A History of China (27 page)

Despite such accommodations, Buddhism would probably not have been transmitted so readily without additional adjustments in doctrine and practice. The original form of the religion, which later came to be known as Theravada, was exceptionally severe and centered on individual salvation – through strenuous efforts, one could become an
arhat
(an enlightened one). The emphasis on rules meant that the individual virtually needed to become a monk or a nun to achieve enlightenment. Although Theravada gained adherents and still prevails in Thailand, Myanmar, and Sri Lanka, its vision did not attract a wide audience in the more populous lands in Asia such as China and Japan. Buddhism needed a more universal doctrine and the espousal of a less austere and forbidding lifestyle if it were to broaden its potential audience.

Mahayana Buddhism provided the vehicle for the wider dissemination of the religion. Adherents used the term “Mahayana,” which is defined as “Greater Vehicle,” to convey their desire for a more universal message, and they designated Theravada as “Hinayana” (or “Lesser Vehicle”). A major difference is that the Theravada texts were written in Pali, an ancient literary language, while the Mahayana scriptures were in Sanskrit.

To be sure, Mahayana differs in its doctrine from Theravada, but the more significant distinctions entailed the means of achieving enlightenment. The main doctrinal innovation was the Mahayana belief that duality characterized everything in the world, each concept consisting of both a negative and a ­positive aspect. Nirvana, like reality and the world we inhabit, appeared to the human mind as a void. Nirvana was equated with the wheel of life (
samsara
), a more appealing goal than the absolutely negative nothingness of the Theravada view. Nirvana, in essence, lay within daily activities and, more ­particularly, within the human mind.

An even more appealing element of Mahayana was the lack of strenuous activities demanded of the faithful. Theravada not only enjoined rigorous ­discipline, including meditation, fasting, and other physical deprivations, but also scorned sensual pleasures. In contrast, Mahayana, with its view that Nirvana and enlightenment could be found within the individual, offered Nirvana to all rather than to the few who could adopt a virtually monastic lifestyle. It emphasized that individuals ought to look inward, within their own minds, to grasp enlightenment rather than attempting to achieve it through such external means as denial of delights and desires, as recommended by the Theravada. Neither self-mortification nor more demanding analysis of and speculation on doctrine were essential. Understanding of doctrine was not as critical as simple faith and devotion.

Mahayana advocated faith in a remarkably different conception of the Buddha. Theravada sects portrayed the Buddha as a human being who had achieved an understanding of the universe and then transmitted this message to the world before moving into the higher consciousness of Nirvana. To the Mahayana orders, the Buddha was an eternal figure, and Siddhartha Gautama was one emanation of a being who transcended the ordinary boundaries of birth and death. This timeless Buddha had assumed the form of Siddhartha Gautama to bring his vital message to mankind. He had appeared in other forms on Earth and would continue to do so until the arrival of the Maitreya, or Buddha of the Future.

In later periods of Chinese history, new Mahayana sects would develop, having as their focus other emanations of the eternal Buddha such as Amitabha, the Buddha of Infinite Light or the Buddha of the Western Paradise, and Vairocana, the Cosmic Buddha. The different emanations of the Buddha began to be worshipped as divinities, with Siddhartha Gautama himself becoming transformed into a deity. In this conception, the Buddha was less forbidding and more accessible to the ordinary believer. He appeared to be more compassionate in this guise than in the manner he was depicted in Theravada texts.

Contributing to the more human face of Mahayana was the introduction of bodhisattvas, who resemble saints in the Christian tradition. Bodhisattvas had achieved enlightenment but had elected to remain within this world of ­suffering instead of migrating to Nirvana in order to help less fortunate others. Because of their love of their fellow man, they delayed their own entrance into Nirvana and even transmitted to others some of the merit they had accumulated as a result of the good deeds they had performed on Earth. Each bodhisattva represented a different virtue associated with the eternal Buddha; Manjushri reflected wisdom, for example. The most renowned and popular bodhisattva was Avalokitesvara (Guanyin in Chinese), who embodied compassion and mercy. As befitted a figure symbolizing these virtues, he was often depicted, in sculpture and painting, with numerous arms and eyes, which signified his eagerness to embrace mankind and to offer assistance to all who suffer. With the spread of Buddhism in China, Avalokitesvara began to be represented as a female and became increasingly associated with women. Indeed, the bodhisattvas, though originally conceived of as humans, were gradually deified and worshipped, perhaps filling a need for venerable figures to whom prayers could be directed. Their love of mankind and their compassion proved particularly attractive in times of social upheaval. The traits they symbolized differed ­considerably from the Theravada ideal of the
arhat
. Their concern for the whole population contrasted sharply with the
arhat
’s self-absorbed striving for Nirvana. No doubt the bodhisattvas conveyed a more universal and appealing image to the ordinary person. The lay believer was not alone. He or she could rely on the noble bodhisattvas as guides on the path to Nirvana.

Buddhism spread gradually from its original center in northeast India, with the Mahayana sects eventually emerging as the most popular forms. Two ­centuries after Siddhartha Gautama’s appearance, Buddhist missionaries reached central Asia and began to convert inhabitants in the oases along what came to be known as the Silk Roads. Merchants carried the message to the western frontiers of China, and several central Asian oases became centers for the dissemination of Buddhism.

By the Later Han dynasty, Buddhist communities had been established in various parts of China. One probably spurious account attributes the introduction of Buddhism to a dream of Emperor Ming (r. 58–75) in which he saw a golden figure flying around the capital. The next morning the emperor’s ministers identified the figure as the Buddha, who offered the possibility of salvation to mankind. Suitably impressed, the emperor sent emissaries to ­central Asia to learn more about the Enlightened One’s doctrine, which led eventually to greater knowledge of and conversions to Buddhism. This account is ahistorical. How could a minister in Luoyang, in the eastern part of the country, so far from India and central Asia, have been so well informed about this religion? It appears that Buddhists of later times, seeking greater legitimacy, concocted this story to associate the arrival of their religion with the Chinese emperor. The more likely scenario is that Buddhists first penetrated China in the northwest and from there spread along natural internal routes of transport. By the second century
CE
Buddhism could be found in several sites in China, and in around 148 An Shigao (?–168), a Parthian most often known by his Chinese name, had settled in Luoyang to translate Buddhist writings into Chinese. Other foreigners joined him shortly thereafter and helped in his efforts to make the sutras and other Buddhist texts available to the Chinese.

However, considerable time elapsed before these and later translators ­overcame the difficulties entailed in producing Chinese versions of the Buddhist texts. Differences between Chinese and the Indian languages posed almost insurmountable obstacles for the many translators, who had no access to dictionaries. Literary Chinese – an inflected language with rudimentary grammar and a concise, almost telegraphic, style – contrasted sharply with the Indian languages, which were highly inflected with extremely involved and systematic grammars and a flowing, wordier style. The divergent traditions and institutions of the two cultures exacerbated the problems encountered by translators. Chinese philosophy had thus far centered on the attributes and virtues that led to a harmonious, stable, and ethical society while Indian thought focused rather on abstruse speculation and on concerns that went beyond this life. Such cultural distinctions ensnarled efforts to transmit the basic principles of Buddhism.

However, the success of the religion in China was based, in part, upon the Chinese terms used to convey its most important doctrines. Eager to make the teachings appealing and less foreign to Chinese, Buddhist translators decided to express specific Buddhist concepts in terms familiar to the Sinitic world. They chose Daoist terms to impart Buddhist ideas. The Daoists’
wuwei
(­nonaction) was used to translate Nirvana and
jenren
(immortal) became
arhat
, while the
dao
itself was often designated as
dharma
. This tactic altered, in ­subtle ways, the message of Buddhism in order to attract Chinese adherents. By the deliberate use of so-called matching concepts (
geyi
), translators sought to make unfamiliar ideas more palatable to the Chinese. Groups of Buddhist concepts were linked with Confucian or Daoist classifications, sometimes slightly and sometimes not so slightly altering the message. By muting the ­differences between Buddhism and the native beliefs, proselytizers facilitated its wider acceptance.

Yet the potential for tensions remained. Certain Buddhist practices and doctrines clashed with long-standing Chinese beliefs and values. The celibacy of Buddhist monks conflicted with the value accorded to continuance of the family line by the Chinese. Similarly, Buddhist universalities and emphasis on Nirvana’s applicability to all without reference to a specific group was at odds with the group and family orientation of Confucianism and the ethical code that linked behavior to status and role within the family, clan, or community. Theravada’s injunctions about desires and anger, its implied condemnation of sensual pleasures, and its apparent advocacy of physical deprivation through fasting and a highly disciplined life ran counter to the Chinese acceptance of the physical and squeamishness about voluntary harming of the body. Later, when Buddhism gained imperial favor and Buddhist monks received a tax-exempt and draft-exempt status, Confucian Chinese hostility toward the religion increased. Chinese critics would also eventually capitalize on Buddhism’s Indian heritage to characterize it as alien to Chinese traditions.

However, Chinese resentment and anger initially did not appear, and the Han dynasty’s fall spurred efforts to develop an ideology that would simultaneously restore unity and provide solace to the individual in troubled times. Thus the translation of Buddhist texts, popular essays explaining the religion’s main doctrines, and writings that led to the development of new sects continued unabated.

Together with such scholarly and missionary activities, a few Buddhists played public roles, sometimes either serving or advising the government. Among these prominent Buddhists were Zhi Dun (314–366), who attempted to reconcile Buddhist and Daoist doctrines; the fourth-century nun Zhi Miaoyin, who influenced government affairs during the Eastern Jin dynasty; Fotudeng, a central Asian monk who reputedly had magical powers, which he placed at the service of the Later Zhao rulers; and Kumarajiva (344–414), of mixed central Asian and Indian blood, who learned Chinese, settled in the ancient capital of Changan, and gathered together a large group of monks to produce precise translations of Buddhist texts in order to differentiate between Buddhist and Daoist teachings, which had become increasingly blurred. Kumarajiva’s last goal sheds light on the beginnings of the complicated and increasingly hostile relationship between the Buddhists and the Daoists. Buddhism entered China with some Daoist trappings, or at least with Daoist terminology. Thus, the initial Daoist reaction was positive; however, as Daoist leaders began to realize that Buddhism diverged from their views and beliefs and that the Buddhists placed Buddha on a pedestal way above that of Laozi, they began to resent the foreign religion. Eventually, the ecclesiastical authorities of the two religions would clash, sometimes violently. Yet, by and large, Buddhism successfully adapted its message to Chinese sensibilities and sensitivities, and its success in China owed much to its ability to accommodate to Chinese civilization.

The chaotic conditions that gave rise to Daoism and Buddhism also spurred literary developments. The Seven Sages of the Bamboo Grove, of Daoist renown, sought to express their views through imaginative writings. As befit their appellation, the Seven Sages concentrated on nature as one of their principal subjects. They wrote about the beauty of the mountains and the wild, uncultivated lands but also about the serene mood these vistas induced in them. In addition, they celebrated wine, which they consumed in vast quantities in order to seek comfort and escape from their troubled, unstable times. As noted earlier, Xi Kang, one Sage, wrote a lengthy prose poem about the Chinese lute, praising it for the quality it shared with nature: offering the listener a calm interlude in an otherwise unstable era. Tao Yuanming (365–427) was the poet par excellence of those who espoused the beauties of nature and solitude and the physical labor of farming as well as the dissipation of despair offered by the drinking of wine. He also rejected the frustrating and perilous striving for wealth, status, and fame through official service. A worldly career could not compare with the pleasures of digging in the soil or calmly contemplating the trees, the birds, and the landscape, or overcoming inhibitions through a binge of wine drinking.

Artists too sought security and stability in reaction to the turmoil of the times. The principles of painting adduced by the sixth-century art critic Xie He conform to the Daoist ideals expressed in poetry. Xie He’s Six Principles became the standard for evaluating painting for many years to come. They were: (1) animation through spirit consonance, (2) structural method in the use of the brush, (3) fidelity to the object in portraying forms, (4) conformity to kind in applying colors, and (5) proper planning and placement of elements (6) so that, by copying, the ancient models would be perpetuated. These ­principles, particularly the
chi
(the spirit that infused nature and mankind) dovetailed with the themes expressed in contemporaneous poetry. The painters’ attempts to reflect the
chi
, the force that drives all human beings, as well as all natural objects, were similar to the Daoist poets’ efforts to depict the beauty of nature.