow, while the negative portrayals, in which Brahmā is aligned with Māra, showed the delusion of Brahmins who resist. By linking these portrayals of Brahmā to the figure of Māra, I have drawn observations about the social dimensions of the disparate treatments of Brahmā in the Pali Canon. Along the way I have made two further points of interest to the field as a whole. First, this article exhibits the potential of a literary approach to Buddhist texts that reads narrative figures not only as examples of doctrinal and philosophical tenets, but also as models for how Buddhist communities perceived and interacted with contemporaries and rivals. Second, the foregoing also provides support for the scholarly model of close interaction between Buddhist and Brahmanical authors and communities. Indeed, I have argued that investigating narratives of Buddhist encounters with mythic beings shows similar evidence for dialogic interaction with Brahmanism as the brahmodya and debate narratives. In this diverse and contested social atmosphere, these stories of Māra and Brahmā, two faces of deva, speak volumes about the perceptions and roles Buddhists attempted to project onto their Brahmin competitors.
Before directly engaging the Brahmā/Māra narratives, it is first helpful to outline some of the social context and terminology of Buddhist–Brahmanical interactions in the relevant texts. Besides religious officiant, Brahmins at the time of the Buddha held multiple identities, often blending the religious, social and economic spheres. Buddhist texts themselves recognize this plurality, frequently qualifying ‘Brahmin’ with identifying terms such as gahapati, mahāsāla, bhikkako and jaṭila. The first two, respectively meaning ‘lord of the house’ and ‘one of great halls’, refer to the householding, economic sphere of society. Of the two, gahapati is somewhat more abundant in the Pali texts. Some debate has occurred over the degree to which the name gahapati could also refer to vaiśyas, particularly given the occasional social division of khattiya, brāhmaṇa, gahapati and samaṇa found in Buddhist texts (MN II.199; SN II.246; AN I.33–35). In that revision of the vaṇṇa system, gahapati seems clearly to take the place of the vaiśya class and refer simply to wealthy landowning groups. On other occasions, however, when referring to individuals, the term gahapati is only ever suffixed to brāhmaṇa, most likely describing a subclass of extremely wealthy Brahmins (Wagle 1996: 152). This leads Chakravarti to argue that the mere translation ‘householder’ or ‘merchant’ is insufficient (1987: 65–66). On the whole, then, the term seems to apply to extremely wealthy Brahmins more than vaiśyas. This is also the interpretation Tsuchida Ryūtāro gives in ‘Two Categories of Brahmins in the Early Buddhist Period’ (1991: 58), and it is the one that I follow in this article. The second pair of terms, bhikkako and jaṭila (respectively meaning ‘mendicant’ and ‘one with matted or braided hair’), can be understood as ascetics, though in context they are often applied specifically to Brahmin ascetics. These two groups, though they represented two different spheres of life, still operated along the axis of Vedic and pravṛtti ideologies, giving Buddhist communities ample reason to regard them with ambivalence. When we look at Buddhist texts to determine their perspective on the gahapati/mahāsāla, for example (hereafter referred to as ‘householding Brahmins’), we find a mixed picture. On the one hand, these householders sometimes received special privileges from the saṅgha, such as personal visits from the Buddha or his closest disciples when the lords of these households were ill (AN III.19; SN 152–53, . As wealthy householders served to support the sangha with alms and donations, these special favours and attentions are hardly surprising. Yet, as Bailey and Mabbett note, this put the saṅgha in something of a bind, for as an acquirer of materials and advocate of a worldly existence, the householding Brahmin stands for values completely opposed to the wandering, homeless bhikkhu (Bailey and Mabbett 2003: 50). Indeed, even as such householders receive special favours, their supposedly avaricious and acquisitive nature is roundly condemned and criticized at other times (MN III.167; DN II.245; Bailey and Mabbett 2003: 110–15). Two stories in the Saṃyutta Nikāya help to illustrate the complicated relationship the saṅgha forged with the gahapatis and mahāsālas. First, in the Brāhmaṇasaṃyutta we are told that a certain ‘very wealthy Brahmin’ (brāhmaṇamahāsālo) fallen on hard times, as evidenced by his shoddy clothes, encounters the Buddha and tells the sad story of being evicted by his sons and their wives. The Buddha teaches the Brahmin some verses repudiating his sons, which when he recites upon returning home result in a warmer reception. The mahāsāla then provides a ‘teacher’s fee’ (ācārya-dhanam) to the Buddha and, in keeping with the usual result of such encounters, becomes a lay follower (SN I.175–77). Here we see the potential benefits for both householders and the saṅgha of symbiosis in which teachings are exchanged for material support. A second passage from the Mārasaṃyutta is more doubtful that this relationship can be maintained. Here the Buddha enters a Brahmin village for alms, but the Brahmin householders (here called brāhmaṇa-gahapatikā), under the control of Māra, refuse to bestow any gifts. Māra then mockingly offers to reverse his influence and allow the Buddha to gain alms, if only he will make a second round. After rebuking Māra for this act, the Buddha responds as follows: ‘We who have nothing live happily, indeed. We will be just like the radiant gods, who were eaters of joy’ (SN I.114). Here the refusal to give alms, which disrupts the symbiotic relationship noted in the first story, is linked to the power most subversive of the Buddha’s teaching. Therefore, we get the impression that whenever Brahmins act outside the bounds prescribed by the Buddhist vision for how the social groups should cooperate, it is an act potentially attributable to Māra himself. We can observe the same kind of complicated relationship between the Buddhist community and the other broad category of Brahmins, the jaṭila/ bhikkako (hereafter referred to generally as ‘ascetic Brahmins’). At first glance, Buddhist communities would seemingly have more in common with such a group than householders due to a shared ascetic ethic. That being the case, there were still good reasons for Buddhists to regard the ascetic Brahmin with suspicion. Despite the fact that, as Olivelle points out, the jaṭila/bhikkako were preeminent in attempts to push against the boundaries of Brahmanism from the inside, partly by eschewing the householder life, they were still not beggars like the bhikkhus (Olivelle 1992: 36). Rather,ascetic Brahmins occupied fixed hermitages, went through the stages of life according to varṇāśramadharma, and participated in the śrauta sacrifices, dressing in animal skins and using implements such as the udumbara staff (Tsuchida 1991: 83). Though the ascetic Brahmin occupies a different station than the older Vedic priests, he draws upon and identifies with that lineage. This alone would predispose such a class to conflict with Buddhist traditions. Tsuchida, however, has argued that on the whole ascetic Brahmins receive less criticism in Buddhist texts than householding Brahmins (Tsuchida 1991: 86–91). While this may be true, the texts still display the same kind of complicated ambivalence toward jaṭila/bhikkako Brahmins that we have just observed for Brahmin householders. Elsewhere in the Brāhmaṇasaṃyutta, a ‘mendicant Brahmin’ (bhikkako brāhmaṇo) approaches the Buddha and asks, ‘Honourable Gotama, I am a mendicant, and you, sir, are also a mendicant. How then are we not of the same condition?’ (SN I.182). Immediately this passage points to a conflict between Buddhists and Brahmin ascetics: the two groups are potentially too similar. The Brahmin is pushing on the lines dividing the two interpretations of asceticism, attempting to blur the distinction and perhaps subsume Buddhist ideas under the Brahmanical umbrella. To preserve the distinction, the text shows the Buddha immediately push back, redrawing the line in interesting ways. He says, ‘just because one begs [bhikkavo] to another, through this one is not a beggar [bhikkako]. Having taken up domestic practice, one is not a beggar [bhikkhu]’ (SN I.182). Thus one does not become a beggar or mendicant simply by begging, but also by renouncing all domestic practice, including the śrauta sacrifice. Hearing this, the Brahmin ascetic is impressed enough to become a lay follower. From the Buddhist perspective this can be seen as the ideal interaction between Buddhists and Brahmin ascetics: the Brahmin posed his question, the Buddha answered, and the Brahmin gave in to superior reasoning. In other instances, the outcome is not so favourable, as when a group of bhikkhus are approached by a Brahmin ascetic in the Mārasaṃyutta. His Vedic lineage is made explicit: he wears an antelope hide and carries a staff of udumbara wood (SN I.117). Getting the bhikkhus’ attention, he questions why such young men would have left home, for now is the time to enjoy the pleasures due to that age. The bhikkhus relate the superiority of their path, and unlike the ascetic in the prior story, this Brahmin does not assent to the superior knowledge of the Buddhists, but instead shakes his head in disgust. Later, the Buddha reveals that the disparaging questioner was actually Māra. As with the earlier pair of stories, the symbol of Māra here is part of a strategy of prescribing social roles for Brahmins by which Buddhists can make sense of their ambivalent relations with those groups. Those householding and ascetic Brahmins who play their proper roles will subordinate themselves to the Buddha, and either offer alms or acknowledge that the dhamma is the true culmination of Brahmanism. Though the Buddhist texts recognize the diversity of Brahmins and prescribe slightly different ideal social roles to them, should these respective groups fail to fall in line with those prescriptions the judgment is the same: they are either under the influence of Māra, or representatives of that deva. As we will see in the following sections, characterizations of Brahmādeva fall into the same dichotomy as characterizations of Brahmins: those subordinate to the Buddha are laudable, whereas those who challenge the Buddha are conflated with Māra.
Given this social context and the preceding discussion of the different social roles Buddhist texts create for Brahmins, we can turn to portrayals of Brahmā in the Pali Canon, starting with some of the most positive. Of these representations, I will highlight three categories: (1) Brahmā aids in casting Buddhist practice as superior to Brahmanical, (2) Brahmā admits dependence on the Buddha’s teaching, and (3) Brahmā criticizes Māra. Beginning with the first category, a story in the Brahmasaṃyutta tells of a former Brahmin, now an arahant and appropriately named Brahmadeva, who is about to seek alms from his mother. We are told she has been making constant oblations and offerings to Brahmā (brahmuno āhutiṃ niccaṃ paggaṇhāsi) (SN I.141). Before Brahmadeva arrives, Brahmā Sahampati visits the arahant’s mother and criticizes her ritual practice. ‘Lady Brahmin’, he chides, ‘This is not the food of Brahmā [brahmabhakko]. So why recite mantras not knowing the path to Brahmā?’ (SN I.141). The verb jappasi, which I have translated here as ‘recite mantras’ can also mean ‘mumble or mutter’, rendering viable the interpretation, ‘why mumble not knowing the path to Brahmā?’ The ambiguity is significant, for it equates mantras to mumblings or verbal gropings in the dark, in search of an absent deva. Brahmā Sahampati then goes on to tell the mother that her son, Brahmadeva, has ‘surpassed the devas’ (atidevapatto), ‘deserves offerings from humans and devas’ (narāṇaṃ devānaṃ ca dakkhiṇeyyo), and therefore she must ‘let him eat the most excellent alms that are the offering’ (so tyāhutiṃ bhuñjatu aggapiṇḍaṃ) (SN I.141). In line with the corrective that chanting of mantras is akin to mumbling, these remarks position alms-giving as the true sacrifice, suggesting that giving the offering to a bhikkhu rather than a deva is in fact the proper way to perform the ritual. The name of the bhikkhu, Brahmadeva, is obviously not accidental in this regard: he is the real Brahma god, whereas Brahmā Sahampati himself acknowledges that he has been surpassed. In a second category of positive appearances, Brahmā recognizes his dependence on the Buddha’s knowledge. A key part of this portrayal is the role the Nikāyas give to Brahmā in the Buddha’s initial decision to teach. In the Saṃyutta Nikāya, for example, the Buddha briefly experiences doubts about continuing to profess the dhamma, due to the widespread delusion of beings (SN I.136).2 This wavering in resolve is enough to cause Brahmā Sahampati to cry out, ‘Oh! The world will be destroyed, the world will perish completely!’ (SN I.137). Immediately he goes to see the Buddha and is successful in beseeching the Awakened One to continue professing the dhamma. The Mahāpadāna Sutta of the Dīgha Nikāya puts such exhortations on the part of Brahmās in a longer temporal perspective, telling of the past Buddha Vipassī’s decision to teach at the urging of a Brahmā again because, otherwise, the world would perish and perish utterly (DN II.37–40). To a degree, this suggests that without Brahmā’s intervention, there would be no teaching at all. While this may in part reflect the convention that one does not teach until invited, if we take Brahmā as a model for Brahmins, does it in some sense suggest that the Buddha depended on Brahmanical authorization to teach? One point can be brought up to qualify that proposition. The motif of Brahmā pleading for the presence of the dhamma in the world shows the supposed creator’s actual helplessness, compared to the Buddha, in being able to better the lives of beings or sustain existence. At the same time, it shows that the deva does have a place in the scheme of things, being instrumental to the Buddha’s decision to teach, making room within the Buddhist pantheon for a popular deity and, symbolically, Brahmins as well. These narratives point out, however, that the deva’s station is unambiguously below the Buddha, suggesting the same position for Brahmins. Indeed, in stories of category one, Brahmā advances almsgiving as the ritual par excellence (Brahmasaṃyutta) and in category two, by inviting the Buddha to teach, the deva recognizes the Awakened One’s superior knowledge (Mahāpadāna Sutta). In other words, he epitomizes the social roles Nikāya texts set out for householding and ascetic Brahmins, respectively. As we also saw, those narratives are shadowed by instances in which Brahmins do not follow through on those ideals, their failure often being attributed to Māra. This would result in a natural clash between the positive portrayal of Brahmā and Māra, which is the third category of positive portrayals of Brahmā. One of the clearest examples comes in the Māratajjanīya Sutta of the Majjhima Nikāya. In this sutta Māra assails one of the Buddha’s most prominent disciples, Moggallāna, by entering into his gut, giving him a stomach-ache. Moggallāna recognizes Māra’s presence immediately, much faster than any of the Buddha’s other disciples, we are told, because in a past life he was a Māra, named Dūsī (MN I.332). Māra Dūsī, like the current Māra, pursued and attempted to frustrate that era’s Buddha (named Kakusandha). Similar to a Mārasaṃyutta instance we have already examined, Māra Dūsī exerts his influence over a group of Brahmin householders (brāhmaṇagahapati anvāvisati), who proceed to ridicule the bhikkhus as belonging to a lower vaṇṇa and mistaken in their practices (MN I.335). In terms of the first charge, the Brahmins supposedly call the Buddhists ‘bandhupādāpacca’, meaning, ‘offspring from our kinsman’s feet’, referencing the belief that Brahmā is the ancestor of all Brahmins and lower vaṇṇa individuals arose from the less pure parts of his body.3 This insult thus clearly references Brahmanical arguments reaching back to the Vedic myth of Puruṣa’s sacrifice to assert that Buddhists and other renunciants are inveterately of lower social standing than Brahmins. Here this Brahmanical discourse, including its portrayal of Brahmā, is linked to the machinations of Māra. Towards the end of the sutta there is a series of verses dedicated to upbraiding Māra for his audacity in persecuting one of the Buddha’s followers. In this part of the text Sakka (Indra) relates the following words of Brahmā: ‘I see the radiance operating outside the Brahmā world. Thus how could I think, “I am eternal [nicco], or I am permanent [sassato]”? ’ (MN I.338). While the Brahmin householders under Māra’s power draw on the figure of Brahmā in an attempt to put Buddhists in their place (lower than Brahmins, of course), the real Brahmā (according to Buddhists) speaks out at the end to dispute the Brahmanical notion of himself as a permanent, eternal creator, criticizing Māra and, by extension, the Brahmins he possessed. The point of intersection for both portrayals, and one of the vertices along which we can make the most fruitful contrast, is the figure of Māra. The bad behaviour and (according to Buddhists) fallacious arguments of the Brahmins are a symptom of Māra, while Brahmā’s words at the end are a rebuke to Māra, emphasizing the views Brahmins ought to possess. The Buddhist version of Brahmā models the correct, more obsequious behaviour Brahmins (whether householders or ascetics) should adopt towards the Buddha and his followers. Anything less constitutes delusion at the hands of Māra
In stark contrast to the Brahmā, allied and obedient to Buddhist principles, is a group of narratives in which the deva is portrayed quite negatively. A common thread to these stories is Brahmā’s claim to permanence, eternality and superiority to the Buddha. At play in these stories, as in the preceding section, are specific references to different Brahmin social groups, as well as the power of Māra. There are two categories of negative portrayals of Brahmā that we will look at in this section: first, those in which the deva voices arguments strikingly similar to those elsewhere attributed to Māra, and second, instances in which the Brahmanical god is shown actually to be under the power of the lord of death and desire. A typical example of the first category occurs in the Brahmasaṃyutta. One passage in that collection tells of a certain Brahmā (we are not giventhe name) who develops the view that he is permanent, everlasting, and his realm is impenetrable to ascetics. The Buddha and four of his closest disciples quickly puncture this misconception by appearing in the Brahmā’s realm: each of the disciples occupies a quarter of space while the Buddha, significantly, appears directly above the Brahmā, giving a spatial demonstration of his superiority in addition to the display of supernormal power. Having surrounded the Brahmā, Moggallāna asks if he has cause now to revisit his previously stated views. Given what has transpired, the Brahmā remarks, ‘I no longer hold that view which I previously held. I see the radiance operating outside the Brahmā world. Thus how could I think, “I am eternal [nicco], or I am permanent [sassato]”?’ (SN I.145–46). A few similarities to the Māratajjanīya Sutta are noteworthy. First, Brahmā’s language in the preceding passage is identical to what is found in the Māratajjanīya Sutta. However, rather than a freely-offered rebuke to Māra, the admission this time is elicited by a humbling exhibition of the Buddha’s superiority. Additionally, it is significant that Moggallāna, the one who pressed Māra on impermanence, is the cross-examiner in this case as well. When we compare Māra in the Māratajjanīya Sutta to the Brahmā in the Brahmasaṃyutta text, it becomes apparent that this representation of the deva parallels Māra. Two Dīgha Nikāya texts which cast Brahmā’s primacy as illusory—and even delusional—further demonstrate this subtle parallel structure in presentations of Brahmā and Māra and, in particular, help us locate the social context. In the Brahmajāla Sutta, for instance, the Buddha tells a story of the beginnings of a cosmic cycle. According to the Buddha, after some time the universe contracts and then expands again, and luminous beings are reborn in a Brahmā world. Eventually, one expires and is reborn in an empty Brahmā palace. Lonely and wishing for company, other beings are coincidentally reborn in the same palace. The first being believes he is responsible and declares, ‘I am Brahmā, the Great Brahmā, supreme lord, unsurpassed, lord of all, almighty maker, creator, assigner of stations, mother and father of all beings who are and will be. These beings were created by me [aham asmi brahmā mahābrahmā abhibhū anabhibhūto aññadatthudaso vasavattī issaro kattā nimmāttā settho sañjitā vasī pitā bhūtabhavyānaṃ. Mayā ime sattā nimmitā]’ (DN I.18). Noticing the selfproclaimed Brahmā was indeed in the palace first, the subsequent beings assent to his declaration, repeating the same list of epithets. Eventually one of the beings is reborn in the human world, taking up the path of an ascetic (itthattaṃ āgato samāno agārasmā anagāriyaṃ pabbajati) (DN I.18). Through his meditative effort and mental concentration (ceto samādhiṃ), he achieves awareness of his past life in the Brahmā palace and remembers the being who claimed to be the Great Brahmā. His practice is not attuned enough to remember beyond that point, however, and rather than putting the memory of the past life in the proper context, he instead draws the wrong conclusion: a Great Brahmā exists who is ‘permanent, fixed, eternal, and unchanging, and he remains that way forever’ (DN I.18).
Besides showing belief in a permanent creator god to be the result of a colossal misunderstanding, this story is also a polemic against ascetics who engage in practices that are Buddhist-like but not entirely under Buddhist rubric. This seems directed at the Brahmin ascetic who, we have noted, is like the Buddhist bhikkhu but maintains allegiance to Vedic tradition, causing friction on both counts. Here we see the outcome of near-Buddhist practice still rooted in the Vedas: he comes close to unmasking the true nature of Brahmā, but instead buys into the faux deva’s illusory claims and, what is even more egregious, begins to promulgate them. The thrust of the story is that in order to untangle all these wrong views one must forswear Brahmanical practices in favour of Buddhist. The Kevaddha Sutta makes a similar point about Brahmā while directing itself against Brahmins in the householding sphere. At the beginning of this sutta the gahapati Kevaddha comes to speak to the Buddha. For this audience, the Awakened One tells a story about a bhikkhu who, curious to know where ‘elements cease without remainder’, consults first the 33 gods, then the Yāma gods, before finally arriving at the realm of Brahmā (DN I.211–20). When the bhikkhu asks the Great Brahmā his question, the latter responds only with a recitation of his titles, identical to what we saw in the Brahmajāla Sutta: ‘Bhikkhu, I am Brahmā, the Great Brahmā, supreme lord, the unsurpassed lord of all, almighty maker and creator, assigner of stations, mother and father of all beings who are and will be’ (aham asmi bhikkhu brahmā mahābrahmā abhibhū anabhibhūto aññadatthudaso vasavattī issaro kattā nimmātā seṭṭho sañjitā vasī pitā bhūtabhavyānan ti) (DN I.221). Twice more the bhikkhu repeats his question only to receive the same non sequitur for an answer. Finally, the Brahmā takes the monk aside (ekamantaṃ apanetvā) in order to save his retinue, as well as himself undoubtedly, the experience of publicly admitting he does not know the answer. Although up to this point the text is a rather pointed condemnation of Brahmā for trying to mask his ignorance with, of all things, declarations of his supremacy, he next lauds the Buddha. The bhikkhu, he says in no uncertain terms, has acted badly (dukkatam), even offensively (aparaddham), by asking others for the answer to his question instead of going to the Buddha. He further tells the bhikkhu to find the Buddha without delay and that he should ‘accept the answer just as the Blessed One explains it’ (yathā ca te bhagavā vyākaroti tathā naṃ dhāreyāsīti) (DN I.221). Criticism is thus quickly reflected onto the bhikkhu: why would he expect an answer other than bluster from someone besides the Buddha? Keeping the frame of the story in mind, namely the Buddha’s instruction of a gahapati, it is apparent that the critique can be traced back a further step, as a kind of preemptive recrimination stating that Brahmin householders are as mistaken as the bhikkhu in the story if they seek answers to their questions from a deva with fancy names but no real knowledge. The real locus of authority, the sutta posits, is the Buddha or his followers. As a pair, the Brahmajāla and Kevaddha Suttas are instructive about the arguments Buddhist authors directed towards the different Brahmin social groups. Based on the evidence in the Brahmajāla Sutta, they targeted Brahmin ascetics for having practices that fell just short of Buddhist understanding, with enormous misperceptions of the actual state of reality to show for it. The Kevaddha Sutta, on the other hand, reveals a rhetoric of householder dependence on the saṅgha, apparently as an attempt to display the Brahmin as the source of all instruction, which in some ways parallels the material dependence of the saṅgha on this same social group. In both cases, the argument is made by revealing the baselessness of Brahmā’s claims to permanence and eternality. Crucial to the intricacy of this Buddhist discourse, however, is an understanding of how these claims of permanence and eternality are ultimately grounded in the figure of Māra. Attempts to cover up the reality of anicca are a calling card of Māra in the Nikāyas, as demonstrated by his response to the Buddha’s declaration that human life is short: ‘Human beings have long lives; a good person does not revile it. One should go on, content like a sleeping baby, for death has not arrived’ (SN I.108).4 Similarly, Māra contends later on that ‘the days and nights do not fly by, life does not stop, human lives roll on like a chariot hub’ (SN I.109). Interestingly, given the conception of saṃsāra as a wheel continually spinning on and on, taking beings with it through endless rebirths, the image of life as a chariot wheel is actually quite consonant with Buddhist teaching. Rather than point this out, though, in both cases the Buddha is content to state the opposite of what Māra has just asserted. Specifically, in the first case, he retorts, ‘the life of humans is short. A good person should revile it. One should go about with head on fire, for death has come’ (SN I.108). These dialogues between the Buddha and Māra firmly align the latter with pravṛtti concerns and ideologies. When placed alongside encounters between a deluded Brahmā and the Buddha, we begin to see that Māra and Brahmā share the same rhetoric and espouse the same ideologies. A prime example occurs when, according to the Brahmasaṃyutta, an ‘evil or pernicious theory’ (pāpakaṃ diṭṭigataṃ) develops in Brahmā Baka’s mind: ‘This is permanent, this is stable. This is eternal, this is self-sufficient, this has an unchanging nature. Here one does not age, one does not die, one does not move on, one does not arise again. There is no other escape better than this’ (SN I.142). Immediately we should notice that these are the same kind of views Māra was espousing: life is long, stable and happy, while death is remote and not a matter of concern. As in other stories when a Brahmā develops such views, the Buddha senses Brahmā Baka’s mindset and becomes disturbed. He appears in Brahmā’s realm and the corrective he offers to Brahmā Baka’s views is strikingly similar to his retorts to Māra: ‘Baka, though you think life is long, in fact life here is short, not long’ (SN I.143). The Buddha goes on to prove he knows the Brahmā’s past and the span of his life which, though quite long, will inevitably come to an end. Just as Moggallāna deflates Māra’s perception of eternality in the Māratajjanīya Sutta by revealing he is not the first and only Māra, the Buddha knocks Brahmā Baka from his pedestal by demonstrating the god’s contingent nature and inferior perception of reality. Both those narratives make clear that any bhikkhu outranks even the highest deva in term of viññā (discernment or understanding), whether it is Māra or Brahmā. Indeed, these narratives also imply that in many important ways, Māra and Brahmā are truly one and the same, making the same problematic arguments, necessitating the same kind of response. This brings us to the second category of negative portrayals of Brahmā, namely those in which the deva is shown to be under the power of Māra. The Majjhima Nikāya variant of the Baka Brahmā story, found in the Brahmanimantaṇika Sutta, makes explicit the connection between Māra’s deluding influence and Brahmā’s misperceptions and self-aggrandizing. In that text, Brahmā Baka espouses the same view about the permanence and eternality of existence in language that is identical to the Brahmasaṃyutta version (MN I.326).5 The Buddha is similarly distressed and transports to the Brahmā world to disabuse Baka, but in this version, Māra appears in the Brahmā world as well, exerting his power over a member of the Brahmā assembly. Under Māra’s control, the assembly member warns the Buddha, ‘Bhikkhu, do not insult him, for this is Brahmā, the Great Brahmā, the supreme lord, the unsurpassed lord of all, almighty maker and creator, assigner of stations, mother and father of all beings who are and will be’ (MN I.326–27). We should notice immediately that this is the same list of self-aggrandizing epithets and adjectives Brahmā uses to describe himself in the Brahmajāla and Kevaddha Suttas, yet here they are the speech of Māra. Bailey has argued that these epithets, particularly abhibhū (‘supreme lord’) and anabhibhūto (‘unsurpassed lord’) might suggest that Buddhists considered Brahmā to have overcome Māra (1983: 14). The fact that in the Brahmanimantaṇika Sutta it is Māra himself who utters these words suggests another possible interpretation, specifically that such language was meant to parody Brahmanical descriptions of Brahmā, undercutting the concept and legitimacy of that creator god. For instance, the Pali Canon’s repeated epithets of Brahmā in the suttas we have discussed closely match Brahmanical descriptions and exaltations of Brahmā in the Mahābhārata. There we read, for example, that Brahmā is ‘the great lord over all the three worlds’ (bhagavaṃs tvaṃ prabhur bhūmeḥ sarvasya tridivasya) and ‘lord of all that moves and is still’ (sarvasya jagataḥ sthāvarasya carasya) (MBh 13.65.18–19). It seems more likely, therefore, that the terminology represents a Buddhist manouevre to appropriate Brahmanical language and place it in a context, namely the speech of Māra, which completely voids its authority. The creator god and his supposed supremacy, the authors tell us, is actually a work of Māra.
After Māra influences the assembly member to list these attributes of Brahmā, along with a list of devas and ascetics who have preceded the Buddha throughout time, an unbowed Awakened One merely responds, ‘I know you, evil one. Do not think, “he does not know me,” for you are evil Māra’ (MN I.327). It is important to note that the Buddha’s words are directed as much at Brahmā as Māra, for by immediately recognizing the machinations of Māra and labelling them as such, he has performed a feat beyond Brahmā Baka’s comprehension. Namely, the Buddha demonstrates the necessary understanding to see through appearances and deceptive phenomena. Meanwhile, the Buddha’s recognition causes Māra to retreat temporarily and the conversation moves to a dialogue between Brahmā Baka and his visitor. The deva repeats his assertions of permanence and eternality, adding a threat that there is no escape beyond and the Buddha will only become exhausted and remain in Brahmā’s dominion for him to destroy (MN I.328). Here again we see an intersection between the arguments Buddhist authors attribute to Māra and Brahmā, for other Buddhist texts have Māra speaking in just these terms, naming the seemingly expansive borders of his control, and warning the Buddha not to test them. For example, Māra boasts in the Mārasaṃyutta that, ‘the eye is mine…the ear is mine…the nose is mine…the tongue is mine… the body is mine…the mind is mine…where can you go to escape from me?’ (SN I.115). In these encounters with Māra, the Buddha cedes control of the realm named by his antagonist, but posits a further area over which Māra cannot exert control that is the habitation of the Buddha and his arahants. As we would expect at this point, the Buddha replies to Brahmā Baka in the Brahmanimantaṇika Sutta just as he counters Māra elsewhere. He acknowledges the extent of the deva’s control, his tremendous power (mahiddiko), high station (mahānubhāvo), and great authority (mahesakkho) (MN I.328–29). However, the Buddha counters, there are realms which the Brahmā neither knows nor sees and aspects of existences that the god cannot comprehend due to his imperfect knowledge and understanding. The Buddha knows all these things, can perceive devas as the impermanent and fluctuating beings they actually are, and thus surpasses Brahmā Baka in discernment (MN I.329). To demonstrate that his realm exceeds Brahmā’s, the Buddha disappears from Baka’s sight, while the Brahmā cannot do so. At that, Baka Brahmā and his assembly assent to the Buddha’s superiority (MN I.330). While the Buddha’s speech in this narrative seems directed at a deva, in line with the other narratives we have analysed there is also a more earthly object for his discourse, namely Brahmā’s namesakes, the Brahmins. Indeed, as it consists of a challenge, a refutation, and an admission of defeat on the part of the Buddha’s opponent, the story’s structure is similar to what Manné outlined as the features of a debate sutta (Manné 1990: 45). In this way, the Buddha’s contest with Baka seems clearly parallel to, and even stands in for, his engagements with human Brahmins. Following this parallel, Brahmins who resist the teachings of the Buddha—maintaining instead that an eternal,permanent creator god exists and outranks the Buddha—are in thrall to Māra. This portrayal provides a ready means for Buddhists both to assail the concept of a permanent creator deity as well as categorize recalcitrant Brahmins they cannot win over.
In the preceding I have argued that the Māra/Brahmā tandem represents a narrative method by which Buddhists prescribed social roles for Brahmin groups even as they criticized aspects of Brahmanical practices. Portrayals of Brahmā as subservient to the Buddha and espousing Buddhist views served as role models for human Brahmins to follow, while the negative portrayals, in which Brahmā is aligned with Māra, showed the delusion of Brahmins who resist. By linking these portrayals of Brahmā to the figure of Māra, I have drawn observations about the social dimensions of the disparate treatments of Brahmā in the Pali Canon. Along the way I have made two further points of interest to the field as a whole. First, this article exhibits the potential of a literary approach to Buddhist texts that reads narrative figures not only as examples of doctrinal and philosophical tenets, but also as models for how Buddhist communities perceived and interacted with contemporaries and rivals. Second, the foregoing also provides support for the scholarly model of close interaction between Buddhist and Brahmanical authors and communities. Indeed, I have argued that investigating narratives of Buddhist encounters with mythic beings shows similar evidence for dialogic interaction with Brahmanism as the brahmodya and debate narratives. In this diverse and contested social atmosphere, these stories of Māra and Brahmā, two faces of deva, speak volumes about the perceptions and roles Buddhists attempted to project onto their Brahmin competitors.
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